What Is Left

A few days ago, I was talking to my friend about how he has been fighting to win the heart of his first love. Having “won” a major victory, he reflected on how he was starting to already feel a bit distant from him and wondered whether or not he was falling out of love with him. My initial response was to remind him that Love isn’t the “feel good” feeling one has, because feelings are ephemeral. But I left it there.

I had to ponder the significance for my own life of the question, “What does it mean to be in love?” After all, if I have spent the past two years “in love” with Aaron, that presumably counts as a relationship distinct from others. And it also begs the question, “What does it mean ‘to fall out of love’?”

Love isn’t that warm feeling that wells up inside of you, although that’s part of it. Love isn’t just an agreement to be there for each other over time nor is it some promise that I will care for you more deeply than I do for others. So what is left?

What is left is space. What is left is that emptiness that is a more open heart into which Love might pour. What’s left is the sweet silence, after that last love song has ended, in which you rediscover why you fell in love in the first place. What’s left is the end, after that last painful heave of a sob and you feel like you have nothing else left in you, … and you discover that there’s more.

Love is what is left. Love is at the very edge of who we are. It is the road that leads us back into ourselves and out into the world.

Surrendering to the Darkness

I’m going on my fifth night straight of insomnia, having averaged only about four hours of sleep each night. I’m exhausted, and I haven’t been able, for the life of me, been able to discern until now what is keeping me up. The answer is that thinking about Aaron is what has been keeping me up. Before we decided to take time apart, the plan was for me to travel to Glasgow between Christmas and New Year. We were supposed to ring in the new year in the city’s George Square. … And something tells me that he will be ringing in the new year with his new life. …

Unproductive as it might be, thinking about what could’ve been fills my heart with a kind of sorrow that I haven’t felt since Aaron finally decided to leave for the UK. And my understanding of what this situation means in the larger scheme of my life has evolved: At first, I wasn’t good enough to stay with; then, our breaking up was for good, because he’s pursuing his dreams; then it became about how Life provided us with time apart that we didn’t know we needed because the path we were on would’ve led to me stifling Aaron and he getting frustrated with the lack of forward movement in his life; and now, I accept that what we shared and cherished is over, and that I will always love him. … He’s moved on, and I wonder why I can’t. …

None of these reasons gives me solace at this moment. And how can I close my eyes to sleep if I see him there? … How can I rest when I can hear his laughter – which always had the echoes of childhood happiness – ringing in my ears? … How can I rest when I can still feel how his left arm used to cradle me as I snuggled with him at the end of the day? … How can I rest when I can still smell his scent when I used to lay my head on his chest? … How can I rest when I still see that last desperate gaze he gave as he looked back from the security line at the airport? …

And so I surrender to the darkness. … I surrender knowing that, only in the darkness, can I see the light of the new year. … I surrender because, in the darkness, I have no choice but to be with myself, to trust myself, and to trust Life.

This Is Me

I recently had someone tell me that I give “too much information” about myself. All I was doing was speaking my truth, sharing my commitment to doing what I can so that each and every person with whom I have the privilege of interacting in this world has an opportunity to express who they are as the Love that only they can be.

It bothered me that I was accused of TMI. And then I realized that most people walk around worrying about how other people will think about them. I think about all the times that I didn’t speak up and say what was on my mind, because I didn’t want to come across as being righteous. I think about the ways in which I go along with social obligations for fear of being cast out of my circles.

And yet I think about how important openly, courageously and freely expressing myself is to me. I think about how my being gay is one of the greatest gifts, because I have this experience that supports me in my full self-expression. And I think about the love I shared with Aaron and how it gave me the strength to stay true to who I am, to confront those things that stand in the way of my being the best self I can be.

This is me. This is who I am. … And I wouldn’t want it any other way!

Power in the Present

This morning, on my walk to the BART station, I was listening to the next section of Dr. Wayne Dyer’s audiobook, Excuses Begone!. He recounted a short story written by Leo Tolstoy titled “The Three Questions.” The moral of the story was: The most important time is NOW, because it is the only time during which we have Power. … Although I’ve reflected a lot recently on how to practice being with the present moment, this statement had weight for me.

I thought about the feeling of regret and sadness with which I awoke this morning, upon realizing that, had things played out differently, I would already be in Glasgow, enjoying Aaron’s friendship. And a few days from now, we would’ve been ringing in the new year at George Square in that awkward space of partners-turned-close-friends.

I thought about the awkward New Year’s kiss-that-never-was. And then I thought about where I was. I’m not in Glasgow. … I’m not with Aaron anymore. … I am sad. … And yet I feel more alive than I have in a while. …

So I breathed in deeply the crisp winter air and enjoyed the equally crisp crunch of leaves with each step I took. I felt how solid my feet felt on the ground, … felt the rush of warm blood throughout my body.

I am right here, right now. …

Chaos

As 2009 draws to a close, I can’t recall the number of times I’ve heard people talk about how this year was a rough year full of unexpected … and for many, sudden … changes. It’s difficult to find perspective when it feels like the world is spinning out of control, and we feel helpless in the face of it all.

In Five Spirits, author Lorie Eve Dechar speaks of the Taoist concept of the huntun, the primordial chaos that gives birth to the physical entities of the world. Her exploration of the huntun reminds me of the cyclical nature of Life. Nothing ever remains constant; growth and transformation require that things change. And in the midst of great change and upheaval, we confront that space in which we want to plant our two feet on the ground, face the winds, and dare to preserve the status quo. In doing this, though, we become rigid, and ultimately, the change overwhelms us.

In times of chaos, we must simply stop. There is nothing that we need nor can do. We must simply allow ourselves to be open to the coming change, and know and trust that Life is restructuring our lives to find a higher expression of Self if that is what we choose.

The 9 Days of Michael

For the past three years, I have maintained the practice of taking the nine days from my birthday to the New Year to reflect on what I have learned, how I have grown, and how I have walked the path that is my own to walk. This year, in particular, feels like I have so much upon which to reflect. So much has changed. I am thankful for my family and friends: Through everything, they have held me, challenging me to live a life that I love. I am most grateful to my team at work: I have been blessed to work with the most creative, committed educators and artists, people who have the biggest hearts and sincerest desire to make a difference in this world. My life has been especially anchored by my cousin, Donna; BFF, Rashida; and therapist, Kevin Avila, who each provided unconditional love and support during the darkest hours of this year. And of course, my life has been changed forever by the friendship, love and partnership I have shared for the past two years with Aaron: I have learned how to live, love, and dance more fully because of him, and my very being will always bear the mark that he has impressed upon me.

I’m sure that I will continue to reflect on the many lessons that I have learned in this “Year of Miracles.” The one that stands out for me in this moment is that this is my life. Right here and right now is all that I have. It can’t be anything other than what it is. It is both beautiful and messy, peaceful and turbulent. It is all this. … And my heart is both brimming with love for the world and aching with sadness for the loss of something that mattered to me. My body wishes to dance and move in full self-expression, and I feel paralyzed by those things that continue to weigh on me. My spirit yearns to unfold, expand and share itself, and at the same time, I feel like contracting and hiding away from the potential hurts and pains.

And so this is the dance of life … fully present and ever on the edge. This is the profound privilege it is to Be the Love that only I can be.  … And so it is!

Fighting For Love

My last entry was the obligatory reflection on this major holiday. It certainly is not where I am emotionally at this particular moment. Right now, I wish Aaron were here. … And yet I am painfully aware of the distinct possibility that he no longer thinks of me the way he used to. In fact, he might very well have someone new with whom to ring in the new year. All of these things are good, because it means that he has fully immersed himself in an experience on which he will look back and realize that it shaped him in ways that no other experience could.

And I began my Christmas trying to provide counsel and perspective to my friend, who continues to figure out what to do about his first love. There are many opportunities for him to act in ways that are not consistent with who he is and to those values to which he is committed. For now, he has decided to allow the silt to settle, to allow the murky waters to become clear through patiently doing nothing. For now, he has decided to not fight so much for the result he desires, which is to be with this man he loves.

I wish I had had that wisdom in those final days that I had Aaron as my partner. I wish I had had the insight to lay down arms and to let go of what We needed to look like. Still, that entire process was a transformative one for me. I realized that, when we fight for Love, … without attachment to how the outcome needs to look, we win ourselves back. We rediscover that we can be the source of our own happiness. … And so I plunge into this holiday season, aware that this wasn’t at all about Aaron, but about me … about how I am Being Love. …

I AM the Light of the World

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with Christmas. Part of it definitely has to do with the fact that my birthday is the day prior, and I hated having my birthday collapsed with the holiday. As I’ve grown older, I think I’ve also grown more and more cynical about the commercial aspect of it and the hurt feelings that come along with a person getting a gift that they don’t like or not getting a gift at all. After all, it wasn’t so long ago when Christmas consisted of a few modest gifts my parents bought for my brothers and me, for which they had scrimped and saved. … And although there’s nothing wrong with the gift-giving aspect of Christmas, I think there’s much to be said about the level of Gratitude that we have walking on this earth for the many blessings we receive that daily are like Christmas presents from heaven.

And as I reflect on the great miracle that is the incarnation of Divine and Unconditional Love in the form of the Christ Child, I can’t help but reconnect with what Christmas has come to mean for me over the years. The Christ came into the world to remind us of our divine heritage, to remind us that we are angels walking the earth in the flesh. We are the One Love, the One Life, in the form of unique expressions of self called “me.”

The miracle of Christmas for me is that we were saved from ourselves in receiving the purest, most innocent reminder of who we really are. Jesus said, “I AM the light of the world,…” and I would assert that in making this declaration, he was speaking with all the authority of the Original Light. And if All is One Light, then Jesus is teaching me that I, too, am the light of the world. And so is each and every being.

Fulfilling the Christmas miracle, then, is to return to that child-like state, before the hurts and pains and traumas of our human existence caused us to forget who we really are. And each Christmas is a reminder of my dignity as the only light in this world known as me, and that its miracle is realized each time I remove that which stands in the way of my own brightness.

The Greatest Gift

Right now, I am trying to sit with the bittersweetness of my birthday today. On the one hand, I haven’t been as excited in a while about my birthday as I am today. On the other hand, the memories of the past and fear of a possible lonely future give me pause.

Last year, on my birthday, I was blessed enough to have Aaron join my family for my celebration. I was heartened to see how my Dad regaled Aaron with war stories and a picture of him holding a python he and his buds killed in ‘Nam. Aaron shared himself with my extended family, and they welcomed him into the family.

A year later, I find myself on the verge of tears. Most of the holiday season, I’ve managed not to think about him too much. But I miss Aaron so very much. I find it very difficult to be here, in this present moment, when there’s a part of me that wishes I was in Glasgow in his arms. And given how much has changed, I can’t help but wonder if my fate is to live without the lifelong romantic partner of which I’ve dreamt.

Still, as I think back to last year, there is one lesson there that gives me hope: The greatest gift I could give or receive is myself. In sharing myself with the world, I am blessed by the world rushing forth to provide for me a life that matches my heart and mind. In giving as much of myself and my love away, I am given back so much more Love.

A Home For Love

As I continue to read through Five Spirits, by Lorie Eve Dechar, I came to a concept that, when I first read the book, didn’t register. Yet now, it seems to stand out as such an important idea. Dechar speaks of the shen, the lightest energetic aspect of existence that is the spark of life. She likens the shen to birds that rest in the nest that is the heart. When the heart is disturbed, the shen can’t find rest, and we become restless.

It made me think about the ways in which I have and have not created a home for Love in my life. Where are the places where resentment still festers? Where in my life have things been left unsaid? What do I still need to forgive? Where am I still choosing to act in ways that are not consistent with my best Self? In beginning to address these questions, I am beginning to expand the space in which Love can find a home in my life. I am removing those things that block the light of my soul from shining forth.

And like the candlelight I place in the windowsill of my soul, this light will burn brighter to guide Love back home.