Table for Two
This took a year for me to finish writing. It isn't a striking piece of literature, but it was and is a piece my heart and my soul on the line. As I recognize another strand of the relationship that occupied my world for my formative years, my 20's and the first half of my 30's I am in sitting and breathing in deep gratitude for the divine masculine and feminine in us all. I am also feeling the divinity in every cell of my body as I know in a way I haven't before the ripple effect our energy, thoughts, and actions have on the world.
Writing and realization... It comes when it is ready I suppose.
Table for two. A friend is meeting me shortly.
Here you go ma'am. Will this seat be ok?
Will it ever. Two years prior in this exact same spot I sat in the booth behind the cute little wooden fence at the edge of the restaurant. It took every bit of effort I had to keep from sobbing that day two years ago. I am sure the tears were flowing, but my recall, just like my actions during that entire time, inconsistent. Some memories, like his words, are clear as a bell and others escape me.
Two years ago, lost, tearful, concerned, upset, and today not that at all. Today I believed I was holding space for a different friend one whose wife had decided to leave. He struggled to find the direction that I still was struggling to find. He struggled to find understanding of why the universe decided this was the path. I could feel that the universe was supporting me, but direction was lacking. He had direction, as always, and I could tell the understanding, the soul's knowing, was missing for him.
The words from two years ago rang loudly in my head, like the old bell decorating the wall in this restaurant.
"Choose you. Every day you stay in this chaos you loose a little bit of yourself, so choose you."
So masculine. This friend from before was strong in that aspect of himself. Do this. Make the choice. I needed that support. Sometimes that definitiveness pulls us out of the avalanche. Sometimes the ability to roll through the storm carries us to a new space of wonder. Rolling in the white blanket was a new skill I was just beginning to play with. Then it didn't feel too good. Today it felt better, but wasn't terribly fulfilling. Imbalanced to say the least.
The sentiment of deciding for me I held in my heart. I tried to remember those words "choose you" as I talked to this dear friend on a work-cation in WV. Winter here can be brutal. Life can be brutal too. I wondered why he would choose to come and be in this space right now. Made no sense to me. But as the warmth of our whiskey drinks and decadent sandwiches filled our bellies and the laughter and smiles filled our hearts I knew why he came. I had been here before. He and I now connected in a way we hadn't until now. I always viewed him as a little harsh, his masculinity carried him through. His words were sharp, his ideas seemed immovable. This event moved him. I had a lot of this masculine energy in me too. It was why I felt doubfounded when life my husband decided to keep us stuck in the storm. He actually didn't leave, just exited energetically and I found myself dancing in the bilzzard with him, chilled to the bone. I relied on the support of the masculine in my life at that time. He was now relying on support from the feminine. He was here as an empty container, allowing the feminine to fill up his soul. Through the theater, through the wet snow enveloping his world and our day, through the friendships and connection that this place offers up so freely. I found the goddess in me freeing up in a way it never had before. I found that while I couldn't step into that masculine --do it-- space I had occupied for so many moons, I clearly had an offering of energy and love that would be of benefit. Benefit to who? Me for certain. Him, maybe.
I recalled the time before at this same table for two. My heart was broken and the masculine graciously entered my life and selflessly supported. I tapped into the Goddess love that I recently started to embody and allowed this container before me to be filled with all of the agape I could bring. Hoping he felt as seen and heard he could have imagined. So many of our men only feel this when they are accomplishing a task, have a product or are providing. They deserve the same love we provide for one another as sisters, no strings attached. None of this was conscious on my end. Nothing shifted that day. None of this even realized until a year down the road when the skies are spitting flakes once again, and the whiskey has become a cup of jasmine tea and I sit alone, remembering not the details, but the experiences that shifted my being. My Soul finds that it doesn't have to carry the burden of growth, it simply needs to find the way to embrace and embody the rising of both aspects of self. We can carry the weight for one another when the doing and being balance is off kilter.. God's love enters and allows an equilibrium between the feminine that was unrecognized and the masculine that can be but doesn't have to carry me.
I wonder today. Where do our world's men fall in this equation? Both of these brothers detailed above held a space in my world in times that I found my divine masculine crumbling and the masculine around me gone. Do they have an awareness of the gift of divine feminine? Do they know that they can easily access this piece of themselves too?