Last night, I fell in love with myself for the first time. I’m convinced that this falling in love with myself had to do with a suffering, near-corpse of road kill that I passed by earlier last night.
It was on the Northway, this large black furry object, with a heartbeat so terrified, that it moved the whole furry thing up and down like someone was pumping air in and out of it like a balloon. And my thought about it was sadness. Because I realized that he didn’t want to die. And as cars were roaring past him, laughing, and throwing their McDonalds out their windows, this single creature on earth, on the side of the road, was struggling to survive, to catch his breath, and his life.
And the surge of this something that I was feeling became embedded deep within me. I’m not sure it was embedded physiologically... but certainly into the meat of my spirit. So that perhaps now, I have, as part of my core, the remaining fire of the black-furry-corpse on Interstate 87.
But anyhow, late last night I was in bed when it hit me, this profound experience of falling in love with myself. And it wasn't one of those conceptual experiences that I’ve had while eating chocolate croissants and drinking coffee. It was one of those profound experiences that shifted my perception and the colors of the room. It began with a realization: Oh my God, I’m not going to get to be with me forever!
Previous to this moment of falling in love with myself, I had spent much of my energies hoping other people would take on this vocation. (And spent hundreds of hours shedding tears when I wasn’t successful in these endeavors.) But last night, when I was alone with me (and perhaps the fiery remains of the soul of the large black furry corpse) I realized I had never tried to get me to fall in love with me before… And I had to chuckle.
And it was at that moment that I became to myself like a wife of a soldier going off to war. I wanted to hug myself and appreciate myself and be there for myself before something horrible happened and I’d never get to ever again. And I exclaimed to myself, I love you! Never have I said such a thing! And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t out loud so that my husband could hear. But I exclaimed it inwardly and felt myself sink down into myself, till we were resting under what felt like an apple tree on a beautiful breezy spring day. And yes, I loved myself. And generously shared space with myself. And I am still sharing that space with myself. At least I think I am… It may have worn off just a bit at the moment… Perhaps because I’ve always kind of thought that to love oneself is a silly and indulgent thing to go on and on about. Better to talk about loving thy neighbor instead. Perhaps, though, this is because I never really understood the importance of loving thy self. But maybe it’s as simple as this: “Love thyself, because one day thoust won’t have a self to love.”