when one door closes...

Light streaming through into the darkness. Monte Perdido
National Park in the Araganese Spanish Pyranese.

It's true what they say about doors. How when one door closes another one opens. And not just one door but many.

Except my story isn't isn't exactly about doors, it is about people. Actually, it isn't' t about people either. It is actually about Love.

We humans are like doors. We contract and close, we expand and open. Sometimes this happens consciously, other times unconsciously. And through us, when we make it so, when we allow for it, love passes. So my story starts when one door closes, when the person with whom I was exploring decides to close the door behind him, I am left on the other side: door in face. Maybe he is contracting, maybe he is expanding--I accept that's his story.

My story, this one part anyway, starts when one path of love and light and transformation suddenly becomes impassable. A relationship ends and all that is warm and loving between two people is sucked into a void. What was once open is closed. And what happens then?

I have been writing for some time now about love. And I'm convinced through my own self-exploration, by this constant compulsion for putting my heart out there that real Love, real grace knows no boundaries. How it honors the free will of us mere humans, but also has a will of its own. It is beyond us. I believe that love exists before us and will continue existing when we are gone. It is never diminished, and if anything, it is constantly expanding. And that we simply experience it in different ways. Our perception of love is conditional. Though love itself is without condition.

And so a door closes. And for a split second, I feel darkness. Then one door opens. Then another. Then another. And light, light just floods in. Because, love, like flowing water, will find a way. How to explain that the rejection of one person can result in me falling in love with over a dozen people? Not necessarily in a romantic way, but really discovering love through others, through people's goodness, their gifts, their peculiarities that make them so special.

I can only say that I was so focused on perceiving love in one particular form, in one particular direction, how for sometime, a beautiful time, my attention was on one person. But as he left, the space which he so lovingly once occupied filled up so quickly, so magically with such a motley crew of young love, of new friendships, of old bonds renewed, of teaching connections, of new cities and countries and opportunities that seem to be made just for me.

I still sometimes feel that door on my face, and annoyingly, I continue to feel it smite me occasionally. But I also see the many doors that have opened because of it, the open hearts of many who appeared seemingly out of nowhere to hold me, to hold my hand, to give me messages of love. How in this short span of time, of loss--supposedly--I have actually connected deeply with so many people and in ways that I might not have done, that the opportunity would not have been present, had I been focused on just one love nor would I have been vulnerable enough to expose myself and invite such love from others.

It is a true testament to how beautiful the heart is, how wonderful people are, how when one sees someone struggling--as I have been seen--people are inspired to help, to give so generously, so without question or condition. And as these now dear friends see me fight for myself, see me rise to the challenge of finding who I am in all this, they are inspired to celebrate. They are celebrating with me, they are cheering me on. And how amazing is that! How grateful I feel!

The love from others and, yes, even from that one closed door, because even in the closing I know there is love there, has reminded me to look deeper into the love that I have for myself and how this needs continued work and attention. And how my perception of love should not be so narrow, that recognizing the myriad offerings of love out there should not be a side effect of loss but rather of fullness.

Love. Always present. Its messengers change, from time to time, however. But love, itself, is constant. We just have to continue to believe, to have presence enough to see it in whatever form it comes. To accept it graciously when it does. To value it. To respect it. To honor it. To allow it to teach us what it is about, to teach us how to love, and how to truly embody it in our very soul and being.