Sunday, October 14, 2012

The journey

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Lao-tzu

 

I cannot think of an instance where falling is supposed to be an activity that implies safety and fun to me. Skydiving. Bungee jumping. Free falling. Nope, none of these activities are making me feel warm and/or fuzzy inside. I feel like falling in love should be renamed "gently landing onto a soft bed" in love. That is something that I could believe in.

And yet we are expected to fall in love and associate it with feelings of safety, security, and completeness. It's like the universe is playing a sick mind bender game with us just to see if we're paying attention. And of course we're paying attention. There are few things in life that command our attention the way falling in love does. You can’t ignore it even if you want to. Go ahead, try to stop thinking of that person you’re thinking of right now. I dare you.

In reality, falling in love should be the safest thing we can do, but we’ve all fallen in love and subsequently fallen flat on our faces, conditioning us to feel anything but safe or secure when we’re lucky enough to do it again. It’s like biting in to a slice of pizza that is way too hot. You’re expecting warm, soft, gooey cheese and chewy dough and that moment of culinary bliss when you close your eyes and thank the sweet heavens above for such a wonderful taste bud gift. Instead, you scald the roof of your mouth, leaving your taste buds singed and that flap of skin that just won’t seem to heal no matter how many "therapeutic" first aid ice cream sandwiches you eat. The next weekend when your friends order a pizza, you’re eating a salad and avoiding the croutons, fearing you’ll chafe your just-beginning-to-heal mouth.

If only heartbreak were as pleasant as a pizza burn on the roof of your mouth.

It’s so hard, once you’ve experienced heartache, to let yourself fall in love again. So you dip a toe in and go on a date. Then you go on a few more. Pretty soon you’ve put a label on the relationship and then what? Then you’re emotionally skydiving for as long as it takes for you to feel safe. If you ever let yourself feel safe with someone. But once you’ve jumped out of the plane, there’s no going back. I'm ready to heal my heart I just need someone to be my parachute.

I've been thinking about the concept of vulnerability lately, and one of my good friends recommended a talk on vulnerability by Brene Brown. She speaks about being vulnerable and says that "the one thing that keeps us out of love and connection is our fear that we're not worthy of love and connection." I know that as I open up and become more authentic by being vulnerable to love I will have more joy in my life. I'm trying to be open and will focus my next few post on my journey on learning about being vulnerable. If someone wants to comment on what makes you vulnerable feel free! Have a good day!

Crystal Angel

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." C.S. Lewis

Anonymous said...

Can I be your parachute? J