The preface to what I really want to write is that I am crying. Like, really crying. No, nothing has happened to me, or anyone I (really) know. But my inspiration, my spirit mammal, Elizabeth Gilbert, has just posted that her beloved Rayya Elias has passed. I ache for her loss. For the pain she must be in. No matter how philosophical might she, who has delved so deeply into eastern beliefs which see death as farewell not goodbye, be about death, certainly there is pain. So I grieve for, and with her. But there is something more behind the tears. Something about me, and life, and love. Its possibly going to be a bit messy and unhinged, this writing, but I’m OK with that.
In June of 2017 I wrote a blog about Elizabeth, and Rayya, and their love; To Elizabeth Gilbert and her Rayya Elias I guess I should say the blog was about her, and them, and me, and love. Except more like LOVE. Because as much as Liz rocked my world when I first read “Eat, Pray, Love” and then “Committed” she rocked my world more so when she announced she was divorcing her husband, the love of Eat Pray Love. The decision made because her best friend, Rayya, was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and Liz realized she didn’t just love her, but was in love with her. Because love is a crooked line. But it took me a minute, and a lifetime, and spending time in darkness I never thought imaginable, then moving into the brightest of light, and being blessed by an otherworldly connection, to get that.
And that brings me to tonight, and crying, and more thoughts of how short life is, and how important love is. How love is the only important thing.
Last month, in an email to me, a lovely soul wrote in part (that we must remember) “…every day we have here is precious, be with people who nourish our souls, step away from those who don’t, do things we are passionate about, and don’t wait until the time is right…” If those words were profound and impactful the day I first read them, they are even more so tonight, as I sit here with tears again finding their way down my cheeks, for so many reasons.
There are days when I, nearing 51, feel as if I came a bit late to my own dance. Not that I’m old, or anticipating my end coming anytime soon. Its that it took me so long to get here, to where I am now. This place where I’ve just recently discovered where and what it is I want to be. And still trying to figure out how to get there. So much of what I want in life, and love, is simultaneously right in front of me, and also … just over the brow of the hill.
Maybe its the confluence of the blizzard, and its winds blowing with such force my windows are in moments rattling, and the very real effects the energetic upgrades have on my physical body, and reading of Liz’s loss, that have me feeling this desire to run toward what I want with absolute abandon instead of taking necessary small steps, or not running at all. Has me questioning why the line that is love in my life, has been so profoundly crooked. And this isn’t just about love between myself and a man. This is about loving what I am doing for a living, and loving where I am, geographically speaking, and loving myself, too, which has been not nearly enough in time’s past.
Astrologically speaking, that I am just now figuring so much out is as plain as the stellium in my something or other house that I can’t remember, which speaks to this timing being exactly as it should be. I was meant to find my me, and this, “later” in life. It’s all exactly as I set it up to be, if you believe that kind of thing. And I do. But also, there are those moments I feel as if there’s not enough time to do all I still want to (will) do, and also, I a little bit wish my ass was still 35. Which I mean quite literally.
As I think about what I have just typed, which are at best partially expressed thoughts courtesy of my mind that is always 50 steps ahead of my fingers, I drift away from my own voice, and to that of Liz. I can just imagine what she’d think of me being sort of self-indulgent in a not so shiny happy way right now. Not to say she’s always been cupcakes and rainbows. Anyone who read Eat, Pray, Love, or Committed, or listened to her talks, knows she has not. But she’s always looked for the shine. The elephants walking the streets of New York City that were meant to tell her, all is cool.
When I turn off the fuckery of my mind, and shift into in my whatever you wanna call it that floats in and out of the body I sometimes occupy, I find my shine right where I left it, and I know it’s all cool here too, even without elephants. I know timelines have collapsed, paradigms are shifting, and the ones that have not are part of what I am here to assist with. I know that I’ve learned more that really matters in the last year than in the preceding 49. And that I am so very lucky to have sent to me so much beauty, in so many ways. Beauty to warm me, cheer me, and make me smile. I also know that I’d rather have 2 years of love like that which Liz and Rayya share (which does not end when a heart stops beating) than to have 20 times that, of something not its equal. Even if getting there means the line will be crooked for a while longer.
As I was in the process of writing this, and crying, and being all up in my feels about the beauty that is the love shared by Liz and Rayya, words were given to me by a someone whose writing I stumbled across. ‘May we all be held when the holding loosens.’* So to anyone reading this, as I send you my love, my hope for you is just that. And especially to Liz, though you might not find comfort in arms that are not the ones for which you ache tonight, none the less, I hope you are held. And I thank you for teaching me the value of the crooked line.
* @thepathofquiet (Twitter)