A pearl is formed over time by grains of sand irritating it. I’m much the same. I’m the evolving woman. The over-thinker. The analyzer. And the one who will see her way out of the past. Fully.
It’s alarming to see yourself through new eyes, especially the eyes of love and compassion. I’ve been told I’m too hard on myself. I’ve always aimed for “better” in any area I’ve dabbled in. I carry the torch of passion anywhere and everywhere I go. Once upon a time (like recently), I assumed this made me “too much”. I am close to tears as I even write this, because what kind of belief is that to live with every day for nearly 35 years? It’s a belief that is built upon the foundation of self hatred. My core wound has manifested in many branches of this single wound. I hated myself once, so much so that I understood that I deserved to be hurt, to be forgotten, to be ignored. I feel like every day of this life I’ve thirsted emotionally for something that would quench the unquenchable. And so I stumbled into the life of being a “spiritual teacher” in training. Every time I take another footstep out of the darkness that has been my entire existence, I am surprised. Some people are taken aback by bad news, but I am thrown off by surviving another afternoon. By this person I’m becoming who pushes back and barges through emotional and spiritual barrier’s. True strength isn’t the anger I carried around like a flame waiting to ignite anything that appeared the least bit threatening. It’s choosing to be gentle. Even if I do still dance a little dance, a few steps forward, one back, and forward again. I’m learning. My teacher is asleep and I’m still awake.
If there is one lesson I feel worthy of mastering in this lifetime as Alisha Archuleta, it will be to love. I don’t have to believe in people, or even that they are always worthy of my love. I don’t have to allow bad energy into my life, or play with the core wound manifestations of “lack of love”. I can ask for more from my friends, family, and myself. And if they can’t deliver that, I can walk away from them. I am free. Love isn’t clinging, or holding tight to someone. It’s allowing them to love another, to walk away, to choose the wrong thing, even to manifest their own death. I’m not here to change anyone’s life but for my own, but I’m able to connect people to certain aspects of life after death if that helps. Or their guides. My job isn’t to love the unlovable. It’s to see that which is perfect in God’s eyes. And love that person. So much of love has been painful for me, because of my hopes and expectations.
I’ve carried the burden of lost love for an entire lifetime. I’ve let love slip away time and again, expecting it to be perfect or nothing at all. It can be frustrating to love another and know that you aren’t meant to be more than a lesson to each other.
If I were to be honest about what all of these lessons are trying to teach me (and I do mean all of them!!), it would be to keep my heart wide open. To birth love again and again. To become a vessel of pure love. To grasp for nothing but love. To hold onto one thing; love. To hope and scheme for but one experience; love. To become the manifestation of God’s love.
I recently elaborated upon this point as I realized my past behavior, that it is easy to shut doors. It’s a lot harder to open them again. Trust is so precious and it is the cornerstone of a good relationship. And yet, even if trust fails to exist, the love is still there. Never lost. Always abundant. You can cover it up in years of let downs and disappointments. You can lie every chance you get, but it doesn’t tear the love out of your soul so you no longer have to suffer love. Love isn’t, in fact, why we suffer at all. It’s the potential or perceived loss of love that causes us so much discomfort.
I am every age I’ve ever been, and I’m a fraction of every person I have loved. I am shreds of this and tatters of that. I am sewn together not because I have actually been torn apart, but because when you love someone you include them in the patchwork quilt that becomes your heart. And there is always room for more. Though my fingers often run over my favorites pieces of that quilt, again and again. Some people you simply never forget, even if you thought at one point in time, that you could. It’s like that scene in fifty first dates where the woman with memory loss, forgets her own boyfriend. He walks in to see a room full of her paintings, and they are all of him only she doesn’t “remember” him. He knows somewhere inside of her he remains.
She is changed forever by his memory, because souls never forget that which was real love – it is already a part of them, set aflame by another in perfect alignment with their energy at the exact right time. Precious works of “God” – the lovers entangled in pure abandonment of their hearts to one another.
I am ready to admit that when my friend Justin killed himself, a part of me shut down. I can’t believe it has been nearly three years and here I am still unable to admit that I loved him. Very much. Enough to dedicate a life to his memory; my own.
As my evolution continues I expect that this feeling of peace will as well. And maybe I’ll master a few more things, like genuine happiness.
Where there is love, there is a reason to live. If we remember that, we have the only answer we’ll ever really need.