Yesterday, I cried for a difficult situation with a friend which feels pretty important. I felt sad. i wanted to talk about it but I couldn't do it with full integrity. I wanted to stay open to my perception of things not being true, but by talking, I'm putting my slant on things. So I tried not to, and ached with it, or did and fretted. And I rode my bike and sang and gave thanks for those things too, and for the silence that lets what feels genuine rise up like coffee froth.
I left before I cried when I saw tears in a man-friend's eyes. Man acquaintance friend, not yet fully friend, or I'd have been in there. I was protecting myself. I was so close to tears and I didn't want to break. Today, it was for another man-friend's sadness. His almost tears brought mine to life. I didn't protect either of us this time. And a little for the sadness, but the froth is thicker now... not immovable, but it's pretty clear what's watery and what's not, so sadness can sit beside a little more sureness, and a little more need for quiet. And I cried again for joy and being moved by my beautiful friend Lilley's testament to her husband, praising him for his fatherhood of their fabulous daughter. I cried (and am crying again now, actually - notch up another one on the headboard of tears) not only because she took the time and effort to name the things he does so well, but that there are men like Daniel in the world and one, That One, found my friend Lilley and that together, they made Tulsi and that they are doing, both of them, such an incredible job of parenting her. And that she will be a child, as Lilley says, who will have high hopes of men, who will know what a loving, clever, creative father does, and who knows what it is to be loved to the very roots of her by a mother who would do anything it takes for her, who delights in her, who makes her life a positive, healthy, happy place. I cried with joy for all the children who know that they are loved, for the world they are already creating through this love.
I laughed like a beast last night with my lovely visitor. and his massively stoned face. My face, I'd like to add, was not stoned. His was. Every time I looked, it was still funny. I laughed many times this morning, walking up the mountain that's right by where I live, taking photos, lots of very stupid selfies (I much prefer the term 'long-arm' for them). I laughed with my sweetest of sisters, Kath Jones and with relative strangers. And I stroked a skinny, happy, writhey cat, petted the nose of a teddybear dog, eyeballed the lanky one that tried to do friendly biting last night, but would only peel back his eyes a bit today. 'We know each other', I say to him. 'Nos conocemos'. He doesn't always admit it, but he hasn't chased me in a while. And here's the thing. Right, wrong, happy, sad, laughing, crying, meandering, sighing or steaming on ahead, I am grateful. I am where I need to be and a situation that dTgs around in me and makes me hurt a bit can sit next to tears of laughter, love and delight and still be both valid and okay.
And who can stick only with the sad bits when there are mountains to be climbed up, when everywhere I turn, there is beauty to be drunk like nectar? Who can ignore the friends who are already 'for life', although they aren't yet long in my world? Who can turn up a nose at friendship, technology that lets me talk to those I love for almost nothing without a hitch, or with hitches that make the smooth bits feel like the gifts they are. I mean fuck, I can SEE Kath Jones! For free!
So thank you, spirits who love us whether or not we love the moment that we're living. Thank you, moments. May I remember to love you whether or not I'm enjoying you. Thank you, Viber, Skype, WhatsApp and Facebook, for letting me have the best of many worlds. You rock.
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