Love Letters From Neptune Series: I Should Have Told You

I should have told you that I had already decided whom you were going to be, long before you even arrived.

I should have told you that I was never going to love you because I was too busy hating myself.

I should have told you that I noted every little, and big, thing about you that didn’t exactly fit the “You” of my preconceptions and that I truly believed I could help you fix all of them.

I should have told you that I never really knew you at all when I said, “I do”.

I should have told you that if you were not willing to kill everything that you uniquely were, to be the Prince that I imagined you to be, that you should not have said, “I do”, in return.

I should have told you that I had no idea of whom I was so there was never any real possibility of you knowing me either.

I should have told you that every time I expected you to respond to me in the exact same manner that the Prince in my head did, and you failed to meet that expectation, I hated you a bit more for letting me down again.

I should have told you that though I hated you I hated myself exponentially more for failing to be the perfection that I apparently needed to be for my Prince to arise from within you.

I should have told you all of this and so much more; yet I could not for I could not tell what I did not then know myself.

It would be my experiencing of you, and other non-princes, that would lead me to these truths that once evaded me.

All of these fore mentioned confessions I place before you and to these confessions I do now add the following;

I now tell you that you, exactly as you truly were not how I imaged you to be, were perfect for the then version of me, though I could not then see it.

I now tell you that I miss your smile and that I have never met another whom could tell a joke even half as well as you.

I now tell you that I tell our story of gaming and boozing and dancing and laughter, when we were young and broke and all alone, and it is told with a happy heart and a tear.

I now tell you that your dance moves, all two of them, were bad; really truly Awful.

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On Grief

Let your grief be as a warm blanket passed down through many generations of those that also have weathered this storm and added to this rich weave the thread of their own survival;

Credit: Joanna Nix Walkup on Unsplash

As the icy winter gale wails and thrashes and moans about you, a mirror to all that you have locked within, allow the weight of this blanket to anchor you to the world you fear is being torn away from beneath you;

Find the assurance within the thick wrapping of so many common threads, that even though you now feel threatened within every fiber of your being by the storm that rages on both around you and within you, you will indeed survive this tempest to meet with a new dawn;

Though you may emerge from this period bearing the bruises of the gale that engulfed you, homage to the truth of your ordeal, you will add your own thread of wisdom, born of your companionship with grief, to the ageless blanket that shall be lovingly availed to the next whom finds themselves in need of it.

© Sharon Brodbeck 9.29.2022

Into The Mystic

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On the Attainment of Freedom

I knocked on the doorway marked Freedom; yet no one answered.

I knocked many times more and awaited the door being swung open wide by the will of another; yet still it remained shut up.

Fuming and flummoxed I collapsed upon the doorstep.

I sat wearily for hours; indeed it felt to be many lifetimes so exhausted was I by the futility of my efforts to obtain entry to the Hearth of Freedom through the doings of another.

With emotions now spent, and will brought low, I arose once again; resolved to take leave and intent upon abandoning my afore sought objective.

While standing with gaze upon bulwark entryway and devoid of previous desire, an acceptance of my defeat, a whispered thought stilled my leave and I found my arm extending tentatively toward the knob of the door.

With expectation previously placed upon the deeds of others released, my fingers encircled the knob;

And So It Was, that with the Turning of Thought and Hand, I did now with great ease achieve the entry to the Freedom I long sought.

I share the undoing of this long suffered self-riddle now, as I rest within these Halls of Grace, and I offer this Truth hence gleaned;

Always it was I, and I alone, that were responsible to My Freedom; for none could give what they had not taken but merely as burden had received when once I had erroneously cast forth my destiny upon their efforts and deeds.

Sharon Brodbeck 09.28.2022

Into The Mystic

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Every Parting offers a Gift

As I sipped my coffee this rainy morning, watching the happenings at the feeders through the kitchen window, I spied the young male cardinal tucked solitary into the lower branches of an Elderberry Queen.

I followed the cardinal’s downward tilted gaze and laughed; a male squirrel that I have christened “Gets Along with Birds” was frantically rummaging through the new morning offering of seeds upon a split log.

Undoubtedly the intention of our squirrel friend was to bury most of his seed finds yet he appeared consumed with an equal desire to fill his belly with these delicious morsels; his frantic pace possibly a result of irritation stemming from his own indecisiveness.

Resident finches and sparrows chirp as they congregate happily around the iron ground feeder; a clear signal that their greet and eat this morning is an enjoyable one. A few errant doves waddle about the brassica bed, pecking here and there as they roam, occasionally extending a wing as the steadier rain dwindles to a lighter drizzle.

Nowhere that my eyes did drift had I spotted the female cardinal so seemingly her mid-morning interlude kept her elsewhere; I glanced back to where her companion had been a few moments before finding he had now placed himself on the curled iron top of the shepherds hook while still awaiting his turn to feed at the log.

I found myself drifting into a brief reflection as to how I arrived at this moment of such contentment and peace afforded to me through my relationship with these petite wild-ones.

It has only been a few short years since my three beloved fur children had returned to Spirit yet I see now clearly that it was in their departure that the space was created and seeded for these precious moments that I am now experiencing to exist.

Though the transition of my little soul mates and occurrence of subsequent events was not the only time I had experienced this truth it would seem that the gravity of my grief during this most recent “loss” delivered this wisdom to me in a manner that I now behold as Truth.

It is with that last thought that I hear quite simply;

“Every Parting offers us a Gift; sometimes it just takes us a while to unwrap it.”

And so it IS.

S.B. 9.22.2022

Into The Mystic

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Webs once Spun come Undone

The Webs once Spun;

I have seen Undone

yet damage not their Spinners

To glorious Queens of this Autumn Age

a Litany offered before grand display

of these finest silver woven wonders

With respect made plain;

a last delicate tendril lifted from furled brow

considerate of entanglement lessons gleaned

I am free; I Am Free!

no longer these mortal webs shall encumber me

and though I loathe not

those that sought to bind

be mindful we no more shall meet

lest it be sincerely understood

the Merry Part offering

 of our Sacred greet.

S.B. 9.18.2022

Into The Mystic

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