Am I too picky?

Can it be true that all of the men I am magnetically drawn to, are dead?

I am in love.  First it was a Saint and now a former priest!   I sure know how to  pick em!  I sigh over their words, prayers, and poems.  They awaken my sleeping butterflies- -  in recognition and resonance.   How can I ever find the right words to explain ethereal recall, and those serendipitous moments handed down from a beloved Creator who always knows exactly what I need, when I need it. 

 Meeting James, or as he was known earlier in life, Father Kavanaugh, it was like meeting my identical twin, for the first time. Imagine being separated at birth, years ago .... and discovering, right from the beginning, you need do nothing but sit in silence, heart to heart, and watch the sparks fly. Either that, or I spiritually reconnected with a past life soulmate, and just joyfully greeted him in the eternal part of my heart

Yesterday, I was introduced to James Kavanaugh and my spirit did a few somersaults.   We met at the unlikeliest place.  Online. No Match.com torture this time around.  Rather a fix-up,  on Facebook.  A dear friend introduced us with a simple quote on my Facebook timeline.  It read, "Some one's been writin' about you, girlfriend."  Then she directed me to the link, so I could meet him face to face.  My pulse quickened and a chill ran up my spine  at the first several lines of his intro.  Who could possibly know these things about ME?  It was like someone had been living in my heart and head, secretly gathering information to write my biography.  Only, it wasn't my profile, it was his.  Here is what I read:

Some people do not have to search-

they find their niche early in life and rest there, seemingly contented and resigned.

They do not ask much of life,

sometimes they do not seem to take it seriously.

At times, I envy them, 

but usually I do not understand them-

seldom do they understand me.

I am one of the searchers. 

There are, I believe, millions of us. 

We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. 

We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. 

We like to walk along the beach, 

we are drawn by the ocean,

taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. 

We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. 

Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. 

To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter. 

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, 

for everything beautiful it can provide. 

Most of all we love and want to be loved. 

We want to live in a relationship that will not impede 

our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls;

 that will take us for what little we have to give. 

We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, 

for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. 

It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.” 

~ James Kavanaugh  (click here to read about him here)

I  spent the remainder of the evening cruising websites about Mr. Kavanaugh, exploring every word detailing his life.  Through these words, I identified with  his incessant need for change and the pursuit of truth, knowledge, love and beauty.  I stared dreamily into the depth of his words, drinking it all in, parched for a connection with a like minded other.  I ran into the arms of his poetry and let the words envelope me in the knowledge;  I am not alone.  There are indeed other seekers out there.... like-minded others, just searching for like-minded me.  There are millions of us, and the Universe does bring us together, when it's time. 

In the meantime, I take my comfort in knowing, I am not flawed; no thwarted development, identity crisis, or malcontentment here!  Ambition for life is a Holy career.  There are others, like me, awakening to immeasurable beauty, excited to continue on this treasure hunt... seeking never-ending purpose, and meaning.  I am blessed with an earthly friend who not only knows me so well, she loves me for those qualities too!   I am doubly blessed to have been born with the soul of a seeker.

Hey, if it's true there are millions of us out there, I am bound to eventually meet a living, breathing,  seeker, eager to share in my laughter, sadness, the good, and beautiful.   And, worse case scenario,  if I am destined to simply fall in love with the deceased, then that's okay too.  They still have many things to show me and lessons to teach me. 

St. Francis of Assisi and I go soul to soul.........

 

St. Francis - my guy

I've had this secret crush. I met him a few years ago.   The introduction was so mystical and unforgettable, in all honesty, it didn’t occur to me until later that our connection was one of those rare, ethereal soulmate hook-ups.  Call it a past life, or alternate universe experience, I can honestly say I have never fallen so madly in love with someone I never met. Our introduction touched parts of my soul with an unspoken magic that moved me to tears.  Maybe that’s what true love is all about.  Something far beyond physical chemistry; a deeper, inner knowing that this experience/individual  is happening for you, and to you....  breaking down the barriers and defects of the ego and teaching you things you’ve waited your whole life to learn.  They say God shows up in ways in which we will recognize Him.  I needed this mystery man to arrive, leading me to a greater understanding of the bottomless well of spirituality I was so frantically seeking then.  Ready to throw off the limitations of fear based doctrine, and the five senses, believing in my heart of hearts, there is so much more to this boundless Universe; both playground and school to all of creation. I was also slow-cooking, in a thick, tasteless, stew of regret and self-flagellation; needing to forgive (myself first and then a laundry list of others)  so I could dance in the playground again.   God knew I was ready and He sent me to Italy.   

The Pieta

A two month trip through Italy and southern France took me to some of the most noted religious spots in Europe as well as the privilege of feasting my eyes on Art created for God’s pleasure... or the current ruler of the day.  By the end of our Italian sojourn, we joked that we were ready to venture away from some of the religious Art and the myriad of “ugly baby Jesus” pictures.  Some artists must have been trying to score brownie points as they painted a grown man’s face; a dictator, Pope, or even their own, on a soft, pink, dimpled baby body. Frightening.  The churches in Rome, the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel were greeted with wide-eyed wonder as visions swirled of ancient times.  I have a relatively active imagination, and was capable of re-creating  the history in my head, as I stood before many of the saints, great thinkers, and artists tombs;  St. Peter, Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo, Raphael and so many more.   St. Peter’s Basilica alone is a hot bed of spiritual energy, a papal resting place, and vibrant history dances through all its sculpture and artwork.  The Pieta could bring even an atheist to tears, in its depiction of the unimaginable sorrow of a mother, cradling and grieving the lifeless body of her Son.

All of it, relayed a story to my curious mind, engaged and awed me.    Yet, when I returned home and was asked what my favorite place was during this once in a lifetime trip, I had to respond, visiting the crypt of St. Francis of Assisi.  My experience there was so much more than imagination and personal storytelling originating in my head. It was visceral, perceived in my heart and every fiber of my being. It was here, I now know, everything for me, began to change.  Spiritually, nothing would ever be the same again.  It was here, I began to learn to stop minimizing my intuition.  I discovered it was as important as the other five senses. 

Visiting Assisi, I had no expectations, and don’t even know if I was consciously aware St. Francis’ remains were cloistered away beneath the massive Basilica of San Francesco.  I wasn’t particularly intrigued by St. Francis, or even necessarily a devotee of any of the saints.  I knew next to nothing about his life. I knew he graced many gardens, his concrete form enticing the birds to land on this lover of animals and the poor.   I had no idea he came from a wealthy family and had a colorful past as a self-indulgent womanizer, drinker, and party dude. A sinner for sure, apparently redeemed in several conversion experiences.  Nonetheless, I was excited to visit this massive church.  

St. Francis crypt

The cathedral was beautiful and reverently still, even though it was teaming with tourists.  Nestled deep in the bowels of the church lies his crypt.  As I walked down into the cavernous hallways of the church, I began to feel enveloped in peace.  With every step I took it deepened, like a fog thickening around me, seeping into every pore in my body. The sensation, I can now relate, felt very similar to a meditation session, consciously breathing relaxation into each part of the body.  Only this shroud of peace wasn’t a conscious act, nor did I have to work at it.   Rounding the corner into a small chapel, I stopped, awestruck by the earthiness of the surroundings.  What was it about this simple sanctuary, housing the remains of St. Francis, that drew me magnetically inside to a seat on the humble, carved, wooden pews.  The room was cool and the lighting was dim. My eyes were riveted to the circular, stone altar straight ahead, candles burning brightly, inviting my heart to open up and let the light enter.  Five minutes seated in the pew, silently praying a prayer I had never prayed before, I asked for St. Francis kindness and understanding to envelope me.  I asked for my heart to open to the possibility of forgiveness and putting it to rest. I asked him to be an emissary to God and requested unconditional love. I asked for direction for my life.  A warmth radiated from the center of my chest and my body couldn’t sit any longer. I moved towards the circular altar, feeling a pulse of energy emanating from the stone and put my hand out, open palm, ready to receive.  As I slowly moved around the structure, my body bathed in energy, I could see St. Francis, his uncannily familiar face, eyes gentle, but a mischievous grin dancing on his lips.  He raised his hands to bless me and then reached out with one, and touched the open palm of mine reaching towards the burial shrine, as if the contact would feel familiar, and I would then remember.  Droplets of tears slid down my cheeks in recollection and gratitude.   I was forgiven.  I am not perfect.  I made a mistake.  I’d made many of mistakes.  But, I am not a mistake.  My soul not only heard this, but gratefully received that grace.  I heard that I need to listen with that same soul and my heart from now on. I heard that redemption is always possible... Witness St. Francis' life. 

The connection to him and this experience has remained with me. Did St. Francis and I party together in a past life when he was just Francesco? He was a bad boy in his younger days.  I was a wild child. We had a lot in common, something I wasn’t aware of until I returned home and read his biography.  Or, is it just we are all eternally connected, and sometimes, we don’t even need to ask for a miracle.  Maybe it’s as simple and easy as  being in the right place, at the right time. I know if I want to fully experience the majesty and limitless power of God, I have to at least be open, get rid of the closed mind, and clear a pathway to my heart.  This time I unconsciously chose to observe through the eyes of intuition and was blessed to receive a mystical moment that has changed my idea of spirituality forever. 

God does answer our prayers... sometimes through a centuries old sinner, turned Saint.  

Afterthoughts:  Five years later, I still dream of my affair to remember with St. Francis. I'm convinced we've been soulmates lifetimes ago.   I have to confess... He now does have competition. I find I am strangely drawn to the new Pope Francis.  When I see him in the media, I feel the same connection and familiarity I felt on that summer day in Assisi.  What is it about my attraction to these Francis’?  Who wouldn't be attracted to all of that genuine humility and  palpable empathy?  There are worse things than to be in love with a Saint and a Pope.