This relationship was ultimately not meant to be but it was not in vain. I learned more about myself than I ever have, experienced a tremendous amount of growth and was challenged time and time again in the lessons of what I want in love, what I bring to love and how important it is to honor myself with love. Another lesson learned is how hard change is, how hard honoring oneself can be, how hard it can be to walk away from something you wanted and how hard but crucially important-for yourself and the other person-it is to walk away with unconditional love for yourself and them.
As the Universe works in synchronicity when you are connected with it, just a couple of days after the end of the relationship, I was invited to Corn Planting Ceremony with my Native brothers and sisters. A gentle ceremony, it gives time to reflect on the past year and look forward to a new beginning. Akin to the planting of corn seeds that will, with love and attention, grow into healthy, enriching nutrition, this ceremony calls upon us to practice the same love and attention in our internal lives so that we may continue to cultivate and enrich our souls and our exterior life as well.
A couple of days at Council House did me good. Fellowship with people that care about me and I them, peaceful rest in the woods and sleeping under the stars in the bed of my truck with nothing between me and the night sky. Intentional reflection around the sacred fire in the Council House calmed my rattled nerves and comforted my shattered heart.
The sacred fire, an important piece of most ceremonies, is started the first morning of ceremony and burns until the end, tended to by all. Since the fire burns day and night, fire tenders sign up for "shifts" to tend to the fire. It is an honorable task. My first shift was mid-afternoon on a 91 degree day and it took strength and courage to sit in the Council House with a hot fire. I was joined by people moving in and out of the Council House but spent most of that afternoon with a twelve year old boy who decided that he'd rather stay in the hot Council House tending fire with me than play in the hot sun with his friends because, as he simply put it, "I like talking with you." I felt honored and greatly appreciated the young, innocent energy that he brought into that afternoon when I felt anything but young.
My second shift, a shift that I was called to take by Creator, was the 4am to 6am shift. Typically an undesirable shift, I committed to it with honor and gratitude and was looking forward to having quiet, peaceful time alone with the Old Ones to ask for love and protection to heal my heart. At the suggestion of one of my spiritual Elders, I brought tobacco to throw into the sacred fire with my prayers.
I set an alarm on my cell phone for 3:45am to be sure that I was up in time to relieve the previous fire tender and spend this time that I desperately needed. I woke up at 3:30am and looked up to see more stars than I could ever recall seeing. Bright stars, twinkling stars, huge clusters of stars that looked like a million galaxies, all shining down on this early morning. It was beautiful.
As a walked towards the Council House, tobacco in hand, I was hit with a sudden pang of anxiety and grief. Could I let go? How hard was this going to be? What was going to happen next, both in the context of this relationship that just ended and with my intimate relationships overall?
I entered the Council House and met with the previous fire tender, a Cherokee woman. We talked for a bit about how the night had gone, marveled together at the starry landscape and, as these things go, an old story, one of Cherokee origin, came into the conversation. While she did not present this story in the context of my current struggles, it hit me like a bolt of thunder in how relevant it was in its synchronicity to them:
How Strawberries Came to Be
In the beginning, First Man and First Woman lived peacefully, although the would sometimes argue, often about trivial things. One day, the couple got into an argument over something trivial, however the argument escalated and both ended up quite upset with each other. The woman, as equally upset as the man, ran off in anger and the man let her go, not interested in talking with her further. As time passed, the man realized that he did not remember what the argument was about and began to miss her. He looked over the ridge and saw that the woman was still running. He attempted to catch up to her but, with her feet fueled by anger, he could not catch up to her. He asked Creator to put forth roadblocks to stop her so that he could reconcile. Creator listened and put up a mountain. The woman quickly went over the top of the mountain and down the other side. The man asked Creator to attempt to block her again. Creator put forth a large forest but she ran straight through with ease. The man asked a third time to block her and Creator put a wide, rushing river in her path. She swam across with ease. After a few more failed attempts, Creator went to the man and said "it seems that she is able to cross these obstacles because she is familiar with them. Perhaps if I put something new and different in her path, it will slow her down" so he put a large field of wild strawberries in her path. Although the woman's feet were still fueled by anger, she stopped to marvel at the sweet smelling, heart-shaped berries and began picking and eating them, enjoying this new discovery. As she enjoyed this bounty, the man was able to catch up with her and soon after, they both realized that neither of them remembered what the trivial fight was about and spent the rest of the day in the berry patch, enjoying the sweet berries and enjoying each other. So when arguments happen, whether they are trivial or not, take time to think of new ways to block the anger and focus more on loving one another than focus on trivial fights and disagreements. In other words, share some strawberries with those that you love.
This story, like all old Native stories, resonated with me in its simplicity and kindness in message. However, it was more than that. Just a mere two weeks before the end of our relationship, I noticed a couple of rogue strawberry plants in my garden. Transplanting themselves, they ended up on the outer edge of my garden in the path. Not wanting to destroy them but also wanting to get them out of harm's way in the path, I offered them to my partner for his porch. We had just bought a bunch of flowers to cheer up his deck and we both agreed that strawberries would add to the joy. I offered to teach him how to care for them along with the other plants, something he was looking forward to. We both were.
That was not meant to be. The relationship
was not meant to be. Fueled by anger, he is running and I have no
roadblocks for his path. Our time together has come to a close, like the
slamming of a door.
After the woman told the Strawberry Story and left, I spent the next hour in prayer. I prayed for him. I prayed for his children. I prayed for strength. I prayed for wisdom gained. I prayed to keep my heart open. I prayed to not make the same mistakes again. Each time I prayed, I threw a pinch of tobacco on the fire. Each time I threw tobacco into the fire, the flames jumped higher, quickly grabbing and taking the tobacco and prayers up to the sky. But when I prayed to get through the overwhelming sadness that I have over this loss and the grief that is drowning my broken heart, the tobacco did not catch fire right away. Instead, it lingered on the wood for a while before eventually becoming engulfed by the flames. I cried. Big, pain-filled tears, I cried.
This sadness will linger for a while. A piece of it may always be there. Or perhaps it will just take my heart a little more time to heal and, like the tobacco, it will be taken up and away when it is time. It is a personal call for me not to rush this particular matter of the heart. I loved him and a part of me always will. Grief is just love with nowhere to go but all things in time.
And again, like the Strawberry Story, the focus must be on unconditional love and gratitude that I have for this person and this relationship, not on the pain and hurt. I do hope that one day, whether it's in this lifetime or another one, we can enjoy some wild strawberries together.
