I don't want a lover

Sometimes it's the very simple things that escape us. Sometimes it is that which we keep saying to others that we most need to hear ourselves. Often, actually, if not almost always.

So i've been in a heavy slump the last week, feeling the loneliness that is as familiar as the underwear i put on everyday, feeling the weight of 18 years of short lived and painful romances. Well, all except a couple that were longer than the rest, and proportionatly painful. And only long because the rest are so short. And i've been talking a lot about finding the gift, finding the gift in any situation, accepting it for what it is, and that things are as they are because we want them to be so. And meanwhile i've been struggling and raging and despairing about my own reality.

That reality is that i don't actually want an intimate relationship/partnership/lover. I know this because if i really did want one i'd create it, i'd make it happen. If i really wanted one i'd will it to be so. And i do create the beginnings of them, but that's really about it. The feeling of openess and peace this thought has brought me is immense, even if it's realisation was the feeling of a wall being sundered apart. Now that the wall is no longer there, i realise how much it was bothering me, how much it was blinding me. I still don't know why i don't want a relationship (oh of course i've got ideas, and associated memories, but there is something deeper), and i do know why i want one, but it doesn't really seem enough compared to the strength of the counter current.

So, having eaten my own words, i feel an openess, a peace, a new beginning to i know not where. I finally listened to myself, to the words i needed to hear: this is, therefore i will it. It's almost a whole practice unto itself, an exploration on the sharp edge of acceptance that feels like a fresh breeze blowing over a new day.