December 20 - Beyond Avoidance

What should you have done this year but didn't because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)

I ended a 14 year relationship, moved across country, gave up almost all my belongings, my house, half my retirement money, my two dogs and two cats, and most of my "identity" because I could no longer live without love and kindness in my life.   I gave up on scared, worried, busy and unsure, they were lonely companions.   I chose to fill my cup anew, I chose to see life a new way.  I chose to live without fear.  It frightens the hell out of me every day.

December 19 - Healing

What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?

Hands down I can say three things - meditation, yoga and running…it was both sudden and drip by drip, coming on all at once, but having been built up slowly. 2011 will only be a success if I continue my practice of all three of these integral parts of my spiritual practice.

December 18 - Try

What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn't go for it?

All I ever wanted to do was go fox hunting. The idea of galloping over green hill and dale listening to the hounds, the scenery, the horses, the hunt attire, the deeply steeped tradition - all of it so appealed to me. It is so contradictory to my belief system - a vegetarian pacifist, not a murdering elitist - but it runs so deep in my blood that I can only call it genetic. When I had the chance I didn't wait long enough to say "no". When I packed up my tack and coat and stock tie and drove, knees knocking, to the stranger who had invited me through mutual Facebook friends, I was full of trepidation - I hadn't ridden in months, I didn't know the horse, the weather was foreboding, the footing slop, the hunt one of the fastest in the southeast, if not the country, notorious for their long hard gallops and Tally Ho's late in the waning evening. But I piled into the car with two other ladies and two dogs and made the two hour drive to Thompson Georgia for what promised to be the single most exhilarating day of my life.

Renee had two well seasoned hunters, who would ride in hill-toppers happily, and checked easily for the novice that I was, but she did not have a second jumping saddle, so I had to ride, stirrups rolled up to my knees, in my very deep seated dressage saddle. She promised we wouldn't have to jump - much...

Three hours later, no coyote spotted, we headed in, our horses steaming, and my heart pounding in my throat. I had not come off, I had not embarassed myself or my host, I had, in fact, shown myself well, and my legs had done their job. All the thousands of hours spent in the tack had paid off and I was the owner of a new and wonderful story.

So in 2011 I will endeavor to say "Yes" when asked "Would you like to _______?". You never know where you will end up!

December 17 - Lesson learned

What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?

I have a hard time in the grey area. I prefer the black or the white, the good guy or the bad guy. I don’t understand contradiction, complexity or ambiguity. I love to quote Walt Whitman but do I embrace the true meaning?

Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.

I cannot give way when my strict rules are bent, I cannot accept that people may be both black and white, light and dark, yogis and car wreckers. It is hard to live in this complicated world when I want things to be simple. It is hard to allow others to be as they are when I portray them in iconic roles, square them into round holes, peg them as simple, when in fact they are not. No one is simple, no issue is black or white, the world is not flat, and we are both.

How will I apply this going forward? Ah this is a hard one…a core issue for me, to see that there are 1000 ways to skin this cat, 1000 ways to say snow, and my childish mind prefers the sheriff to gallop into town and make things right with a brandish of his pistol. I will lean into the confusion, stand quietly in the maelstrom, listen for my one true voice, and make room for myself and others.

December 16 - Friendship

How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?

An acquaintance, then a friend, then my anam cara - my soul's friend, and now, my love. In a mere 4 sublime and lovely, languid days, she was transformed from one the the next and then I fell, hopelessly, bottomlessly, in love. Without tether, without tanks, submerged at once, into the ether of her. I leaned into her, like a ripe blooming rose, drank in her heady scent, inhaled every last aroma, and am now, like Alice before me, fallen down the rabbit hole. She was everything I never knew I always wanted. And I see the world with new eyes, feel my life with a new heart.

December 15 - 5 minutes

Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010

Not in chronological order:

Laying in the hammock with Stella, the hug from Molly at the airport, every minute of our drive across country, my first kiss with C, the bondage exam at the airport, meeting Jewel, snow snow snow, the dogs at the dog park, digging digging digging, yoga and lots of it, getting 100 on my poli sci test, making love for the first time in my life, waking up with my love every morning, coffee and Pema, my first race, my first 5k, my first 10k, getting into size 6 jeans for the first time! Weighing 132 pounds for the first time in 100 years, running running running, Sunday meditation at shambala Atlanta, with and without C distracting me, the beautiful spring in Atlanta, and how much I loved it there, top down, kcrw, yoga, santa monica when I moved back to cali, the ocean, the goose chase, josie, bailey, bess, Chattahoochee river, carter center, love everywhere, crossing the finish, Rolex, Ginny & Hawley, waving the flag for a friend, sitting in vip, driving to Kentucky! Driving to Alabama! Loving the south east. Watching the Great Zenyatta win #18 in style, fox hunting for the first time, red dirt, azaleas, northern cardinals, run club, tofu tacos in Oakhurst.

Oh and fireflies!

This year has been one of giving up and gaining. I have lost much but gained much more. I achieved little on paper, but my soul has grown immeasurably.

December 13 – Action

When it comes to aspirations, its not about ideas. It's about making ideas happen. What's your next step?

Movement is hard forward thinking much easier than forward movement it has been a few years of forward steps for me, sometime big, sometimes little, sometimes almost imperceptible notions forward, but all have been action taken out of aspiration. I aspire towards a life that is full and real, that is wild and precious, that is lived to the hilt, I aspire to be Jack Kerouac’s roman candles, and there is but one way to get there – action. I have been inconsistent, I have had fits and starts, I have made progress and regressed, I have failed, over and over again. My next step is the same as my last, to continue on the path that I have charted. To walk this line with integrity and faith.

December 12 – Body

This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn't mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?

My transition from 270 pound out of body mind disconnect frenzied eating machine has come to a new place this year. Because of an intense 6 months of yoga practice (1 ½ hours a day 5 days a week) I began an entirely new journey into my body. The stillness and connection between my mind, my body and my soul began to creep in slowly, unexpectedly, without a real hint it was coming, until one day I was in class and I was altogether one with myself. My body looked like and did things I did not recognize. My legs were strong and available to me and yet so part of “me” that they were like phantom limbs.

I have had these moments before, but never sustained. Riding horses has always been my mind/body escape. I have never been so free as when on horseback. The connection of my mind to not only my body, but the mind and body of the horse can be sensual and transcendent in a way that only another horseperson can understand.

Here’s an example: Riding down the long side of the arena at a slightly collected working canter, I begin to feel the slowing of impulsion in the horses strike off leg, we are half way down and he is anticipating the corner – either a down transition or turn – he is thinking slow down – but I do not want to lose the quality of the canter in the corner and I have a half pass coming up so I need collection and impulsion – so I choose my aids and ride on. All of this happens in an instant, through nuance, through a feeling that my body, not my mind, identifies. My body has sensed the change, the slowing, even if it is almost imperceptible. Only after my body has felt the change, does my mind understand, and react, and make a move. The horse feels my intention more often than not, before I apply my aid, and if we are well connected, is ready when I ask.

I have taken up running recently, and this too has a sense of mind and body integration. If only because without the power of my mind, I would simply give up. My body is far more capable than I know and I have little faith in my abilities to carry on. Just this last week I ran a 10k faster than I have ever run before, all without any belief that it could be done.

Mind body integration is an interesting question, when making love I am all body, no mind, when writing I am all mind no body (save for the fingers at the keyboard), it is only in the intellectual pursuits of riding and yoga that I find myself fully integrated.

December 11 - Things

I’m participating in Gwen Bell’s #reverb10 challenge this month which means 31 days filled with daily writing/photography prompts meant to reflect on the past year and at the same time look ahead.

What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?

I could easily list of stuff, articles of clothing, extra towels, dishes, extemporaneous gadgets, kitchen equipment ( i have loads of that crap), but the move back across country helped me purge my belongings down to a lean and not so mean gathering of the minimum I could get by with. So I find myself with little to discard, but states of mind, resentments and judgements. There are opinions I hold dearly that really, no one should have, there are attitudes, and mind sets that really belong in my past life. The list then, would be shorter than 11 but I will try.

1. Impatience - with you, me, the cat, the world...really what is so important that I can't stop and breathe?
2. Envy - do you really have it better than me? If you do, great, but I really should give this one up
3. Sloth - I have one shot and one shot only, do I really want to spend my "one wild and precious life" watching television?
4. Greed - I have enough, I have always had enough, I have always had more than enough, so why do I want so much more?
5. Self-centeredness - I may feel alone a lot of the time, but I am not, not in the least, I am one of millions and I need to pay attention to by neighbors, my fellow citizens, my country and my planet in a new and more thoughtful way.

December 10 - Wisdom

I’m participating in Gwen Bell’s #reverb10 challenge this month which means 31 days filled with daily writing/photography prompts meant to reflect on the past year and at the same time look ahead.

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

After 14 years in a relationship that had gone horribly bad after about 4 years, I left. After 10 years of contest, conflict, competition, bartering, badgering and all around crankiness, I walked into the bedroom and simply stated, I don't want to be in this relationship anymore. It had been a long time coming, years in the making, but after four days spent with a friend, who would, it turns out, be my soul's mate, and many, many tears, it was easy, and the words fell right from my lips.

Wisdom is a strange word defined as a deep understanding and realizing of people, things, events or situations, resulting in the ability to choose or act to consistently produce the optimum results with a minimum of time and energy. It is the ability to optimally (effectively and efficiently) apply perceptions and knowledge and so produce the desired results. Wisdom is also the comprehension of what is true or right coupled with optimum judgment as to action. Synonyms include: sagacity, discernment, or insight. Wisdom often requires control of one's emotional reactions (the "passions") so that one's principles, reason and knowledge prevail to determine one's actions.

How did it play out? Better than I could ever have imagined, different from everything I thought could ever be. I had known so deeply in my soul that there was more, that love could be had, held, real, I knew that she had been so wrong for me, and yet I had stayed, and tried, and toiled. But here I was, in this new life, back in a place I loathed, and yet blissfully, completely and entirely whole and happy. I had lived for years in fear, fear of reprisal, fear of losing, fear of being alone. But the fear was so outweighed but the prize that I saw in front of me, that I leapt, I grasped for the brass ring, and my hand came back full of jewels.

December 9th - Party

I’m participating in Gwen Bell’s #reverb10 challenge this month which means 31 days filled with daily writing/photography prompts meant to reflect on the past year and at the same time look ahead.

It was the first warm night of the year, the snow had melted weeks ago and the chill had held on...but this night it was warm, no cicadas yet, the spring was not yet in bloom, but we were out, walking the streets, my fellow Atlantans, unfettered, without glove or hat, and we were all feeling sexy. The party was an art opening, my first of what I hoped would be many nights out in my newly adopted city, and I had on a new scarf. I chose pink pink pink for my party clothes, and I drove down Peachtree past the Fox theatre with all my fellow citizens walking, drinking, talking, a convivial spirit enveloping the city. The people were as light as air, the mood was frivolous, gentle, laughter and clinking glass. The food was party fare, finger-y foods, white wine, gin and tonic, this is the south after all, and the characters were in full promenade. I met a politician, a broadcaster, some artists, some trophy wives, everywhere was skin, prickly white in the almost cool first of spring evening, but we braved the gooseflesh, we had had enough of wool and down, and cotton and silk were dancing around like Chanel Cruise collection on a runway model. The music was inconsequential, the dj spinning moody tunes, punctuated by a bit of hip hop when a local rapper joined the crowd, the room was bright, well lit for the paintings, and the conversation swift. I was carted around to each of the leading men and ladies, regaled with tales of Atlanta, its dark, light and funny sides, much like the roads here, all conversation lead to Peachtree Street, How can there be so many streets with the same name? I laughed at the tales of dogs, wrecked cars in ditches from late nights with too much drink, good old boys and college football. I told my tale of my first try at fox hunting, I was already initiated, accepted, a beloved, for southerners adore daring-do.

Looking back now, from my home in Los Angeles, I see that moment as I see all of my short 6 months in the South, as a treat, a bon bon, a petit four, a glimpse into a life that would not be mine. A friend of mine once told me "when you look back at the past, don't stare". Too true Molly, too true. If I were to reflect, and hope to manifest again, then it is I who must seek out the night, the warmth, and I will not judge the Autumn by the Spring.

The Way I love you

The way I love you feels
Like the wind in my hair
and sugar on my tongue
The way I love you feels
Like sunshine warms my face
and fingertips slipping through rushing water

The way I love you feels
Like the lick of a fire on a cold winter night
Like the crisp smooth glide of fresh sheets on naked skin

The way I love you feels
Like the scent of dew in the morning
and the sound of leaves crushing under my shoe, damp, and moldering
freshness and earth, life and death,
sweet and heavy fog blanketing the coast,
comforting us with her bellowing horns

The way I love you feels like all my childhood memories, favorite meals, beloved toys, books, stories, best friends, scraped knees,
The way I love you feels like all things great, good, small, sacred, secret, whispered, shouted, cried over, promised,
like crossing the finish line, like licking the bowl, being tickled, milk out the nose laughing, sappy movies, making love, sleeping in, getting a kitten, losing a cat, reading and old love letter, regret, hope, remorse, faith, fireworks on the fourth of July

The way I love you is so quiet, so deep, so a part of me, that you beat in my veins, flow through my lungs, you are in me, part of me, have always been here, I have never been without you.

The way I love you feels better than anything I have ever known.
You are my alpha, my omega, my soul's closest friend. All I will ever feel will be this.
This is how the way I love you feels.

Keith Urban said it best

I continue to be brought to my knees by this love of ours… I am in awe of how this blessed family we are creating stretches and fearlessly opens my vulnerable heart…and I just want to be a better person, for you, and have you go to sleep every night knowing that no one has ever, or will ever, love you as much as I do…and all we need is faith.

Again? Yes

So here I am, again. Yes. Again. On the floor. Forgotten it all over again. Where have I been these last 100 days? Making love, making bread, making the bed. Busy getting busy. Busy having my way and calling it something else. How easily it slips away. How easily I can fall right back into the abyss. The blind spot. The pink cloud of desire has wiped my brain clean. Well, only partially clean. Like cleaning the 10 foot high windows on our old house in San Francisco, no matter how many times you spray, smudges remain. I have smudges on the brain. Smudges of compassion, smudges of hope, smudges that remind me where I came from, where I have been, the miles I have walked, run, crawled to get out of that mire, and find myself here, in some sort of hazy mindfulness. But mindful I am, even if all I am aware of is my own lack of awareness. So easy to be caught up in this new life, this new love, to walk so tall and proud of what I have done, what I have made, like some demigod I prance, chest, breast held high, puffed and ready to be adored. Arrogance is a sneaky bastard. Lies down with you at night and wakes you in the morning like he has always been there. Today, however, he is banished. And I will peer through my smudges and attempt to regain my poise. I will try once again to walk with my head held not so high, but high enough to see the truth.

It is here, the end, the end of my limbo, the moment of anticipation the closing of one door the opening of another all of me has left Georgia and has arrived in california, the thing that I desired is here, handed to me on a gilded platter, love, compassion, heartful union, all in my tiny hands, to grasp onto with all my might, but the leaving the ending the sorting the unpacking the arranging the assimilating, still to come still a task at hand, still a fear that I need to surmount. Gathering into, moving around, fitting, rearranging, restaging designing, creating, taking what was hers, adding what is mine, creating what is ours....my art, my furniture, my things, all part of me, crushed, smashed and mislaid, by the careless scoff of a man,

so there is an ending, there is a beginning, there is some scene about to shift, the lighting about to fade, the curtain drop, then raise again, the stage transformed from the one to another, and I walk out on that stage, costume changed, skin changed, heart changed. All of it new. All the old gone, all the new before me. i have shaken off that thing that I cling to so hard, replaced it with a soft and quiet space. How could I have been any one else ever? Hiding beneath layers of sadness, crying, reaching, begging, yearning for this that I have now.

Sadness envelops me like summer fog in the San Francisco of my childhood. I start anew.. The sun is shining, my love is smiling, comforting, adamantly suggesting that she will make it alright, that I will be alright, that we will make it through.

Broken wine glasses is all I truly fear. This is small stuff. I will be okay.

Green green trees hours of asana walking to town beer and tofu tacos summerfest the worlds smallest farmers market riotous unfolding almost never ending spring fox hunting slow paced straight a boo bff mlk Carter turner Chatahoochee river air so thick I can feel it on my back hammock Stella aiden russ Josie and mrs smith run club 6 miles through Agnes Scott and back first race ever snow rain pollen town square Virginia highland oasis in republican land oh Decatur my temporary home I could not have conjured up a prettier happier place beltline piedmont olmstead parks everywhere you look hopes that will not see their reward dreams that will not come true but for a moment an island in time you were the cradle the breast the safest harbor I could ever have wanted needed and like a proud mother you send me out now into the concrete jungle and hope that I will prevail like Frederick you have helped me gather colors sounds words for the long winter months ahead

I am worthy

The hiatus is over, the limbo is no more, as I wait for the final yes from Dr. Lee I see myself on the brink, on the edge, on the cusp, the ending and the beginning, no turning back now. This time, this pause, has been a respite, from the reality of this pain, the reality of this joy, the reality of reality. I have been a guest, a vanished girlfriend, a specter, a secret not revealed, not wholly owned yet. I am still not official, half way between here and there, the story still not told, the facts remain to be seen. I am not hers, I am not hers either. I belong to neither. Lindy is not gone, is not over, is not finished. I miss her so much, the pain is so deep, the sadness so clear to me. I am still there, hanging on, hoping, wondering, is this a mistake, did I give up too soon? 14 years of hoping, cannot be too soon. Did I give her enough notice? I fired so many warning shots…why do I doubt myself? What is the fear? I must embrace the fear, must embrace the depth of my insecurity. It is fantasy, she is emboldened, I am working some glamour, I am yet another obsession, another no girl, another whoever is on the list of failures and falsifications. How am I so different? How am I so truly lovable? How can she ever know? And how can I believe that it is real, that it will last, that I will be what she wants, in 6 months, a year, five years? She wants sex and passion and love, but for how long? And when on earth will my charm run out? When will my magic wear off, the meals become monotonous, the sex perfunctory, the charm less shiny. Gardens planted, rooms painted, laundry folded...I have no idea how to be this person, this frightened insecure wondering girl. Looking for answers that cannot come, looking for reassurance that falls on deaf ears, seeing trust where there is no ground to stand on. I cannot ask, she cannot convince, there is no word, no promise, it does not exist, cannot exist, in my ever seeking, searching heart of darkness. Will I end up alone? Should I have stayed to avoid that? How could I have stayed? There was nothing to stay for. To stay just to have a warm body nearby? Pathetic, tragic, ridiculous. But to be alone, unloved, unwanted, perhaps not now, but soon, to be rejected, found out to be human, is this a risk I dare to take? I have taken it…perhaps this was the softer path to extricate myself. Perhaps this was the only way that I would have left, to the comfort of another’s arms, to the companionship of a lover, to a new and safe home, without the struggle and fear of utter alone-ness. But I find myself wishing for yet another stop. Yet another admonition from the doctor. No you cannot go. But I can go now. I can return to that home that place and claim myself from it. I can collect my things, collect myself, and bundle myself up in leaving. Am I ready to leave? Am I ready to be a new Simone, the Simone without Lindy. I have been that girl for so long. I have known that life forever. Who am I if I am not Simone & Lindy. How do I put on this new me? Shrug off the old comfortable self for the new, tighter, smaller, lesser me. there is so little of me now, literally, figuratively, but not emotionally or spiritually. Why am I so afraid of this thing that I have yearned for, years of desire for this love, and here it is, here she is, like a delicately wrapped present, like the winning lotto numbers, handed to me with grace and dignity, handed to me with open hands, open heart, adult mind, beauty of soul and spirit, sensuality beyond measure, expression, passion, love, taste, love...mine for the taking, and yet I hold back, I protect my small self, spiting my big self. What will it take for me to let go? What will it take to let go of this fear? I never ever want to live that life again, a life with lies, a life of cards, but here I am unwilling, fearful, terrified that I will find myself in yet another one act play, the monologue unending, the audience asleep, the curtain waiting to fall. Have I chosen this person for this exact reason? To prove to myself that there is no security, that there is nothing I can gain from her, or anyone, that will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I will be okay. In fact, I can answer that now, I will not be okay. and I will be okay, so how do I land in there, touch down in that space, park myself in that no mans land, step to the edge of the wood? What will it take to submit? To let go? Oh I am a liar, a fraud, a charlatan. How can I claim I longed for this? Then tip toe around the edges of it? Peek behind the curtain, looking for Oz? I am a coward, a traitor to myself, a child in adult clothing, a sheep in wolf's clothing....I deserve better, she deserves better. And if this love that I feel now is just the beginning, how will I survive if I enter it into it fully? The risk is too immense to imagine, the loss too much to survive, the pain, unbearable, but the love so sweet, so tender, so uplifting, so abiding, how can I choose the one instead of the other? How dare I, when faced with this choice, no run headlong into this love? Does this happen to people? TO me? Is this not what movies are written about, cliched and sappy? laden with metaphor, mellifluous dialog, snappy repartee, orgasms in coffee shops, montages of fun days, small losses and reconciliations, sweeping camera moves and soundtracks that make us swoon? This is Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, Rilke, not life, my life is Dorothy Parker, my life is a well worn story, I am not Sally, or Harry, or finally asleep in Seattle, or anything having to do with Nora Ephron or Julia Roberts...so now what? So now how do I drop that? Return that book and tear up my library card? Pick up a new pen, crack a new Moleskine, start a new chapter. I have shed so much, is this the last vestige? The last 10 pounds of reticence? The final frontier of my soul? To go where I have not gone before? to venture into the dark night of my soul? release the story, the lies of the past, the facade, the mantra, the inaudible groove worn tape, the idea that was whispered to me insidiously long ago? Yes please G-d, take me there. Rip this from me. Tear it away as it cleaves to my heart, gut it out like cancer, dissect me to the core, let me at once surrender to this love. Every day forward I will step closer to it. Its enormity terrifies me. How can I of all the souls that roam this earth, deserve this love? this life? I am altogether undeserving, wholly flawed, entirely and utterly devoid of merit, a sinner, corrupt and immoral, faithless at my core, fragile, selfish, petty and small, and yet I am given grace. To hold this knowledge in my small human mind, is impossible. To imagine the love that is shown me, unthinkable, what power can exist that can show me such good will? Humbled beyond words. Lucky beyond gifts. Blessed beyond angels. Give me the strength to give in. Give me the courage to walk, no run towards her. Let me live this life, let me live this love. Let me believe that I am worthy.

Hanging Ten

Today I am the fool
I am the fool I have always wanted to be
the fool I have strived for, worked for, prayed for, meditated for
wished for her lightened soul
smiling while hanging ten over the edge
meeting the cliff
eyes lifted
heart free
willing to risk failure, humiliation, pain
devastation - bring it
embarrassment - I'm ready
pain, separation, loss, grief, hatred, resentment, rancor,
sing me your siren's songs and I will come crawling no
clawing my way to you
I will wallow around in your darkness
and I will prevail
there is no place I would rather be
than here, in this terrifying location of my heart
She has destroyed me and I am utterly free

I set out to dazzle and destroy, and here I am the victim, the patient, the injured the devastated
My skin is rent from my body, my dance unhinged, my story broken, my cover blown
nothing is what it was, I am unleashed, unfettered, and yet wholly, entirely one

I know now there is no safety in this life, no story to be told, no lie to be woven into the truth
this ache, this pain, this suffering, this desire for some word, some gesture, some musing that will tie down my vagrant soul, pacify my endless bottomless echoing emptiness of self-doubt, despair, longing, lingering childhood desire, or secure the insecurity, it is not there. I am not there. This is my there.

I must float, roam, meander, mince, prance and run my way straight through but lingering long, sitting down for a rest, breathing in the grass, feeling the fallen log, the dewy wetness, the gloomy clouds, the mouldering leaves, the hot, wet, dry cold wind of that place. Neither moss, nor sand, water, nor rock, night or day. I must build a fire, collect wood, create a shelter, gather up berries, make friends with the night owl, shiver in the damp, count the shooting stars, mourn for the creatures, smile at the dawn of that horrible, amazing place. It is where I live now, on the edge of the wood, neither here, nor there, no discernible location, no knowable address. Where on earth do I reside? nowhere, and everywhere. I will unpack my things, make my bed, lie down in my new home, fold the linens, empty the dishwasher, and let the love flow freely, because the hum of the pain will forever drown out the light if I let it. Will forever be my soundtrack if I do not change the tune.

So now I sing the new song. The song of love and hope, the song of you, the song of me, the song I was born singing, the song of my heart, the song of my wild and precious, chain-less soul.

Fiction

I miss you. I miss you a lot, I miss our life, I miss what I thought we had, I wish there was a way to put it back to what I thought it was going to be, but it was never that, never was going to be that and it breaks my heart every moment. I lived a very long lie, I dreamed a dream, smokey haze of fantasy, and the daylight is bright, harsh and blinding, brash bold truth crashing into my broken dream. Alone without you feels like a phantom limb, but the limb I never had, was never born with, for you are not you, I am not I, we never were the we that I had dreamed, the we that I had wanted, the we we pretended so hard to be. We were a sketch of the thing, a pencilled outline, a watercolor, edges running together, smeared charcoal, resembling a portrait but then not, smudged inky blurred lines between what was, and what I wanted it to be. How I lived for so long in that haze? How I dreamed so deeply of the thing that was never to be. Were you ever who you said you were? Was I? And now, faced with my new reality, my new me, the me that I truly am, how do I look back lovingly? How do I look back with compassion? Without hate for the story, the lie, the fiction? Without hating myself, hating you. Robbed of so much love, so much life. Half life. Shadow life. I live now, in the sunshine, in the real light, in the real life. It is not the same, not the smeared approximation of what I wanted. I live the truth now. My truth, so much less, and yet so much more. Where are you in this life? Where am I. Is there a place for you here? How I wish for you to be real to steal back to the days when you loved me. How I miss you. But there is no you there no me there just a pile of boxes and lies and fiction. Today there is no story to tell no web of fantasy no smoke no mirrors but light and truth and my heart leaps bounds sails flies with the gossamer thin sheen of reality. I conceal nothing hide myself nowhere speak no half truths live no fiction but the ache is real I mourn what I never had what I have now truth

Floating

No footing to stand on
No ground to claim
I am floating
into the ether of this life
so much fear and doubt
so much insecurity
but I will do as the masters tell me
push my heart out through my chest
breathe
and step toward it
how do I give myself fully?
without waiting for the other shoe?
perhaps I need to be barefoot now
feel the earth and sand dirt and rocks beneath me
there and yet not there
both solid ground and mercurial foothold
there is no answer to my hesitation
there is no guardian of my heart
to live I must surrender to the suffering
and suffer I will
but live I must

Making Myself Fit

How do I make space in her space? How do I enter into this life, full and complex, cluttered and well stocked, without imposing? Without nudging out? Devaluing, or implying...where do I fit in this small space? My greedy too much self, with my gadgets and spatulas, plates and serving dishes, shoes, purses, hats, saddles, bridles, boxes, baggage, stuff. Her life was full before me, who am I to decree it needs me in it? Or my stuff at least. Oh to be loosed from these things, this weighty heavy trappings of another life. But my things are beautiful, valuable, utterly me. Do I presume? Make me fit? Move over here I come. Are you ready? Am I too much? She says there is a lot of me, a 4 bedroom house's worth, master suite's worth, princess that I am, walk in closet, roman tub, kitchen island me. But is that me? I long for simple pleasures, clean surfaces, minimal belongings, just what I need, not what I want. Why so much shame? Fear of being all that I am? A lot of "this" she said waving her hand over me, a gesture to describe the size of my being-ness...am I so much? Have I always been too much? And why is it wrong? TO be voracious for life, desiring so much, engorged on the senses, am I sensual beyond decency? am I really that? the fire horse, the un-marriable, unlucky, should be drowned at birth, hinoeuma, nothing in moderation, passionate and intense, unwavering in loyalty, fire in my belly. Why do I feel like too much? I do not want to "smallify"myself, minimize my life, shrink my soul into a tidy neat package. I am bone and sinew, spit and tears, laughter and ecstasy. How can I minimize me now? that I have found my wellspring of love? I want to drink it all in, swallow her entirely, drown myself in her eyes, there is so much to be seen, felt, tasted, before I even leave the bed..and the world with her by my side? Bliss, elation, rapture... How can she fit so well? How can she be my match so perfectly? How can I be myself in this? and make myself fit? I will not compromise, I will not lie, I will not change - evolve yes - but not change - for this love is truth, it is not fabrication, and I will not bend to make it so. If I am to be loved as I am, fully in my being-ness, all of it that is too much, I must not make myself fit. I must bring myself along and allow the space to open for me. Unfold, like rose petals in the dewy morning, I will shed the skin of old, but I will bring me with me. For this is who I am, and this is who she loves. And oh how she loves. Tender/violent/taking/giving/gently - kindness I have never known, tenderness I have never seen, passion that I can taste in her mouth, kisses like rushing rivers, sex like floating clouds over the eye of the storm, calm and portentous, empowered emboldened and utterly reckless, dissolving the lines between us, flesh into one, inside her, the universe opens up to me, I see no ending and no beginning, no time, no space, just lust, passion, love, eternity, seeking in her eyes, tasting in her mouth, I have drunk her nectar and tasted my love's sweet sticky sex. Crawl inside her, live in her mind, her heart, her soul. Melt into her body, caress her skin. Her love is like no other I have known. Where does it come from? What Angel's breath did she exhale into my life? How did I find it? What path did I choose that began this long and arduous journey to her? And ardent it was, defined and motivated entirely by love...Oh the inkling was so utterly inadequate, my hope entirely too small. She is vast, limitless, unending, sacred. There is more to her than I will discover in 100 lifetimes. So I will make myself fit by being utterly myself and letting her make space in her heart for me. the rooms of my heart are empty, waiting for her to dance into them and fill them with my new life, her amazing love, there is plenty of space for that, and that will always fit.

The Edge of Me

Slipped from my skin my soul has no edge
ageless timeless colorless
animated vapor heart beat and breath

the laundry needs doing
the mail should be brought in
the trash taken out

but here I am

alone in your house
your scent everywhere
I awoke on your side of the bed
where are you?
where am I?

Lost in you
torn into pieces
put back together
a new whole
much more than the sum

searching your eyes for the answer that cannot come
from anywhere but my own heart
you have reached the edge of me
there is nothing beneath
nothing above me

I asked the question "how can I give myself to you"
how can I open my heart to you
and float into this life
each breath brings me there

I seek no more
I fall into the embrace of this life
allow the angel to wrap me in his warmest coat
and surrender it all
to you

Quietly softly beats my heart
Silent words pass over me
Hovering like falling snow
Gentle love

No movement 
no stirring 
Breath like slow fog slips out of me
Softness envelops me
cashmere against naked skin

longing abates and I find 
tenderness and love
Passion beyond words

Two halves of one soul met
Slid into each other 
without effort
Connected
Joined
One

Finally

Are you there my love
Are you stepping into my mind?
Reading my words?
Musing and dreaming along with me?

By the time you read this we will be one
Entwined

I watched the country slide beneath me
On my journey west to you
Each mile a kiss
Each moment bringing me home

Right now I am sleeping in your bed
It is late
We made love
And you are seeking me out here
And I am waiting
To give it all to you

Pulse
Sweat
Quick slow quick
Inhale wait
Catch my breath
Shallow shallow breath
Skin like lightening
Sticky wet
Quivering
Lips parted
Eyes darting
Wild
Stop
Wait
Wanting
Longing
Cannot breathe
Cannot see
Feeling nothing
Feeling everything
Pause
Let me occupy this space
The tiny infinite space between us
Before our lips touch
Light years of space
Mere moments
All Eternity

Another night of ire

How many nights full of contempt?
Laden with unspoken hatred
Layered with anger
Bathing in resentment
Desires unspoken yet expected
Feelings untold yet demanded

Crush my heart smash my soul
Fill the room with your
Thick burning seething
Blame shame ire
I am exhausted by your dissapointment
Slain by your chagrin
Disenchanting
I tried to be all things to you
Bent myself into an unrecognizable me
I was never enough to fill up your black hole of longing
Never enough to cover your shoulders of shame
I thought my love would be enough
I was wrong
Hatefully contemptibly wrong

The Summers Day - Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Langston Hughes

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Whatever will it feel like

Good Bye

After all this time, all this space and time,

that has passed between us,

around us, through us

linked us, joined us,

woven our lives into one life,

A quarter of my life has you in it.

A quarter of my experiences were shared,

however will I recall those days without recalling you?

Will every RV park make me laugh?

Will every nail file? Jumper cable?

Will your pet names haunt me?

Places tease me?

The space you occupied in my heart will lie vacant, fallow

unwatered, untended and unseen

I will not shut the door on it, but I will not visit there

I will not linger, or rue, or even regret

You will not be replaced, but you will not remain

Will the words catch in my throat?

Will I want to take them back, forget the past infractions?

Dive headfirst back into the deception?

One more time, one more try, one more promise to be broken, again and again?

Oh so easy, to die that death

Relinquish my "wild & precious life"

Give in, give up, forget

I have had a taste of the divine

I have seen life through new eyes

I have fallen in love with the one person you never could

And she is leaving you

with Good Bye

The Waiting

Transported distant fleeting

miles of time to overcome

elsewhere

vast wide space

forever illusive

and elusive

I am here wish to be there

I am now wish to be then

The ebb then flow

I thank G-d for sleep 8 hours gone in a flash

only then to have time falter and draw out in front of me

the last 4 miles of my heart's marathon

too see one's future

to hope beyond hope

I am 6 the night before my birthday and the presents are hidden in the house

I know they are here

I can guess at what they are

I chose them after all

If I find them I can peel back the wrapping

reveal the gift beneath

But until I tear the paper

expose them entirely

they are not really mine

she is not really mine

she is a dream of what will be

a tenuous arrival at the doorstep of a life of hoping

an unexpectedly soft landing after a long jump

heavy with desire, layered with wanting

covered in a thin veil of mystery

a promise I will keep

So tonight I live in the pause

wondering

hoping

dreaming

pinching myself awake at each musing

can this be real?

4 decades of my girlish reverie

now just out of reach

Waiting for my future

Waiting for time

Waiting for you

Mrs. Smith

I know you do not think you are a hero

that you didn't do a brave thing

but into my life, donned with a cape

you flew in and rescued me

Sun in My Belly on Day One

offerings of love and friendship

I was a blank slate, an unknown quantity

and our eyes met and we were friends

and I knew it

I felt it

And those ice blue eyes shine at me

you kiss my mouth hello

you trust me with your children, all three of them

you hold my hand while I sob

you walk with grace beside me

and catch me as I stumble

shared laughs, movies, gardening equipment

walks, talks, hours and hours of asana

from green smelly clouds to made up meals

licking your plate clean and asking for more dessert please

loving my friends

offering your home

offering your heart

bitching, bemoaning, groaning,

"there better be a baby" still kills me

Who knew I had to move here to find you?

Minnesota's finest

I love you Mrs. Smith

The Last Time

We never know when it will be the last time

life changes midstream eddies and we are thrown

headlong from our plan into the water of chance

We never know when it will be the last time

the last time we will hear our mother's voice

before silenced forever

the last time we will kiss someone

before their love walks out the door

the last time we will see a street

a beach, a city, a park

the last time we will sleep alone

or cry in the dark

but I know this is the last time

because it is now the first time

the first time I can see my future

the first time I can open my eyes

the first time I can hold out my palms, upturned, and feel safe

the first time I have ever felt this way

the first time I have known with absolute certainty

that you have loved me for the last time

that you have hurt me for the last time

that you have had me for the last time

and that I am no longer yours

I am mine

For the first time

Broken

I feel terminally soft

pink skin golden flesh peach fuzz soft

my heart ripe like high summer fruit

my soul cool and rippled as a spring thaw creek

first clinging tendril of creeping vines

sweet pea paper petals

cat noses pink paw pads concealing claws

soft down pillow

sinking down to the belly of me

flesh yielding

subtle bone protruding

desperate ache of tenderness

don't push to hard

thumb bruise

crushed

broken

chewed up

spit out

pulp

where do I put my heart

how do I preserve its pulsating flesh

dripping juicy softness

in your world of hard edges

fast words

crushing bleeding blows?

slicing flesh cleaving flaming hot anger

desperate disparate devastating

here I am ripe and ready for love

there you are looking to fight

how can I lay myself down in front of you

allow you to devour me in one bite

chewing swallowing without tasting

how can I?

you are hard like smooth glass

cold like metal

sharp like knives

the guest room

tonight i slept in the guest room

because you last slept there

the sheets had been changed

the bed had been stripped

but you still linger

you that I should not love

you that I should not want

you that is all but yes

and how do I explain the ghost of you

imprinted in this room

imprinted on my heart

wafting in like a warm evening breeze

rolling over my brow

caressing my cheek

I don't know where you are tonight

where in this vast world you are sleeping

some hotel in some town west of me

but tonight I sleep with you

the ghost of you

in my guest room

Spring?

spring has not sprung but slid in like a night crawler

I smell her in the garden but cannot see her in the sky

the faint tweet of nesting bushtits should be a sign they are no longer flocking

but pairing up like high schoolers at the dance

unlike so many springs past which fell into my lap like a token, fully formed and redolent,

this one has slipped, tripped and false started

on a cold morning I discovered the first origami sheaves of the hostas unfurling their sleeves

like geisha undressing

then the fiddle heads first brown and nubby then pale green and hopeful unwound their tendrils into the late winter

and I thought really? so soon? its too gray outside still

how will you breathe in all this heavy sodden air?

but the waxy new leaves of the lemon trees reach up

cradling the tiny flowers whose perfume, mingling with the wisteria

makes for a heady flower bomb one cannot bottle or buy

so instead of a full blown ecstasy of scent sight and sound

no grand opening no season premiere the red carpet was not rolled out for this years vernal debut

perhaps it is natures recession

no grand expense paid no bonuses doled out

if you want to enjoy this spring you must seek her out in the shadows

turn under the stones and find the moss stand in her midst and breathe her in

and feel the nuance that has escaped our oh so brash and expectant selves

I have turned into a consumer american with no patience and no work ethic

I want it all at once handed straight to me

this spring is teaching me that some things take time and must be born slowly

it is a metaphor of my own painful and lengthy birth

I came into this world tentatively and did not fully embrace it all at once

I needed time to adjust to the new light

the new scent the new air

so I will embrace this new child called spring

coax her out slowly into the light

take her in slowly one new miracle at a time

I will take my time getting to know this shy and complicated girl

So now what?

The love was confessed, but I was rebuffed, so now what?

The attraction was mutual but I was rebuffed, so now what?

"So thats really is no" I said, quoting Anna Scott

"Yes, it really is"

I was told it was impractical. I was told it was unacceptable. I was told how flirting was cheating and although it felt good it was wrong. I was told it wasn't really about her. But then why is she all I think of? Why is she all I see?

WHy do I wonder after her? Where is she? What is she doing? How can I further engage her? How can I reel her back in?

My mind is a factory of plans and ideas, of tortuous schemes, plotting and twisting and seeking. I look two years down the road, I imagine my way back to her, staring at picture of her, I have memories of things that haven't happened yet

I taunt, I flatter, I flirt, I weave a web of seduction. Should I have admitted it at all? Should I have played the tune longer, stretched it out farther? slip it over the two of us like a silk sheet?

I see you too

For as long as I can remember, I have been living an invisible life

doing all that I can to remain unnoticed,

unremarkable and unseen.

Never shining, never garnering laurels,

I worked, ascended, but only so high.

I made acquaintances of my friends,

settled for much less.

Quietly my soul shrank into a shadow life,

an occasional glimpse of the divine, fleeting, transitory, meaningless.

Of course the irony was that all the while I was hiding,

I was in plain sight, obvious, evident, visible to all those that chose to look.

And when I came to my senses,

and my heart pushed open,

through the fortress of my chest,

when the door to my soul opened,

and a beam of light shone in,

the face I saw through the crack was yours.

And then I realized, you had always known, always seen,

and when what you saw was me, you hadn't looked away,

but instead, quite remarkably, unexpectedly,

you smiled, a soft and knowing smile, as if to say

"there you are...I've been waiting for you".

To be seen, to be known, to be loved,

the thing I ran from so fast, so far,

buried myself under,

it was there,

all the while,

all my effort was mere charade,

a child in a monster suit, a puff of smoke, a spirit in the night,

I fooled no one but myself.

And what now?

Here I am, laid bare, with my wet stain heart thumping its new rhythm,

unstable on my new legs,

blinded with my new eyes,

a hatchling, scrubbed clean, naked.

To you I may be just one more girl with adoring eyes,

but to me, you are an elixir,

the new air I breathe, the dewdrop on the grass,

the pause between lightening and thunder,

the face of G-d.

I want to drink you in,

pour you over me, glide naked in you,

submerge myself in your grace.

I want to possess you, and have you possess all of me.

It is but mere fantasy, a crush, a new, first love.

For what I see is not in fact you, it is me, mirrored in you.

Your compassion is my compassion, your tenderness is my tenderness,

your love but a reflection of mine.

You have seen me and my soul has found its home.

And now that I have found you, my soul friend,

my anam cara,

how I miss you, long for you.

So far away from me.

So illusive. So out of reach.

Are you as terrified as I am?

that I just might see you too?

I see you too.

And she is beautiful.

Wow

So 2400 miles and many hours later we arrived at the promised house of 1129 adams Street. I should preface this saying I was road tired, hungry, exhausted, disoriented, sad, fearful and need I say it again, tired when we arrived, and I walked into the house. The house that had been described to me in so many positive ways, with such descriptions as perfect, and huge and the best I had seen, was not all it was promised to be. The hardest part to stomach was that the house had not been cleaned. And when I say it had not been cleaned I mean the master bathroom reeked of urine, there was grime on every surface, crumbs in every drawer in the kitchen - we'll get to the kitchen later - and there were dead roaches on the floor. The previous tenants were everywhere - scuff marks on every wall, old window covering hardware left behind, holes in the walls from pictures being hung, nails, hooks and various other hardware left in the walls. Unlike my home in Los Angeles, in which I had removed everything form the walls, had them patched and painted by a professional, this house was basically "as was" meaning it was exactly as it was when the last tenants left. absolutley nothing had been done to it. The pain on all the doors, door jams, window sills and trim was painted on so think and so many times that it was peeling off in sheets. There was so much paint in fact that at some point it had stopped curing and now was thick and gummy, sticky to the touch. The pantyr was covering in 20 year old contact paper, and had never been cleaned or painted. In three or four places the cieling had suffered damage due to a leak and had never been repaired. The kitchen had been redopne but in such a cheap manner that the counters were laminate and the floors linoleum. A pattern and color that didn't match any part of the house or the corresponding cabinetry. There was so little storage in the kitchen I had to unpack and repack almost 2/3 of my things and put them in the garage for another day, and another house. And when we confronted out landlord he made hs stance clear. He bought the house to tear it down and the economy had gone south and as a result he didn't want to spend a dime. The master bathroom - the pee scented master bathroom - was missing most of the grout on the floor - and more than half the tiles were broken. and that doesn't even address the storage situtaion. In both bathrooms the homeowner had chose pedastal sinks. Lovely, but entire.y useless in the storage department. What exactly does one do with their tampons when presented with a pedastal sink? Well you put stuff in the cabinets or colsets or drawers or what have you - but neither bathroom had any of these - literally no storage and - NO ELCTRICITY! I have to blow dry my hair in the hallway.

4 blocks from here are about a half dozen houses for sale all under 450k all redone and all gorgeous.

I am going to make due with this house. I am going to smile and be happy. I am going to unpack and repack and when October rolls around I am going to look hard for a new house that requires NO work at all and unpack EVERTHING I own and not be ashamed.

I can do this - this is temporary.