PeaceBang

Re-entry Mode And Thoughts On Romantic Timing

Hello ‘Bangers,

Here’s hoping that you’re all well and staying warm.

I am in re-entry mode after a lovely Florida vacation, courtesy of some very generous friends who gave me and a colleague pal the use of their condo. I’m not officially back to work until Tuesday which is nice and gives me some time to unpack, do the grocery shopping, and to curse the gods for their obnoxious sense of humor.

It’s just that, you see, Cupid got out one of his biggest, baddest arrows while I was away and hit me and a perfectly innocent other party with it, so now there’s a little jet stream of romance mojo moving north and south between Massachusetts and Southern Florida. A convenient 1,555 miles apart, that’s all. Well, we’ll see. And he doesn’t even own a computer, so there’s no chance of him seeing this, in case you were worried.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you’ve been through a few romances with me. Well, let’s say that you’ve been through about 100 bad dates alluded to, sporadic musings on the loneliness of the single life, and many reflections on the special challenges of the single minister.

I have tried not to chronicle every twinge of “gee, I might have met someone special” with my readers — because SisterBang and other pals have always been there to indulge those insecure, ad infinitum ramblings with — and also because no one needs to hear about the ups and downs of a clergywoman’s mostly non-existent dating life and romantic rejections . It’s neither appropriate nor interesting.

But let me offer this: I believe that chemistry is real and that it matters. I believe that kindred spirits and soul mates are real. I believe that we spend many years believing in the well-meant but totally cock-eyed interpretation of us handed down by family lore and old relationships, and that as soon as we jettison all that — really flush it down the toilet for good, it is possible for love to come, and to last. It is that latter process — not having a baby, not getting married, not getting our first paycheck — that makes us truly adult, and makes us truly free for true love to find us.

I have no idea if my new friend from Florida will be a true love. I’m not speaking of what is, but what I believe could be — if not now, maybe later. If not for me, God willing, for thee.

It takes a tremendous amount of work and effort to understand, accept and really know ourselves — to consider the input from those who know us (or think they do) along with our own knowledge of self, and to come up with an accurate and fair assessment of our own character and soul, needs, wants and responsibilities. It takes even harder work than that to hold that authentic person in affectionate and compassionate care, to move beyond the fear and woundedness that comes from being disappointed and treated insensitively, to stop dwelling on past failures, and to trust that God truly has made a unique and precious gift in us that deserves to be honored, and whose deepest recesses are known only to the silent soul. These private places of the soul should not be pried open by curious onlookers or cold-hearted Lotharios who pursue profound confidences in the same fashion that the paparazzi pursue the latest lurid photos of Britney Spears.

Many women have been socialized to gather the opinions of their friends and family when it comes to every subject from how to make a particular recipe, to what they should wear on a first date, to whether or not they should marry, to what career they should pursue next. This kind of intimate and constant gab can be deeply bonding and intimate, but it can also breed the exhaustion and mild contempt that comes with over-exposure to someone else’s vulnerability. At times the best thing for a woman is to cut off, or to be taken off this kind of life-support (however cruel that sounds) and to stand in her own truth for awhile. Not just to cultivate wisdom through spiritual practice and attention to her intuition (which she should be doing already), but to actively assess and, if need be, reject the version of herself assembled by her circle of intimates and to shore up her confidence in the true version; the woman she finally, after many years of hard and honest work, knows she is.

How can I ask someone to love me for better or for worse, unless I can love and accept myself through my own better or worse? Cliched to say it, but I owe my true friends the gift of finally getting it through my thick head that even at our “worst,” we all deserve to be treated sensitively and with compassion, and that love at its most basic means sticking-by. The lesson has finally stuck. Thanks, pals. You know who you are. What Jesus has been trying to convince me of for all these years, you have made real. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the opportunity to practice that spiritual discipline with a Sig Other?

Let’s just say this: if I do ever find true love I would want it to be just like this: during a time of radical emotional freedom and healing, of feeling particularly clear on who I am, what I need and how I want and expect to love and be loved. So no matter what happens with this particular conflagration, as the old song goes, “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”

Oh, and you know that check-list that so many of us carry around in our heads about who we think we should be with? I’m re-assessing my approach to that. My checklist used to have 40 or so items on it. Now it has about 12:

My Ideal Mate

1. Should be kind and considerate.
2. Should know how to love and be loved, and that includes honesty, trust and loyalty.
3. Should have a great sense of humor.
4. Intelligence.
5. Some kind of cultural interests and talents.
6. Charisma.
7. Be attractive to me.
8. Be attracted to me.
9. Have nice manners.
10. Not be an active addict or criminal.
11. Be politically progressive and actively involved in a spiritual practice or community.
12. Makes my heart go thumpety-thump.