There I sat, way back then, detached and unassuming with a broad smile upon my face. I could walk in and out of many lives, walk along the path in a crowd or alone, counting footsteps in my mind while talking about the raptures of my mind with those whose motivations I could not begin to fathom. I could engage or disengage, wait patiently or run along, mumble things to myself and, sometimes, get an answer from those who knew little about what truly rested in my heart.

I could be satiated or I could starve with an equal amount of desire. I would thirst and settle for the most mundane of drinks, some in ornate chalices and others found in the simpleness of my cupped hand. I had no need for the cup but wanted the thirst vanquished. I often found myself thirstier in the process. The hunger would make me appreciate the meal but the meal, however, would always seem to lead me back to hunger.

There are few things in life like knowing a purpose in the aloneness where I have found both sanctuary and life. One thing that has surpassed that beauty is when I discovered purpose in the eyes of a woman who was not the cup or the chalice, but the very drink itself. That’s not to say my aloneness is no longer beautiful (though it has lost some of its luster), it is to say that togetherness has taken on a new meaning. It’s not to say that I no longer find life and security in my solicitude, it is to say that I’ve found that life seems better in the uncertainty of love. I don’t wish to rid myself (or her) from our moments of empty space filled with the wisdom we have discovered on our own, but I do wish to use that wisdom to enhance our shared space and create a meal that neither of us wish to deny ourselves for long. I want my thirst, but I want it to end in a way where all I need do is open a door to have it quenched.

My paradigm has been changing for some time. I entered into a stage about a year ago where I could invite someone into my space who I never wanted to leave. Even in my aloneness she is there, and in my stillness I can feel her vibrating in my soul. In her I’ve found an acceptance from outside of me that matches the acceptance I have within me, and I’ve discovered a love that embraces me with an equal firmness and compassion as I offer. Imagine feeling the wisdom that you’ve known your entire life in the embrace of another who you are sure has inspired your very survival.  I have looked back on the trail of my life and discovered that every tumble, every drop of blood, every moment of resurrection and every lesson of fortitude and love have lead me to that moment when the elevator doors opened and destiny announced herself in eyes that weakened my knees.

It’s been almost a year since those doors opened and everything (I mean everything) changed. That day, however,  was years and millions of words in the making. There seemed to be an impossible number of things that had to happen before that day was even a thought. So much growth, so many agreements changes, so many things about life needed to occur before destiny arrived, and has quenched a man’s thirst in a way that once seemed only a dream.

What has been wonderful has been that I haven’t lost myself in this process. In many ways, I found parts of me long dormant. I’ve discovered patience I never thought I had. I’ve stumbled across a wonderful relationship with parts of me that often spoke but remained completely ignored. I also have no desire to have my partner lose herself because I happen to love her, all of her. (I often say I wouldn’t change a thing about her except her location, hence the patience I’ve discovered.) I have found nothing that I would change about her. I adore her quirks, her idiosyncrasies. What she may see as flaws I absolutely treasure. Her vision, her passions, her likes, her fears are all part of a package that I love beyond measure. As for me? I’ve never had to put on a show or change a thing about who I am to please her. That is, to this man who has always had change demanded of him by people he loved, the breath of life.

There is a “but” though. The thing I’ve come to realize is that none of this wonderful story would have been true had it not been for the journey. I’ve come to see in my dreams and meditations something. I feel like a great sculpture who was once trapped in the granite that encased him. Life…like the wind, the rain, the chisel and the rasp… tore at the granite tomb until that moment of my heart’s resurrection. When all of the minutia and layers were finally shed, I could stand fully naked and accepted at the altar of the great love I was to find, write about, treasure and honor. There was always a great purpose to the process of being reborn into the man I was truly meant to be. That process is continuing, and I am certain that this love we’ve discovered is an expansion of the great purpose our lives were meant to fulfill.

I tried to sum up this feeling in a poem I wrote last night.

I sat for eternity
Locked in my granite tomb,
Waiting.
Pulsing.
Begging to be known.
Then you.
The wind, the rain, the chisel, the rasp,
Released me.
Gave me breath in life renewed,
Showed me light born from the tiny spark within,
A statue now kneeling at the altar of this love.

Perhaps this journey proves that we can find purpose in every trial and tribulation, every moment of joy and happiness? I sure hope so.