It is Valentine’s Day morning. (oh boy)

My wish for all:  On this day you are either with the one you choose or have many to choose from!

Since this day is about choices here is one I will give you.  If you would rather not deal with the romance of the day, read this short article about lobster courtship.  If you prefer to keep reading, I have to warn you that this is a sad post.

All I can say is, “sadness happens.”

It has been a couple of weeks since I have blogged last.  I hold my “To Do” list completely responsible. Well, sort of. I am starting to realize if I am not in community with my sprit, I won’t be able to write. Meaning, if I let my thoughts mask my feelings, the well of authenticity dries up. My sprit does not like it when this happens at all. She starts to act up. The little trickster doesn’t give up easy. Lately, she has been locking me into a movie theater that can’t seem to decide if it is going to play a dark drama or a love story with a happy ending.

Here is what is showing on the screen.  I am an adult living in my childhood home yet there is no trace of my family. Everything is exactly as it was.  I make frequent trips to the neighbor’s house to visit a new family that lives there. I know this family well. I recognize each person in the dream.  I love this family. In one moment I feel all the love that I could ever hope for. I am joyful. I am at peace. The rest of the dream is a blur of bad. I am hiding in the basement with a sense I am no longer able to see this family.

Needless to say, waking up feeling isolated in a basement is not the best way to start the day. Basements are cold and dark. I don’t like being cold and I don’t like being alone in the dark. It would be a lot easier to reconcile the ghosts of the dream if I knew  the chronological order of things. Which parts of the vision are from the past and which parts are from the future? And the biggest question of them all, when will not knowing not hurt anymore?

Last weekend, my neighbor offered me a lobster. How cool is that? As I listened to his story about how he caught several lobsters, I imaged preparing it for a special Valentine’s dinner.

Reality check: I do not have plans for Valentine’s. And with that thought; the squeal  of the boiling lobster echoed to a distant silence. I declined the gift.  My neighbor replied, “Well, there will be one with your name on it just in case you change your mind.”

Hmmm, a lobster named Stephanie. Now this makes me laugh. I will not eat my namesake but will channel a little of her ability to detach as February 14^th passes like any other day.

Lobster Courtship: not a Traditional Valentine’s Story.

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