Growing Up

How could it be that it has taken me six decades to grow up? Or should I say to grow Into MySelf..
"Into Me See" was the name of a column I wrote way back in Albuquerque, NM when I was writing my weekly Love Column.."Very Personal With Norma Jean, " speculating navigating singular living..and relationships.
whoops the entire column was deleted..sorry folks.

Let me try again... 
Ok, it was back before FB, Match.com and all the ease anyone can view people and their profiles; conduct background checks and all that: even meet people across the globe..Yes, life was in black and white in newspaper personals, and yours truly was the queen of the personals from 1994-1998, under the pen name Norma Jean Thompson. the column "Very Personal With Norma Jean" debuted in 1994 and was picked up nationally within months and there I was, living a new identity as a love columnist, advising singles how to navigate the world of dating and love and relationship. Hey, I had to survive as a single mom in a new city.. and it was in a big way this adventure that led to the production of Sex in the City.. 

I am free falling folks..
 This is a spontaneous blog post and right now I will navigate away to find Into Me See in the archives and see if it plays today with a much more sophisticated dating world . OK lets see if it works this time!

Into-Me-See 
  Driving down the main drag with a really cute guy en-route to Chinese food, agreeing our relationship is defined as "just friends," we two banter about love, sex, and about the people we know who claim to be in love but appear to be in some racking pain. Laughing, detached, almost arrogant about our lack of entanglements, my friend clears his throat and very seriously states with his eyes glued to the road, "You know ... I'm really controlling not being in a relationship. It's been 5 years now since I had a girlfriend. I can't do that love thing again.”

    I burst out laughing, amused by the authority with which he claims control over his love life, as if what happens to us in our love lives is predictable. Who chooses the abyss of love's passions anyway? We say we want it, but run like hell from the hot spot of true intimacy, the confrontations, the marshes, the inner sanctums where all rich personal growth occurs. Everyone who's ever been in love knows quite well that when the soul is ripened for advanced study and healing---the universe has a way of poking you through the heart at the right moment. Love smelters us like a blast furnace, bending and softening the recalcitrant grip of the ego which has safely kept our emotional lives hostage for perhaps years, to an unresolved yesterday.

    Substances, television, yoga classes, or the unconditional love of a pet are wonderful alternatives to the kinds of tortures laid bare by love. "Substance-free" and "co-dependent no more"__ this breed often turns to goal-setting, excessive workouts, the Internet, promiscuity, or good old-fashioned complaining to abide invulnerable. 

    A female friend "in-love" throws the runes (a prophetic ancient oracle) daily now, reads the AA (Alcoholic Anonymous) book by night, and is constantly making excuses for erratic behaviors as she obsesses over her lover. She appears to be suffering, yet is utterly engaged and emotionally alive, less cocky and less full of shit than usual.

    A woman at an “Insight Seminar” says, "My life is too out of control when I'm in love. I like the stability of my solitude. Love brings up too much garbage. I can't do it." 

    Love manifests when least expected. The person one falls in love with rarely fits the picture we covet as our dream guy/girl. Initial ambivalence gives way to an undeniable tug, a connection that feels---might I say---familial, and within weeks we're thrashing around in the deep waters of pleasure and pain, giddiness, obsession, fear, and various plateaus of erotica. Outbursts of hairpin anger can be part of our behavior as past hurts and disappointments resurface. Paranoia can set in as our dreams revitalize, and suddenly we're in that place that hurts so good. 

     What a dirty trick! Reduced to gibberish, some suffer, others learn to surrender, to forgive, to face the wounds of the past, and move mountains of resistance. Our hearts have been pierced and we find ourselves tearing up the scripts we constantly write for ourselves. Finally a rare opportunity to get beyond our puny patterns into soulful introspection is upon us. 

    It takes a willingness to give up control and courage to become open to intimacy. Have mercy on your pathetic friends and pray that this divine intervention has targeted you.

Happy falling,
Norma Jean