Heart Break? I Will Break My Own Heart Enough
I Will Break My Own Heart Enough, from the “Love in the Time of Corona” a Corona Diaries series of Morning Pages entries, written while Cat is stranded in Australia.
Heart Break? I will break my own heart enough times until I Wake up.
I’m realizing that there was never a heart break in the first place. That the power of my heart is bigger than any flimsy episode of reality. My timelessness is greater than these small moments.
I will keep breaking my own heart, until I wake up and see what I’ve been doing to myself.
My choosing you, my reaching out to you, in my own sweet sincere way, was still me secretly looking for a fix, for a completion, for an answer, for a God, for a connection.
You will never satisfy that. No one can. Everyone will feel like an empty mirage eventually, disappointing me, if I don’t reach in and grab myself.
Last night I let myself be sad.
It’s been a tough two months and most people will never know. I’m alone in a new town, here because of my lover, trapped by the corona, by the mystical bat that asks us to fly with our own shadows so that eventually we will find our crown.
The Great Pause that makes us stop our shadow puppet dance and look at the hands we are actually moving ourselves.
This has been painful and I know I’m not speaking solely for myself.
I’m squirming. Yet I can’t get distracted, there’s nowhere to go.
Thank god for the love of my work, thank god for this new temporary home. And eventually of course your and my friction gets enough. And yes-we keep reaching out to one another, and yes-we keep arguing (though you say we don’t argue), and yes-somehow we have these microchips in our ears, that means that no matter what the other says, we still can’t hear one another.
Two days of deep grief and you know how grief is. It’s never just that one thing – it’s everything that decides to pour through. “I can sit through this,” I remind myself. “I’ve got this.”
Last night I did something new.
I’ve spent some time these past years cultivating being able to hold myself. Sometimes we need to reach out to others. But with how much time I spend online for my work, holding onto a phone and talking to someone far away doesn’t cut It right now. I want to be outside. I want touch.
And last night as I’m a stranger in this town, my only option was myself. I almost dialed more friends; I’m good at reaching out. I almost thought maybe I’ll go make a new friend, although I knew I needed to dive in.
There’s the trembling me, the heartbroken me so I dove in and I met myself.
I held myself, merged in and became me. I was the holder, the held and the thing beyond the holding. And I let go into these hands.
What heart brake? A feeling of relief.
Suddenly I realize, that all those times I’ve been mad at you, for how we can’t connect, how I can’t feel us connected when you’re inside of me, the secret blame I have for you.
How can I have this with anyone, if I abandoned it in myself?
The holder, the held and the thing beyond the holding.
What heart brake? I let go.
I let go of my scrabbling of all my external charades, all the endless dances I can keep doing. From the outside I can keep trying to fix everything, but until I rest within, I’ll get exhausted.
So simple – this deep long search – for something that is right there waiting for me to turn inwards and say, “Hello.’
This morning there was a comfort at dawn.
There’s a pile of things to do, texts to respond to, my own daily missions. I can get myself busy. I’m so good at distracting. But I sit. I watch the pinks and orange over the fence. It’s cold and I’m bundled. I drop in, I drop in, I drop in, I feel me, I meet me, I feel source all around me. So simple, So easy. I don’t need to know anything. I just need to hold me, feel me, be held by me, let me be me enough so that I’m ME. And I let go.
I remember walking along the ocean in Ibiza last July.
So funny 10 months ago all that we didn’t know. I had my own inner struggle at that time but this was a day of grace. My students were off exploring, I had some hours to myself. I didn’t know where I was going but I went barefoot in the sunshine to rocks and cold water.
What heart brake? I felt happy for nothing.
Last night my student asked me why I was smiling and I said “I feel joy.” She asked me, “Why,” and I said “I don’t know, I just do. It’s usually for no reason.” The more I meet myself, the more joy I have for no reason. And that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel pain.
I’m reminded of the lesson I had with the first master I ever sat with: who kept telling me that the universe is infinite joy and infinite sadness and am I willing to touch both?
And yes, I answer. Without my being a moody rollercoaster, who’s getting ripped apart, yes I can sit through this all. There’s a comfort to feel an anchor within, the sweet deep connection to this Me-ness, who hurtled through the stars to show up here and one day will hurtle Herself elsewhere. And now I get to dance in light and shadows and keep remembering the simple truth of the Love of all that’s inside us all.