I had the best time walking with my friend M yesterday, and I’m still on a high from it. So much laughter and humility and sharing the truth. There’s nothing like being in the presence of someone who lifts up your energy from blah to yay, that you feel kindred spirit-ness with, and that you feel cool and hip with all at the same time.
Gratitude. Thank you.
I am reminded of my very first coaching session — the first one I ever had with another coach. We did a visualization of my 80th birthday party. I got to close my eyes and picture the party. What did I want it to be like? Who was there? What was I like at that age?
A lot of things in the picture were vague, but one thing (besides my cute haircut) was clear: a web of gorgeous, powerful connections. The sense of a life lived long and filled with intimate, meaningful relationships.
What does it mean to me, having “meaningful relationships?”
I know what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean that so and so saved me or that I saved them. It doesn’t have anything to do with dependence and drama.
It means I think (and I have never quite taken the time to put this in words before), that there are people in my life whom I adore, and with whom I’ve shared rich experience. Both parts are essential.
I think of my friend D. I adore this persons’ very essence. I’m a raving fan. And when I look into his eyes I see the whole river of our ten year friendship, the streams rushing together: wicked laughter, ridiculous adventures, tears of loss, happy celebrations.
I fall in love with souls. I just fall in love with them. It’s mysterious who and where and how, just as love always is. It’s as if, with some souls, I’m given special sight, and I see the stunning gorgeousness. They aren’t better or worse or different than anyone else, but cupid’s friendship arrow struck me with them.
Something right in the center of my chest is connected to something right in the center of theirs. I’m moved to tears by their very existence. I want to be in their orbit.
I’m crying now, because I’m so grateful.
To be in web of connection, to look into faces and see decades of shared conversation—that’s what I want.
To look into eyes and have shared experience stretch before us, invisible and palpable in the space.
To choose others and have been chosen by them to share the walk with.
At 80, if the room is filled with that, I’ll be humbled and overcome. I’ll feel like I’m resting in a bed of roses.
When I picture that room, I can feel what I and everyone in it would learn that day: Our lives don’t begin and end with birth and death. Our lives are the swirling currents between us. Our lives are what we send and receive and mix and create.
My life rests not in my life story but out there, in the space, in the currents. That life never leaves this realm.