I made this - the drawing thing pictured below. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it is how I’ve been feeling. Expansive, silly, curious, creative. I feel open to the process, open to what can be. I feel like a butterfly, I feel like the color green. I feel like music notes I’ll never know how to read.
I got out of a relationship recently. He’s the one who told me I was “on the right path” and, I love him for that (as seen on the lower left corner.) I wonder if he’ll ever realize that the advice he sent, so quickly, so absentmindedly in our text chain, eventually helped me bring our relationship to a close. I allowed myself to be on “my path.” I allowed myself to trust my own knowing. I allowed myself to trust the voice saying: “this isn’t it. we needed this, we needed this path, we loved this path, but it’s time - time to move along to the next part.”
If we - me and him, our relationship - were lines: I think we were parallel ones, clean lines that were really close to one another but never touched. Lines that examined one another and supported one another through their separate, different lives. These lines were constant, simple, stagnant, comfortable, but always remained together, the other always close by.
But I didn’t want parallel. I didn’t want comfortable or predictable. So, we soon became intersecting lines, ones that came together for a time, and then ultimately, went in opposite directions.
I still don’t want parallel lines, or intersecting ones for that matter. If relationships are two lines, I want really big, almost obnoxious (yet completely effortless) Curly-Q lines, ones that look they might float away. Curly-Q lines like the ones swirling around the drawing below in the bottom right corner. Lines that curl and ebb and flow and overlap with one another, sometimes meeting one another exactly where they are, sometimes missing one another, but still there. Lines that are supportive characters, always nearby, always cheering on their counterpart, even if they don’t agree completely. I want lines that understand where they have been and understand where they want to go. I want lines that curl and pivot and grow and change with each season of their lives. I want lines that understand they won’t be perfect, they’ll never be perfect, but still want to follow the path together. I want lines that understand they’re two different lines, two different colors but choose one-ness anyway.
Stay with me here, but I also think in another scenario - now that we’re using lines as metaphors - our Knowing is one line, and our Actions are the other. Sometimes, those two lines are on different pages, parallel to one another, with Actions and Knowing on two different planes - perhaps afraid of trusting the Knowing line. But other times, the two lines are locked step, in tune with each other. They become one. When I chose ending the relationship, it’s like my Knowing and my Action curly-q lines locked into place, and they acted as one super-strong-extra-bolder line.
I think that’s my goal going forward - to maintain the curly-q-ness of my lines - but to trust my Knowing so damn much that I have no choice but to choose Actions in alignment.
I wish you the boldest curliest-q of lines, and an inner knowing and actions to support yourself through the process. All my love.
In pursuit,
-t
