Sunday, January 16, 2011


My boyfriend can't stifle me. My parents can't stifle me. Only I can do that.

Like a hamster in a cage, I was spinning the wheel. I didn't know what to do with myself. The same old wretched feeling of restlessness dressed itself in white and pretended to be married to me. I decided that the only way to save the marriage to restlessness was to cover it up with things that make me feel better like watching movies together or going out and blasting it away with live music. Unfortunately, the bait didn't bite. There was an intruder. The intruder happened to be my boyfriend who wasn't going along with me and restlessness. Me and restlessness got upset and told him that he was not being fair and how could he be thinking only of himself.

It was decided that restlessness and I had to go do a little self-inquiry at Starbucks, which is where I am. The moment I sat down and opened my journal, restlessness and any feelings of upset disappeared. Who was restless? Who was upset? What was I restless and upset about? I couldn't even think of anything. I wrote down some beliefs that I used to hold on to like "My boyfriend is only thinking about himself." Then a question arose in me like a signpost, "Am I not only thinking about myself?" I wanted him to take care of my restlessness. I didn't tell him that of course. I told him that I'm the only one being open and he keeps shutting me out. I was open, I was open long enough to hear him tell me the truth that he needed space. Then, I thought about it a little and became upset. "That's great. Who's gonna take care of my restlessness now? If I can't count on my love to do that, who can I count on?"

As I sit here and write these words, I'm well aware that I needed space as much as he needed space. I needed space to see restlessness for what it really is. A passing breeze. But I clung to the idea that we had to take care of it together when in fact the breeze was already passing. "It's not the same breeze," it whispered in my ear. "There's another breeze, no less refreshing than the one before it."

My boyfriend can't help me nor can he stifle me. Only I can do that. I can also open my heart and continue opening it until there are no boundaries. And I knew from the moment he looked at me that it was one of those times. And I opened my heart and my heart heard him. Then, my head interpreted the words for which my heart needed no interpretations. And I didn't like it. How could I? It was a lie. The truth doesn't give interpretations. Yet, without them, I wouldn't be sitting here right now, having this realization.

Bless it all!

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