Hard Learnings and Integrations

This week has been so different than the couple before. Luanna's friends from work are visiting and I've glommed on to them like glue. The human contact, the silly jokes, the prying questions and their honest answers are filling my soul. 

I know I came here to be alone, but having them here has been a relief. I can finally stop thinking about what I'm learning every second of every day! I can feel myself setting down the heaviness for a sec. 

But in turn, it makes me miss home more, and the community there that's spending summer without me. It makes me miss my bed, my cat, my family. It makes me miss hugs and connection. And it'll become almost too difficult to enjoy the easy and very temporal moments with the people here. 

But then, my new friend, Caleb will ask "What were your goals in being here? Are you accomplishing them?" And I can see, so strongly, the value of this experience. I know my place. I have perspective, clarity, connection. 

But at home, two minutes later, my butt gets bit by a fire ant, and I lose it. They haven't gone. Nothing I've done has worked, "I'll have to sleep here tonight, and I don't know how," begins to consume me.

So it goes. The emotional pendulum has continued to swing back and forth all this week — from the relaxation and joy that comes from being with such wonderful people, OVER TO, feeling lost and alone, eaten alive, dispossessed. 

 

I feel like, however, it's good to say again what I'm learning — just for continued awareness. 

This week I've been learning about integration, how to take what I've learned on my own here and apply it to moments with others. 

I'm learning how much I love people. Their stories, their memories, their honesty. And I love watching as they can give themselves so completely to the moment around them. 

I'm learning to notice when I'm beginning to slip into thoughts of feeling 'in the way,' to stop myself, to take up space. 

I'm learning to listen. The voice in my head speaks more clearly here, but with people around I have to find the space to listen, to follow its direction, to find stillness with it. 

I'm learning how to know when enough is enough. Lately, I've been asking myself "how many fire ants are too many fire ants?" (the answer might just be one.)

I'm learning how to be in a relationship with myself. To honor my wife-self's wants and needs, to go where she needs to go.

I learned this quote this week too, "We are all faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as impossible situations" which seems fitting.