He was ma-jes-tic.
I miss him.
I loved him a bit.
I liked him a lot.
When I met him, J was lonely. He had tried to force intimate connections with the people he loved for too long.
He had succumb to believing that he was too intense, too wonderful, too overpowering, too full of love, and mostly, too present. That the people in our world, in our generation, aren’t interested in the depth he presented them.
I met him because I was his student.
13 years my senior, I didn’t recognize how magical he was as I was still pining for me ex: a commercial real estate broker with a coke habit.
I was still looking for that “diamond ring opportunity,” that starry-eyed serendipitous moment when I was allowed to fall in love, head over heels, and then live happily ever after. I wanted the payout for my beautiful long hair and my yoga body. I was contented in my search for comfortable and socially acceptable misery.
J wasn’t about that life.
J was a warrior of love.
J was a fighter for human preservance.
J, was a romantic.
I fled from his gaze because I didn’t allow myself to be viewed with love. He appeared to me as the loneliest, weirdest, most unabashedly real person I’d ever met. I thought his wisdom was unprecedented, but I thought his social skills were unrefined.
He loved me for who I was. At that time I was a bit disconnected...I was taking Intuitive Connection 101, after all, and my friend that I dragged there with me was lightyears beyond me. I was trying to figure out an eating disorder and was hopeful that meditation and mindfulness would give me more control over my eating...
My first impression was wrong.
J is the loveliest, warmest, bravest, most generous soul I have and quite possibly will ever meet in this lifetime.
He taught me how to see myself differently. He taught me that self-love is the key to presence, and that with it, all of the details fall away.
He taught me that sex is art. That love is unifying, and that separation will kill every one of us if we allow ourselves to believe in it for long enough.
He sang to me, he carried me, he unravelled parts of me and laughed at them while I cringed for being alive.
He didn’t take anything seriously...except his devotion to me.
I was a wreck when we broke up.
The Curse of an Enlightened Man would be the name of our story.
He was too big, too bright, too loving, too affectionate, too worldly and understanding. He was too kind, too lovely and far too in love with me.
I miss him every day.
We broke up three times. The third time, one year ago, it landed. The breakup stuck. We don’t speak.
I am okay.
I’m not a wreck anymore. If anything, my heart grew 10 sizes. My mind expanded. My patience increased. My sorrows evaporated.
He loved me, like no one ever had. He cherished me.
I wasn’t ungrateful.
I wasn’t a bitch.
I didn’t push him away because, ew don’t.
I lost my whole mind in love with him.
My triggers, the ones I had been dancing around because I couldn’t bare to face the corny life goals I had set for myself (unachievable and uninspiring as they were), all surfaced. Each one reared its head and YELLED, “PAY ATTENTION TO ME.”
He held me.
He helped me.
My family, the king, the queen, the joker, and the two evil step-sisters, they all proved themselves shallow and scary.
My dreams, they lit up.
My hopes, they started to come true.
My life, unraveled.
I hid from myself for so long that his loving eyes were the juiciest sight I began to see. I fed on his love like dinner. Like a smorgasbord. I vampired the shit out of that poor sucker.
If he never forgives me, I don’t blame him. He loved me. He cherished me. I bled him dry.
My “issues” that I had created in the 25 years before I met him, took up all of our space.
Funny thing about mindfulness is if you don’t practice it, it doesn’t hang on and change your life for you. Thing about mindfulness is, if you do it and think you’re great at it, you’re not.
I believe with all of my bones and sinew that that is how you love someone now.
I believe, that if your heart opens, that’s a great start.
I believe that if your heart opens and you let all the scary things puke out, that’s where the real connection starts.
We didn’t break up because we didn’t love each other anymore.
We broke up because my “stuff,” that stuff I packed all my literally insecure walls around, took up ALL of our time.
We couldn’t hang out without me realizing just one more thing about why I’d been living a lie.
We couldn’t have sex without me crying.
We couldn’t be in public together without me hijacking every moment because every. piece. of my soul was now exposed to a person who earnestly recognized all of me as wonderful and lovable...and that made me skiddish and caused me to sabotage the beauty - naturally, as we do.
I LOVE HIM. I MISS HIM. I UNDERSTAND WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO SHOW ME.
I can’t take it back.
I don’t even know where he lives.
I can’t track him down.
I wouldn’t dare bother him.
See, the years in heaven and in light that he gifted to me, are what I get. I get to keep those.
I don’t get to keep him. I don’t get to continue to steal his light to shine on me.
The reason we broke up is because he asked me to be his equal, and nobody ever believed in me like that before - I didn’t comprehend what he was dreaming up for me.
He was saying, “Sarah, you have as much light as me, use it.”
Imagine you found someone SO wonderful, all you ever wanted to do was listen to them speak, hear their heart beat, share their exhale and marvel at their beingness...and they told you, “I need you to join me.”
Imagine you were asked, not to be the matriarch, but the co-triarch. Imagine someone saw all of your bullshit, knew you could rise above it, and was begging you to sit in joy and abundance with them.
I’m telling you this happened to me. It happened to me and I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to let him down...but I needed steps, a guidebook, if you will. Drama was my game and I was the coach and MVP. Gossip was my bread and butter, self-hate my arsenal, and loathing my family and playing the victim card was my M.O..
You mean, you want me to just transcend my bullshit?
HOW? Let me know. Let me in. Let me begin to accept myself first though, because jumping from self hate to total transcendence seems like a big ask.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t “fail” per se. I grew a lot. But I’m not enlightened. I’m not his equal in the way he needed me to be, and I’m 100% sure the drama at my office would internally and externally make him quit living because it would be so stupid and nonsensical to his lifestyle of literal pure joy and acceptance of all.
I’m not beating myself up and afraid to speak about this because it wasn’t realistic and I had no idea what I was working towards for him.
But Jesus Lord Almighty, my saviour and Heavenly Father who art in heaven THANK YOU for this majestic-ass man.
He pulled my head out of my ass and I’ll be damned if I ever try to find love at a bar again.
Thank you for listening.
My story with J is unfinished.
He told me once that when you turn 29, your Saturn Return kicks in astrologically, and that’s when all the powers that be blend up all your remaining bullshit and force-feed it to you.
I’m hoping that by 30...maybe he will talk to me again.
And if not, that’s okay. (Just kidding - I literally cannot imagine being half-assed loved by a muggle now).
We’re all equals. I love you all. Namaste.