When a relationship is almost the same, but better

img_0850Tonight, I mixed together some of the old cans of paint that my parents had in their garage and I made a new color. We moved last week, and I’m so happy to be in this new place with the girls and with Dave but I’m not too proud to admit that I’m also stressed out and uncomfortable about all the adjustments, the tasks, the boxes everywhere and the decisions that have to be made. It seems reasonable that I am much more interested in spending time painting walls rather than shuffling and sorting boxes of stuff that we probably don’t need but moved anyway. Someone is going to have to decide to keep, store, sell, donate or burn the stuff. But not me. Not tonight, anyway.

I set aside my stress and indecision and put my hopes into the amalgamation of all these little quarts of paint, which once combined, turned out to equal a perfect gallon. I felt like a witch over her cauldron as I slowly stirred the mixture with a wooden paint stick that was left over from a paint purchase. Once I had it all combined, the color was like a creamy, buttery, pale beige cake batter and the texture was thick and amazing. I was hopeful. I painted a patch on the wall and dried it with the hairdryer that I’ve had since eighth grade. I’m sure the decibel level produced by that little hairdryer has permanently mal-affected my hearing over the years, but I didn’t need my ears to see that the new color works and is kind of beautiful. I spent the next hour or so painting the first two walls of the back room and I got them done before dinner. We ate together at our little hand-me-down kitchen table and we talked about the new school and about ways the number 8 can be divided and about plans for Dave’s upcoming high school reunion. After dinner and once dishes were washed and put away, I went to admire my work. The walls look good. I like the new color, but I had to admit, the new color only looks the tiniest bit different than the original color. I started to feel discouraged, like maybe I had wasted my time. I stayed a little longer and I couldn’t say why, exactly, but I found that I really did like the new color more than the old. It is fresh and a little brighter. I liked that I did the painting and that the paint came from a mix of old samples that would have been tossed. The new paint color is almost the same, but it’s better.

So much has changed in my life over the last few years. Dave and I have been living apart and I’ve had space and time to get to know myself and him and to sort out lots of things. It has been really good for me and for us. With much support from the many wise people we are lucky enough to have in our lives, for this practice of yoga that continues to help me do things in ways I couldn’t before, Dave and I have both made positive changes and life is better because of them. Now that we are back in a house together I can see ways that our life here is a lot like what we had before the drama and our separation, but like the paint in the back room, it’s not exactly the same. It feels fresh and a little brighter. I have a feeling I’m going to love this life with him even more and that it’s going to be better.

screen-shot-2013-12-19-at-10-47-15-am*Begin or Renew a Personal Meditation Practice*
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