Rejection - a big little death

What rejection feels like…

If one is heart-real and soul-naked, rejection feels like a bullet that pierces through the ego and heart at the
same time.

It feels like losing face and losing hope.

It feels like a big little death.

Death of the dreams, the wantings, the desires, the possibilities.

Today I am grieving such a big little death. Oh, how glorious were the dreams, even though this time the person was an acquired taste. Acquired by surprise on following the guidance of the divine. I am reminded of the following words I wrote the last time this happened.

My heart is God’s football,

and even without a goalie in sight

in practicing her fancy dropkicks,

she keeps finding the motherfucking goalpost.

In God’s dream called Kâli, in the name of love he has often shoved me off cliffs. Tripped me over. Hood winked me with his winks. Ah, the rascal loves to fuck around with his Goddess. #blessed

He loves to fuck around with me, because he Knows how he molded me. His hands shaped every inch of me. He knows the goddess will come out of this grieving like she has the many before and like she will from future ones again and again and again, badassically alone and more glorious each time. He breaks me to build me up again. He & I are playing holy kintsugi with my ego and heart.

And so I do not lose faith in the divine and his winks even as I sit aghast at this trickery today.

I choose to trust deeper without knowing how yet and still gasping in pain.

Knowing that the next death will be a deeper drop, harder to grieve, I still choose to trust.

I raise the stakes with the promise that when my heart flutters again, I will go ALL IN more naked and more undefended again. #bravery

Because with each big little death, also comes big little rebirth. New aspects of my own being to fall in love with, more radiance to seduce the divine with. He lusts after my shine, and I lust after his hands molding my sapien-clay. We both will do anything to keep this divine fuckery at play. I love it and hate it with equal intensity. #paradox

As I sit in two-day-old clothes with a face sore from weeping the pain of rejection, of the loss of another friend. I look up at Him and say seductively - Let's try a fancier drop kick next time you motherfucker.

Divine yearning & Divine deceit go hand in hand.