Easter: Lots of random people wandering about here and there with either potted white lilies that remind me of funerals or glorious bunches of colourful flowers.

As for me, I saw sunshine out the window, so I made a point to get some. Sat outside to eat, read, and do a bit of gardening. Moved some of those seedlings that were too tightly clustered. Hand-watered them with the flower pot.

Oh, that flower pot has a number painted on each side, because we had adjacent community garden plots. My number is mostly eroded away, but his remains bright and shiny, blaring with the celebratory mood we had shared in our relationship and in our garden. Or, I thought we did. After all, I’m the one who painted this pot, and I’m the one who kept all the photos of our activities. I know he didn’t keep them. He didn’t make collages of our trips.

And in that last summer, gardening together wasn’t that much fun. He wandered up and down the paths a lot, on his own. My friend was with us one day and noticed he was distant. I figured it was a phase, a temporary sidetrack from our irrevocably intertwined lives. I introduced him to gardening. He loves it, but not as much as me. I gave up my plot and went away in shame, could never show my face there again. He kept his plot.

Back to today, I did a little bit of gardening, yes. Some day again I want property with my own land. A big garden. One where no one wanders in and no one neglects their adjacent plot, bringing me pests and diseases.

But I contacted him to ask for some stuff he still had of mine. I was afraid to, because his reactions are often out of left field. Besides, the context is now one of no contact without a promise of some extreme absolute condition forever. But no matter! Today I was called awesome, because I offered some fresh garlic chives from my herb garden. He gave back my stuff, and he offered to do a favour he knew I needed. And he answered my questions about his current situation. No problem!

This non-battling response gives me ease. The fact that there has been contact gives me ease. And it all relates back to what I decided a couple days ago, in order to get ease. I reframed our situation as this: It’s possible we could be friends again one day. Even though the whole relationship was a mistake. Even though I can’t bear his crazy rules, and he can’t bear my need to actually deal with conflict rather than look away from issues. The slight positive in this reframing gives me quite a bit of ease, compared with the horror of shutting the door between us. The door to my heart is open to him and probably always will be.

So, yeah, that’s one of my internal conflicts. Kind of like the one where I couldn’t possibly be vegetarian because it doesn’t feel good in my body. I know that because I tried to be one, for ethical reasons. One, factory farming horrifies me generally for reasons of animal cruelty and lack of well-being.  Two, I know meat is not the most efficient calorie source, in terms of environmental costs. And three, though hunting solves much of the first issue, I could never do it. I don’t think I could even fish. I would have to be desperate. It’s not my culture. Conflicts internal and external seem to be my lot.

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