On Saturday, I did something I never thought I'd do. I stood up in front of approximately one hundred people and said words to the effect that "my life has been heartbreaking, from the moment of my birth onward." And that's the truth -- I won't elaborate, because if you have read more than a handful of my blogs, you have some idea what I mean. But this is the first time I literally stood up and verbally said those words (with no further explanation) into a sea of faces. Not surprisingly, I have experienced an emotional roller coaster since then, made even more traumatizing by the fact that the national spectacle in front of us reminds me of me trying to operate in my family and much of my life -- a strong, creative, intelligent, well-intentioned, ethical, reasonable "case" being met by a brick wall of "no."
The fact is (and this may be the reason I could never have become a lawyer), the minute you have to "argue a case" with the black-hole-that-isn't-love, you have already lost. The black hole doesn't listen. It simply sucks in everything that comes near it, and you lose yourself, and everything you hold dear.
In the midst of this week's confluence of remarkable events, it is clear that the answer is not to fight harder, adding to polarization and the conflagration of fear. The answer isn't found in focusing on any of the world's black-holes-that-aren't-love. I must increasingly "reference"/model/stand for only love/beauty/creativity/truth/integrity/joy. In a sense, this is exactly what has made my life so impossible so far, but going backward isn't an option either. I've embraced my broken heart, stood her up for all to see, and I think it's helping me love her more.
