Monday, May 29, 2017

Cleansing Fire

It was on New Year's day of 2016 when my husband told me that he loved someone else. It was a shock, the pain was overwhelming. There were months of discussions about his unhappiness in our life, how much he missed France.

I had a very hard time accepting this new situation. I kept hoping he would awake from the madness and things would go back to the way they were. But after he took a trip to France, which he had not done in years, he told me that he did not want to reconcile.

There were more months of pain and tears, fighting. I was grieving as if he had died, but he was still there like an angry ghost. This is a sadly common occurrence in New York, I have a few friends who live with their estranged partners.

The New Year came, and I was ready to turn the page on this part of my life, and find a job that paid enough so that we could truly separate. I love him enough to let him go.

The universe had other ideas and I faced a couple of setbacks that are not related to this story, except for how they added to my sadness.

I felt as if I were living the poem Guesthouse by Rumi, with 'crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture'. I am looking forward to the new delights that will fill the cleared out space.

I was going through boxes in my room, trying to make the space my own when I found these flowers from my wedding day. My sister had pressed them and planned to make a picture from them. She never did and finally handed me the tracing pad with the pressed flowers in its pages, hoping that I could do something with them.

When I found them, I knew what to do with them. A cleansing fire would help free my spirit.

This weekend I have been alone. My son is camping, my husband is on another visit to France. I have spent the weekend nourishing myself, dancing, meditating, photographing the flowers. Today I will dance some more, see Dance Africa, celebrate with the dancing community and revel in the drum spirit.

Yesterday, the day after our wedding anniversary, a year to the day of when he said we would not get back together, I burned the wedding flowers.