The Love Triangle

Last night I received an unwelcome email. In a moment of pain and desperation, the sender blindly reached out to me for (hopefully) some concrete answers as an objective outsider in their rather tumultuous relationship. The email was relatively brief, but chock full of dirty little secrets. There was no disclaimer. There was no gentle approach, and certainly no soothing invitation for me to come in. With one click of my little finger, I was force fed an entire meal of discontent.  I was quickly stripped of the freedom to choose whether or not to be involved in this dark little web of lies. I couldn't have stopped it if I tried.

Reading the note was a mixed bag. I felt confusion, no longer sure what to believe, as appearances collapsed into lies. I felt guilt for now being privy to all of these awful things, without anyone else's knowledge or invitation. I felt angry that the writer of this email would be so selfish in unloading these intimate details onto a stranger like me, who happened to be closely connected to the targeted parties of the email. But mostly, I felt empathy. I connected instantly to her confusion and frustration. In an ugly, but painfully raw delivery of the truth, one couldn't help but acknowledge the dark and cold place that she was reaching out from.  It was just a brief moment that the familiar feeling came over me, and the passing nod of recognition turned my spine cold.

Looking back on the archives of my own love history, I know now that I was lucky. The men that I shared my life with were generally good people. Sure, there were differences (many). And yes, I am confident in all cases, that the eventual parting of ways was the right thing to do. But, to my knowledge, no one ever vindictively set out to hurt me, or set me up.  If anything, we loved too deeply, mostly quickly, and had an intense inability to let go, when it was clear that things were not lining up. The end result of that kind of equation is that many good years passed, and passed, and passed. We had fun, and we learned a lot, a lot, a lot. But, also a great deal was lost in the dwindling investment of time, and feelings, as these sort of love-relationships would never produce any fruit.

And I don't mean this kind of fruit.

It's clear to me now, that choosing a life parter is both equally more and less simple than we make it out to be. On the one hand, the search is an  intense overkill. I mean, all we really need is a good person, who can hold a decent conversation, make us laugh once upon a while, and who will tolerate our idiosyncrasies, and sometimes poor behavior. Possibly, someone who shares similar values, and dreams as us, and who is willing to invest the time and where-with-all to go the distance. Believe it or not, there are PLENTY of people in this world who want to both give and receive that. So, partner up, people!

I am reminded of my homecoming to the United States, after living in Italy for several years. A leisurely stroll down the cereal aisle left me spinning into sensory overload. There were so many choices, and so many different categories, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Essential Minerals, check. Fiber, check. Low sugar, check. No unnecessary additives, check. What should have been a simple check list left me frozen in a 45 minutes stalemate of indecisiveness. Analysis Paralysis.

On the other hand, I know it is really not that simple. Not, in modern, western culture anyway, where we are always constantly craving MORE. We, as a general people, are mostly sadly unfulfilled in our daily lives. We are relying on the next thing to happen to us, and in our lives, to lock in that forever happiness that will lead us to feeling elated and connected as humans. And when we can't find it, we just fill it up with more stuff.  We create this search for that other person who will complete us, like the 2 halves of an enlightened whole. And, in that search, we determine ourselves, to never, ever settle for anything less than completion. And then maybe we do anyway. And, we spend the rest of our miserable, married years, questioning whether or not this is was the right choice, the right person, the right life.

Last nights email was certainly a fresh jolt out of the dreamy wedded bliss set-up, that we convince ourselves only the "real thing" can look and feel like.

We want to have so that we can be. And I know that innate feeling is a complicated puzzle that we set out on solving from the earliest moments of our existence. Loving other humans is so natural, and so complex and it is a long and sometimes convoluted journey to monogamous, and fulfilling partnership, if we ever get there at all.

I don't pretend to have all the answers. I am still on my own personal journey as well. I have had failed relationships, and many losses. I have been on both sides of the love cloud. I have love and lost, and fought and forgiven, and I sit here today, a single 31 year old mother of one, albeit, very, very fulfilled by my life as it is right now.

However, I know this: we are responsible for the quality of our own lives. Moment to moment, micro-second to micro-second, in every moment, the way that we are being will determine the outcome of what we have. Be and then have. And maybe, just maybe the very resolve that has brought me to that truth, will help me let go of any expectations that I have in a life partner, and what that may or may not look like in my life, when that time comes.

I can only hope, that when they do come around, whole person to whole person, that I am humble and grateful, and that I recognize them for all who they are and all who they aren't. And, that we love each other anyway.

It's Monday Morning and the Cat Died

Well, Hello! Did you find me here? Welcome!

Welcome to the collective gathering spot of mostly what will be the pool of overflow from my life. The constant and bubbling brook that is the stream of my thoughts, my love, my travels, my philosophies, my photographs, my experiences and time.

Since I have only one pair of the two little pairs of fish feet, that are the epicenter of this blog, mostly it is my voice that will be represented. My little fish is in the 2nd grade, and thereby mostly occupied during the day. But, for all intents and purposes, this will be our life together, as I see it, as I planted it, and as we grow it.

I had wanted to kick this thing off with something chipper, and bubbly. I imagined talking about how my life for the last 31 years, although tumultuous, has been nothing short of beautiful, and even poetic at times. I imagined talking about the love I have for my little fish. How sometimes, I love her so much I feel like my heart may burst. I lay awake some nights simply in awe of the gift, that has been mothering this little person. I could have talked about my travels. And how small the world still seems to me. Or, something existential, such as how even the smallest of choices, have in time, forever altered the course of my life.

But, not today. It’s Monday morning, and my cat died. The Cashmere Cat, as I called her, whom I rescued from the terrible fate of being drowned in a barn, in the Fall of 1997. Born in the back-wood countryside of Hartford Connecticut, this little black and white tuxedo cat has seen, smelled, and tasted nothing short of a good cat life. She had lived wonderfully, in 4 states, and 2 countries. She  loved being outside, and for the life of me I could not bring  myself to lock her within the confine of my home, and often let her roam in our garden, or stretch out in the sun on our balcony in Rome. She was a survivor, and a sweetheart. She saw me through some of the most passionate, and challenging times of my life. And, she always, always, always, slept next to me, tucked neatly within the folds of my own body, serving herself as a sort of cashmere little pillow. She often purred in her sleep, and the warmth of her little, purring body, often comforted me. It was a tragic finding, of what seemed to be a peaceful death. And I just pray, that in my absence, she transitioned peacefully, to whatever awaits her on the other side.

I knew something was wrong yesterday when I came home from a weekend away, and she did not come to me, as always. Her food was untouched, and I could not find her. During the night, in what turned out to be a premonition, I dreamt that she had died, and can still see the dream-like image of her little black and white body burned into my mind. This morning, that image materialized into real-life. And, the hardest part is knowing what to do with her, in all of my grief. My only reprieve is that she seems to have died suddenly, and without pain. And while it remains a mystery to me, at least I know that she did not suffer. I will miss her deeply, in the days to come.

How strange this morning was. How strange this month was, this year, this life. It is the perfect marker in the path of the strange, that I seem to be winding down these days. I’ve witnessed great loss this year, and terrible grief in those around me. I’ve lost my Co-Worker, and almost my best friend, in sudden, and massive brain aneurysms. I have witnessed another colleague lay his young wife to rest, after a losing battle with brain cancer. There are places in this world, just wrenched with suffering. Some far away, like in Haiti, where they are struggling to regain equilibrium from an earthquake that almost destroyed them completely. And others, just around the corner from my home and my heart. And while I understand that suffering is what brings us to be human, I also, like most humans, struggle to understand where it fits into the larger equation of our time here on this earth.  But one thing I know for sure: we absolutely do not get to choose when it is our time to go. Life can end for us at any single moment, of any single day. And for this reason, and for many others, we must live our lives so that when Death comes to us in that way, like a thief in the night, that he will have nothing left to take from us, for we have truly lived.

This is the story of the stretching and challenging of my heart, soul, family and mind. It is finite, for the story ends for all of us eventually. But, for me, not today. So, while I still can, I write it all down.

Rest in Peace, Simone. Thank you for sharing my life for 13 wonderful years.