Sitting alone in another new home, I am ruminating on the
way time circles itself. There have been so many new homes for me; always
shifting, always a new place to get used to. I always seem to be settling in
somehow, somewhere.
Of course I am lonely again tonight. I am reminded of my
first weekend in the last apartment, how the space felt so overwhelming and
large. I remember feeling isolated and yet vindicated, justified finally in
staying home alone on a Friday night: no one to see me, no one to pity me.
It’s sad to think that circumstances have changed so little in all this time. One year to the next, I find myself always in a new place, ruminating on my isolation. But it is also fascinating to reflect on all that has happened since that last move, and to realize that these new homes most often mark periods of new transitions in my life. Perhaps that is what drives me to move, or perhaps moving simply marks the closing of one chapter most appropriately.
The last year has been full of ups and downs. Some things
have not changed. I am still working at the same job and still experiencing the
same frustrations. But soon that too will change, as my boss moves on and is
replaced by an as-yet-unknown entity. I still have many of the same friendships,
although their lives have shifted around as well. Natalie is in Ashland now,
several hours farther away, Lauren is now my roommate, Adina and Shahar my new
neighbors. Rena is leaving work and no longer just a jaunt across the bridge,
but I feel strongly that our bond is not jeopardized by these shifts. My sister
is married, and the long road to that beautiful day newly challenged our
relationship in ways I am not sure how to heal. Our tentative new bond is icy
and frosted over now, but I have faith that it will once more thaw with time.
My brother was there and gone again in a flash, but I was reminded how much he
means to me, how he is still a special and unique personality in my life, still
someone I treasure above all others. My parents are closer and farther away at
the same time. A growing sense of maturity that felt like it was balancing our
relationship was recently compromised and I feel myself pulling away again,
seeking my old drive for total independence at all costs.
And my loves of the past year- how fast they have come and
gone! My relationship with Colin really marked my last move, and almost
coincided with it perfectly. I associate my time in that apartment very strongly
with him. Colin’s granola on the counter, his key above the door, his toothbrush
next to mine in the bathroom. Making love on the living room floor, looking out
at the view from my balcony. Or lying in a pool of winter sunshine together,
soaking up the unexpected warmth. Rediscovering meditation in that apartment
was also a gift from him, and the sense of peace that brought was a wonderful
surprise. I will remember taking mushrooms together on his birthday, listening
to music in my bed and then heading out to wander in the city. That was a
wonderful day of discovery and lightheartedness with him so early on. And that
was also the day I met Romi. It is so strange to reflect on how those two
encounters overlap; such a beautiful day with Colin but also the beginning of
another love. Now Romi looms large in my heart, and his absence is bitter to me
this week. Not long ago, he was here in this space with me. He called it a
blessing and made me feel instantly at home. He always made me feel at home, no
matter where we were. He filled the empty spaces of my life so completely with
his beautiful light. Like a common fool, I am deeply sad that I did not seek him
out sooner. I feel sorrow that I might have known his love so much more
completely. But his departure is inevitably the bookend of my time in that
apartment. Our last night together in that space will stick in my mind forever. The intensity of our long, languishing
moments in bed. Listening to Otis Redding and Al Green so loud the wall
shuddered. Sleeping entwined through the early morning and awaking as usual to
hot chai and his beautiful form sliding through the door. Showering together and his
simple, heartbreaking smile. And finally, the last embrace outside as the city
seethed around us. Our last kiss and then walking away in opposite directions,
both turning around immediately to smile a final farewell, to capture the image
of our lover in memory like amber. Romi in all his beauty and light and magic
is the last strong memory that space now, and leaves me with a feeling of
warmth that spreads all through my body. As much as I long for him now, I have
never known such a sweet goodbye. In truth, I have never known such a sweet
love.
But now all that is done, and I’m here again, alone. One
year, two loves, and then right back where I started. Of course I have learned
some things about love. Of course, I feel like I am ready to try once again. I
think I am ready to fill this space now with a new love, a sweet love that is
also here to stay. Ready to believe in the momentum of this new beginning and
let it carry me into the next important stage of my life. But it is also hard
letting go, and I hope this move will help me release those loves and focus on
finding my next love. Hopefully I will find MY love in this stage. Hopefully,
the next move will include him and I will not find myself here again for a long
time.
But here is not so bad, all things considered. I am making
progress in so many ways. I no longer feel lost, or hopeless. I don’t feel
worthless either. I know I am doing good in my own little way, sowing seeds
that I will be around to nurture for several years still. I know I am working
toward more freedom, more options, toward making more of the world accessible
to me physically, professionally, spiritually. I know I am doing these things
with an open heart and a foundation of love. I know that I get scared
sometimes, and often I am still frustrated with myself and my circumstances.
But it has been a long time now since I have regretted a choice I made. I am
pushing through the fear and panic, the monotony and daily stresses, to build
something for myself. I know that teaching is probably not my ultimate goal,
but I feel a conviction that it is the vehicle that will lead me to the next
stage in my life. I am learning that it is ok to pick up professions like
puzzle pieces, and to also let them go when the time is ripe to move on. It is
ok to spend money in one direction, even if my next destination lies in the
opposite direction. My path in life
seems inevitably circuitous, and I think I am learning to embrace that. I may
not have found myself early, but I found the journey young and now get to spend
my life walking the winding road to self-awareness and fulfillment. Maybe I am
learning to teach now in a general, practical sense, so that I can be prepared
to teach a truly vital lesson later on. I still have hope that the world will
change, and that I can be an important part of the new order. I still have hope
that my purpose simply doesn’t exist yet in this badly made world. I still have
hope, in general, and so I know I can carry on looking, loving, learning, and
giving.
