Tag Archives: Beloved

by

What would a sufi do?

I dreamed about a door all night last night.

First it was a door into a car. Over and over. I was not sure where the car was going, the driver wouldn’t listen to me, it was a race car. There weren’t any people that really had form in the dream.

The car was my friend Dave’s. A 1978 or a 1979. I don’t remember. He would care, I don’t. He has a racing harness instead of a regular seat belt in the driver’s seat. He can drive it like a race car, or close enough to fool me.

My daughter sat in the passenger seat and didn’t move when he drove. I sat in the back and went “eeeeeeee” and my right foot braked the whole time.

The last time I dreamed it there was just the door. A car door still. Lying in space, in the stars.

I woke up and thought about my say yes poems. And I thought, ok, Beloved, I don’t know where it’s going or what it will bring or who is driving but yes, I will go through that door.

And coming down the stairs I was thinking that I’ve been trying to communicate something to Dave but he doesn’t want to hear it. So I am not being a sufi. The sufis only taught the student who wanted to learn and who was ready. WWaSD? What would a sufi do? Stop butting my head against a wall.

I think that was the door.

I think of my consciousness at times as a table, and different parts of myself come to the table. There is the very small injured child, who gets healthier and healthier. She is healing. Somehow Dave has called up a sullen teenager who glares at everyone. The adult woman is annoyed and mutters “boys, toys and race cars.” The trickster sits and laughs. The doctor/psychiatrist is very interested in the whole thing and is mostly sitting back and watching.

Now perhaps a Sufi will come to the table. Or someone else. A fence is being built around my house. I envisioned a picnic table in the fence, on both sides, but it kept looking like Lucy’s psychiatric booth from Peanuts. I wanted to put up a sign: lemonade or the doctor is in, depending on my mood.

The fence is being built because someone stole our picnic table from the front yard while we were on vacation. I had bought it second hand and it was made of two by sixes. It was brutally heavy. I hope the theft weighs on them. Over 14 years we’ve also had a blue gazing ball stolen and two plastic pink flamingos. A bike was stolen from the back yard.

So now a fence. The picnic table/lemonade stand/psychiatric booth has morphed into a bench that goes through the fence, so that someone can sit on each side. And beside it in the fence is one of the little library boxes, for me to leave books and for others to trade or take them. It will have glass doors. We will have a pool on how soon they will be smashed. We are not cynical, are we?

Fences and doors. I think that I should put a sign in the yard, but perhaps I don’t need to. The new person at the table is the crone. I have gone through the door and I will think about doors all day. The crone introduces herself to the others at the table. The table gets more interesting every single day.

by

You can’t make someone love you 

You can't make someone love you


How can we fall out of love?

I mean it. If we love someone, how can we fall out of 
love?

Falling in love, according to my understanding of the 
Jungian ideas, is projecting some of your best aspects 
on the other person. You see them in a haze of love, of 
perfection. I've seen something to the effect that 
falling in love is the only time that psychosis is not 
treated. That is, when you are in love, you are psychotic.
You are crazy. You are nuts.

I, then, am currently nuts.

One of the things that I admire most about my ex-husband 
is that he is friends with all of his ex-girlfriends. And 
his ex-wife, that is, me. When we were first married, he 
told me about the ex-girlfriends. He was in contact with 
them, by phone or email. I was ok with it and admired it. 
We met dancing, jitterbug, east coast swing dancing. We 
would go to the live dances in Cabin John, Maryland. We 
would dance two dances with each other, say bye, and race 
off to dance with everyone else. Five hundred people would 
show up, for an hour lesson and three hours of live band. 
In the summer the guys would bring 4 t-shirts and change 
them as they were soaked. There was no alcohol in the park. 
No air conditioning. We didn't clap for the bands at all 
because we were too busy trying to find the next partner to 
dance with. You could signal next dance, one or two fingers. 
Not past two, because no one could remember.....

Anyhow, jealousy seemed silly. My ex-husband transformed 
each of those relationships with his ex-girlfriends from 
lover and partner into something else.

I think this is the right thing to do. If it is our best 
aspects projected on the person that we are in love with, 
then perhaps it is our own worst aspects that we project 
when we "fall out of love". We hate the person. They have 
broken our hearts. They have been cruel.

But have they? They were not required to be in love with 
us. Just because we love them does not mean that they have 
to love us back. Or really, they do not have to love us 
"that way". You can't make someone love you.

I want to be like my ex-husband. I want to continue to 
love the person that I love. As a small town doctor, I have
taken care of both halves of a divorcing couple. My brain 
managed to keep them entirely separate and not connect them 
until the day when I saw both. Even then, I had trouble 
believing that they were talking about each other: because 
what they said had almost nothing to do with what the other 
person was saying or doing. I said to my nurse, "Are they 
really talking about each other? Or is it at last name 
coincidence?"

She said, "Took you long enough to get it."

If I am rejected, I want to keep loving the person. Perhaps 
I too will fall out of loving them "that way". But if it is 
aspects of myself that I see in them and love, why would I 
turn to hate? I don't want to project the ugly parts of myself 
on them.

I'll save the ugly parts to project on the greedy corporations. 
Now, I am perfectly content and happy to hate them.......
by

Say yes

At the improv tryout
for Lark in the Park
Joey said

Say yes to everything

He said

It is easier to say no
But then the improv ends

He made us try
Saying no to everything

Each skit was a fight

He made us try
Saying yes to everything

Yes

We bloomed bloomed

And is that it?

All the Beloved wants?

He said
You learn to say things
Without a question
With a hint
With an idea
With a suggestion
The other actor responds

I’ve noticed
People don’t respond well
When I say
Don’t

I need to learn
To suggest
To let them choose
To change their direction
Offer
Offer
Another idea

I need to learn
To listen
When they offer
Offer
Another idea

Say yes to everything

Is that what the Beloved wants?

I say yes
yes

previously published August 10, 2009 on everything2