I was away on retreat when I met Adam.
Adam tended the fire with a vivacity that made it seem as though he'd been waiting for the role his whole life.
He cooked for the group, making sure the women were fed first, and invested in individual relationships whilst understanding the group dynamics as a whole.
Over the weekend, I found myself being drawn to Adam.
The sensations in my body started to grow, and I felt like I had a radar on my head. I felt clumsy and vulnerable, like the group would catch me out at any moment.
My thoughts quickly spiralled into shame and judgement about all the reasons my 'crush' was misplaced, selfish, and a projection of my self-worth.
I stopped myself and listened to the thoughts in my head. Whoever had the mic was a part of me, but it was old, and certainly overwhelmed with the task of MC'ing the show.
I took a breath.
What was overwhelmingly obvious at this point in time, was this gaping, warm, oozing hole in my chest.
I breathed it in.
It felt good. Really, really good.
So I welcomed it.
Clumsily, pure, open-hearted, and vulnerable.
It instantly became clear to me that this wasn't about Adam. Firstly, Adam was married. Secondly, Adam wasn't particularly well suited to me. But that's beside the point.
I knew what I was falling for was Adam's heart: his heart to tend to the group, his heart to be actively involved with life, his caring and respectful nature, his sensitivities.
I integrated that these were qualities I wasn't owning within myself. I started to notice the tending and the caring, the kneading and the doughing of the places I beautified, and how I helped compost the group.
It dawned on me that the space in my chest had been built on fertile ground. I was comfy, and comfy enough to be burning my own internal fire that was steady and overflowing. I fell totally and hopelessly in love with the sensations in my chest. Earnestly, I flew and fell over the coming days, letting this love move me.
What was particularly meaningful was that, before this weekend, I had been focussing on narrowing my attention and presence, and noticing that how you do one thing is how you do everything.
This love began to flood my interactions. My giggles turned into uncontrollable laughs, and the men and women before me became holy, the ground beneath our feet raising us up.
Being in love was of service to the group, and I knew that being the protector of it had high stakes.
That evening I found myself next to Adam at the fire. We talked about many things, and he shared with me the story of how he courted his wife. I shared that, although I was open to being convinced otherwise, most thirty-something-year-old men seemed to lack the sensitivity and wisdom I hoped for in a significant other.
Adam, unexpectedly, shared with me that he thought I was very beautiful.
It was a tender moment, and at that moment, I aimed my bow and shot my arrow.
I shared with him that he had taken up the role of being my muse that weekend.
"Adam, I've been telling everyone that I have a crush on you."
I paused, just long enough to let it land, but bursting with the excitement of a five-year-old.
"I don't need to do anything about it.
But just letting it be alive within me has been the most wonderful gift."
The conversation moved on, and we continued to talk about a myriad of mundane, spectacular, and mediocre things, as I did with most people around that fire that weekend.
However, long after the fire went out, the retreat ended, and we went home to our families, our homes and our jobs, I noticed something within me that has remained healthy, tender, and rich.
I am alive, and this crush on life has stayed with me.