Only a little while ago it seemed that my friend was living a fairytale. She is a being of joy, sensuality, courage and sweetness, so it seemed only right and natural that she should experience such a thing. It seemed that, for her, fairytales could come true.
Alas, no. Her husband announces on a social networking site that he is single again and ‘ready to party’. I could kill him. She is in his country, far from her homeland, with two young children, one still a baby. She is dependent on the kindness of friends and even strangers, as he is not supporting them financially. She says she is moving around, so I gather she is homeless and staying with different people for short periods. Fortunately there are already many there who love her. She is touched and amazed by that.
I don’t know the story and she is not saying anything against him except that things ‘got nasty‘ — ‘things’, not ‘he’ — and that the relationship is obviously over. There are two sides to every story, it is said. I don’t care; regardless, I’m on her side. We have been friends for some years. We met through poetry. It’s as good a way as any to get to know a person.
I remember how delighted I was for her when the fairytale began. Only one thing gave me pause. I looked at the photos her handsome husband posted at his profile and thought, ‘This is a very vain man.’ It wasn’t just that he is extraordinarily good-looking, so much as the way that he posed himself: romantically, like a model or a movie star, often near-naked — lots and lots of photos displaying, narcissistically, his undoubted beauty of face and form.
But then, there were also happy photos of their small family. And he appeared to be as clever and talented as my friend, and as interested as she is in both spiritual development and the arts. I told myself not to be judgmental on the basis of one foible when they had so many other things in common. Surely they were soul-mates.
And at first she did sound blissfully happy, enjoying her new life and soon new motherhood as well. I rejoiced for her.
In a way I do now, too — not for her sorrow and practical challenges, but because it is better to be free of illusion. She has always been able to look deep, confront whatever is there, and express it honestly. She is both strong and humble. I believe these qualities will get her through, and pray that it shall be so.
Alas, no. Her husband announces on a social networking site that he is single again and ‘ready to party’. I could kill him. She is in his country, far from her homeland, with two young children, one still a baby. She is dependent on the kindness of friends and even strangers, as he is not supporting them financially. She says she is moving around, so I gather she is homeless and staying with different people for short periods. Fortunately there are already many there who love her. She is touched and amazed by that.
I don’t know the story and she is not saying anything against him except that things ‘got nasty‘ — ‘things’, not ‘he’ — and that the relationship is obviously over. There are two sides to every story, it is said. I don’t care; regardless, I’m on her side. We have been friends for some years. We met through poetry. It’s as good a way as any to get to know a person.
I remember how delighted I was for her when the fairytale began. Only one thing gave me pause. I looked at the photos her handsome husband posted at his profile and thought, ‘This is a very vain man.’ It wasn’t just that he is extraordinarily good-looking, so much as the way that he posed himself: romantically, like a model or a movie star, often near-naked — lots and lots of photos displaying, narcissistically, his undoubted beauty of face and form.
But then, there were also happy photos of their small family. And he appeared to be as clever and talented as my friend, and as interested as she is in both spiritual development and the arts. I told myself not to be judgmental on the basis of one foible when they had so many other things in common. Surely they were soul-mates.
And at first she did sound blissfully happy, enjoying her new life and soon new motherhood as well. I rejoiced for her.
In a way I do now, too — not for her sorrow and practical challenges, but because it is better to be free of illusion. She has always been able to look deep, confront whatever is there, and express it honestly. She is both strong and humble. I believe these qualities will get her through, and pray that it shall be so.
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