A Nesting Place for All the Love You Have Ever Known

A few years ago, this message came through as I was awakening from a deep sleep, “Do you understand that you are a repository for all of the experiences you have ever had and a nesting place for all of the love you have ever known and a safe haven for everyone you have ever encountered? Now, go be that for yourself too.” I cry as I recognize how nurturing and even life-sustaining that thought is.

It is too easy to think about the negative experiences and how they have wounded and in some cases, broken me open. I would prefer to consider them as seeds that could turn into weeds or flowers. If I allow the painful memories to choke out the beautiful growth that has ensued as a result, then I have missed the point of their existence in the first place.

If I only ruminate over the ‘why’ of it, and not the ‘now what’ of occurrences, then I will have missed out on the lessons. At 63, I have accumulated tons of experience, some of which, with the wisdom that comes from distance, I could have avoided. If I had been mindful, paid attention to the red flags that often waved wildly, and didn’t disregard my intuition, I could have prevented pain. I shake my head at how mindless and meandering I had been in relationships, rather than intentional. When I got married, back in 1987, I was in my late 20s and had been in several romantic liaisons, some lasting years, some months. They were, in some cases, fraught with drama. My marriage contained so much love and so much ancestral trauma that spilled into the container, muddying the waters and at times, making me question my sanity. I sometimes play the ‘if not for’ game. If not for this marriage that carried with it major lessons that I wish I hadn’t signed up for, I wouldn’t have become a journalist (we published a magazine for 10 years), adopted our son, who is now the doting father of my adorable grandson and one on the way, learned about caregiving, widowhood, co-dependence, loss, grief, and resilience. I wouldn’t have learned how to make solid decisions, strengthening organizing skills, keeping commitments, saying yes and no with greater ease and grace, trusting Spirit in the midst of God-versations. I wouldn’t have heard another loud and clear missive, “Everyone you now know and love was once a stranger. Everyone is on loan to you. Everyone will one day die or leave you or you will die or leave them. Appreciate the moments, however small or massive they may seem.”

As a therapist who works with couples, it is so much easier to see the pitfalls and mis-steps I had taken, now that I am single, more so than when I was in a relationship. I am noticing how accustomed I have become to being on my own. I have recently contemplated the dear people who had become intimate dance partners for a while and now we have moved on, for the most part, leaving behind pixie dust sparkles to treasure. If I had stayed with any of them, I wouldn’t have met those who followed. I wouldn’t have had the time and energy to create the life I am immersed in now.

A few years ago, a well -known psychic told me, when I asked her about romance (who doesn’t inquire about that topic when having a reading?) “Your relationship will be with your Muse.” I pondered afterward whether she meant that the person with whom I would be involved would take on that role or if the creative force itself would become my lover. I am guessing she meant the latter. This reading has proven itself out, as, although I have wonderful lovers since then, there has been no one with whom I could envision have a long term committed relationship. On the other hand, The Muse has wooed me magnificently since words flow almost effortlessly and my writing has reached readers worldwide on various platforms. We have a mutual understanding, never argue, never have to clean up after each other. We have a mutual love affair.

Whether or not I find a new dance partner, I am content with being my own safe haven.

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