There is a line drawn. A point made. A place where an event
happened some time ago and no one around you can have another conversation
about it. For me it was him. I lost him. And I have had every conversation
possible until there were no words left. I thought those conversations would
make me bare, ready to start again, but I realised I was still full of him – of
loss, sadness and heartbreak.
This morning I woke up feeling as if I would burst. Emotions
leaked from my eyes, nose, mouth... even my pores. I couldn’t move without
spilling and nothing seemed to help. I was filled, as if I had packed in more
feelings than I had body space.
I realised in all that time I hadn’t emptied much at all and I was still full.
I put on my shoes and started walking my usual route to the
woods. I needed to seek solace and feel grounded - find my connection and place
within the world. I needed to find some peace.
In my meandering I found two silver birch trees together, yet apart from
the others – one of the trunks had been struck by lightning, and even though it
was damaged it was still alive and blossoming. I decided to sit.
I started to speak.
I spoke about my love for this man who no longer wanted me
to be in his life, about the times we spent together and the joy I had felt
being in his presence. I spoke about the stability I had never experienced
before, and the quality of our love – the nurturing, sweet, kind, soulful love
of twin spirits. I spoke of our relationship which included a friendship where we
could have a conversation just by reading each other’s facial expressions and
gauging the energy fields around us.
I spoke of my dreams and expectations of keeping a love like
this. I spoke of making a commitment to someone and what that means
to me. I spoke about how when I say I love someone it means more than just a
feeling within. How it means that I will be present for that person, that there is a willingness to grow, being there regardless. It means I will
face life in partnership and not walk away or let go.
Like he did.
My feelings of fullness could not be denied any longer. I
sat in front of the tree and cried. I broke open. I shouted, wailed and thumped
my hands on the ground. There were tears, snot, phlegm and clutching of grass
and at one point I clung to the tree as my tears fell into the crevices of the
bark. I felt every emotion I held within fully, finally there was no need to control
or stifle.
I told the tree about the lies I was told, about his
betrayal, his actions and the pain he had caused. I told the tree about how he
ended our relationship and walked away without another look back. I told her
about how he let me go. I spoke of my pain, grief, shock, heartbreak and how his actions had impacted me, as if a lightning bolt had struck me and
I was still reeling.
As I calmed I then spoke to the tree about my fear. I told
her about how I am scared that I will never find a love as beautiful. How I am
fearful that I will never be able to know a partnership again. I crawled up
close to the tree and whispered, ‘Have I been so damaged that I will never
experience love again?’
And patiently, in union, the wind buffeted the tree and she
gently spoke, ‘Look up.’
I looked at the stump, sitting strongly in the ground,
rooted in Mother Earth. I let my gaze travel as I saw the damage, the scars and
the pain the tree had experienced over the years and its subsequent healing. As
my eyes travelled I looked further and I saw her leaves dancing gently in the
breeze – alive, alight, happy and joyful. And then I really saw the tree’s
capability to survive, love and bloom, no matter what has been experienced.
I had been given my answer.
I was spent. When I stood up and walked away, I realised my
roots were deep just like the tree. I realised I was capable of surviving and
thriving too. My mind had calmed and my heart was stilled. I finally felt emptied,
liberated and free
.
