Rain, Relationships, and the Meditation of Burritos at Noon.
When I was twelve years old I made a promise to myself that I would dance in the rain at least once every summer until I graduated. I would slide on my cousin’s floral hand-me-down dress and run bare-footed across our acre lot. I don’t think anyone ever saw, unless my parents watched through the living room windows. If so, they never said a word.
When I was fourteen I promised myself I wouldn’t compromise. I would wait and I would follow my heart wherever that led. Some days I feel adrift, an anomaly in a world of no-risk relationships and recreational sex. My fourteen year old self didn’t know what the future held for her. Earlier that year I had thought for sure I would marry that boy who sat next to me in the cafeteria. The one who put Doritos in his PB&J. He was two years older, but we would make sure to attend the same college and be together forever. I think he’s happy now, a father and husband.
Have you ever wanted and not wanted something at the same time? Not just this. The world is filled to the brim with paradox. We do what we wish we wouldn’t and don’t do what we know we should. Truths have a tendency to hold each other up in tension testing our comfort zones and fueling feuds on the fringes. We are beings of two worlds. One foot in this and the next.
The other day I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I defrosted my lunchtime burrito, thinking about the spiritual warfare that was happening in the hallway. Fewer people believe in that sort of things these days, but does that make it any less true? Do our beliefs change the essence of reality? I certainly hope not. The world is solid in the same ways it was for my twelve and fourteen year old self even though more facets have been revealed to me over time. One day there will be an unveiling, and I will wait and follow my my heart until I can greet it with dancing.