Lessons from a Relationship of  Lies

This post is the gifted GUEST POST from Marta, a woman who attended one of my SoulArts Weekend Retreat Intensives this summer.  She wrote the poem during one of the sessions (I think while she “was supposed to be meditating”  — and in a very REAL way, she was!

Below  is what  she wrote as her conscious awareness moved from “victim of a betrayal”( and the shocking discovery of being in relationship with a compulsive liar)  into “genuine gratitude” for the lesson of how we all hide from True Self behind our stories – just illusions anyhow…

Excellent Marta! Thank you for this gift from your heart broken open and back into reclaimed love….

-Ronda

I ALSO RECENTLY FOUND THIS EXCELLENT TED TALK (BELOW) on the SUBJECT of Infidelity and add it here as part of making conscious – ourselves in relationship.

 

POEM AND REFLECTIONS OF SELF HEALING FROM BETRAYAL AND LIES

– A Retreat Gift From Marta

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“The insight came for this poem during the SoulArts retreat when Ronda said,  “The mind’s not knowing is not the same as the unknown.” Something clicked and I saw the workings of my mind still trying to be in control  by dealing with “I don’t know” vs. the state of unknowing wherein the “knowledge” of the mind has no place to land. I dropped into the state of unknowing and stepped into living life as unknown.

 
As to the poem, I did not feel betrayed, devastated, or lied to, I was merely living in someone else’s  fiction, one that did not have the agreement of those around him, unlike the rest of us who make sure we get agreement for our own fiction and document it with degrees and licenses and approval. There is very little difference between what he does and what we all do with the story of our lives. Our story changes depending on what thread or identity we are using at the moment. With him it was like living in a novel because his story was much more interesting than most of our personal mundane reality dramas.   My embarrassment comes from the fact that I brought others into his fiction but obviously they needed a little drama, too. All in all he was my teacher, my highest , my best, my most profound teacher and for that I am deeply grateful. I have a depth of gratitude for him that extends throughout time that only my root Lama invokes such a similar depth of feeling in me. That is why throughout the poem I refer to him as Old Soul, My Dear Old Friend.  The words are capitalized  out of respect.  My story, which is no different than his story in that it is, like his, a fiction of my imagination. My story is that he came to wake me up. I did not know that when I was with him:
 
I thought I was helping you
Brown eyes looking into blue
But when the confusion cleared away
I was the one who woke up that day.
 
There is the plea:
May we meet beyond illusion
Freed from our agreed upon delusion
Bringing an end to this dark night
That turned the Soul to Truth’s clear light.
 
The plea is that at some place in time may we see what we agreed to do. He agreed to be a pathological liar embodying crazy wisdom with the hope that I would wake up. We won’t know until death comes if there is any truth to my story.  Death seems his only way out. Therapy is not going to help this guy.  He is in too deep.
 
For this I thank you, My Dear Old Friend,
But I think Death will be your only end.
I see no other way for you to break free
And so to end your lonely misery.
 
 

The lesson for me is not  “Do not  be deluded again.” The lessons are I stayed in this relationship because I made a commitment to myself to be there. Wow! Look what happened to me because I kept my commitment to myself and did not back away despite an onslaught of “concerned friends” who truly did have my interest in their heart. This was a Soul commitment, not a rational quid pro quo relationship commitment and as such, it was strange. It was not a “heart” commitment of  “I will love you forever,” nor were the flames of unconditional love fanned. This was a deep,  primal, soulful “I do not know what I am doing I just know that I am supposed to be here because I said so” without any expectation of results or fulfillment.

 
Old Soul, our Friend
The gift you have given me is without end….
 
Just send you my blessings
 And all of my love
And thank you , Brown Eyes,
For all the above.
 
Thank you, Ronda, for providing the space to let this experience ripen . I could not cross over into the unknowing until I had harvested the gift of this relationship and expressed my gratitude. The small stone  arched bridge on your property was the symbolic crossing point leaving the mind’s not knowing on one side   dropping into unknowing on the other.
 
Thank you for the gift.”
 
Marta

Lessons from a Pathological Liar 

Old Soul, an incredible friend,

We are coming to an end.

We all invent our history

Usually conforming to some reality

Agreed upon by us all,

Most of us won’t grow so tall.

But for those who dare to live large upon the screen

Who show up with a larger than life dream,

How we love to see you fall,

Justifying our staying small.

We miss the gift of your creativity,

Designing the life of who you want to be

Showing us the truth by your life of what we all do,

The cost,the pain, the loneliness that you go through.

 

Old Soul, our friend

the gift you have given me is without end.

You have mirrored by your own delusion

the enormity of my own confusion,

My pretending to be an entity

Acting in control with temerity,

Finally releasing the need to know

Crossing the bridge into the flow.

On the one side,

 The mind controlling through knowledge where it is going

but giving that up is not the same as unknowing.

On that side the mind has a game it will miss,

But the other side portends stepping into an abyss.

 

Brown eyes, brown eyes

Sparkling, darting, fearful and black,

Puddled with tears or glazed with anger and flat

I thought I was helping you

Brown eyes gazing into blue

But when the confusion fell away,

I was the one who woke up that day.

 

Old Soul, My Dear Old Friend,

The Rebbe’s teachings that you send

Living the mystery for all to see

May you find the death to set you free.

May we meet beyond illusion

Freed from our agreed upon delusion

Bringing an end to this dark night

That turned the Soul to Truth’s clear light.

But now is not the right time

For you to witness this rhyme.

You would be unable to digest it without turning it to blame

And I can no longer be around you if I want to remain sane.

 

Old Soul, my Dear Friend

We have come to an end.

Time to close the remaining doors.

I do not want stories any more.

Yet I am grateful that we met

Despite the promises you never kept.

Was there really a Six? Was there actually a Tory?

I will never know the facts or the truth of that story.

And Oh, LaMina, how I want you to exist

And not be part of some yarn that persists.

You caste of characters seemed so real and true,

But never once did a chance meeting come through.

 

You are an author creating a clef du roman

with amazing tales that have been performed by no man.

I was deluded by your very own delusion

But when the veil fell away out of the confusion

I saw my own mind writing its script

No different than yours except you got tripped

By not having agreement from those who were around you

While I garnered accolades for being congruent and true.

Both of our minds were creating an identity of someone we know

a fabrication of continuity that just isn’t so.

As I close the doors to your stories and lies,

I am saying farewell to my own story ties.

I am living life as unknown,

witnessing and watching what will be shown.


For this I thank you, My Dear Old Friend,

But I think Death will be your only end.

I see no other way for you to break free

And so to end your lonely misery.

I am sad, My Dear Old Soul,

but this was your gift

So perhaps I should celebrate and not be miffed

Just send you my blessings

And all of my love,

And thank you, Brown Eyes,

For all the above.

night blooming

 

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