It’s hard to admit that Rebecca was right about me, and if it’s hard for one guy to admit such a thing, maybe it’s hard for others, too, so let me put this conclusion in context a bit.
In some of our most recent conversations, Rebecca and I discussed our sense that we each had work to do in our interior lives before we were ready for commitment, to anyone. She went further: “You are not ready to let anyone into your life until you have done more of that work.” I heard the ring of truth in these words but didn’t know what to do with them.
Last weekend I asked Rebecca for some distance, a time apart, and she agreed; and in the interim, some things are becoming clearer, and they allow me to affirm, with no sense of being diminished myself, that she was—is—right: I do have work to do. Here are some of the things to work on:
--Who is Bill? I have had various answers for this question over the years and they have worked well, but no longer. The situation in which I now find myself is so vastly different from the past, my aspirations so much higher, that life now requires new answers. Through trying to have a relationship this early after Amelia’s passing, and with a strong woman who has learned so much through her own journey, I have been helped to confront the obsolescence of the old answers and to struggle to find new ones; pain and sadness became so acute that the attempt to continue without finding new truths was simply unbearable.
Between Rebecca and me, with all the wonderful things we share in common, there are also important differences in how we approach relationship generally, and our own in particular. Lacking a sense of my own needs and values, though, made it hard for me to identify or articulate those differences. I could not give Rebecca a clear sense of where I stood when relationship matters came up, hence we were not in a position to discuss them, to see if we could work them through; and our choices were much less clear cut than they might have been.
In fact, I was trying so hard to be accepted by her that I was actually moving my boundaries, trying to shift who Bill is, even as a small voice inside me, and, in fairness, Rebecca’s outside, was telling me I was ignoring essential things and essential information. The tension produced when you try to become something you are not leads to anger, resentment, other feelings; so the emotional temperature was so high, on my part, as to make useful discussion almost impossible. Further, I was unaware of the degree to which I was having these feelings and reflecting them back toward Rebecca. And finally, I was swallowing my emotions so as not to verbalize them, lest our ties should be broken.
These behaviors are recipes for ill health spiritually, relationally and physically. Need, loneliness, fear, hunger were all driving me relentlessly; their combined noise was so loud I couldn’t hear the important voices urging me toward a healthier approach. Of course Rebecca didn’t feel comfortable with me; I wasn’t even comfortable with myself, really, but I couldn’t acknowledge that fact.
--All this is different than resisting change, refusing to learn. At every stage since we met, I have learned a lot from Rebecca, and she has been kind enough to say the same of me. Recognizing there have to be new answers implies the need for learning. Learning involves comparing new information against old and then making choices for the right reasons, sometimes logically, sometimes through the use of intuition, most times relying on God to provide guidance. Learning involves tenacity, perseverance, and at least I have brought those qualities to the task.
But learning also requires patience. My need, however, and my hunger have been making me impatient. I begin, now, to see that finding the answers I seek is an organic process, one that takes the time it takes, and that even as I lamented to God His apparent inattention to my plight, He was in fact working as fast as my soul could accommodate the necessary changes. Look at it: He has sent His Teachings, books, friends and family, Rebecca herself, dreams, flashes of insight--some of which were burningly painful--and more during this whole time. Seeing all this now, having the sense I do today of His care through this arduous passage, both excites my desire for more learning and lets me acknowledge that He’s doing His part at a pace that is best for me. I can relax.
And I know that the answers that are beginning to emerge will only work for a time before they, too, become unsuited to a new, emerging reality; and that’s all right. In two of the books Rebecca was guided to share with me, “Women Who Run With The Wolves” and “The Artist’s Way,” there is much discussion of the internal voice that tries to undermine progress. It is the voice that says to me “Your insight won’t last; in fact, maybe you’re just making it up. You know that as surely as you feel right and happy today, tomorrow you will feel dejected, ignorant and sad.” But now there’s a difference: I know the voice exists, that everyone has one inside their head, and that what it says only seems true because it is a half-truth. I recognize the signs now and can be aware of them.
The reality is that I will lose my way again, I will feel sad or deficient in some way, unloved and undeserving of acceptance by peers, a lover, friends; but this is all part of the process, and I now have a better sense that God is truly involved. I now know, deeply, that whatever barriers arise in the future, eventually together He and I will find the answers for them, too. He will do this, not because I deserve it, but merely because I want to learn, I want to know and endure what there is to be known. My dark side, after all, is always there; I am not afraid of it, will have a relationship with it that doesn’t dominate me.
--In the book “Women Who Run With The Wolves,” the author makes much of the Life/Death/Life cycles of things, including relationships. Everything that lives, dies; and everything that dies is reborn in some way. The author says that a vital part of a deep relationship is understanding these cycles and making one’s peace with them, indeed welcoming them. This leads to patience, to endurance, to deep fulfillment.
So I know that something must die in order to make space for new life. In our dance with Rebecca, it has been time for the dreams born of need, hunger and fear to die. The good that is between us will be re-born in some way, at some time we can’t know or presently describe; and that’s all right, it is as it should be, must be. It is in the nature of things that this cycle should be fulfilled.
There is, today, a steadily growing eagerness to move into the future, to see what new things God will create in order to challenge, enrich and bring joy. This will happen, not because I am so important in His scheme of things, but simply because it is what He does: He creates things, He desires for there to be joy and happiness in the world.
My role is to be open to this: “Love Me,” Bahá'u'lláh revealed, “that I may love thee; for if thou lovest Me not, My love can in no wise reach thee.”
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