The Journey that Makes Us

My dead partner murdered me.  At least that is what it felt like when he died.  In a way, it is true.  In three days it will be four years when my partner of sixteen years left this physical life.  In reflecting on what I have done with my life since then, I realize that I am a different man.  I am not sure where the old me is.  Like a snake shedding its skin, I have died and birthed a new me.  His death killed the old me.

There are parts of me that I mourn losing.  I used to be a lot more innocent, yet like the myth of the couple being driven from the garden of innocence, I was forced out, and birthed into a knowledge of life rather than innocence from it.  I have experience love, heart-break and broken others hearts which I ought not to have done.  I have people who hate me now...some perhaps rightfully so.  I have been proud and been forced to be humbled.  My heart is harder now...I feel less compassion.  It seems impossible for me to let go and fall in love.  I am tired.

And it is here that I feel the Spirit speak.  The whisper on the winds, of the crows in the parking lots, and the gopher digging through my front yard call me to a place of healing, of renewal.  They challenge me to lay down my sword of ego and pride and my shield protecting me from feeling a thing.

Four years, and I still dream of him from time to time.  When he comes in my dreams he does not judge me.  He is just there, and it is I who judge myself.  Will I take up the offer to lay it all down and risk opening up again?  To love nature, to love others, and even love myself is terrifying and appealing all the same.  I hope I will.


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