Lessons of Love

“Love is unconditional. If there are conditions, then it is not love, it is approval.”(Forgive me for I do not know the person to give credit to)

You understand love from an early age by the way it is given or shown to you. For some, love is painful, abusive, unrelenting. For other’s it is all encompassing, lifting you up, considering, valuing and supporting you. For others it may be illusive, deemed undeserved, conditional. For me, it was a hybrid; an omission where the words “I love you” were never spoken, covered with plenty of disdain, abuse, and punishment. I really didn’t know what love was, however when I was a bit older and invited into my friends' homes, I knew that I had never received it. In return I didn’t really get what it felt like.

Highly introverted and quiet, my first boyfriend was a forced matchmaking by my friend NC, in the beginning of my senior year of high school. The match actually started at the end of our junior year when she began pointing him out to me, in the afternoons, when we were attending Vocational school . We were both 17. I was shy, he was shy, we both never dated, I never thought twice about it, he didn’t either, and apparently we were perfect for each other. And even though we both resisted, she was relentless and we finally went out just so she would stop. It turned out to be alright though, and so we continued to hang out and eased into “going steady”. That first year we only held hands. Not kidding. We had our first kiss the summer after we graduated. We were slow, but it was comfortable, we liked each other and enjoyed being together, and we just left it that way. Never any pressure, just easy. Eventually he did bring up the question of sex and eventually we engaged, but it was more like we accomplished a milestone. There wasn’t i love yous or you are my everything, there was just what was.

Moving on and into other relationships, I was very aware of the process that would happen, when a guy would be interested, start talking to me, ask me out and if I liked him and I felt comfortable then we would continue to spend time together and eventually find we had eased into a steady relationship. I rarely if ever initiated, I didn’t pay much attention and didn’t pick up on subtleties. I remember Matthew, the HVAC guy, standing in my doorway one evening, asking me if I knew that for the past six months he had been flirting with me. I said no. Unless you told me straight out, I did not know. I did not make assumptions.

Somewhere in all of this, someone had mentioned to me that usually in relationships, one person likes the other person more. I knew for sure that I wasn’t the “more” person and this would be validated, time and again, when I would try to end the relationship. Now don’t get me wrong, I was a great girlfriend; I was truly interested and listened to them, I saw who they truly were and acknowledged them, I was very appreciative and thanked them for everything, their attention, their consideration, their companionship. I still was keenly aware that I didn’t “feel” that romantic love feeling or what I thought it was supposed to feel/be like, courtesy of Disney, but I was always honest with the person I was with. And in my actions I did love them and said so, but there was always something that felt missing.

Much older and more into my spiritual nature, I was sitting on the stairs to the basement one night, feeling lonely almost one year after my husband had passed away and I asked God if he would send me a Cowboy. Someone who was strong, courageous and wild, that was passionate and that I would be passionate about. One month later the “Cowboy” was delivered in a parking lot at the hands of another girlfriend playing matchmaker, this time, though, for her own benefit. We went and sat at a bar, where her boyfriend then joined her; they were to my right, the Cowboy to my left. The bar was crowded, way too noisy to have a normal conversation, so we had to lean in to each other to hear. I don’t know how long we had been talking to each other, but at some point I became keenly aware that everything around us had disappeared, the bar, our friends, the patrons, the noise. I only saw and heard him. It was like we were in this bubble and the rest of the picture had grayed out. Later he would tell me that he had had the same sensation. Hmmm.

And so it was to be that connection, passion, intense intertwining of body and soul. I loved every part and piece of him, especially the ones he hated. We integrated, had moment after moment that built into an unforgettable and beautiful tapestry. I knew that this was the person that I truly belonged with, in every part of my being; he was the other half of my soul. And so it came with great pain that one day I would help him with a decision that would be best for him and that would remove me from his life. Even though I was devastated, I respected and honored his decision and allowed him to be. It was at that moment that I actually knew and felt real love, unconditional love. That sacrifice you make to put another before you, completely unselfish, even if you are beyond heartbroken. I was so elated that I finally knew and felt what love truly was and so grievous over the loss. Since then we have tried to be distant friends, drifting in and out of touch over the years, however different lives on different paths put more and more space between you.

A little over a year ago, we had reconnected briefly over text and he became ill. A few days later, he texted me to let me know he was in the hospital and couldn’t breathe and couldn’t talk. I started to pray for him and send him white light. Upon awakening the next morning, I found a text from him saying goodbye, his organs were shutting down. I was beside myself and had a chance to speak to him briefly. I told him not to give up, that I could not lose him. It wasn’t rational per se, however I couldn’t stand the thought of him not being here, alive and on this earth, even if I could never see or speak with him. He told me he was scared and didn’t want to die. I told him I was scared and wouldn’t let him.

My heart was racing, but what I had to do came immediately, and I reached out to every one I knew and asked them to reach out to everyone they knew who were prayer warriors, healers and energy workers and we began to pray and send love and light collectively. That day, I made the hardest promise to God that I have ever had to keep. I couldn’t stop crying and at some point, exhausted, I fell asleep. I dreamt that I was sitting in a chair by his hospital bed. His head was turned away from me, to the right; he was sleeping sitting up. There was a technician with his back to me in the other corner beside the bed, checking monitors. I looked back to the Cowboy and witnessed a stream of breath or life force enter his head and go down into his chest. As it made its way through him, I saw his face, then neck and then chest expand out, as if someone had just blown a great breath into him. When I awoke, I knew that he was going to be ok. Later that morning, he called me and could hardly talk, but he wanted to let me know that overnight his health had turned around completely and his tests that morning showed his organ functions were close to normal. He told me he knew that it was me, that I did that, I saved him. I told him I didn’t save him, love did.

On this day of love, my wish is for all of you to be open to

experience love in a truly exceptional way.