Will You Still Be There? …An Open Letter To Myself.

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Do you remember when we first met? When we first became aware? When You and Me became We?

We could do anything we wanted. Go anywhere. Be anyone, be the best version of ourselves, for each other. We dedicated ourselves to that dream, in that moment, looking into each others’ eyes without blinking.

Do you remember?

Do you remember what happened next? When it all came crashing down amidst the distractions, the broken promises, the temptations of pleasure seeking, the struggle to avoid the pain and suffering of being alive? Do you remember the promises we broke to ourselves? Do you remember when the fire, once burning with the fury of transformation, became a tiny ember we forgot to feed with the oxygen of our awareness, our intention, our Will to Love? We expected to be the ones who got fed, instead. “Tending fires–that’s someone else’s job. Not my scope of work. I don’t tend fires…I only start them.”

We became consumers as we got colder. “Feed me!” We screamed at each other. “It’s all your fault!” We blamed each other. “I will leave you!” We threatened each other. The fire withered, choking, reaching…finding no fuel.

And the fire went out. The night grew cold and we settled for what warmth we could find. Space heaters kept us apart. We gave up on Our Dream, hunkered down, and got cozy. We forgot who we were at the beginning and searched for comfort, laughed at others’ lives on TV, and stopped laughing at ourselves. We lost the map (we’d thrown it in the fire long ago), and doing so, we lost The Path toward our best selves…The Path to the place we’d promised to go together.

Do you remember?

We got scorched by the fire of possibility and the passion of promises. We were seduced by the future–by other, bigger fires, other pretty paths. We were distracted by pleasures, wounded by pain and suffering, burned by fear, regret, and by holding on to How It Should Be rather than accepting How It Is.

I want to rise from the ashes with you. We’ve seen our fall, now witness our rising. Wait no longer. No excuses. No “Yes, buts”. No bullshit left to shovel. Let’s rekindle.

Let me ask you these questions and hear your answers. Are you ready? (That was question one.)

Will you love me again like you did that first day, first hour, first minute we met?
Will you love me with the fierceness of a warrior, the wisdom of a master, and the compassion of a new mother?
Will you love me without fear of loss, hope of gain, without regret or fear of pain?
Will you love me in spite of knowing I will fall short, let you down, disappoint you, lie to you, and hurt you?
Will you love me from your will and your will alone, and not from the promise of my love in return?
Will you love me without attachment to any outcome? Without hope for a future we can never predict?
Will you love me, fully and completely, knowing that one day you will leave me, knowing that one day I will leave you?
Will you love me in sickness, in health, when I’m at my most awful, when I’m knocking it out of the park, when I am big and strong, when I am small and mean, , when I am vulnerable, weak, malnourished, addicted, distracted, confused, wet, shivering, cold, angry and morally bankrupt? Will you love me even then?

Will you love me even more then?

Will you love me the most then?

Will you still be there when the night comes? When the glorious summer is over, and the chill descends upon the ashes of the fire that was, will you tend the fire with me and stoke it, breathe it to life, using your Will to Love, even if it is the tiniest twig?

If you’ve said yes to all this, you’re not quite through…

Now, look in the mirror, and ask the same of you.

Will You Still Be There? Howard Jones

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2 thoughts on “Will You Still Be There? …An Open Letter To Myself.

  1. Odd, I was thinking about you and the time we first met, when I came across your posting. I was thinking of calling, but wondered, “Would he still remember me?” My time in NC was brief. Jobs sent us in different directions, but I never forgot you, nor the times we spent together. I have followed you from afar and hope we meet again.

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