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Showing posts from September, 2011

Goodbye Love(s)

Yesterday I found some old love letters. I began reading through them, digging through like a box of chocolate, for the delectable morsels--

sure enough, as with all lovelies, the pleasure transformed slowly, imperceptibly, until it was too late, into a deep ache in the gut.

These loves immortalized in words have long since become a thing of the past.

I wonder why I've held onto them all these years, and certainly for the past three years that I've been divorced.

Ah, the power of a love letter, to fill the sails of a ship and keep it steady, even with large gaping holes in the hull. Riding the dream.

And for the dreamer like me...

I see now, that in each case, it was best to let the ship go down, to put it out of its misery. To show myself how apt I was at swimming to shore, scouting new lands, exploring new possibilities.

Yet, I haven't been able to let these letters go. Almost as if burying them might invalidate that the love was ever there.

The letters stir powerful emotion…

The Bridge

I now understand why my journey here was so focused into the five earthly senses.

I also understand why it began in Eden.

There was a part of me wanting to birth the spiritual from the physical, much like Eve was to have been fashioned from the rib of Adam. I wanted to integrate the physical with a less physical aspect, and was using them as a bridge to take me there.

What I have learned serves me well.

That just as no woman would have been content to be fashioned from the rib of Adam. No story of mine would be content to pin down two worlds for you in such a simplistic way.

But to describe them in language, now that becomes another matter. However, there is freedom in the telling, in each moment--of exactly how I see it happening now. And like you, I will have to wait to see what emerges here.

This is a world stranded between two dreams.

I am finding I am largely connected to both places.

However, in my beginnings here I chose to give more attention to one world, because I spend much of m…

With New Eyes

Artwork by Akassa

There are a few personalities that I know, that I have spent my life either resisting, judging, or in my best moments, trying to navigate safely, feeling like a fragile ship on the torrents of a raging sea.

So, in these relationships I have avoided, reacted and felt justified in my pain and anger, or tried like hell to become their equal in power, but with limited success.

However, recently it has finally dawned on me, how much energy I have spent trying to control the outcome with these personalities, to single handedly soften the energy into one that feels more comfortable to me. I have never felt anything but drained by this.

For a long while, the concepts of letting go and releasing have been growing within me, and like all concepts, have been deepening into the layers of my being, as more than just pretty tools to find peace.

But recently,the concept of release has taken on mind blowing properties. In moments I seem be getting out of the way enough to let the yearnin…

Not Alone

Every time I write a blog, I come up against fear that rises up from the deep. How will it be construed, what I've said? Will I be perceived as weak, perseverating on the same subjects over and over again? Can I trust the written word to make its true meaning clear? I mean, haven't you seen your words turned against you, when a benign email you've sent, comes across otherwise?

Am I just unable to surmount the obstacles, and come here to do a little dance around them, and in public, no less? Often I suppress that fear deep down to heed a voice telling me to do it anyway, but I am not spared from the sick feeling it gives me to step out of my comfort zone.

But my plight remains the same as it is always been--even if it is still uncomfortable at times. I want to be more of who I really am, so you will be more of who you really are, and so that together we will know more than just each other's stats. We will pierce through that bubble that keeps us separate, and we will fin…

From Up Here...

I've been hiking around this place a little more lately. Trying to be like the music of J. S. Bach--full of perpetual motion, fluid emotion (just noticed the motion in e-motion. Very cool!) but never stopping in one place for long.

I've been hot and sweaty, but moving all the same. No seeking refuge indoors. Something is drawing me out, listening to the percussion of feet stepping through substance, deliciously tactile with jagged rock and dust.

I'm ready to write about it here--to use this place as it was meant to be used, as my blank canvas, but with no promises, just one foot in front of the other.

I've spoken of Mt. Heaven. Seems it is pretty famous here. When in doubt, one is reminded to look outside, and see that heaven does indeed exist on earth.

In my travels around this place, I've seen some mighty interesting sights.

A winding river, glistening in the sun, paving its own path. From the heights of Mt. Heaven, it looks like a snake coiling below, makes you pay a…

Becoming Real

Art by Coffinberry

Yesterday there was an empty yogurt container on the counter, next to a few dirty dishes. I passed by it, and had a panicked thought. You'd never find this at your mother's house. And the voice added, you are such a loser.

The voice was so strong, so conclusive, that it caught me off guard. I just froze there in the kitchen, looking on at the mess. I knew the dishwasher was half empty, and that I could have easily put those dishes in, and recycled the yogurt container, but I truly couldn't force myself to do it. Even if the counters weren't completely clear, this wasn't the time. I could feel it deep in my being, that it wasn't the time to force. Yet, I couldn't fully accept that I couldn't do it either.

I left to pick up my kids from school. I panicked that they would remember me as a slothful mother, and I felt all the broken around me. You know, that feeling that you are so far behind the game, that there is no bother even playing an…

Love Letter

If I were to write a love letter, it would be in E-Major.

The tones would be rich and deep and thorough, spanning the 88's entire double infinite.

Acoustic, of course.

The melody would tell a new story while bowing to the old. Music is so effective.

The bass tones would be as stable and rhythmic as foundation, while the harmonies remained haunting as memory. Over which would spread the sweetness of a cake-frosting soprano.

Ease of movement from left to right, a hop, a skip, a jump, a fall. Doesn't really matter, where she goes, as long as she goes.

All the emotions represented. All the relevance through the ages in musical figuration reaching out like tentacles, with the right parts to plug you in. Your own meaning fleeting as the moon's phases.

Simple notes added together to tell a story, held and then released. Held longer then released. Held longer than released.

The music never interrupted by a stubborn note. Even stubborn gets to be part of the mystery, creating suspension, …