Monday, August 8

Crossing the Bridge

"I had grown up in a house with a fence around it, and in this fence was a white smooth wooden gate, two holes bored round and low together so the dog could see through. One night, the moon high, late for me home from the school dance, I remember that I stopped, hand on the gate, and spoke so quietly to myself and to the woman that I would love that not even the dog could have heard.

I don’t know where you are, but you’re living right now, somewhere on this earth. And one day you and I are going to touch this gate where I’m touching it now. Your hand will touch this very wood, here! Then we’ll walk through and we’ll be full of a future and of a past and we’ll be to each other like no one else has ever been. We can’t meet now, I don’t know why. But some day our questions will be answers and we’ll be caught in something so bright...and every step I take is one step closer on a bridge we must cross to meet."
— Richard Bach

I've been blessed with amazing connections in this life time, boys growing into men growing into teachers, who have taught me what it is I want to experience in a love creationship. And with each refinement, with each clearing and coming to view of my Him, my perfect compliment, I have moments of anger! Well where are you damn it! I'm here, waiting! Don't you know how ready I am for you? Can we stop wasting time and start this already!?

Funny thing is, in moments of lucidity, I know it's already happening and has been happening since before I knew how to recognize the unified movement of love that is my life.

I oscillate between awe and anger. Awe at the details that continue to shape before me - the words spoken to me by others, the synchronicity that befuddles me at every turn, the surreal visions and previews, the faces I meet that show me even more glimpses of him, the song everything around me sings echoing the love of many lifetimes that Life has designed me into.

That's a weird pendulum to let yourself swing on - awe and anger. Wow and Ow.

I'm angry for the moments I was right there and not seen, for the instants I was in reach and not grasped. I'm angry at myself for choosing to chase something that I was forever pushing out of my own reach. I'm angry at him for not cracking the reality code, walking through the walls, bending the spoon, and finding me. Apparently that's his job, while mine is to sit here shining like buried treasure.

To live and see the unity and grandness of this love and the yet physical absence of its reality from my hands, my arms, my mouth turns me into an emotional pretzel. I'm angry at it for taking so long, and angry for what it planted within me and made me reach for.

Because if I didn't know this possibility existed, I wouldn't be rung up and stripped down as I am, unwilling to settle for anything less than my hearts dreams coming true. 100% fulfillment where ever day I exclaim - I've always known this was the love I was designed to live.

I tend to walk on the bright side of most things that come into my view. Lately the conversations I've stepped into have been about the shadow the light casts, and this is it. On the bright side of knowing, feeling, trusting and developing that perfect faith, there it is, the furious fire of desire burning as anger.

I shout at my projected love - I'm angry that you're not really here like you're supposed to be. I'm angry that you remain absent and invisible, that there is no hand to hold or mouth to kiss or arms to be wrapped in. That you keep peaking through into my moments but have yet to walk into them fully as you.

In those moments of anger, some inexplicapble I-can't-wrap-my-head-around-it synchronicity will show itself, and I shout at it - NO, I don't want to play anymore. I don't care that you're inexplicable and magickal. I don't like you. Go away until you can materialize yourself in the flesh. Enough! I don't want to see any sign of you until you're ready to be here, in the full-fledged flesh, full-time.

I imagine his higher self and my higher self (which I make up are the same Self) in those moments watching me eyeing each other going "well, she's lost it" and going back to their game of cosmic scrabble.

I think in the conscious creation, conscious observation, conscious wahtever-ation game we forget to feel the whole spectrum - the light and the shadow of everything we step into.

Yes, I'm allowed to be mad at him especially because I know he's here, that on some level he can feel and pick up on the full spectrum of my coming and goings. Just like I can his - those moments where I get feelings that have nothing to do with what I'm living in my world I know are me picking up on his unfolding...

At the very least, that's the kind of connection I'm dreaming of.

And when the angry cloud passes...I return to giggling at the ridiculousness of being here, in this life stage of awe and inexplicable wonder.

Oh yeah, I feel it!

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