good morning, neighbor.

(periphery)

It is finally growing warm enough to spend my mornings outside, as I love to do. Well I wouldn't call it warm, but with a giant sweatshirt and a cup of chamomile tea, it's doable for someone even as wimpy as me. Preston digs his nose into my legs, hiding himself under the table from the rambunctiousness of Fool 1 and Fool 2, who sprint in constant combat across the bricks. We are full on ghettoasis this morning; the bird songs, towering trees and sounds from the waterfall below could almost fool me into believing that the waterfall isn't made of urban litter (which I am not moving- love my trash waterfall!), that there aren't a couple of no-tell motels within walking distance. I love the contrasts. I love it here.

B loves the Cliff, too; but he doesn't love this particular neighborhood as I do. With no interest in the house, he is moving to another Cliffborhood. It is frightening, yes, the fact that he is finally leaving. I can feel one foot out of my comfort zone, and I feel quite naked. We have known this was coming for much longer than we have outed ourselves, and we kind of knew for much longer than even that. We are both peaceful and compassionate towards one another in this, and in that peace, we find our confidence that this is our best next step.

It is hard to explain to others why getting divorced is a step forward, mostly because it seems an unconventional line of thought to many. People who know us well know that we love to spend time together and that we rarely fight. They know that Bruce was wonderful to me when I was very sick, and that for a long time woke up an hour early every morning to make massive amounts of green juice to help me get better. They know I helped him through his mom's lymphoma last spring; they know he then helped me through my mom's lymphoma later that spring. They know we practice transcendental meditation together and go to one another for spiritual advice.

In spite of all of this, we feel like we have outgrown our time with one another as a married couple, that keeping our relationship in this capacity isn't best for us. Of course, there is always more; yet, even the unspoken "mores" don't really warrant being typed into words, because the point is we aren't thriving like this, and it is no one's fault. Does that make it a mistake? Not for me; I would do it exactly like this again. It has been a wonderful seven years of safety and stability, which I know I needed and will always be grateful for. Do I think I'll get married again? Well, I've learned to try not to say never, but I don't think so. I have questioned whether marriage was the right path for me for years, and I do think I needed to get married in order to have those intuitions confirmed. I may be with someone again; but, a forever promise just doesn't feel right. If forever happens, that would probably be lovely; but then, after the dust settles, most everything seems lovely anyways.

I remember learning about the Buddhist concept of impermanence from Lori when she was working brilliantly through reorganizing her life post-cancer. I recall reflecting on how special B was too me- How could it be that we are transient bubbles on a stream, no more connected to one another for eternity than any other two particular bubbles? How could it be that we could pop out of existence as individuals who felt so much compassion and connection for eachother, and just be water, sameness, perhaps even other bubbles down the stream? I still don't have an answer, but I've developed a haunch that our path is to follow our bliss, to float down stream; and maybe that the love and connections we find on that path are a reflection of the sameness and compassion that is core to the relationship that we all share...That the love we feel between two people is one of the greatest hints of all time, an analogy.