Balance/Imbalance

I spent a long time this afternoon talking with a dear friend. It was her dime, and it was a long call from overseas. It was much like catching up with Lynn or Barb or Marjorie - there is a soul connection there that bridges time and space. She is sweet and warm and witty and real. We have a separate but shared history. And I've never met her in person.

There is no accounting for connection and kinship. I've known this for a long time. Even as a young girl I recognized those souls that belonged in my circle, although several of them were present in this lifetime for a very brief time. They are the souls that light my path and show me the way. They are the companions that are easy on my spirit, take nothing away and add only strength and peace. Mary. Susan. Jenny. Janice. Marjorie. Lynn. Barb. Carlene. Paula. Rebecca. Alison. Jill.

Some of them took different paths that put us at odds. Losing my friendship with Susan and Janice was painful, disturbing, and very sad. I'm not even sure why I was tossed aside - I can't believe it was really because of some lame misunderstandings, or a mutual male friend. Something else was at work, some deep and old tension, or some powerful energetic misalignment. Karma. Well, maybe it was petty, crappy stuff, shallow and stupid and juvenile. But it hurt deeply and permanently. I don't discard soul friends. They are forever. Apparently sometimes I'm not so valuable.

Earlier this afternoon my local friend made an offer for company. I didn't even pick up on it until I was already back home, ensconced in my hermitage and singularity. What kind of damage have I sustained to miss the blatant clues that my companionship is valued, and desirable? In the midst of what always seems to me to be paradise, I choose, on a regular basis, not to share. It's an old tug-of-war: exposure, or insulation. Exposure means a vulnerability against which I have few defenses. Insulation means a vulnerability against which I have many, many defenses. A book. A cryptic crossword. RP. A drink. Sleep. Comedy Central.

Maybe it was Marianne Williamson, maybe it was Nelson Mandela who said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us."

Like Lynn I am aware of how powerful I can be. Like Lynn I have buried that knowledge in a quagmire of excuses, all of which separate me from Love. I can connect with my overseas friend because she is not here. To her I can be myself, expose myself. My local friend extends herself to me and I shrink away in fear. Perhaps I am afraid of vulnerability. Perhaps I am afraid of what she might unleash in me - healing, love, engagement. Oh, that would be the ultimate horror, wouldn't it?