tumble of

I was in a relationship with someone who had the courage to be so broken.  He was equal parts tight defense mechanism and baby-soft.  He fell apart regularly, a tumble of shudders and tears.  It was annoying, exhausting, and draining, at the time.  The way he shook, opening.  The shudders, the snot, the cries of a child -- the neediness drove me crazy.

It was terrifying, because it was (as everything in life is) a reflection of my self.  Of my pain.  There was a shock of light from the reflection, from what I saw in him that was of my self.  Mostly, there was my trembling hand holding the mirror as far away as possible.  I did not want to see that deep into myself.  I did not want to see the shards, or the chasms.

Well here I am.  A tumble of shudders and tears.  Needing.

I believe that cracks let the light in, and I am so splintered.

It came to me in yoga, through tears like a fist to the throat, that I am experiencing the same kind of regressive pain that he felt.  The darkness that swallowed him has its mouth over my trembling heart.

He gave me this profound gift, a gift I didn't know how to receive gratefully or gracefully, how to open.

But I am open now.  Ha ha ha.

Another circle closed.  Another mystery solved.  And more questions, tumbling.

What to do now, with this new punch of broken feeling?

I guess the usual tricks: breath, gentleness, gratitude.

Yes, gratitude.

Today I am thankful for all of my teachers, thankful for the gifts.

I am thinking of how many I have that I don't know about yet, how many are waiting to be opened.