Passiflora Edulis - This and All Lifetimes

Today L and I exchanged emails about the way towards healing his anxiety so that he can reduce his meltdowns and get on with the life he loves. I said:

 'I'll be here to help you in this and all lifetimes.' 

I said this without knowing that this truth is actually written into my name.

I was reminding him to take Passionflower. Passionflower is known by MDs (and parents, partners and spouses of those on the spectrum) all over the world a powerful, excellent and safe natural remedy for autism, anxiety, ADHD, OCD.

As I sent him links to remind him why he should take it, by chance I came across the information that my name in Indian means Passiflora. The Rakhi flower in India is called Passiflora Edulis. It turns out that the passionflower - that is me.

"this and all lifetimes"

***

Earlier today I was having doubts about something I'm working on: it's a piece of writing about life for a family who have different members on different parts of the spectrum.

It helps general audiences become informed about autism and helps people on the spectrum feel less alone. It's funny, and sharp and poignant and touching.

Today I had doubts. Thinking I can't do this.
I'm not a good enough to to this.
I don't know enough to do this.

I was talking to angels saying if I can do this - if I am meant to do this, give me a sign.

And then I found about Passiflora. And Rakhi.
And now I  know what I'm here for.

And maybe...just maybe...maybe they were trying to tell me that I was born to this.

It was the name I was given when I was born.
I think it was given as a sign for me to realize who and what I am here for when I eventually woke up.

No more doubts.
I believe I can do this.
And it is is beautiful.


Thank you angels.

Ways That Belong to Only You and Them

A hospice is a combination of the clinical and the poignant. He is 85 and is holding the hand of the woman who he has spent 60 years of his life with. 

'You see - I am writing the book. The one you always wanted me to write. It's for you. I'm doing it now.' 

She blinked. 
He began to write. Sometimes he would read back what he had written so far. 

Later, he sat further away. He had tears in his eyes. 

I noticed that she had fixed her eyes, unblinking, on him even at all that distance. 'Go sit,' I said, 'She's asking you to be closer.' 

He moved forward. 
And silently she held his eyes; for a moment I felt she held all of him in her eyes, perhaps just as she used to hold him in her arms. I understood that when you love someone and you need to, you will find different ways of holding them, ways that belong to only you and them.

I'll Be Right Beside You Dear

In the days leading up to leaving there was too much to do.
Tickets. Passports. Goodbye lunches. Meetings. So many meetings.

Except with you.
No meetings with you.
We both thought that I would leave with no goodbye.

Your refusal to accept that I would get on the plane.
I know exactly what you thought. You thought I'd never board the plane if I couldn't see you to say goodbye. You thought if you held out, then I wouldn't actually go. And everything would be okay.

My knowing that I was failing to make you understand that I had no choice.
It was time for me to go.

***

But the day I flew, I did what neither of us had thought we could handle.
On the way to LAX, I told the taxi driver to drive me to where I knew you'd be.
And there you were.

Tired. Looking so tired. And sad.
Your running top had shrunk and was unusually tight on you. I know you left it in the dryer too long.
You had shorts on but your legs were thin and they weren't tanned anymore.
I knew you hadn't been surfing or even near the water even once.
You weren't wearing your Rainbow sandals.
Shoes. Socks. And shorts. And too tight running top.
In 110 degrees.
Your hair was sticking up like you'd just got out of bed.
Only I know you - and I know that your hair was sticking up because you're not sleeping anymore.
You're staying up through the nights. Sad. Stressed. Confused. Exhausted.


I gave you your present and you said, 'No. You can't go.'
And I said,  'I have to go.'
And you said, 'No. Don't go. Tear it up now. Tear up your ticket now.'
And I said, 'I had to see you. The taxi's waiting outside. I have to go now.'
And you said, 'No. You can't go.'

You were frantic with grief and confusion.

I said 'Let me say goodbye. I'll be back as soon as I can be. I'll be back.'
And you wouldn't let me hold you.
And you wouldn't make eye contact.
And all you said over and over again, looking at the floor, shifting your feet, dripping with grief:

'You're not going. You're not going. You're not going.'

And then I had to go.

I walked to the taxi knowing that you were behind me.
But I couldn't turn around to face you because if I looked at your beautiful face and into your aching eyes, I might not be able to get into the taxi. 
 You said over and over, 'You can't leave. You can't go. No'

And eventually you roared, sobbing, both of us sobbing:

'NO! NO! NO!'

And I got in the taxi.

I looked out the window and I could see you: you were standing in the driveway, one hand shading your eyes from the sun, your gaze directed at me, as if in total disbelief.
I was crying too hard to tell the driver what to do, but he didn't need to be told.
He said 'If you're ready, nod and I'll drive to the airport. You don't need to speak.'
And I nodded.
And as he drove, I looked at you from the rear screen window as you looked at me moving further away, and I looked at you becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

All the way to LAX I wondered if I was going to tell the driver to turn the car around, but somehow I didn't say a word. When I got there, even after I checked in, in those last few seconds just before going through security, I wondered if I should instead walk in the other direction, and get myself home to you, so that I could hold you through the night and you could finally get some sleep again.

***

We both knew then that it's not forever. But it was a terrible time to have to leave - in the continued aftermath of your grief for your mother, and the huge processing and re-organizing that's left because of her loss, whilst you're in the middle of developing a property,

'I need you now,' you've since written to me. 'How could you leave?'

You're still, to this day oblivious to all those 'rules' that you had invented for me, that I had to follow to help you manage your stress. You don't understand that it was your rules that made it impossible for me to stay with you this summer. You genuinely don't understand that nobody who writes for a living could actually live under a set of rules that involved agreeing to not writing.

When I tell you this, you say wide eyed and sincerely,

'But why?'

And you mean it. Sincerely. And you'll go on, sweetly:

'Why not a for a few years until I get through this? If you help me too, all my stress will be over quickly: maybe in under two years. And the you can write again. All I'm asking for is no writing for the next two years, that's all.'

And you'll be asking the question in all seriousness: 'No writing for two years, that's all...' 

Because amongst the things that are very hard for you are the ability to see things from someone else's point of view, and the ability to predict or feel someone else's emotion: empathy.

So when I say:

'Honey, I can't tell you I won't write. That won't work for me,'

You say, simply:

'Why?'

And you are genuinely bewildered at how I can love you and still say no.

Because this is a love on the Spectrum: with anxiety, and rules, and not being allowed to hold you when you're stressed, and no eye contact when it's all overwhelming, and where you literally don't sleep for days in a row because of stress and sensory overload, and confusion, and lack of understanding, and goodbyes that don't make any sense to you, and even more confusion.

That's You.

And that's okay. Why should I expect you to understand something that your brain isn't wired to be able to do?  It's a neurodiverse world. And I don't love you just to be understood at all times.

I love you because it's what I was born to do: to love you just the way you are, whatever's going on.

And for whatever the areas that we struggle in,  there are the areas that make my heart soar:

The most intelligent, sincere, loving, gentle, beautiful, divine, thoughtful, heart in the whole universe.

That's You too.
And that's why I'm the one who's blessed. By You.


***

So it's not forever.
And you were right: with more time you'll feel better, things will lift, you'll be under less pressure and you won't need those rules anymore. That's how this mysterious condition works. The more stress you're under, the more rigid and inflexible you have to be about your rules.
But in time, it will subside. And you'll get back to being you.

And in the meantime I'll be back.
All this will pass my sweet, sweet love.

Every day, I miss you.
I remember you in the sun, on the beach in Laguna - on new year's eve at sunset, the day I fed rice to the fish in the ocean, and you threw a coconut into the sea because a Vedic astrologer had told us there would be cosmic benefits for us if we did.
We climbed the rocks to the edge of the Ocean.
There was sunlight pouring over you.
I took that picture.

My god I miss you.

You send me messages about what you're doing to the property and I close my eyes and I'm with you.

You send me pictures of your time with Amma telling me the prayers that you did for us both; and the blessings that you received for both of us; and I see you standing in the drive way that day watching my taxi move away, and I think I am the luckiest girl in the world to have found YOU.

So maybe you'll come over here and you'll sail a boat around the Scottish islands. Now that I'm here there are so many things I want for you to see. Maybe you'll meet me in Rome. Or Paris. Maybe we'll go to India together in the winter and spend six months at the ashram before we go back to Laguna.

Every day until then, you're the first thing I think of when I wake.
And the last thing I think of before I sleep.

I miss you. 
My, sweet, special, love through time and space.

There Is A Light. A Certain Kind of Light.

'There is a light,

A certain kind of light,

Shone on me"

Every passage of time has a song.
This has been it.
The song.
The song that got played a thousand times, as a thousand suns rose golden, and a thousand suns set pink and when a thousand stars flooded the night sky - and a thousand tears fell down my face as I myself fell deeper and deeper into knowing.

I've been listening to it for nine months now. As we've been apart because of work or because of a time for more understanding.  In those aching moments of distance between us.
Distance that has always in the end, brought us even closer together when it's finally over.

Distance that I so want to end forever now. Now that I finally get it.

This song might have been one of the ways in which I was given the miracle that I prayed so hard for; because there's a line: 

'Wanted my whole life to be lived with you. Lived with You.'

It's so simple. It said everything to me. Whenever I heard this one line, I would once again know our commitment to one another, and remember that to create a lifetime of togetherness you have to have infinite patience and unending understanding. And I discovered that somehow I am capable of more of either of those qualities than I had ever even imagined. Me!

'You don't know what it's like to love somebody the way I love you'.

So it's the song that defined 40 days and 40 nights of separation and awareness, love and patience, devotion and faith - faith that these are prayers that are being heard, and that angels are whispering answers.

***

I've been making my Dreamboard all week.

It's all about our life together. And I decided that I want to stop work, and be at home. Focusing on us. Building our life. Writing. Preparing for a wedding and for bringing a baby into the world.

I'm so clear. We brought in the New Year together. We talked. We're both so clear that that's what we both want.

I posted a request to the Universe yesterday:

"Dear 2013, It's only 1 week in and you're hitting me with a hard thing. After spending NYE with L, I want to go home and get on with a 2013 gameplan, even if it means giving up work for a year. But I have a job 90 miles away from Newport Beach and debts to pay - and believe me they have to be paid. All i want is to be in a teepee, taking a break from clients and projects for the next 12 months, building my life with L, writing, getting ready to have a baby. I can't commute 180 miles every day because it wrecks my body so I'm staying in a town 90 miles away from him so we can't get on with our life together. I also can't financially afford to give up work because no debt in the Universe goes unpaid. Everything has to be paid otherwise karma bites you in the ass. So-please provide crystal clear, workable, rewarding and immediate solution. I know you can show me. Thanks so much, Rakhi xxx P.S. For my part, I am working on my dreamboard. You'll have it by the end of this week. You'll know from that what kind of solution will work. The angels will tell you."

But an old friend said to me:  'You do know a made up year can't hear you, don't you ?'

I thought he was joking.
But then I remembered that not everyone believes in miracles because not everyone is listening.
So I thought if I told him about the extraordinary things that happened today, and he saw the video I shot when it happened, then he might understand, as I do that 2013 can hear me - I know that it hears me very clearly.

When I woke up this morning the firs thing that flashed up on my screen was a short and simple message. And I felt it's truth in every cell of my body. 'I know this,' I said, 'I'm so ready.'

An hour later this morning my sweet L - who doesn't know what I posted - texted me spontaneously to say there's a project up there I can step in to right away. And that's no small miracle because for the last 7 weeks solid he's told me he doesn't believe he can cope with the overwhelm he's going through if I am working - and he's wanted me to stop work and be at home with him for a little bit instead.

And now this morning, within 12 hrs of making my request, I get this:

'How soon can you stop what you're doing and start in this new project? You can work here, and be here Love not away anymore. When will you come home Love? I believe you can start here right away. You can come home now Love.'

The Universe is listening.

***

I told him that I'd have a think about how soon I can exit the project I am on. 

I've been unwell all day, but decided to go for a walk to get some air and sun. And to think.

As I walked I thought about how the client would be disappointed by my exit. They had plans and they want me to execute them. I wondered if I ought to stay here, 90 miles away from the life that I want to have, till the end of the month. 

But why would I stay, I wondered when I just asked for an immediate solution to be given to me?

L needs support. He needs me now. Not in a month. 

He's overwhelmed and disoriented and sends me texts all throughout the day telling me what he's doing, always saying  'I miss you deeply Love. When will you come home?"

Suddenly I had clarity:

I can't stay a month.

I need to go now.

Maybe this week.

I'm ready.

I'm just ready.

It's NOW.

I remembered the image that had greeted me this morning when I woke:

I found myself outside of a cafe that I go to around here. I decided I'd go in.

Maybe some tea would calm this madness. I don't like changing significant direction suddenly.
Leave now - right now? Really?

There's a piano there. There's always the same guy playing the piano. He's suitably bohemian: hipster - beard and  glasses, tight jeans and white vest and beret. He was playing when I got in.

I wasn't well today and the noise hurt.

'It's too noisy' I thought. 'Everything hurts I need to go back to bed...'

I decided I'd leave again.

I was about to leave when I stopped for a second just to think for a before the sunlight hit my eyes again.

'Really?' I asked myself, 'Really?  You're going to tell the client you have to leave this week, and that you just won't be available to develop those ideas for them after all - when you've been preparing the 2013 strategy materials. Really?'

I saw my Dreambaord flash up on the screen of my mind. 

The client isn't on it. 

This town isn't on it. 

Those projects aren't on it.

'It's OK for you to go, '  - I thought I could hear those words loudly from somewhere. 

The room around me seemed to go quiet:

'You wanted to go and now it's here- your solution. ' 

I could hear everything around me yet somehow I could hear this even clearer:

'You can go now. Go now and get on with your life together.'

***

A feeling of deep calm washed over me.
And then it started.

There was music coming from the piano. And I knew this music.  And it's never been played there in 5 years of my visiting that place. Not once. I looked up.

And it wasn't the hipster. It was a man who had looked me directly in the eye when I had walked in. He was a tech guy. He was on his cell phone when our eyes had met for a second. In front of a Macbook Air, and with an i-pad next to him, all his files spread out on the table. He was wearing a blue shirt and blue jeans. He was in his 50s. A straight shooting tech type. 

And now he was at the piano playing an intro I have heard a thousand times. A thousand times.

I couldn't believe it as he broke the first line:

'There is a light.

A certain kind of light

A light that is shone on me...'

Just as I had made a decision to go - to go NOW.

Just after me asking for a solution yesterday. 

Just after L having a change of heart this morning, and not only accepting that I should work, but also lining up a project for me to walk in to.

Just as I was feeling that this is it - it's time to go, but my heart was having such a hard time convincing my intellect that it's really OK to do this -

The tech man started singing the song.

'Wanted my whole life to be, lived with You. Lived with You'

 

My song of separation and awareness, love and patience, devotion and faith - and knowing.

***

We live in an intelligent Universe.
Everything is listening.
All of the time.

And sometimes answers are delivered by angels who look like a casual tech business man that I have never seen before in a cafe that I have been going to for four years; playing a piano that is usually only ever played by one particular guy; playing a song that I have been praying to through tears and tears and tears.

***

I filmed him because I was so stunned.
Tears fell continuously.
When he finished, no one clapped - as if they hadn't even heard him play.
He turned around, smiled directly at me, put his jacket on and went back to his laptop.

I remembered again the image that had greeted me when I woke up this morning:

 

And I remembered that I want to leave because there's someone very special who needs my support:

'You don't know what it's like to love somebody, the way I love you'

I turned and walked out into the afternoon sun.

Knowing that I am going to leave town this week.

Knowing that I am going home.

Now.

Because of Love through Time and Space: