Love and Separation

I officially filed for divorce a week ago. After not seeing my ex-wife for almost a year, we sat in a car together as I drove us off island to a courthouse, ten forms tucked away somewhere in one of our backpacks.

After the initial awkwardness of trying to catch each other up on our summer, we dropped some of our guards and became more and more curious again, about each other, as humans. By the time we got to the courthouse, we were on the same page. Rushing to find a parking spot and trying to pay for it, I became a bit careless as I guided us inside the doors of the courthouse. Jassy stopped me, and asked if we can sit somewhere first. Feeling some shame at trying to hurry us through some process (I imagined we would have time to be with each other as the paperwork was being processed), I quickly agreed.

We found the perfect park, next to a chapel, close to a garden. Facing each other on the bench, for the first time, we took some deep breaths. That opened the floodgates. Tears for both of us flowed like waterfalls. I was surprised at how much emotion was moving through me, because I had spent the last few months doing my reconciliation work and ritualized the end of our marriage, and thought I would be quite strong for this day. Jassy felt similarly. We sat there for about 45 minutes.

As we approached the courthouse again, I had a feeling that I wanted more. That I wanted someone to take our hands and gently guide us to the completion of this process. For someone to look at each of us in the eye and get a clear confirmation that this was the right course of action. After all, the vows that we took were so legitimate. I thought that someone would surely question and then qualify our answers on our broken vows.

Well, none of that happened. We were asked to take a number.

Then, we waited ten minutes to hear our number called.

When we got to our booth, we were asked to sign two pieces of paper.

Then, we were asked for $160.

And, then, it was done.

A divorce, for $160 and ten application forms.

I think we were both a little bit shocked at how easy this system is. I know that marriage is just a business of the state. That in no other way besides the bureaucratic system does our marriage need to be qualified.

Yet, there was this feeling of wanting something more.

A proper gesture of completion.

And I’m realizing that’s a problem with our society.

We do things in isolation, without ritualization.

Human beings are biologically communal, and have lived with rituals.

Each of those serve different versions of a home.

One is a feeling of being connected to others. Being tracked and seen.

The other one is a feeling of being connected to oneself. Being guided and feeling at one with source.

Without one or the other, we are lost souls looking for a sense of home.

And that’s why so many of us are “homeless”.

We don’t come into a world with communities.

We don’t live in ritual.

It’s paramount that we’re held by others, in love.

And in separation.

🍵 x 🐉