This post is an Imbolc letter to the one I’m estranged from.
Dear one,
Many times over the past few months, I’ve wanted to tell you that you are welcome in my home.
I know we’re not speaking right now. But I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you (for months) that if you don’t have a home, or you’re passing by my town and need a place to sleep. Or the shit hits the fan, we’re under martial law, and somehow you can find me after the revolution…please find me.
Please community with me, make a home with me, and let me try loving you one more time.
safe
Maybe it’s silly, like– what are the odds you would need my home as yours? Probably you have other spots. Or you could have a place again on the land. Probably you’re safe.
But I love you. That means I hate to think of you suffering in a ditch or on the street, freezing in the woods, trying to live in a broken down car fearing being towed, or subject to arrest for violating parole for being homeless.
If you need refuge, take refuge with me.
Imbolc
It’s almost Imbolc, my favorite wheel of the year holiday, when the baby lamb stirs in the sheep mama. So it felt ok to write to you here at least. A gift to myself, if not to you.
I still haven’t read the December emails because I’m afraid. I need time to rest–this is autistic burnout or some kind of spiritual illness I’m recovering from. (Maybe they are one and the same.) I need a reset. Like you said you did.
I’ve been learning about PDA more, and how to relate with avoidant people in relationships. Also learning about myself and my own patterns. Learning who I am, after asking Spirit for huge change and receiving it.
You are important to me. My life has changed in a hundred ways, partly thanks to you and all I learned last year.
threshold
Lately I keep the curtain open on the little window on the door, so I can look at the sky while I sit at my desk and write. I was home alone writing, and my spouse came home from running errands. Motion on the porch / balcony caught my eye, and without thinking, I wished you would arrive.
I love my spouse and am loyal to my family. But still I wish for you. If you appeared at my door, I would weep with joy. I would hold you if you would welcome that. I’d put a new sheet on the cot in the living room, and you would have a place to stay. You would be welcome in my home. Please come to me if you need me.
Maybe in spring I will hear from you. I’m sorry about everything I didn’t understand.
what I miss
Lately I miss how I checked in with you about mutual acquaintances who I was getting to know. I felt safer when you told me what you thought of them.
Recently I went on a daytrip to Portland with someone who you told me about when I asked. I feel safer with your perspective. Not like I would ignore my own experiences or ignore my gut. Just I respect your opinion. I sort your thoughts in with my own impressions.
You help me feel stronger. Sometimes I wish I could still ask you for social advice.
Also I miss your aesthetics which are the finest. I miss how you would send me a social media post of an art thing which would scratch an itch I didn’t know I had. It was so so so so good, you feeding me little aesthetic gifts. Thank you for that.
magic
I miss you knowing about my life and feeling your love suffuse everything. I wish I was worth it to you, that you wanted me. It hurts so much that you’ve pushed me away 20 times.
My life is filled with love. But there’s a magic you contributed. I’m unsure what destiny we have and tired of wondering. But I ask Spirit sometimes.
Last ask, Spirit said yes, definitely, to keep you in my prayers: King of cups. As for our destiny, me and you, Spirit said Knight of wands. Jeeze–sounds exhausting. I want the passionate energy, but I can’t do erratic or impulsive. My need is safety– long-term and long arching, spreading over the years as closely nestled, tender, and divine.
Thank you for what we had. Please come to me if you need a home. Happy Imbolc.
I love you,
Nest
