Three Years Later

"Even in the ever-changing flow of life there are moments in which we come to a point of completion. In these moments we are able to perceive the whole picture, the composite of all the small pieces that have occupied our attention for so long. In the finishing, we can either be in despair because we don't want the situation to come to an end, or we can be grateful and accepting of the fact that life is full of endings and new beginnings.

Whatever has been absorbing your time and energy is now coming to an end. In completing it, you will be clearing the space for something new to begin. Use this interval to celebrate both - the end of the old and the coming of the new." -Osho

It was almost three years ago. We made eye contact through the window and I recognized you immediately. Your eyes are the eyes I saw years before in a (possibly) prophetic vision that I'd forgotten about until, my goodness, there they were! I get this feeling in my body before something entirely important and life altering happens, this anxious, excited, anticipatory buzz that ignited within me in that moment. There you are. Where in the world have you been?

You made a big move. I became a gypsy. Almost three years later, I am bemused to find that we are both in the exact same place, but even more so. You are moments away from an even bigger move. I am moments away from the extraction of the major remaining roots that kept this gypsy at all tethered. We are both poised on the edge, preparing to jump into brand new volumes of, once again, into something neatly manifested, me, into the great, wild, wide open wilderness. Of course, no matter how neat the plan, every step we take is a wild one, always living and leaning on grace. But here we are. There you are. Where in the world have you been?

Over the course of my life, so many people have lived strongly in my consciousness for a time only to slip away on some inauspicious night, rarely to be thought of again. Except you. The size of the mental real estate you occupy waxes and wanes, but you remain even as I have tried to replace and forget you. If your eyes are not the eyes I saw years before in that (possibly) prophetic vision, then what are you still doing here? If you are not my beloved, then you must go to make room for the one who is; the real owner of the eyes that will make prophecy from my vision.

As we perch on this ledge of new beginning again, I can't help but feel a closing, an ending, a completion in the story that we began that afternoon in October. I wondered what you might mean to me and it turns out, you have been just as important as I intuited you to be, but perhaps in different ways than I envisioned (but isn't that always the way?). I am forever grateful for what you have brought in to my life and how that helped deliver me to this moment. Part of me wants to believe that you will remain importantly in my life and that the completion afoot is an ending of the way we were with one another and the elevation of our relating. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. This much I know for sure...

We must only take what is freely offered.
Only freely offered love is true.
True love is the only sort of love I want.

Tonight I ask God to cut the ties between us that bind. You are free to live and love as you will, and you always were. If we are beloveds, God will draw us together as He did so perfectly before. I wanted to make you see what I see, I wanted to pry your love from your hands, but no more. All I want is what's written for us, what's right and true, graceful and authentic, aligned and destined. Among other things, the last three years have cultivated within me this commitment to and joyful celebration of Reality.

I joyfully celebrate whatever It Is.
I let myself off this hook.
I love you for everything you were and are and will be,
even as I, perhaps, let you slip away on this inauspicious night.


  1. We must only take what is freely offered.
    Only freely offered love is true.
    True love is the only sort of love I want.

    Nice - will meditate more on this...


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