Two weeks after 📝Dancing On My Own—when 📝The Birthday Girl told me that my 📝Lover had became the love of another—and one week after writing about that trip 📝Inside My Head in the 📝Bounded By Impermanence, she and I shared space at 📝Original Muscle Beach.
We hugged for minutes at a time and walked around the beach, both feeling subdued in the crisp fog that hugged the beach. She made space for me to share and I told her, "if you went through a fraction of what I went through in the last two weeks when I started dating 📝The Goal Digger, thank you and I'm sorry." We swung together on the 📝Traveling Rings and hugged more. I cried, a lot. We shared a hammock and talked. She made space for me to express my 📝gratitude for what she endured alone to give me space to 📝manifest📝My Perfect Partner. I made space for her to express the frustration she'd contained when I'd unconsciously and unkindly picked up a romantic energy with her like nothing had happened. I apologized for not seeing it.
It'd been a few years since I'd felt called to tears—or able to connect with them—and the past two weeks there's be a lot of them. And a lot of leaning into it while accepting it with 📝gratitude.