Friday, September 28, 2007

Our own relationship story (part two)

Continuing the recounting of how Julia and I came to be together, here is part two. If you want to skip ahead, you can read the entire story if you go to Julia's blog and enter "soulmate saga" into the search box.

Here, I will continue to add another part of the story every couple of days.

So, on with part two!

----(Julia tells her story)

From just after Christmas of 1990, to early 1998, I lived in my parents’ home in Lexington, North Carolina. They were there approximately 6 months out of 12 and I was there alone 6 months out of 12. During that period is when Recreating Eden was begun in earnest—though I didn’t at that point fully recognize what it was that I was undertaking. It was quite a time of solitude--a challenge for an extrovert like me! I should mention that Lexington is a small town of around 16,000, and not exactly a social mecca, or home to a gold mine of men that might have made suitable partners for me, even if I had been interested in coupling up at that time. Even Winston-Salem and Greensboro, where I worked in a holistic center and taught classes, didn’t yield up any promising partnership material for me—but then, as I said, I was wearing invisible barbed wire and a “Keep Out!” sign.

I might have gone nuts in Lexington, what with living alone, if I hadn’t discovered The Whirling Dervish, a coffee and gourmet shop, where I went every day, at least once, for a cappuccino and a bagel, and for much needed social interaction. The people who owned it, Betsy and Larry, became good friends, and people from the town I might not have gotten to know otherwise became my buddies, too. It was a bit like Cheers, but on caffeine instead of alcohol. Yes—The Dervish (so named because Betsy grew up as an expatriate in Turkey), saved my sanity.

The Dervish never really made much money, though, and after a few years of struggling by, Betsy and Larry finally decided to let it go. Now, you'd think that would have been devastating news, but for some reason, I did not react the way you might have expected. No—I somehow took it as a sign—a sign that my time to move on was at hand. That might not seem so unusual, except that I did not have a clue how I was going to pull it off. I simply did not have the financial wherewithal at that point to move. But oddly, I knew that moving was, indeed, what I was preparing to do. How? No clue. I remember walking my dachshund, Luna, in the lovely old neighborhood a block from the Dervish on a September afternoon soon after they announced it was closing in a couple of months. It was warm and golden—a perfect early fall day—and there was a breeze blowing that had the tiniest hint of chill in it, like a promise of what was to come. I can feel that breeze and hear it rustling the leaves in the big oaks on First Avenue to this day. It was more than a breeze—it was the winds of change. And I knew it even then.

I’ve said many times that your Spirit will use your personality to get you where you need to go and do what you need to do. Well, mine used my love for cappuccino to get me where I needed to be to find what I needed to find. Since the Dervish was closing and there were no other sources for espresso drinks in Lexington at the time, I decided I’d need an espresso maker if I were going to make it through with a minimum of withdrawals from the Dervish. So I headed to Winston-Salem to check them out and, to make a long story a little less long, ended up striking out at the gourmet and home stores—I thought $200 was a little much and their cheaper models were sold out. So, it was suggested to me that I try the new super Walmart. I’m thinking, "No way will they have espresso makers there!" but I let myself be convinced and went. What a Walmart! The price check girls were on roller skates, the place was so vast. And yes, they did, indeed, have an espresso maker—a Mr. Coffee for $40. So I got it, along with a frothing pitcher, and wandered around a bit before being sucked into their book department. There, I found what was then a new book by Kenny Loggins and his wife, Julia (nice name!) called The Unimaginable Life: Lessons Learned on the Path of Love. Yes—that’s Kenny Loggins the singer. I felt a powerful attraction to the book, but I was a little torn at first. You see, I’d had a crush on Kenny since 1983 when I sat on the front row of one of his concerts in Japan and wasn’t sure I wanted to read about his love affair with his wife! I had been the only Caucasian in a sea of Japanese, and I was tall, blonde, blue-eyed and wearing a mini-skirt to boot! He paid a LOT of attention to me, singing to me, and even looking me in the eyes and leaning over the edge of the stage to throw me a sweaty towel at one point, which, thankfully, a teenage girl snatched out from in front of me. I say thankfully, because really, what does one do with someone’s perspiration-soaked towel? But I digress.

I did buy the book. And the rest is history. Of course, I will share that history with you in the next installment!


----(Rick tells his story)

While most of us are less than thrilled about it sometimes, change is often the harbinger of something fresh and new: it seems to me we are reborn time and time again as we move through our lives.

In my case, I had become involved with a sweet lady from Colorado Springs in the summer of 1997. It was the one and only time I ever made use of any sort of dating service. In this case, it was match.com, one of the first such websites to come into existence.

I was checking out match.com just as my soon-to-be friend was about to decide to pull her info off the website for lack of appealing results. I saw her ad the last day it was to be visible.

We met for lunch a few days later, which was not a hard thing to do--I have lived all of my adult life on the south side of the Denver area, she lived on the north side of Colorado Springs, so we were only about 45 minutes apart.

After a couple of more substantial times together, we gradually fell into a pattern that had me driving down twice a week to Colorado Springs to spend time with her and her son, a delightful young man just beginning high school. I would hustle back to Denver early Sunday to spend the day with my own four daughters.

The exact circumstances of discovering the very same Unimaginable Life book that Julia mentions have faded into the past, but it was typical of me that I did not immediately buy a copy of the book once I learned that it existed. Once I had heard about it and had some idea what the book was about, I went to my local branch of the Denver Public Library--easily one of the best library systems in the country, for which I am grateful over and over because I constantly have one book or another on hold, am waiting in virtual line for my turn to check out a book or several, or am turning in two or three books I am finished with--and filled out the little slip to request that the library buy a copy.

It was my first experience asking the library to procure a book I wanted to read that they did not have. It was an empowering event, that's for sure, and one I remembered years later when I asked the library to buy a copy of another book: Recreating Eden. The latter event was all about the same thing we are about at this website: getting the word to as many people as possible about a path to participation in this time of great change for all of humanity, the world, and the universe. My earlier experience, though, was about getting a book in my hands that I was not willing to buy sight unseen. I have been accused of being cheap. I prefer the appellation, ""careful with his money."" (if you think I'm bad, check out my dad!)

A couple of weeks later, I got a notification that the book was in. I rushed to the library after work, checked out the book, and proceeded to devour the contents over a period of a few days.

Once I had the book for a week or so and fell in love with it, it was an easy decision to buy a copy of my own. The book is a powerful statement of how love--or as Kenny and Julia called it in their book, Big Love--transforms. They met at a point in their lives when both had been through painful times and lived to come out the other side (isn't that the story for all of us of a certain age??), and the book chronicles the time in their lives when they became friends, lovers, and partners through their letters to each other, through the songs Kenny wrote at the time, and through Julia's beautiful poetry.

Both Julia and Kenny contribute to the discussion of Big Love and how it can heal. Heck...it can't help but heal, if you just let it do its job. Their lessons on radical honesty--on laying it all on the line every day with your partner so you don't end up with lots of junk in your relationship that fogs the connection between you--were eye-opening for me. For way too long in my life, I was a ""go along to get along"" kind of guy. I was always able to adjust or accommodate. What I knew nothing of was the stored pain I had accumulated as a result. When you get too good at stuffing your pain inside, you can completely forget it even exists. Boy, was I there!

My friend in Colorado Springs bought her own copy of the book, too. We often compared notes on particular sections of the book. For the most part, though, we didn't really practice the tenets of the book. Instead, we would just hang out and be together. Having a level of comfort with someone that allows for just being, not having to be *doing* all the time, was wonderful and restful--and educational. To some extent, we have become so much a "you are what you do" nation. That attitude doesn't leave much space for growth of the soul. I began to learn that you are always becoming who you are about to *be*. "Doing" is an activity or action, not the definition of the heart of a person. Growth on the inside comes most readily when there is space in your life to allow it. Allowing...that's one crucial concept!

I was a bit bothered at a deep level that my friend didn't seem all that enthused when I would talk about how we had a mission in life to help people. Like me, she was involved with computers at her job, and her interpretation of my vision was that we would form our own computer consulting company. I had mixed emotions about that idea which mostly revolved around my need for a considerable and steady income to provide for my daughters, but I could see how her idea could be a bridge to completing the vision I had.

In her case, the vision wasn't shared. Our relationship, though, was such an important one for me. When my marriage ended, I was at rock bottom emotionally. My trust of my own ability to create a healthy relationship was at about zero. Thanks to my friend in California, and later my friend in Colorado Springs, I learned that an important part of relationship is to own your part of it. When both partners are fully present and engaged, the connection is transformational: it's healing, and it is a verdant place where growth naturally occurs. If, instead, you are molding yourself to fit what little space is allotted to you in the relationship, it is draining and can suck the life right out of you.

Over the period of time from when my marriage became irretrievably broken to the time when I met Julia (more to come from her on that topic, I'm sure!), I was blessed to know two wonderful people who were my mentors in regaining myself. Neither was consciously playing that role, but I have found that my most powerful mentors often aren't. Both of these women healed parts of me that were vital to have fully activated for the time to come.

And, for that part of the story, you'll have to tune in again!

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