I am a wild thing.
I am unaware of any rules to obey. I am unencumbered, unleashed, swimming against the current, going against the grain, and climbing trees without a net.
I live in a place where there are no rules and boxes do not exist. I can run through wide open fields with abandon, arm stretched far apart, my face shining upward toward the sun, a smile from ear to ear, the wind in my hair, to where the rest of the wild things are.
I do nothing that does not resonate within me. I abide by my own inner compass and go where it takes me.
This is the way I was born. It is the way I was meant to be for always. It is my essence and I must be true to it. It is what I want to be, what I am meant to be.
My world is a kaleidoscope of color, constantly mixing and changing into combinations and patterns of colors I have never seen before. Even more that I have yet to see. They are wild and crazy and full of life. Just like me.
I am a wild thing.
Curious. Adventurous. Looking toward new beginnings, new endings. Constantly changing and perpetually moving forward into the uncertain and the unknown. Constantly changing and perpetually moving forward by the passage of time, the change of the seasons, and by those I love.
I am a wild thing in a wild world that tries to disguise itself as tame. But it is not. It is as wild as I am; it is as wild as you are. We are all wild things meant to follow our own paths, our own rules, and our own destinies.
Look deep and look hard. Listen. Do you hear that? Listen close. Listen carefully. Behind the fear, anger, sadness and pain. It is there, waiting for you. You are there, waiting for you. You will find your wildness, who you really are and who you are always meant to be.
This is the adventure of life. Discovery, newness, freedom and fearlessness. Embracing life as the wild thing that you are.
I am wild thing.
Letting go and opening my arms to embrace all the other wild things of the world. Running through wide open fields with abandon, arms stretched far apart, my face shining upward toward the sun, a smile from ear to ear, the wind in my hair, to the place where the rest of the wild things are.
I am a wild thing.
There's Always A Way
"There’s always a way. When things look like there’s no way, there is a way. To do the impossible. To survive the unsurvivable. There’s always a way. In the face of the impossible, we are inspired. So, today, if you become frightened, instead, become inspired."
The Source of Life
I stand, facing forward with a tree behind my left shoulder. I cannot see in front of me, only behind me. I am on a hill top, but I cannot see beyond the hill. Next to the tree stands a boy and he is holding a branch from the tree. He wants to die. Not because he is in pain, but because he wants to go back to the source from which he was created. He is the son of Brahma and Brahma is the source of all life.
Brahma appears and when he does, his son turns into a mist and dissolves into the belly of Brahma, the source of all living things.
Brahma exhales and suddenly there is life all around me. I can see birds and mountains and green grass and leaves on the tree. I still cannot see in front of me. I can only see out of the left corner of my eye. I can hear the sound of a river, birds singing and the wind blowing. I can feel life all around and it is buoyant. I see blooms on the tree and colors fill the world. Fragrance of jasmine and magnolia fill my nostrils. Birds fly over to me and rest on my arms and shoulders.
Brahma sits and meditates under the tree. It is so big and full and safe. At first it was just small and dead branches. Now its trunk has grown and its branches provide protection. I am sad and happy at the same time. I lie down and close my eyes and listen to the wind, feel the breeze, hear the birds. I can feel the grass swaying in the wind. Water is rushing through a stream somewhere close. I turn and see the stream is right next to me.
I roll over on one side and rest my head on my hand and stare at Brahma who is in deep meditation. I crawl over to him and nuzzle up to him and he holds me. Ganesh arrives and sits with us. Then Shiva. I am surrounded on three sides, but there is a hole in the circle. I must fill it.
I crawl away from Brahma and sit in the fourth place and we are now under the tree in a circle. I begin to cry. I am sad. I look at their faces for answers, but they have none. They stare back at me blankly. And as I cry they begin to cry as well. I feel like they share my pain and can understand it. I crawl into the center and they close around me in a tight triangle. They lay their hands on me while I cry. I scream and ask for them to help me, but they tell me all they can do is give me compassion and show me my own strength. I look at Brahma and crawl into his belly and bring Ganesh and Shiva with me.
Suddenly I fly out of Brahma’s mouth as a pink bird. I am smiling and feel free. I fly around until I see the Jason on the raft that Ganesh and I built for him to be sent to the ocean. I land on it and begin pecking at him. He comes to life.
He is angry and I tell him it’s me. That we have options and like he chose death, I chose to be a pink bird. He tells me he made the wrong decision. He could never see what was in front of him and that is why he made so many mistakes. I become human and tell him that he is weak and he agrees. He says I made it all look so easy, but that he loved me the best way he knew how. I was the best thing that ever happened to him. But that nothing was enough.
I tell him that I love him and I hate him and he says that I should. He understands why I would feel that way. I tell him I want to hear that he loves me, for some reason I need that. He tells me he truly does and did in the only way he could. I ask him to hold me and he does. He tells me he has to go. He lies back down on the raft and is dead again.
I turn into a pink bird again and fly away, back to the tree where Brahma sits, waiting. I sit on his shoulder and cry because I feel lonely and then I am human again. Brahma never speaks. I am afraid to crawl back into his belly for some reason. And yet I want to at the same time. I resist. Everything seems lonely, but I do it anyway. I am there with Brahma Putra who tells me I am safe and I can stay with him as long as I like. I tell him I am lonely and restless. I don’t know what to do or where to go and he tells me to do nothing and go nowhere. To just rest and be. I nuzzle up to him and fall asleep. I am finally safe.
Brahma appears and when he does, his son turns into a mist and dissolves into the belly of Brahma, the source of all living things.
Brahma exhales and suddenly there is life all around me. I can see birds and mountains and green grass and leaves on the tree. I still cannot see in front of me. I can only see out of the left corner of my eye. I can hear the sound of a river, birds singing and the wind blowing. I can feel life all around and it is buoyant. I see blooms on the tree and colors fill the world. Fragrance of jasmine and magnolia fill my nostrils. Birds fly over to me and rest on my arms and shoulders.
Brahma sits and meditates under the tree. It is so big and full and safe. At first it was just small and dead branches. Now its trunk has grown and its branches provide protection. I am sad and happy at the same time. I lie down and close my eyes and listen to the wind, feel the breeze, hear the birds. I can feel the grass swaying in the wind. Water is rushing through a stream somewhere close. I turn and see the stream is right next to me.
I roll over on one side and rest my head on my hand and stare at Brahma who is in deep meditation. I crawl over to him and nuzzle up to him and he holds me. Ganesh arrives and sits with us. Then Shiva. I am surrounded on three sides, but there is a hole in the circle. I must fill it.
I crawl away from Brahma and sit in the fourth place and we are now under the tree in a circle. I begin to cry. I am sad. I look at their faces for answers, but they have none. They stare back at me blankly. And as I cry they begin to cry as well. I feel like they share my pain and can understand it. I crawl into the center and they close around me in a tight triangle. They lay their hands on me while I cry. I scream and ask for them to help me, but they tell me all they can do is give me compassion and show me my own strength. I look at Brahma and crawl into his belly and bring Ganesh and Shiva with me.
Suddenly I fly out of Brahma’s mouth as a pink bird. I am smiling and feel free. I fly around until I see the Jason on the raft that Ganesh and I built for him to be sent to the ocean. I land on it and begin pecking at him. He comes to life.
He is angry and I tell him it’s me. That we have options and like he chose death, I chose to be a pink bird. He tells me he made the wrong decision. He could never see what was in front of him and that is why he made so many mistakes. I become human and tell him that he is weak and he agrees. He says I made it all look so easy, but that he loved me the best way he knew how. I was the best thing that ever happened to him. But that nothing was enough.
I tell him that I love him and I hate him and he says that I should. He understands why I would feel that way. I tell him I want to hear that he loves me, for some reason I need that. He tells me he truly does and did in the only way he could. I ask him to hold me and he does. He tells me he has to go. He lies back down on the raft and is dead again.
I turn into a pink bird again and fly away, back to the tree where Brahma sits, waiting. I sit on his shoulder and cry because I feel lonely and then I am human again. Brahma never speaks. I am afraid to crawl back into his belly for some reason. And yet I want to at the same time. I resist. Everything seems lonely, but I do it anyway. I am there with Brahma Putra who tells me I am safe and I can stay with him as long as I like. I tell him I am lonely and restless. I don’t know what to do or where to go and he tells me to do nothing and go nowhere. To just rest and be. I nuzzle up to him and fall asleep. I am finally safe.
It Is Like Air
It is like air. The only way I seem to be able to describe it. Air. The death. The almost death. It is a very real thing that I can't seem to get a concrete connection to. It didn’t happen to me, but it did. No more, no less. The same, just different.
I don’t even know where the emotion began. First, there was recognition, not of it, but of something. Then there was a slow awareness. Then the note. Here comes full on recognition, the kind that is unbelievable. This is NOT happening. But you only allow yourself to suspend belief very temporarily because you realize you are the only one who can do anything to change the situation. So I question. What have you done? What did you take? How many? Can you stay awake?
It’s amazing how quickly instinct steps in and takes over. I have never made a 911 call yet' it was my next step. Very calmly, very steadily. I make the call. After two rings I hear a voice, the most calming, compassionate, and safe voice I have ever heard. I tell her what she needs to know, but all I want is to cry. All I want is for her to tell me everything will be OK. I suddenly want to tell her my life story. She asks to stay on the line with me until I hear sirens. I pace, she tells me they are on their way, very close, it won't be much longer. I believe her. I have to. I need to. And they arrive.
The instant intrusion and confusion is a bright light. So many strangers at once, all in one room. They are talking to him. They are asking him questions. He seems vaguely coherent, but what about me. Someone talk to me! I need interaction, I need solace, I need comfort, and I need HIM!!!! But he isn’t here. He’s there, with them and their questions and their tools. I need to stay moving. I quickly get his license and his health insurance card. This is all I can think to do. I keep calling home. I need my parents. Why don’t they answer? Why don’t they answer? Why don’t they answer? Where is everyone? I need them. I call and I call and I call and I call. No one.
Everyone leaves and one officer says that she will take me to the hospital, that I should not drive myself. I promise her that I will contact a friend and that they will take me. I am now holding two phones, both dialing different numbers simultaneously trying to find help. No one will answer. It is 2:00 a.m. It hits me, there is someone I can call to wake my parents. But I don’t know her number. He does, he has it in his phone, programmed. I go searching everywhere for his phone while still trying to wake anyone up. Finally, someone picks up. She says she will be there in 10 minutes. I still can't find his phone. My parents still don’t know. I call his phone to track it. It is ringing and I find it in a hidden pocket in a jacket. It is still ringing and I can't get to it, I can't find a way to open this pocket. There are so many fucking pockets! I am losing it now. I can't keep it together. I am ripping his jacket. I left my phone calling while I was trying to get the phone that his phone recorded everything I did. I was screaming. I was ripping at the jacket. I was crying. This would be something he would hear in the next days to come.
I call her and she answers. I tell her that he is in the hospital and my parents aren’t picking up their phone. She knows exactly what to do. She will take care of it. Then my friend arrives. We are in the car and moving fast. I call his doctor and tell him what he took. He says to not worry, it isn’t a lethal dose. This should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. The feeling is so new. I have experienced loss and death. This wasn’t like that. Was it terror? Fear? Denial? To this day I can't say. I am unable to give it a color or a name. What about a sound? All I come up with is fluttering wind. That doesn’t sound right, does it? That doesn’t seem very fitting with the heavy situation. Or is it that heavy? Yes. It is.
The hospital is comical. Ridiculous. I have to sneak my friend in with me because only one person is allowed at a time. He is lying there, not sure what is happening, not sure where he is. No one attends to him. I feel exhaustion setting in because I know that I will now have to run herd on the staff to get things taken care of. I will have to run herd on him to keep him awake, whether it is for my sake or his. My parents call. They know and they are on there way. They live 60 minutes away. My mother tells me she will be there 45. I believe her. I hear it in her voice.
They didn't pump his stomach. They used charcoal to absorb the drugs in the stomach. It is my job to make him drink the charcoal. Slowly, but surely, I get it down him. He keeps talking and makes no sense. Drifts from one thing to another. I have never seen him this way. It is the drugs, yes, but in this kind of state is frightening. No one talks about that part of suicide and overdoses. Why don’t they? To see a loved one in an altered state is, well, altering. Where are my parents? Ah, right there. Here they are. I will be OK. For now.
I don’t even know where the emotion began. First, there was recognition, not of it, but of something. Then there was a slow awareness. Then the note. Here comes full on recognition, the kind that is unbelievable. This is NOT happening. But you only allow yourself to suspend belief very temporarily because you realize you are the only one who can do anything to change the situation. So I question. What have you done? What did you take? How many? Can you stay awake?
It’s amazing how quickly instinct steps in and takes over. I have never made a 911 call yet' it was my next step. Very calmly, very steadily. I make the call. After two rings I hear a voice, the most calming, compassionate, and safe voice I have ever heard. I tell her what she needs to know, but all I want is to cry. All I want is for her to tell me everything will be OK. I suddenly want to tell her my life story. She asks to stay on the line with me until I hear sirens. I pace, she tells me they are on their way, very close, it won't be much longer. I believe her. I have to. I need to. And they arrive.
The instant intrusion and confusion is a bright light. So many strangers at once, all in one room. They are talking to him. They are asking him questions. He seems vaguely coherent, but what about me. Someone talk to me! I need interaction, I need solace, I need comfort, and I need HIM!!!! But he isn’t here. He’s there, with them and their questions and their tools. I need to stay moving. I quickly get his license and his health insurance card. This is all I can think to do. I keep calling home. I need my parents. Why don’t they answer? Why don’t they answer? Why don’t they answer? Where is everyone? I need them. I call and I call and I call and I call. No one.
Everyone leaves and one officer says that she will take me to the hospital, that I should not drive myself. I promise her that I will contact a friend and that they will take me. I am now holding two phones, both dialing different numbers simultaneously trying to find help. No one will answer. It is 2:00 a.m. It hits me, there is someone I can call to wake my parents. But I don’t know her number. He does, he has it in his phone, programmed. I go searching everywhere for his phone while still trying to wake anyone up. Finally, someone picks up. She says she will be there in 10 minutes. I still can't find his phone. My parents still don’t know. I call his phone to track it. It is ringing and I find it in a hidden pocket in a jacket. It is still ringing and I can't get to it, I can't find a way to open this pocket. There are so many fucking pockets! I am losing it now. I can't keep it together. I am ripping his jacket. I left my phone calling while I was trying to get the phone that his phone recorded everything I did. I was screaming. I was ripping at the jacket. I was crying. This would be something he would hear in the next days to come.
I call her and she answers. I tell her that he is in the hospital and my parents aren’t picking up their phone. She knows exactly what to do. She will take care of it. Then my friend arrives. We are in the car and moving fast. I call his doctor and tell him what he took. He says to not worry, it isn’t a lethal dose. This should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. The feeling is so new. I have experienced loss and death. This wasn’t like that. Was it terror? Fear? Denial? To this day I can't say. I am unable to give it a color or a name. What about a sound? All I come up with is fluttering wind. That doesn’t sound right, does it? That doesn’t seem very fitting with the heavy situation. Or is it that heavy? Yes. It is.
The hospital is comical. Ridiculous. I have to sneak my friend in with me because only one person is allowed at a time. He is lying there, not sure what is happening, not sure where he is. No one attends to him. I feel exhaustion setting in because I know that I will now have to run herd on the staff to get things taken care of. I will have to run herd on him to keep him awake, whether it is for my sake or his. My parents call. They know and they are on there way. They live 60 minutes away. My mother tells me she will be there 45. I believe her. I hear it in her voice.
They didn't pump his stomach. They used charcoal to absorb the drugs in the stomach. It is my job to make him drink the charcoal. Slowly, but surely, I get it down him. He keeps talking and makes no sense. Drifts from one thing to another. I have never seen him this way. It is the drugs, yes, but in this kind of state is frightening. No one talks about that part of suicide and overdoses. Why don’t they? To see a loved one in an altered state is, well, altering. Where are my parents? Ah, right there. Here they are. I will be OK. For now.
Meditation of a Horse
You do not wait for me, or beckon me or even welcome me. If I choose, you allow me to ride you. Permission is granted without request. You read my mind if I want you to walk, canter, or gallop. You know intuitively what I need.
As we ride, you are not emotive. We are not connected emotionally. You are your own spirit, your own being. You are detached, but not cold. I connect with you through a shared feeling of freedom and safety.
You, like the sand, the ocean, the sky, the mountains or the birds, do not accept or reject me. These are not qualities that inhabit your realm. You live like any creature in nature. Without attachment. Without need. Without want. Only to exist.
The ocean permits me to swim in it. The sand permits me to walk in it. The mountains permit me to climb them. Birds permit me to hear their song. And just as a tree permits me to rest against its trunk and seek shelter in its shade, you permit me to ride you.
And when I ride you, I feel the freedom from emotion and experience the feeling of nothingness. As we ride, we come upon the Tree of Life and as I dismount to find refuge under its large branches, but you do not follow. You remain alone.
As I rest, a feeling of loneliness washes over me. I have suddently lost the feelings of safety and freedom and need to be near you. The need is desperate and so I beckon to you. And as you near me, the feeling disappears almost as quickly as it came.
I run my hands over your face. I am compelled to look into your eyes. I am searching for something and I do not know what. And then I understand why I wanted you near. Of all the things I see in your eyes, compassion, love, strength, courage, and wisdom, there is something else, something more, and something greater. I see God.
As we ride, you are not emotive. We are not connected emotionally. You are your own spirit, your own being. You are detached, but not cold. I connect with you through a shared feeling of freedom and safety.
You, like the sand, the ocean, the sky, the mountains or the birds, do not accept or reject me. These are not qualities that inhabit your realm. You live like any creature in nature. Without attachment. Without need. Without want. Only to exist.
The ocean permits me to swim in it. The sand permits me to walk in it. The mountains permit me to climb them. Birds permit me to hear their song. And just as a tree permits me to rest against its trunk and seek shelter in its shade, you permit me to ride you.
And when I ride you, I feel the freedom from emotion and experience the feeling of nothingness. As we ride, we come upon the Tree of Life and as I dismount to find refuge under its large branches, but you do not follow. You remain alone.
As I rest, a feeling of loneliness washes over me. I have suddently lost the feelings of safety and freedom and need to be near you. The need is desperate and so I beckon to you. And as you near me, the feeling disappears almost as quickly as it came.
I run my hands over your face. I am compelled to look into your eyes. I am searching for something and I do not know what. And then I understand why I wanted you near. Of all the things I see in your eyes, compassion, love, strength, courage, and wisdom, there is something else, something more, and something greater. I see God.
I Carry Your Heart
"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
e.e. cummings
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)"
e.e. cummings
New Hands
It’s strange feeling the hands of someone new on my body. It doesn’t feel quite right. It doesn’t feel like home.
You don’t think of these things until they are replaced. It does not occur to you until it happens. You do not realize that you have expectations until they are not fulfilled.
The old hands knew what to do. They knew what I wanted and needed before I did. They engulfed me while massaging my thigh just before moving over the flat of my stomach and around the curvature of my waist and torso and then lingered while making their way to the rise of my breasts. Lovingly, fervently, excitedly, intensely. And then back down again.
They teased and caressed. They comforted and tickled. I became so accustomed to them that it was as though they were an extension of me. It was as if my body and his hands were having a private conversation. One that only they could hear, but that I could feel.
They were the perfect temperature and the perfect size for every part of me. They fit the small of my back, the palm of my hand, the cheek of my ass, the heel of my foot, the muscle of my calf, the inside of my thigh, the arch in my back, the curve in my waist, the whole of my torso, the fullness of my breasts.
And his mouth. So familiar. Perfectly fit to mine. As though his were the yin and mine were the yang. Our tongues and lips moved in concert. There was never a skipped beat. They moved in a way that could create heat as quickly as striking a match.
But new hands are so unexpected. Almost as though they are in a foreign country. These new hands have not learned the language yet. The language that the old hands spoke fluently. They do not know the cities, the towns or the roads yet. They are just getting to know them. They are still exploring. Instead of moving with purpose, they move with curiosity, excitement and delight.
The new hands move faster. And they stumble because they do not yet know the contours of my body like the hold hands did. I realize that I am truly in a whole new place. Physically. Mentally.
There is a sense of confusion as I expect one thing to happen and yet something completely different takes place. I expect a zig, but I feel a zag. I expect his kiss to be firmer, but it is softer. I expect his hands to be warmer but they are cooler and I expect them to be larger, but they are smaller.
And with new hands comes a new mouth. This too is strange. Full lips, but a differently shaped tongue. The kiss is not a concert, but more of a warm up. I know what I want. I know what I want to happen, my mouth and lips are telling his what to do, but they do not listen. They have a mind of their own.
As they explore the new terrain that is my body, I realize that I am thinking instead of feeling. Do I want these hands and this mouth? Do I like excitement or fervor? Do I want passion or delight? Do I prefer intensity or curiosity? Do I like the way they stroke my breasts? Do I respond to the texture of their skin against mine?
Have you noticed that when you are with the right person, your bodies fit together perfectly? As though they were made for each other? You can try so many other bodies, and for a night or even a week, they will do, but it isn’t that perfect fit. You may even realize that don’t want anything that doesn’t fit just right. Without that fit, there is less passion, less intensity, and less interest.
With the right body, you realize that not only will your mouths move in concert and your hands will feel just right, but that you will move in ways that are so unique, they cannot be duplicated. A heat is created, a rhythm is developed. It has its own mark.
And just like that, I know that these are not the right hands for me. I want different hands. And since the old hands are gone, I will keep looking for a new pair. I will never find an exact match. They are all one of a kind. But next time, they will be a better fit. Next time, they won’t feel “new”. Next time, I won’t think.
You don’t think of these things until they are replaced. It does not occur to you until it happens. You do not realize that you have expectations until they are not fulfilled.
The old hands knew what to do. They knew what I wanted and needed before I did. They engulfed me while massaging my thigh just before moving over the flat of my stomach and around the curvature of my waist and torso and then lingered while making their way to the rise of my breasts. Lovingly, fervently, excitedly, intensely. And then back down again.
They teased and caressed. They comforted and tickled. I became so accustomed to them that it was as though they were an extension of me. It was as if my body and his hands were having a private conversation. One that only they could hear, but that I could feel.
They were the perfect temperature and the perfect size for every part of me. They fit the small of my back, the palm of my hand, the cheek of my ass, the heel of my foot, the muscle of my calf, the inside of my thigh, the arch in my back, the curve in my waist, the whole of my torso, the fullness of my breasts.
And his mouth. So familiar. Perfectly fit to mine. As though his were the yin and mine were the yang. Our tongues and lips moved in concert. There was never a skipped beat. They moved in a way that could create heat as quickly as striking a match.
But new hands are so unexpected. Almost as though they are in a foreign country. These new hands have not learned the language yet. The language that the old hands spoke fluently. They do not know the cities, the towns or the roads yet. They are just getting to know them. They are still exploring. Instead of moving with purpose, they move with curiosity, excitement and delight.
The new hands move faster. And they stumble because they do not yet know the contours of my body like the hold hands did. I realize that I am truly in a whole new place. Physically. Mentally.
There is a sense of confusion as I expect one thing to happen and yet something completely different takes place. I expect a zig, but I feel a zag. I expect his kiss to be firmer, but it is softer. I expect his hands to be warmer but they are cooler and I expect them to be larger, but they are smaller.
And with new hands comes a new mouth. This too is strange. Full lips, but a differently shaped tongue. The kiss is not a concert, but more of a warm up. I know what I want. I know what I want to happen, my mouth and lips are telling his what to do, but they do not listen. They have a mind of their own.
As they explore the new terrain that is my body, I realize that I am thinking instead of feeling. Do I want these hands and this mouth? Do I like excitement or fervor? Do I want passion or delight? Do I prefer intensity or curiosity? Do I like the way they stroke my breasts? Do I respond to the texture of their skin against mine?
Have you noticed that when you are with the right person, your bodies fit together perfectly? As though they were made for each other? You can try so many other bodies, and for a night or even a week, they will do, but it isn’t that perfect fit. You may even realize that don’t want anything that doesn’t fit just right. Without that fit, there is less passion, less intensity, and less interest.
With the right body, you realize that not only will your mouths move in concert and your hands will feel just right, but that you will move in ways that are so unique, they cannot be duplicated. A heat is created, a rhythm is developed. It has its own mark.
And just like that, I know that these are not the right hands for me. I want different hands. And since the old hands are gone, I will keep looking for a new pair. I will never find an exact match. They are all one of a kind. But next time, they will be a better fit. Next time, they won’t feel “new”. Next time, I won’t think.
As Sure As The Sky Is Blue
This may be hard for you to read, to take in, or to feel, but that’s ok. You may not believe me. You may not agree. You may not even understand. And that’s ok too. But this is something that I am as sure of as the sky is blue.
The love that you see you in me? The giving, loving, generous and kind heart that you tell me I have? That is you. It is a reflection of you. You run so deeply, you have so much love to give, but it scares you. You don’t want to let it out, give it away or let anyone else have it because the one person that you gave it to, the person that you allowed it to flow freely with, died. He left you all alone and it hurt so badly, you never wanted to feel that way ever again. You never wanted to feel that kind of pain. So you locked down, you covered it up. You buried the love and the pain all at the same time.
But when you met me, you saw something familiar. There was a connection because we are alike. I have had the same kind of pain and hurt, but I was forced to face it head on. I had buried mine. Deep down inside of me I put my love and my pain in a place where even I couldn’t find it. But then, something happened. I met a person that was so loving. So tender, and so kind, it opened me up.
Slowly, so very, very slowly, the love I had buried started to bubble to the surface and then came spewing out. I did what I could to control it because I felt that I was losing myself. It was as if the more love I felt, the less I knew who I was and it scared me so much. So it ebbed and flowed. I fought it. And then I would lose. When I felt that love and it was returned, it was so scary, I hated it. And then I would reel it back in again, afraid that I was losing myself. Afraid that I was losing control.
And then he died. And when he left, I felt such immeasurable pain, that I too wanted to die. I did not want to live without him. I could not survive without him. And along with all of that pain that came up from the place I hidden from myself, came all the love as well. All at the same time. And I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried and cried and cried and cried. I cried for myself and my loss from the past and the present. I cried for my own pain and my fear and my loneliness. I cried for him because he left the world in so much pain. And I just kept crying until I couldn’t cry anymore. And then I felt nothing. I felt dead inside. I became numb. And then I became scared. Scared to ever have to feel that kind of pain again. And I spent a long time being scared. So afraid and so alone. And I did things that were self destructive all the while struggling to maintain control and fight the pain. And then one day, something unexpected and extraordinary happened. I met this person. So unique, so odd, so new, so different, so safe, so scary, so caring, so loving, so much of everything wonderful. And that person was you.
I was terrified. I was so afraid of being hurt again. I was positive that I could not love and I was even more positive that I could not survive the pain of losing that love. And so again, I fought and fought and fought, but it came out, I couldn’t stop it. All this love along with all my fears. I tried to keep them at bay, but they wouldn’t stay away. So I let my fears take over, let them feed my imagination so I wouldn’t have to feel love. But it fought me and lost many, many times. And then one day I found myself not only in love with you, but full of love for you. And I could feel yours for me. It was so rich and full and strong. Not just romantic love. It was deeper. But my love was out of control as it grew and grew and grew. And it saw you. It saw your pain. It saw your flaws. It saw all of your love that deep and thick and cool and wide like a river, but it was underground. In a dark, cool cave. And above that cave, was heat and fire and red all around. And the more I loved you, the less I was able to find that river. The less I was allowed to swim in its coolness and feel its rush over my body. Fewer and fewer times was I let in. But more and more I could feel the fire and see the red, until I wasn’t allowed to see the river at all. And then I lost you.
And I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried until I was sick. And then I cried more because I loved you so much and you could not love me back. Not the way I wanted you to. Not the way I knew that you could. And it the pain was unbearable. I did not think I could do it again. I did not want to do it again, but I had no choice but to feel. You had brought it all back up for me and there was no turning back for me.
But I realized that I didn’t want to turn back. That I could survive the pain because I had done it before. I would do it again. And so I did. And it was awful. But it wasn’t forever. And it ebbed and flowed. The pain. And the love. But I decided that no longer would I try to control it. I had to let go. And as I did, I found more love coming into my life from all different and unexpected directions. And so I went with it. I let it in. and my heart stayed open. It didn’t shut down. I didn’t break. I did not die. I survived and still felt love.
And so for you, I still feel this love. And I feel it from you too. And I didn’t lose you. You lost you. But I still see you. I know where you are. I have stood back and watched. And from my viewpoint, I see you so clearly. I see who you are and who you are fighting not to be. I see what you are so afraid of and why you are so confused. I know what you want, even though you do not. And I know what you need, even though you may not like it. But it is not my place to say. You have not asked for my help.
And so I watch you as you move through your life, as best you know how, trying to navigate through a world filled with emotion and feeling and not quite knowing how to handle it all and being so overwhelmed. Fighting to keep that deep, cool river as far below as possible so that no one can see it, no one can swim in it and enjoy it. Not even you. It is too scary, that river. So much so that you don’t even want to acknowledge its existence. You prefer the heat and the fire. You know it can protect you. You know it can keep everything and everyone at bay. It is safe.
If ever you need some light to help you find your way, I am here. If ever you feel safe enough to, you can ask. It does not need to be complicated. It does not need to be any more or any less than exactly what you have asked for. Because as much as love can clutter and muddle and confuse us all, it can also be that driving force that gives us clarity and generosity of light to help those we deeply care about.
The love that you see you in me? The giving, loving, generous and kind heart that you tell me I have? That is you. It is a reflection of you. You run so deeply, you have so much love to give, but it scares you. You don’t want to let it out, give it away or let anyone else have it because the one person that you gave it to, the person that you allowed it to flow freely with, died. He left you all alone and it hurt so badly, you never wanted to feel that way ever again. You never wanted to feel that kind of pain. So you locked down, you covered it up. You buried the love and the pain all at the same time.
But when you met me, you saw something familiar. There was a connection because we are alike. I have had the same kind of pain and hurt, but I was forced to face it head on. I had buried mine. Deep down inside of me I put my love and my pain in a place where even I couldn’t find it. But then, something happened. I met a person that was so loving. So tender, and so kind, it opened me up.
Slowly, so very, very slowly, the love I had buried started to bubble to the surface and then came spewing out. I did what I could to control it because I felt that I was losing myself. It was as if the more love I felt, the less I knew who I was and it scared me so much. So it ebbed and flowed. I fought it. And then I would lose. When I felt that love and it was returned, it was so scary, I hated it. And then I would reel it back in again, afraid that I was losing myself. Afraid that I was losing control.
And then he died. And when he left, I felt such immeasurable pain, that I too wanted to die. I did not want to live without him. I could not survive without him. And along with all of that pain that came up from the place I hidden from myself, came all the love as well. All at the same time. And I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried and cried and cried and cried. I cried for myself and my loss from the past and the present. I cried for my own pain and my fear and my loneliness. I cried for him because he left the world in so much pain. And I just kept crying until I couldn’t cry anymore. And then I felt nothing. I felt dead inside. I became numb. And then I became scared. Scared to ever have to feel that kind of pain again. And I spent a long time being scared. So afraid and so alone. And I did things that were self destructive all the while struggling to maintain control and fight the pain. And then one day, something unexpected and extraordinary happened. I met this person. So unique, so odd, so new, so different, so safe, so scary, so caring, so loving, so much of everything wonderful. And that person was you.
I was terrified. I was so afraid of being hurt again. I was positive that I could not love and I was even more positive that I could not survive the pain of losing that love. And so again, I fought and fought and fought, but it came out, I couldn’t stop it. All this love along with all my fears. I tried to keep them at bay, but they wouldn’t stay away. So I let my fears take over, let them feed my imagination so I wouldn’t have to feel love. But it fought me and lost many, many times. And then one day I found myself not only in love with you, but full of love for you. And I could feel yours for me. It was so rich and full and strong. Not just romantic love. It was deeper. But my love was out of control as it grew and grew and grew. And it saw you. It saw your pain. It saw your flaws. It saw all of your love that deep and thick and cool and wide like a river, but it was underground. In a dark, cool cave. And above that cave, was heat and fire and red all around. And the more I loved you, the less I was able to find that river. The less I was allowed to swim in its coolness and feel its rush over my body. Fewer and fewer times was I let in. But more and more I could feel the fire and see the red, until I wasn’t allowed to see the river at all. And then I lost you.
And I cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried until I was sick. And then I cried more because I loved you so much and you could not love me back. Not the way I wanted you to. Not the way I knew that you could. And it the pain was unbearable. I did not think I could do it again. I did not want to do it again, but I had no choice but to feel. You had brought it all back up for me and there was no turning back for me.
But I realized that I didn’t want to turn back. That I could survive the pain because I had done it before. I would do it again. And so I did. And it was awful. But it wasn’t forever. And it ebbed and flowed. The pain. And the love. But I decided that no longer would I try to control it. I had to let go. And as I did, I found more love coming into my life from all different and unexpected directions. And so I went with it. I let it in. and my heart stayed open. It didn’t shut down. I didn’t break. I did not die. I survived and still felt love.
And so for you, I still feel this love. And I feel it from you too. And I didn’t lose you. You lost you. But I still see you. I know where you are. I have stood back and watched. And from my viewpoint, I see you so clearly. I see who you are and who you are fighting not to be. I see what you are so afraid of and why you are so confused. I know what you want, even though you do not. And I know what you need, even though you may not like it. But it is not my place to say. You have not asked for my help.
And so I watch you as you move through your life, as best you know how, trying to navigate through a world filled with emotion and feeling and not quite knowing how to handle it all and being so overwhelmed. Fighting to keep that deep, cool river as far below as possible so that no one can see it, no one can swim in it and enjoy it. Not even you. It is too scary, that river. So much so that you don’t even want to acknowledge its existence. You prefer the heat and the fire. You know it can protect you. You know it can keep everything and everyone at bay. It is safe.
If ever you need some light to help you find your way, I am here. If ever you feel safe enough to, you can ask. It does not need to be complicated. It does not need to be any more or any less than exactly what you have asked for. Because as much as love can clutter and muddle and confuse us all, it can also be that driving force that gives us clarity and generosity of light to help those we deeply care about.
Rain
I love the rain because it assures me that nature is alive and real. It shows me that God is present.
Shiny Penny
I have to say it aloud. I have to write it because I have to accept it. It hurts to admit. I miss him. I miss him more than I thought I did. More than I was willing to admit to myself. It hurts to know it. And it hurts to know that he doesn’t feel the same. It hurts to accept that someone you love and loved, has not felt the loss of you. Has not missed you.
It hurts to know that you loved someone so much more than they loved you. I’ve done it twice now. Loved more. Perhaps loved too much. But this time around, I was trying to stay aware. I was trying to not let it happen again. Not get sucked in. I was swept off my feet instead.
Even now, I love him, but it isn’t returned. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I begin to wonder why he didn’t love me the same way. And I wonder how he was able to stop it so easily. But I know the answer.
I was the new shiny penny. Or maybe the life raft. Maybe I was both. He said he had never met anyone like me. He told me that he loved me and that he trusted me more than almost anyone. Sometimes he even said he trusted me more than anyone in his life.
He needed something new. Something to take him from there to here. I was that something. He used me, although I believe he did not do it maliciously. But I don’t believe he ever loved me. I think he only thought he did. I am certain that he loved the idea of me.
The new shiny penny. I was an entire new species to him. He was amazed. He needed me to get out. He couldn’t do it alone. But now he can. He got what he needed.
He is no longer in need of a raft and I have lost my shine. No longer new, I am just currency.
For me, love is like a fountain. Unable to turn it off. No control over its flow. But then again, I love easily. I love a great deal. I have to wonder why I would love someone who so clearly doesn’t love me in return. Why would I want such a person in my life? It isn’t pretty.
I loved him enough to set him free. To unshackle him. To let him fly. Such an excruciating yet loving act. Deep, deep down, I knew he no longer loved me. I think he did not even like me very much. It is hard to accept. It’s hard to learn that someone you love does not even like you. That they started out loving you, but as they get to know you, start to dislike you. It is heartbreaking.
My second worse fear came true. If someone sees or knows the real me, then they will leave. The good news is, it has happened. There is freedom from fear in that knowledge.
This is twice now. Rejection. By the only two men I’ve loved. I gave everything I had to both. But it was either not enough or too much. Whichever it was, in the end, it doesn’t matter.
But I must take responsibility for my role. I was not a victim. I did things that made him not like me, not love me. I am aware of most all of these things. The sting comes from him being just as flawed, but I loved him anyway.
This is my perception. Through a kaleidoscopic filter of feelings, experiences, past hurts, losses, fears, worries, and insecurities. No emotion is pure. Nothing is fully clear. I only have my own truth. I do not know his.
I have never experienced this kind of rejection. I do not plan to experience it ever again. Now I am aware. More aware than I have ever been. I will never experience it again because it will never come my way. I had my lesson. I learned. Bittersweet, but necessary. Ugly, but true.
But I know that everything will be OK. I believe this with all my heart. Love will come again.
But this time, it will be different. This time, it will be returned. And this time, I will revel in it. Because this time, I will not be the only one to recognize its preciousness, its rarity, and its power.
It hurts to know that you loved someone so much more than they loved you. I’ve done it twice now. Loved more. Perhaps loved too much. But this time around, I was trying to stay aware. I was trying to not let it happen again. Not get sucked in. I was swept off my feet instead.
Even now, I love him, but it isn’t returned. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I begin to wonder why he didn’t love me the same way. And I wonder how he was able to stop it so easily. But I know the answer.
I was the new shiny penny. Or maybe the life raft. Maybe I was both. He said he had never met anyone like me. He told me that he loved me and that he trusted me more than almost anyone. Sometimes he even said he trusted me more than anyone in his life.
He needed something new. Something to take him from there to here. I was that something. He used me, although I believe he did not do it maliciously. But I don’t believe he ever loved me. I think he only thought he did. I am certain that he loved the idea of me.
The new shiny penny. I was an entire new species to him. He was amazed. He needed me to get out. He couldn’t do it alone. But now he can. He got what he needed.
He is no longer in need of a raft and I have lost my shine. No longer new, I am just currency.
For me, love is like a fountain. Unable to turn it off. No control over its flow. But then again, I love easily. I love a great deal. I have to wonder why I would love someone who so clearly doesn’t love me in return. Why would I want such a person in my life? It isn’t pretty.
I loved him enough to set him free. To unshackle him. To let him fly. Such an excruciating yet loving act. Deep, deep down, I knew he no longer loved me. I think he did not even like me very much. It is hard to accept. It’s hard to learn that someone you love does not even like you. That they started out loving you, but as they get to know you, start to dislike you. It is heartbreaking.
My second worse fear came true. If someone sees or knows the real me, then they will leave. The good news is, it has happened. There is freedom from fear in that knowledge.
This is twice now. Rejection. By the only two men I’ve loved. I gave everything I had to both. But it was either not enough or too much. Whichever it was, in the end, it doesn’t matter.
But I must take responsibility for my role. I was not a victim. I did things that made him not like me, not love me. I am aware of most all of these things. The sting comes from him being just as flawed, but I loved him anyway.
This is my perception. Through a kaleidoscopic filter of feelings, experiences, past hurts, losses, fears, worries, and insecurities. No emotion is pure. Nothing is fully clear. I only have my own truth. I do not know his.
I have never experienced this kind of rejection. I do not plan to experience it ever again. Now I am aware. More aware than I have ever been. I will never experience it again because it will never come my way. I had my lesson. I learned. Bittersweet, but necessary. Ugly, but true.
But I know that everything will be OK. I believe this with all my heart. Love will come again.
But this time, it will be different. This time, it will be returned. And this time, I will revel in it. Because this time, I will not be the only one to recognize its preciousness, its rarity, and its power.
Courage
It takes courage to love. It takes courage to face your fears. It takes courage to change. It takes courage to resist changing the things we have no control over. It takes courage to accept our limitations and to embrace our talents.
It takes courage to see the flaws in ourselves and to love ourselves in spite of it. And yet even more courage to change them. It takes courage to take ourselves on. It takes courage to see what our loved ones see. To listen to what they are telling us and then to see it in ourselves. And it takes courage to pay attention to it all, but also to trust that it is for our own good.
It is scary and terrifying and lonely to face ourselves. It feels like we are the only ones in the world that feel the way we do because we don’t know why we feel the way we do. Why we do what we do.
It takes courage to be alone. And it takes courage to be with someone. It takes courage to risk and courage to have faith. It takes courage to step out of our skin, to move away from our self imposed safety blankets and venture further out of ourselves.
The world can seem so scary, cold and lonely. We all need someone. But it takes courage to realize and know that we can’t get through it all alone. We need each other and it takes strength and courage to accept this because it’s so hard to trust. Harder than we realize until we are truly tested.
It is so hard to trust ourselves, how could we easily trust another?
It takes courage to see this. To believe this. To accept this.
We say we don’t want to be alone, but when we realize what it takes to be with someone else, we lose our courage. We become so afraid of so many, many things. Fear of losing them, fear of being hurt, fear of things that have nothing to do with them, but with our pasts. Being with them forces our pasts to rise to the surface. It takes so much courage to stay with someone. The right someone.
If you have the courage, you will let them show you what you don’t want to see, whether they mean to or not. If we are alone, there is no one to show us anything we do not want to see. It takes courage to acknowledge this and keep moving forward. One step at a time.
It takes courage to let someone in and to let them see us. But it takes even more courage to see ourselves. For me, this is the hardest. To see myself for who I am, good and bad, to not feel sorry for myself, and to reach deep down inside of myself and find the strength to change.
It takes courage to love unselfishly, to not constantly fear that someone will take us from ourselves. It takes courage to create a line between the “me” and “we”. It is a constant struggle. It easier to get lost in someone else so that we do not have to deal with ourselves. And it is easier to keep someone at arm’s length so we don’t have to see ourselves.
But we are not meant to go through life alone. We are meant to love and be loved. We are meant to grow and to help others grow as well. It is only through others that we can connect to the world around us and to ourselves. It is others that show us who we are and help us become who we want to be. So we have to reach out, venture out, and take the leap. Because if we don’t, we do not change, we do not grow. We remain stagnate. We become closed off. We don’t give of ourselves. We don’t share ourselves.
We receive less and less in life because we give less of ourselves. And suddenly we see ourselves in the same place over and over again. We miss the gifts that life offers us because we are so focused on NOT letting things out. We are locked down. We want to protect ourselves. We are all so scared. But it will not prevent us from pain and sadness and change. We will experience it all regardless. It’s the one thing we can be sure of. The one thing we have no control over. But we do have control over balancing out our lives with joy and love.
And this, this takes the most courage of all.
It takes courage to see the flaws in ourselves and to love ourselves in spite of it. And yet even more courage to change them. It takes courage to take ourselves on. It takes courage to see what our loved ones see. To listen to what they are telling us and then to see it in ourselves. And it takes courage to pay attention to it all, but also to trust that it is for our own good.
It is scary and terrifying and lonely to face ourselves. It feels like we are the only ones in the world that feel the way we do because we don’t know why we feel the way we do. Why we do what we do.
It takes courage to be alone. And it takes courage to be with someone. It takes courage to risk and courage to have faith. It takes courage to step out of our skin, to move away from our self imposed safety blankets and venture further out of ourselves.
The world can seem so scary, cold and lonely. We all need someone. But it takes courage to realize and know that we can’t get through it all alone. We need each other and it takes strength and courage to accept this because it’s so hard to trust. Harder than we realize until we are truly tested.
It is so hard to trust ourselves, how could we easily trust another?
It takes courage to see this. To believe this. To accept this.
We say we don’t want to be alone, but when we realize what it takes to be with someone else, we lose our courage. We become so afraid of so many, many things. Fear of losing them, fear of being hurt, fear of things that have nothing to do with them, but with our pasts. Being with them forces our pasts to rise to the surface. It takes so much courage to stay with someone. The right someone.
If you have the courage, you will let them show you what you don’t want to see, whether they mean to or not. If we are alone, there is no one to show us anything we do not want to see. It takes courage to acknowledge this and keep moving forward. One step at a time.
It takes courage to let someone in and to let them see us. But it takes even more courage to see ourselves. For me, this is the hardest. To see myself for who I am, good and bad, to not feel sorry for myself, and to reach deep down inside of myself and find the strength to change.
It takes courage to love unselfishly, to not constantly fear that someone will take us from ourselves. It takes courage to create a line between the “me” and “we”. It is a constant struggle. It easier to get lost in someone else so that we do not have to deal with ourselves. And it is easier to keep someone at arm’s length so we don’t have to see ourselves.
But we are not meant to go through life alone. We are meant to love and be loved. We are meant to grow and to help others grow as well. It is only through others that we can connect to the world around us and to ourselves. It is others that show us who we are and help us become who we want to be. So we have to reach out, venture out, and take the leap. Because if we don’t, we do not change, we do not grow. We remain stagnate. We become closed off. We don’t give of ourselves. We don’t share ourselves.
We receive less and less in life because we give less of ourselves. And suddenly we see ourselves in the same place over and over again. We miss the gifts that life offers us because we are so focused on NOT letting things out. We are locked down. We want to protect ourselves. We are all so scared. But it will not prevent us from pain and sadness and change. We will experience it all regardless. It’s the one thing we can be sure of. The one thing we have no control over. But we do have control over balancing out our lives with joy and love.
And this, this takes the most courage of all.
The Thank You Note
He wrote to me. It was a thank you note. So cold. So formal. So distant. Like an ice cycle had been driven through my heart, turning it into a gaping wound, bleeding uncontrollably.
It was as though I was hemorrhaging internally. Blood filling the cavity that is my body. I was drowning in my own blood as it began to seep out of my mouth, ears, eyes, and nostrils.
It was as though we had no past. As though there was nothing between us but air. I see now that I feel so differently than he does. I loved him so much, that I set him free. He was unhappy with me. I loved him enough to let him go, give him what he wanted, even though it would cause me great pain. And it did. It does. But for him, it seems, there is no pain.
It is as though I was never a part of his life. As though I never existed for him. As though I had no impact on him. And this is something that is nearly impossible for me to reconcile. My mind cannot understand it and my heart does not want to accept it. He made such a difference in my life. Why did I not make a difference in his? This is something that I will have to accept, even though I will never understand. I know now that there will be no closure. I will need to create my own. Just as I did the time before.
Once, he thought I was telling him that I never wanted to have contact with him again. His response was that he was sad, but that he understood. That was all. That was all he said. All he felt. All he seemed to care.
I have started to feel as though I have no value. If someone can stamp me out of their life so quickly and easily, then I must not be much of anything. But I know this is not true. Others have loved me as I have loved them. This does not mean I have no value. I do not have to hemorrhage. I do not have to drown because my love is not reciprocated.
But I know I am naive. I have to remember this the next time around. I have to learn to not give my heart away so quickly. There are lessons to be learned.
But I can determine my own value. I can decide who I let into my life. I can say “when”.
It was as though I was hemorrhaging internally. Blood filling the cavity that is my body. I was drowning in my own blood as it began to seep out of my mouth, ears, eyes, and nostrils.
It was as though we had no past. As though there was nothing between us but air. I see now that I feel so differently than he does. I loved him so much, that I set him free. He was unhappy with me. I loved him enough to let him go, give him what he wanted, even though it would cause me great pain. And it did. It does. But for him, it seems, there is no pain.
It is as though I was never a part of his life. As though I never existed for him. As though I had no impact on him. And this is something that is nearly impossible for me to reconcile. My mind cannot understand it and my heart does not want to accept it. He made such a difference in my life. Why did I not make a difference in his? This is something that I will have to accept, even though I will never understand. I know now that there will be no closure. I will need to create my own. Just as I did the time before.
Once, he thought I was telling him that I never wanted to have contact with him again. His response was that he was sad, but that he understood. That was all. That was all he said. All he felt. All he seemed to care.
I have started to feel as though I have no value. If someone can stamp me out of their life so quickly and easily, then I must not be much of anything. But I know this is not true. Others have loved me as I have loved them. This does not mean I have no value. I do not have to hemorrhage. I do not have to drown because my love is not reciprocated.
But I know I am naive. I have to remember this the next time around. I have to learn to not give my heart away so quickly. There are lessons to be learned.
But I can determine my own value. I can decide who I let into my life. I can say “when”.
Love Defined
I have realized that so many of us have different definitions and ideas about love. For me, love is showing your true colors and allowing your loved one to show theirs. It is accepting flaws and beauty. It is patience and fairness. It is the recognition of something extraordinary and the appreciation and understanding that it doesn’t happen every day. It is being afraid, but knowing you are not alone. It is putting yourself in their shoes when you can't quite understand where they are coming from.
It is knowing that there is always someone out there that loves you and is on your side. Someone you can count on, not matter what.
Love is revealing everything about yourself, no matter how embarrassed or ashamed you may be and allowing the same for them, without judgment.
It is trusting them and feeling safe, but also working your way back when you find that you don’t. They are still the person you want to spend time with above any other. They are the one with whom you want to share all the little, unimportant things with that you know only they will appreciate or get. And they are the one that can understand you, when no one else can.
Love is never leading you astray and always remaining honest and true. Always telling you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not, because it is the best thing for you. And you know you can count on your true love to give you what you need.
And with all that, they can still make your heart flutter, your knees go weak, your pulse quicken, and be the one you find yourself watching across a crowded room.
Love can drive you crazy. It can make you angry and make you sad. It can confuse you, bend your mind, and drive you mad. It can make you do things you never thought you would or could do. But in the end, I will always love love.
It is knowing that there is always someone out there that loves you and is on your side. Someone you can count on, not matter what.
Love is revealing everything about yourself, no matter how embarrassed or ashamed you may be and allowing the same for them, without judgment.
It is trusting them and feeling safe, but also working your way back when you find that you don’t. They are still the person you want to spend time with above any other. They are the one with whom you want to share all the little, unimportant things with that you know only they will appreciate or get. And they are the one that can understand you, when no one else can.
Love is never leading you astray and always remaining honest and true. Always telling you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not, because it is the best thing for you. And you know you can count on your true love to give you what you need.
And with all that, they can still make your heart flutter, your knees go weak, your pulse quicken, and be the one you find yourself watching across a crowded room.
Love can drive you crazy. It can make you angry and make you sad. It can confuse you, bend your mind, and drive you mad. It can make you do things you never thought you would or could do. But in the end, I will always love love.
Just a Whisper
He was there and then he wasn’t. Or maybe he was always there, and I just didn’t see him.
But then he went way so fast. He didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t ask for my consent. Now he is just a whisper.
I am in denial. I am in shock. I never thought it could come to this.
Where there is love, it isn’t always enough. But when there is respect, honesty, trust, friendship, loyalty as well as love, then it should be OK. I want it to be OK. I guess it isn’t. It can’t always be. There are no assurances in life. No assurances in love.
I am sick. It feels like a disease is ravaging my body. It hurts so much that my mind won’t let it come all the way to the surface. I can’t feel it all now. I don’t want to. I can’t handle it. It’s too much.
I see what he sees. I need him to see what I see as well. But he cannot or will not. I don’t know which and I don’t know why.
Is there really anything new to say? Is it really anything surprising? Once I had room, I could think. Once I wasn’t seeing him, I could see him. And the clarity with which I saw was like a magnifying glass. But what I saw was devastating. I knew it was there. I knew it all along, but I found reasons for it. I found explanations. They still hold true. They were not lies to cover up the truth, but they were lies for me to stay. I minimized. I reasoned. I understood. I put myself to the side. I did it to avoid pain.
I had seen it from the beginning, as clear as day. As though I was looking into a crystal ball. And yet he convinced me otherwise. He convinced me to let my fears go and to jump in with both feet. He distracted me. He knew what I needed to hear. He was selfish in his pursuit of me, but I thought that would end. I had no idea how selfish he could be. But I do now.
Yet I know that he is not truly selfish. It’s a defense mechanism. It is self preservation for him. It is a way to keep himself safe from emotional pain. It is a way to avoid being hurt. He is so sensitive; he is so protective of his heart. But look at me, I am doing it again.
Is it love? Is it need? Is it want? Is it fear? Is it freedom? Is it safety?
Maybe it is all these things. And maybe that is OK. But maybe it isn’t. Maybe as long as we are aware of our motivations, it’s OK. Maybe as long as we know what is really going on, what our motivations are, and what we want or think we want, it’s just being human. And there is nothing wrong with being human. Being imperfect, being scared, being grounded and being crazy. Being neurotic and being level headed. Being rational and being irrational. Being aware and being blind. These are all the machinations of being human. Humanness.
I want to try to give it a color, a sound, a smell. Anything tangible. I see white. It’s wide open, never ending. Stark whiteness. Right now, as that comes into my field of mental vision, it feels comfortable. It feels exciting, but it feels scary and alone. Yet it gives the feeling of endless possibility. Is that possibility for me? For us? For both?
He sees white vastness as death. What irony.
But then he went way so fast. He didn’t even say goodbye. He didn’t ask for my consent. Now he is just a whisper.
I am in denial. I am in shock. I never thought it could come to this.
Where there is love, it isn’t always enough. But when there is respect, honesty, trust, friendship, loyalty as well as love, then it should be OK. I want it to be OK. I guess it isn’t. It can’t always be. There are no assurances in life. No assurances in love.
I am sick. It feels like a disease is ravaging my body. It hurts so much that my mind won’t let it come all the way to the surface. I can’t feel it all now. I don’t want to. I can’t handle it. It’s too much.
I see what he sees. I need him to see what I see as well. But he cannot or will not. I don’t know which and I don’t know why.
Is there really anything new to say? Is it really anything surprising? Once I had room, I could think. Once I wasn’t seeing him, I could see him. And the clarity with which I saw was like a magnifying glass. But what I saw was devastating. I knew it was there. I knew it all along, but I found reasons for it. I found explanations. They still hold true. They were not lies to cover up the truth, but they were lies for me to stay. I minimized. I reasoned. I understood. I put myself to the side. I did it to avoid pain.
I had seen it from the beginning, as clear as day. As though I was looking into a crystal ball. And yet he convinced me otherwise. He convinced me to let my fears go and to jump in with both feet. He distracted me. He knew what I needed to hear. He was selfish in his pursuit of me, but I thought that would end. I had no idea how selfish he could be. But I do now.
Yet I know that he is not truly selfish. It’s a defense mechanism. It is self preservation for him. It is a way to keep himself safe from emotional pain. It is a way to avoid being hurt. He is so sensitive; he is so protective of his heart. But look at me, I am doing it again.
Is it love? Is it need? Is it want? Is it fear? Is it freedom? Is it safety?
Maybe it is all these things. And maybe that is OK. But maybe it isn’t. Maybe as long as we are aware of our motivations, it’s OK. Maybe as long as we know what is really going on, what our motivations are, and what we want or think we want, it’s just being human. And there is nothing wrong with being human. Being imperfect, being scared, being grounded and being crazy. Being neurotic and being level headed. Being rational and being irrational. Being aware and being blind. These are all the machinations of being human. Humanness.
I want to try to give it a color, a sound, a smell. Anything tangible. I see white. It’s wide open, never ending. Stark whiteness. Right now, as that comes into my field of mental vision, it feels comfortable. It feels exciting, but it feels scary and alone. Yet it gives the feeling of endless possibility. Is that possibility for me? For us? For both?
He sees white vastness as death. What irony.
It Takes Two
It is not enough just to love me. Clapping takes two hands. My hand is raised, but all I hear is silence.
Perfection
No matter what anyone says, you are perfect just as you are.
There is no one on earth like you.
It is through acts of love that have shaped you and made you uniquely you.
No one can contribute to the world in the same way.
Spread those acts through the spectrum of your perfect mind.
Through your perfect imagination.
Spread those acts of love through love.
There is no one on earth like you.
It is through acts of love that have shaped you and made you uniquely you.
No one can contribute to the world in the same way.
Spread those acts through the spectrum of your perfect mind.
Through your perfect imagination.
Spread those acts of love through love.
Be You Just By Being
Be you just by being.
This is the most loving act you can commit to those that love you.
For those that do not love you, it is only because they do not yet know you.
This is the most loving act you can commit to those that love you.
For those that do not love you, it is only because they do not yet know you.
I Love You Because Of and In Spite Of
I love you because you are stubborn as a mule, hard headed as a rock and have the heart of a lion.
I love you because you accept me. All of me. Without judgment.
I love you because of your generosity of heart, your kindness, and your loyalty.
I love you because you bring me coffee in bed and can make it to my liking better than I can.
I love you in spite of how different we are from one another.
I love you because you have opened my eyes, my heart and my mind. You have been a gift to me.
I love you because you always, always, always, greet me with a smile. No matter how you feel. No matter what kind of day you have had.
I love you because you allow me to love you.
I love you because you see the world as a glass half full and yours for the taking.
I love you in spite of your jealousy.
I love you because of your crystal clear, intelligent eyes that sparkle when you are happy and darken when you are not.
I love you because of your sense of humor, whether it’s that of a five year old boy or a 40 year old man.
I love you in spite of your brooding.
I love you because the sound of your voice is like home to me.
I love you because you have given me more than you will ever know. More than I could ever aptly express.
I love you because with you I am fully “me” and you are fully “you”.
I love you in spite of you loving me.
I love you because you are you.
I love you because you accept me. All of me. Without judgment.
I love you because of your generosity of heart, your kindness, and your loyalty.
I love you because you bring me coffee in bed and can make it to my liking better than I can.
I love you in spite of how different we are from one another.
I love you because you have opened my eyes, my heart and my mind. You have been a gift to me.
I love you because you always, always, always, greet me with a smile. No matter how you feel. No matter what kind of day you have had.
I love you because you allow me to love you.
I love you because you see the world as a glass half full and yours for the taking.
I love you in spite of your jealousy.
I love you because of your crystal clear, intelligent eyes that sparkle when you are happy and darken when you are not.
I love you because of your sense of humor, whether it’s that of a five year old boy or a 40 year old man.
I love you in spite of your brooding.
I love you because the sound of your voice is like home to me.
I love you because you have given me more than you will ever know. More than I could ever aptly express.
I love you because with you I am fully “me” and you are fully “you”.
I love you in spite of you loving me.
I love you because you are you.
The Tower
I see him there. In the middle of nowhere. I don’t know where we are. There is nothing for miles and miles. No roads, no electrical lines. Nothing. Complete desolation. There is only the two of us. Engulfed by silence, except for the occasional screeching and howling of the wind.
He is a brick tower. Tall. So very tall and squared off. When I look up from the ground I have to shade my eyes from the sun only to catch a glimpse of the top. Solid. Strong. Like a fortress. Implacable. There are no windows. Oddly, there is a door. Yet this does not surprise me.
I have always seen him this way.
Encircled by a metal fence, open but empty grounds surround him. There is no vegetation. Only dust that is carelessly and casually kicked up by gusts of wind.
We are separated by this fence, he and I. It is an electrical fence, and it is from behind the fence that I watch him. I cannot tell if the fence is to keep people out or to keep people in. I think it is both. It feels like both.
I do not know what is taking place inside the tower because no one ever enters and no one ever exits. If I were merely a passerby, I would think it vacant, but for some strange reason, I know that it is not. It is this knowing that keeps me there. Staring. Waiting.
I stand there outside the fence, watching the door. Sometimes with curiosity. Sometimes with desperation. It reminds me of a prison.
Although I know that it is an electric fence, I know I will not be hurt. So I lean against it and it is so very, very cold. The cold feels good on my skin. I press my cheek hard up against it so that it will make an imprint on my face. I feel so numb, but if I press my cheek hard enough, I think I will feel something. I want to feel something. I need to feel something. ANYTHING, ANYTHING, ANYTHING! But then something inside me changes. I begin to feel tension growing in my body. Agitated energy. But it is something and I will take it.
I take hold of the grates and shake the fence with everything that I have. I scream at the top of my lungs and from a place inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. I am hoping that someone will come out to find out what the noise is, that someone will hear me. That someone will help me. Maybe even save me. But no one ever does. Why not? How could they ignore me? It is then that I realize my screams are silent, because I am too much of a coward to hear them.
I fall to my knees sobbing. It comes from that same place the screams came from, but this time, my pain is not silent. It is loud. So loud, it pierces the air. It is the first time I have let myself hear it. God, I am so tired. I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep. I would sleep forever if I could.
I lay down on my side, staring through the fence. Staring at the door. The emotional exhaustion lifts and from some hidden place comes a renewed sense of strength. I don't understand it, but I welcome it and pull myself up to my knees, still watching the tower.
I begin to think about climbing the fence. I know I can climb over safely. I will not be electrocuted, but others will if they come too close. I consider this carefully because I am afraid of what might happen once I am on the other side. I am so afraid. But curiosity and desperation take over. So I climb.
Once I am on the other side, dust begins blowing in my face and in my hair, my eyes, my ears, my nostrils. I cannot see and am having trouble breathing. I cover my nose and mouth and eyes so as to not let the dust in. Abruptly, something feels very wrong. It stops me in my tracks.
I am exposed. I am vulnerable. I have the feeling that I may have trespassed and am being watched. I am overcome with extreme fear and do not feel safe. I am so scared. I think I am going to be murdered. It is as if there is an ghost watchman eagerly waiting to shoot me. My fear grows to the level of terror. I have no protection. At once, instinct takes over and I begin to run. Dust is swirling all around me. I can barely see the door, but I sprint towards it. Once there, I grab the door knob. It is locked.
It can’t be locked. It shouldn't be locked. I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to hide. This is my only chance.
I begin twisting the knob furiously, back and forth, back and forth, desperately hoping it will open. It doesn’t. Horror and shock set in.
Suddenly, at the pit of my stomach I realize something. It was there all along. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want it to be true. But now I know. There is no shelter.
He is a brick tower. Tall. So very tall and squared off. When I look up from the ground I have to shade my eyes from the sun only to catch a glimpse of the top. Solid. Strong. Like a fortress. Implacable. There are no windows. Oddly, there is a door. Yet this does not surprise me.
I have always seen him this way.
Encircled by a metal fence, open but empty grounds surround him. There is no vegetation. Only dust that is carelessly and casually kicked up by gusts of wind.
We are separated by this fence, he and I. It is an electrical fence, and it is from behind the fence that I watch him. I cannot tell if the fence is to keep people out or to keep people in. I think it is both. It feels like both.
I do not know what is taking place inside the tower because no one ever enters and no one ever exits. If I were merely a passerby, I would think it vacant, but for some strange reason, I know that it is not. It is this knowing that keeps me there. Staring. Waiting.
I stand there outside the fence, watching the door. Sometimes with curiosity. Sometimes with desperation. It reminds me of a prison.
Although I know that it is an electric fence, I know I will not be hurt. So I lean against it and it is so very, very cold. The cold feels good on my skin. I press my cheek hard up against it so that it will make an imprint on my face. I feel so numb, but if I press my cheek hard enough, I think I will feel something. I want to feel something. I need to feel something. ANYTHING, ANYTHING, ANYTHING! But then something inside me changes. I begin to feel tension growing in my body. Agitated energy. But it is something and I will take it.
I take hold of the grates and shake the fence with everything that I have. I scream at the top of my lungs and from a place inside of me that I didn’t even know existed. I am hoping that someone will come out to find out what the noise is, that someone will hear me. That someone will help me. Maybe even save me. But no one ever does. Why not? How could they ignore me? It is then that I realize my screams are silent, because I am too much of a coward to hear them.
I fall to my knees sobbing. It comes from that same place the screams came from, but this time, my pain is not silent. It is loud. So loud, it pierces the air. It is the first time I have let myself hear it. God, I am so tired. I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep. I would sleep forever if I could.
I lay down on my side, staring through the fence. Staring at the door. The emotional exhaustion lifts and from some hidden place comes a renewed sense of strength. I don't understand it, but I welcome it and pull myself up to my knees, still watching the tower.
I begin to think about climbing the fence. I know I can climb over safely. I will not be electrocuted, but others will if they come too close. I consider this carefully because I am afraid of what might happen once I am on the other side. I am so afraid. But curiosity and desperation take over. So I climb.
Once I am on the other side, dust begins blowing in my face and in my hair, my eyes, my ears, my nostrils. I cannot see and am having trouble breathing. I cover my nose and mouth and eyes so as to not let the dust in. Abruptly, something feels very wrong. It stops me in my tracks.
I am exposed. I am vulnerable. I have the feeling that I may have trespassed and am being watched. I am overcome with extreme fear and do not feel safe. I am so scared. I think I am going to be murdered. It is as if there is an ghost watchman eagerly waiting to shoot me. My fear grows to the level of terror. I have no protection. At once, instinct takes over and I begin to run. Dust is swirling all around me. I can barely see the door, but I sprint towards it. Once there, I grab the door knob. It is locked.
It can’t be locked. It shouldn't be locked. I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to hide. This is my only chance.
I begin twisting the knob furiously, back and forth, back and forth, desperately hoping it will open. It doesn’t. Horror and shock set in.
Suddenly, at the pit of my stomach I realize something. It was there all along. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want it to be true. But now I know. There is no shelter.
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