So my move to Dubai started with boy trouble. It was not boy trouble of the commonplace kind. It was the kind that slashes through you, through the flesh and the rib cage and the deepest chambers of the heart so that the Divine light that was trapped inside there could splay out in crystal wonder.
The first couple of days at my new [corporate] job (we’ll get to that later), I was too devastated to focus. My heart was having contractions. My stomach was wailing. My blood coursed hot, urging the rest of me to be warned about the demonic child that was about to be born. This child was going to eat me up, I was sure. If any of you are good friends with anxiety-ranging-on-panic, you will know what I’m talking about.
In the afternoon, I walked around the city, apartment hunting, but not really seeing anything. Just a mess of walls, doors, counter tops that didn’t really register as walls, doors, and counter tops. A broken heart can do that to you. Then I locked myself in the bathroom in my hotel and crouched down in the shower sobbing and the ceramic echoes sobbed back at me. Why was everything taken from me? Ripped away? For a new beginning? A beginning of what exactly?
It accumulated to a pinnacle of pain and I prayed really hard, with my head on the floor, begging for help with this difficult thing they call surrender. I didn’t know how to do it just then. Until the answer came as: give it to me. That thing you’re holding onto. That thing you’re terrified of. Let me do it to you so you can see…so you can feel for yourself…I am behind it all.
At last I surrendered. I was read to give it away. I had no choice. The pain pushed it out of me.
Hours later, I had a talk with the man I shared my heart with. It took courage. As the nausea mounted in my throat, I listened to him. We spoke for hours. I said what I needed to say and I heard what I needed to hear but regardless of the words, or the explanations, or the clarifications, or the assurances, Knowing began to hum in the background. The words stopped mattering. The meaning, gentle as it was, stopped mattering. When rightness comes it sounds like a soft bell, somewhere in the region between the gut and the heart. It was like I could see with the eyes of God. This is what surrender feels like. This is alignment. I saw the universe and its many pathways, separating, crisscrossing, re-merging, intertwining. This is the way that consciousness plays.
Today was my third day at work. I now work at a major broadcasting company and the atmosphere is fun and positive but you cannot escape the fact that you are working in a corporation. You have to ask for vacation days through an online system that shows you how many days of fresh air you’re allowed. When I walked in, today, I was escorted by something larger than me into what Dr. Lissa Rankin calls "the plane of love". The plane of love is where love resides, so encompassing, bigger than all of us and does not belong to one person, does not come from one person, and cannot be given to only one person. When the day was done, I walked out into the late afternoon sunshine and crossed through some greens. In the plane of love, I could hear the plants again speaking not with words but with what I can only describe as a green sense. They spoke tenderly. Gratitude. Welcome. I know. I know you suffered. You are loved. Join us in this quiet flow. I held the leaves to my chest. Speak more to me.
The strange thing is, that I’m sitting quietly on my bed right now with wonderings. They circle above my head like the white doves in Makkah. I’m wondering about deservability. What have we been taught about deservability at a young age? Disasters, I’m sure. Do I deserve the love I yearn for, the love I believe in? Am I worthy of this extraordinary magic? Did I have it and lose it because I’m made of too much bone and not enough water, too rigid, too pleading, too scared…too something? Or did I Iose it because I’m not enough something? Or have I just woken up into the greater plane of love into the arms of One who was always there, waiting for me accept it?
A strange unexplainable sadness lingers with me. My heart is still aching for what I've lost but I am in love...not with anyone or anything in particular. I am in the state of love. My jaws tingle and a sparkling rush travels up my face to the crown of my head, where a sacred white flower opens. This fearless pilgrim has learned to give her heart, the most precious and guarded thing, to someone and through that someone, pass it on to the Creator. Only good and true things can come of this. Perhaps magical things, even.
So the journey continues. Dubai, city of walls and concrete, what have you to teach me?