Unconditional Mountain Strength and Love

I didn't plan to give this rock to my dad when I painted it a few weeks back. Gifting it happened naturally, much like in deciding which restaurant to take him to for dinner:

Alpenglow. It refers to the reddish, pinkish hue above a mountain as the sun rises or sets on the opposite side. I only learned the meaning of the restaurant's name when my boyfriend looked it up and put the pieces of the coincidence together. But it wasn't coincidence. It never is. Alignment, trust, and intuition: these are the forces that guide me. These magical bits of universe power are becoming so regular in my creative endeavors and life that they almost feel normal. I could gush and dive into elation about the vaster connections, as I have in the past, but the most precious realization here of all is the one with my dad.

With all the talk of healthy boundaries and self-love/self-healing space, can we discuss the beauty now in holding on? Out of the rubble of trauma, dysfunctional families, bad friendships, and heartbreaks that leaked and spread, there are occasionally, the few golden people. The ones who were worth fighting for. The ones who deserved to be pulled forward. The ones who always understood the true meaning of unconditional love, because blood-related or not, they have always been family.

That word, "family", can be hard for me to discuss as I am one to immediately direct inward toward autonomy and self-love. Family is all within. This knowing is important for healing fully as well as preparedly healing for the long-term, as nothing is permanent or entirely dependable, and anyone who has lived a deeply connected life understands the value in rooting beyond the others. And yet, no matter how deep down I grow or high up I ascend, I still find the energy of my dad.

He never feared healing. Lightyears before anyone, he always believed, felt it, and understood, in the open-minded, without-any-one-religion way he gifted me. In awe and massive support, he watches me triumph now, healing not only myself, but changing the world. Alone, yet not alone, all us healers work together to untangle and shift the complexities we felt within for so many years that largely came from troubled systems around. We feel and heal and center, as a group, as massive peaks of connection with our own mountainous soil, but beyond each individual core, I think we all have another reason for our immensely passionate drive.

This reason, for me, is my dad.

The pause here is important, because while I am beyond lucky to have several other reasons in tow, including my boyfriend and my absolutely-everything-to-me baby cat, the relationship with my dad goes beyond. For my cat, I would do anything. I would take on the world and devote myself fully to building us a safe home, and together, we did. For my boyfriend, I am solidly, centeredly, and open-heartedly there, because in another life-time, he did the same for me, and because I know he is worth it. I could continue the list of reasons, but I think I'll save that for my second memoir. Right now, I want to return to the pause just after my dad, the space held in the lobby of his hotel this past weekend, after months of not seeing each other, streams of various energy leading up to us meeting, and the glow of absolute peace and joy we felt in finally embracing one another.

Home is not just a space healed and loved within. Home is also a bubble shared. I could feel this at dinner as my heart opened wide to sense and know what he genuinely meant beneath the fear of imperfect words and above the slightly changed atmosphere around. It was a brief moment of torn thread in an otherwise delightfully complex and intimately weaved conversation, but for some reason, my heart adored this moment the most. We were reminded of our closeness—how vulnerable and imperfect we each can be—and still, be held by one another and understood. The bubble formed tangibly, as moments later in vulnerable words of my own, it did the same for me, blocking out the nosy energies that could not intuitively sense, protecting us from harm and allowing space for our hearts to communicate, without words, and find ease in the unspoken wisdom.

Some truths are easier communicated through the heart, especially between two people whose first language is intuition.

And while we were both relieved to feel the bubble ease again and the energy around us melt back into love, the manifested space reminded us that we share a precious connection. One that we had before the explosion and ten years of rubble, and one that no doubt has only grown purer and stronger as we have each dug our way high up into the atmosphere.

It is the atmosphere where I feel him most. When painting that rock, I poured my heart into the sky, allowing it to expand with my abundantly warm and unboundaried soul. I felt possible—more than possible—when painting that sky, much like how I felt when standing with him underneath the stars by the beach back in high school. He and I both witnessed the strange phenomenon of alien lights in the sky. The moment was meaningful because it was just the two of us. We took a drive together to see the moon, and while out exploring space by each other’s side, we saw what neither of us could fully explain. We stood in awe. We theorized, we laughed in disbelief, and opened up in joy over the returning truth of “I don’t know.” The flashlight beams floated by for a while, slowing down time. It all seemed purposeful. The source and answers out there didn’t matter so much as the connection it opened up right there between me and my dad. We never were quite the same. Less fear, more hope. We were both uplifted that night, and made closer in an experience that left us both open.

After dinner, my dad pauses outside the restaurant and looks up toward the night sky. He puts his arm around me, not needing me to extend the moment, but simply, to feel and notice it. We will always have these moments. His soft, yet solid embrace tells me everything. And like a mountain, I stand now, having blown through the forces, having breathed fire and burned away the hindrances and pain, having cooled like water, and risen deservedly like the snow-capped peak I was always meant to become. Equally grateful, I lean in to my dad.

Yes, this is the embrace of unconditional love: the kind that heals, evolves, inspires, and always knew. A world only changes for the better when love is real, inside and out, and with that sincere kind of love, anything is possible.

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Some rocks are burdens, some rocks transform and are let go, and other rocks infinitely glow.