Release

I (want to) free what has been in my clutches so that it can evolve into its greater yet to be.
I (want to) release to liberate my mind from relentless repetitiveness.
I (want to) release to cultivate the soil for right action.

I want to be willing to drop the "want to's." What will it take for me to drop the "want to's"? When I read these lines Sunday, these sparkly, little gems, wedged into the affirmation at church, I longed for them to be true of me the way I long to be in love. As though it'll never happen.

This morning he called. Told me he's thinking of going to San Diego for Christmas with his father. Then asks me what my plans are, saying, "You probably spend the whole day with family, huh?"Uh-huh. Sure do. He arrived at work and we hung up. Later, making my bed, I thought, Wait a minute. Was he feeling me out to see if I would be able to come with him? He didn't outright ask me, but the conversational proximity of the San Diego trip and my family holiday plans made it seem plausible. Confusing, given our rather up-in-the-air status at the moment, but still plausible.

Later, chatting with my sister in law on-line, I told her that he might have invited me to Christmas with his dad. She said that was great and we'd work our holiday plans around it. It is great, I remember thinking. Tonight, I asked him if he was asking about my plans because he was thinking of inviting me or because he was just curious. The pause was long enough to know he hadn't thought of including me at all. I felt like an idiot. For hoping. For wanting it to be a sign. For actually having asked my family if it was possible to move our holiday plans around to accommodate a trip he'd never even thought to invite me on. For having the thought that I would get to visit my friends who just moved to San Diego while he got in some one on one time with his Dad. Granted, it was his vague communication style that left it open for interpretation, but I chose hoping against the odds, hoping against evidence even that we are so not there yet.

I cling. I fear he'll all go away, because all the other men I have loved, or tried to, always have. So, I try to be the best they've ever had. And usually, I am. Usually they tell me I am. It's always them, unavailable. And here I am again, really liking a man with one foot in the door. The whole rest of him may be in the room: sweet, sincere, smart, goofy, attractive, clearly into me, clearly so much more than I would have expected to find in a man. Mostly. But. He's got one foot in the door, not letting it close, an escape route, an excuse out. For whatever reason. It's a good reason, I can't deny him that. But, if I continue to see him, as he has said he wants, even if we slow it way down, I'll still be waiting for him to stop thinking of me with a "but" somewhere in there.

It doesn't matter that his best friend told me he's said great things about me.

It doesn't matter that he told the woman who introduced us that I was the kindest, most compasisonate woman he's ever met.

It doesn't matter that one night after we talked about books and writing for a good long while, he texted me, "I like that you're a lit-critter."

It doesn't matter that he made a list of what he wanted in a woman and I am who he described.

It doesn't matter that I see the way he looks at me from time to time, eyes dancing and pulling the corners of his mouth upward just a bit, as though he's just amazed.

It doesn't matter that somehow I know we're supposed to be together. 

Because the timings off.

I'm ready; he's not ready yet. Me sticking around won't change that.

Rev D this Sunday said we don't release because we don't trust that our deepest heart's desires will be fulfilled. Truthfully, she said we don't release because we don't trust that there's a Divine Order. And really, I guess that's true enough. I do believe that I'll have my needs fulfilled. But my wants? My deepest desires? I want to believe, but I doubt. If there's one Bible passage I can relate to it's in Mark 9, when a father brings a sick boy to Jesus and says:

 "... if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."

" 'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes."

 Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

I so need to overcome my unbelief.


If I release him now, and tell him, "When you know what you want, and you're ready; give me a call. If I'm single and still interested, we can give this another shot," I fear he won't ever call. If I hold on to him, I fear I'll smother this new sprout of a relationship with my insecurities.

I have a hunch that someone less prone to dramatics and romanticism and wishful thinking would look at my options and call it a no-brainer. "Tell him 'goodbye'," they'd say, "Light a fire under his ass by taking the goods away." But honestly, the fear of not hearing from him again, the fear that can only be assuaged by more trust in the Universe than I currently have, feels much scarier and less reliable than getting as much of him as I can for as long as I can because in the end, I have always ended up alone.

The only question now worth asking, and answering, is "Am I willing to trust that if not this wonderful man, then someone better?"