This is the last line in a poem from Philip Booth teaching his young daughter to float. I heard it this morning at 3am - listening to a sleep meditation by Tara Brach. Ironically this passage compelled me to swing feet to floor, put on slippers, and return to bed with laptop and honeyed camomile tea.
There is a feeling, slightly muffled by sinuses and scratchy throat these small hours, that I'm adrift in a skiff at sea. It is not an uncomfortable feeling, especially looking at this calm as glass expanse (in the Gulf of Mexico). It is a curious place loving solitude yet aching for that somewhere soulmate.
Sunday afternoon I met a former boyfriend - the one who lasted longest (6 mos) since my divorce 6 years ago - at Starbucks. I bought him a venti chai latte and asked if I could pay him to make repairs on the restaurant I am selling with my ex in Charleston. He said he could but not for a couple months.
What possessed me? Need. Not being able to find anyone available, competent, or affordable. His ability, kindness, vulnerability. He asked if my ex knew who I was asking. I told him the truth, that I'd said I could see if a very handy friend could help us out for a week. My ex surely knows. But at some point, who cares anymore? Not me.
It's not a good time for selling with the runaway interest rates. My ex is re-opening to pay the bills and avoid foreclosure. I thought for half a minute I should return and help him til it sells, but I quickly reconsidered, remembering why I am no longer there. Time to let go of hopes, expectations, and plans of what to do with the proceeds! My mini-house village is moved to back burner.
Lie back and the sea will hold you. How beautiful. My new mantra.
Comentários