I Want to Spend the Rest of My Life Everywhere, With Everyone, One to One, Always, Forever, Now

Yesterday I hugged someone, one of my dearest humans, for the last time in our friendship here, as they will be out of town for the next couple weeks, and they cried in my arms and I in theirs. The tears were brief, because my loved one is kind and brave; and I, too, kept my word as much as I could that "I am going enjoy the time I have with you now, but I am going to cry my face off later. I'm still crying, off and on, and I spent 16 hours in my bed last evening and night, which is a wild luxury in this time of so much to do. I am taking a little bit to write this, too, because writing heals me, though I will not polish much, so this may be rough, which is appropriate.

This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://gettingfr.ee/2018/08/20/i-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-everywhere/

This is how it was for me leaving San Francisco too. It is still hard to no longer be physically present with people I love. Brief reconnections, while wonderful, are not the same. I know you will be kind to yourself as you make this transition. Much love.


Thank you, dear Judith. Love always back to you and Leo!

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Judith, another interesting aspect of the wild amount of money that has poured into the Bay Area with the rise of technology is that even for folks who stay, there have been a tremendous number of partings. So many of our loved ones seeking less costly places to raise their children or aim ahead toward retirement. I’m sure you can think of many of our the mutual friends we have who have also left, and I’ve heard of a couple more this week. Feels like a little patch of flowers, carrying on but also spreading seeds to the wind…


I’m finding myself crying on and off regularly lately. Like you, I’m the one choosing to go off on a wild adventure in a new country, a new place, a new life. And, yet, it is very hard. It is sad. I don’t want to stay in the bay area anymore, I’m ready to leave. But the transition itself is so emotional.

Thank you for sharing, because it helps me feel more normal in that such an exciting new thing leads to so much crying and emotion.


Thank you, Laura. This diaspora is a wild thing, isn’t it? I hold you in my heart, I am glad to know you, I look forward to continuing to weave with you across the world. <3

The strength that you have to fully, honestly, awarely live and to feel the pain of letting go, is sooooo incredibly beautiful. It is life itself. Thank you for sharing your pain and your hope. I love you.


I love you, too, Keri. I saw that amazing photograph of you and Isaac, he with his arm around you and taller than you now. Oh! Time. I carry you with me in my heart, and may yet see at the lake come summertime.

As your friend, I’d like to encourage you to continue to share your pain with us in whatever way suits you, along with the joys you share with us. We all learn from each other, and as you yourself said, it is wise and rightful to feel this grief upon parting. I learn from watching you manage your parting with things and people and place. You are the epitome of grace and strength, and yet you too feel the feels, cry the cries, stay in bed for a day, or more. And here we are, your friends, loving you for your awesomeness which is perfect just as it is.


Thank you, darling. It feels more appropriate to share pain in some ways and moments than others. I’m quite comfortable with this one.

I appreciate your generous words! And I’d say that if I appear with grace or strength, it’s exactly because I stay in touch with my feelings and allow them to flow. And also because I have the support and love of people like you to grow with.

Hugging and loving from afar!


Thank you, dear. I was thinking of you this morning, that you could probably hold space particularly well the mix of terror and euphoria that I am feeling, the big philosophical rightness and the tiny human pain. You typed just minutes after I thought this. <3