I remember telling S on our second date, walking down Broadway all the way from Roseland Ballroom where we saw Kings of Leon, that I had been picturing myself shedding shards of glass, as if they were the negative thoughts and energy that I was carrying around. I don’t know what we were talking about, but somewhere along the line we must have stumbled momentarily into the metaphysical. He shot an imaginary basket between two bars of scaffolding and said that sometimes, while walking the streets, he imagines himself surfing or skateboarding.
I’ve actually resigned myself to the fact that my boyfriend is more evolved than I am. In some ways, at least. He still watches Rob and Big on MTV. He still eats red meat and white carbs every chance he gets. And he still needs stockpiles of grub, stashed in every drawer or cabinet, freezer or otherwise, in case there’s a blizzard and he can’t get downstairs to Duane Reade. However, when I tell him I’ve discovered this whole new idea of letting things go, he gives me an encouraging “Good,” but it’s always imbued with a subtle, “Duh.” I mention negative feelings I harbor. And he says, “That happened a year ago!” Actually, it was nine months. I lament the breakup of a friendship, and though he always takes my side, I know he can’t believe I am still a little torn up over it. It might be a guy thing, but he forgives and moves on.
I have a new mantra: I forgive you and I release you. I am not bound to you by resentment. Amazing things have happened since I’ve put this into practice. Give love, get love. I think S does this without thinking.
S is more patient than me as well. It’s as if he’s been living the Marianne Williamson quote: “Those who are certain of the outcome can afford to wait and wait without anxiety.” For five years, he’s been visualizing the dream of developing a disc golf course on Long Island. And steps are being taken now to bring that to fruition. He steps back and says, “I knew it.” (There is a drawing of a disc golf basket on the mirror where I wrote my affirmations. And there are two pictures of disc golf course signage on his side of the vision board. So, maybe I am rubbing off on him, as well.)
There are other ways he’s been living the dream. He’s almost always happy. Even when he’s frustrated or angry, there’s an undercurrent of happy. For a lot of people, I think it’s the opposite. Somehow, my man has harnessed the undercurrent of happy, instead of feeling momentarily lifted to happy only be dropped back down into the muck.
And he says he has the Pok-luck: his own personal brand of good fortune. I told him that it’s not that he’s just plain lucky – but that he lives a life of attraction. Jobs, friends, significant others (it is by sheer good fortune and openness that we met), shore houses, parking spots: he “stumbles” into luck, but it’s much more than that. Because he’s happy, these things find their way to him. No one wants a grumpy dude in their Fire Island house.
They say when the student is ready to learn the teacher appears. He is one of my teachers. So, I will study with the master and stand among S’s many disciples and admirers and count myself blessed to be the one who gets to come home to him at night.
