Poetry, Reflection and Stuff

I have been away for a while, off on what I hoped would be a magical vacation bringing me to my favorite guy.

I always wonder, before I see him, if the spell will be broken. If the Life we live in-between our visits will somehow cancel out the power of what connects us. But, this time was sweet and pleasure-filled and easy. It was quite a gift of Love and I am grateful to have received it.

All the rest and relaxation I got was just what I needed. The time away brought me balance and of course, made me thoughtful and I decided to share some of those thoughts with you.

Love is so much and then, so simple.

When I was young I bounced between heady emotions and had my heart broken fairly often. I tend to be very loyal and like long term relationships (I know, I know, how did I remain single?) but I discovered, in my 30's, that what drove me towards Love were my hormones and my lovers' pheromones. Neither helps a girl make good decisions and my chaotic family history gave me an unworkable model. I had no skills for making a good mate choice. So, as a self-preservation tactic, I made the decision to spend my 40's focused on family and work. That decision likely clinched my singlehood, making it a permanent state of being, for this Life.

Oddly enough though, the men that I found during my 30's are still the men I Love best, even though I am no longer biologically induced into liaisons. One my dear friend, the other my sweet Lover. And that fact makes me ponder Love's power to hold us, bind us and carry us forward.

How is it that I still have a full heart after the disappointments, the loneliness, the distance? How does Love do that even when, over the years, I have sworn not to allow it?

I have been a willing witness to the growth of these men who once were callous, no, careless really, with my affections. I listened to them, over the years (and just last week), care for other women and admit I have screamed inside why not care for me??? but, that too has quieted to a barely discernible whisper. I have become, I think, the caretaker of my own Life.

Today, I am generally better able to see people for who they are than I was when younger and (bonus time) I don't mind most people being exactly who they are, even if it doesn't suit me. I don't know how or when I became so accepting of reality but I find it hurts a lot less than when I just kept wishing people and circumstances would be different.

I suppose that could sound like resignation, and I might suspect it was if I wasn't feeling so fine. If I hadn't just come from the arms of a man I Love deeply (and Love being with so completely) and yet, suffered not at all from our parting, I might think that I was kidding myself. And, though I would gladly and without hesitation walk halfway around the world to sit down by his side (thanks for that line, Dave) if he asked, I am not wishing and praying and pacing the floor at night for his desire. Instead, I am simply living the Life I have as if it is something precious.

Maybe I came late to the gift of mortality - an appreciation of Life and Love without conditions, but, I am glad I finally arrived.

When I returned home I discovered that the other man I Love is in a good deal of pain, suffering from economic and relationship downturns. The poem below is for him.


Better Days

I hold for you
tenderness,
like a warm amethyst crystal
in my left palm;
it glows with power
and promises balance and peace.

How can I say what you have been to me?
Little of what I wanted and yet everything
all at once,
once upon a long ago time.
How could I measure the weight of your mouth
on my belly,
speaking to the unborn beauty I carried there?
Impossible to regret what Life brought me
just because I was angered
by what it took in exchange.

Tenderness in my heart and soul
wells up at the sound of your mighty voice,
I will you to feel it across this VOIP connection,
all the while knowing I cannot make right
what has gone wrong in your Life.

I wish it could change everything,
this tenderness
that makes me long to wrap you in my arms,
cradled, like the 2 year-old I chose
instead of you.

I am almost useless to you now,
separated by 850 miles and too many years
of unfulfilled wishes.

I can do no more than stand for you.

I look out across my backyard
listening to the clacking keys of teenage homework
in the background of your pain,
and I know that somehow this far-away Love will help,
must help
and be as sustenance,
a force to hold you up
until a better Love finds you.

Stay or Leave?

I Love that Dave Mathews song, don't you? But, the song itself is not today's writing topic, the title was simply illustrative of the dilema.

The question I have requires serious pondering on my part. It was raised by an old and very close friend who has declared that he is moving to Africa. He has always wanted to go and work there and now, at 50, pension and financial stability be damned, he's decided to go.

For my part, I cheered him on, 'follow your dreams and make them real'. That's my go-to line, isn't it? In fact, that's what I wrote on these 'pages' just a few days ago. Why then, I wonder, was there this sinking feeling during our conversation? As if I knew that this was a wrong turn.

The rational side of me knows that our lessons and our Lives are for us to discover - day by day. It doesn't matter where we are (or even who we are with) because through our experiences we face the eternal choices of defining ourselves (good and bad, Love and hate, power and weakness, kind and selfish, creative and destructive). Whether my friend stays in NYC or moves to Ghana he will only find himself.

I suspect that he is looking to find a better self there. Someone who can do more for others and be better appreciated for his service. Or maybe it really is just a yearning that he has suppressed for many years which must now be fulfilled. Still I have that sense of things being out of balance. Being who I am, I know that sense of being off-kilter means I have somehow made this about me.

Perhaps it's because for years I felt trapped by my Life. Having only meager means to exercise my wanderlust and needing to create roots for my baby girl, I put away much of my desire to change my scenery. I suppressed it until it came gurgling up as anger at my single parenthood and at Life in general. It took a while to make Peace with the circumstances of my Life, but I believe I have.

I've discovered how deeply rewarding it can be to be in one place for a long time and to give yourself over to another human being completely, as I have only done for my child. It has also gotten easier, as the years have passed, to include what I need into my Life. So, there's been a release valve for my frustration. As we come closer to her departure (and make no bones about it, she can't wait to get outta here) I see the choices for my Life making themselves known.

Will I remain here once my womanchild is fully a woman? Will I take up pottery, travel to the 4 continents I have yet to experience, fall in Love again, write that next book? I don't know. But, the questions don't haunt me as they once did. I am certain that Life will simply unfold, as it always does. I will make my choices and then I'll learn what I have set in motion for myself.

Having said all that, I am no closer to understanding my reaction to my friends pronouncement than I was when I started writing/thinking about it. Perhaps I have been a Mom too long and am simply projecting all the unspoken fears I have about my little one going out into the world onto my friend.

LOL. So absolutely simple and obvious!

It was probably clear to you from the beginning, so let me apologize for the preceding rambling. I am least transparent to myself.

Well my friends, I hope you will help me weather that particular storm when it does hit. When the time has come for me to think mostly about myself, to make most of my choices with only myself in mind, to send my child off into the wide world, to trust that she will be wonderful on her own.

I've still got a few years to go and I'm already fretting about it.

That may not be such a good sign. :o)

The Perfect Storm

Is there someone in (or out) of your Life that makes you flutter inside when you think of them? Someone who, no matter how much time has passed, causes your skin to flush and your mind to race? Some DNA-coded human whose incredible and unique biology turns you basic and animal? Maybe that man or woman became your Life partner (aren't you a lucky one!) or maybe one of you walked away...

I have visceral reactions to people - I always have. The first time my ex-husband touched me, on the day we met (he was a dentist and cradled my face during an exam), I started to cry. I thought it was because the touch was surprisingly tender but I wonder, now, if it wasn't just a case of prescience. Either way, though I Loved him dearly, he didn't fall into that unusual category.

No, there are people who can touch our lives and stir up powerful storms. Sometimes those storms are healthy and wipe away the clutter and non-essential buzz that day-to-day Life often brings. Sometimes they create such disruption that critical balance is lost and heartache and fear take over. In rare instances, the presence of one of these special human beings in your Life can do all that and much, much more.

I have had the extraordinary gift of meeting two men whose air streams have shaken my foundation. Loving them has taken me beyond fear, beyond anger, beyond heart-wrenching pain, beyond simple joys and (with at least one of them) well beyond exquisite pleasure. They have (in very different ways) helped me find peace within my heart. One man has become like a brother to me and the other remains quite the Lover.

So that, on this side of 50, I can appreciate Love for its own sake; take in Love that is tender, strong, lacking in perfection, deep and fully alive. My Love for each of them is a natural wonder that I couldn't have anticipated and, for which I am truly grateful.

I'm skipping around these days with a very pleased grin on my face because I'm going to get to hold and experience (and all manner of other unmentionables) my perfect storm, for a little while. Life can be oh, so sweet!

What about you? Any storms blowing in or through your world?

Oh, and the Olympics are as captivating as ever. Go Michael Phelps! How affirming to see someone push beyond the limits, creating new possibilities.

Woman Speak

I was raised to look on the bright side;
to believe that EVERYTHING works out
the way it should
in the end.

My mother told me that real beauty lives within
and wisdom is a way of Life.

At the knee of my grandmother
I was taught that Love has more value
takes more courage
and brings more joy
than anything.

I was brought up in the language of women
but,
no one told me it was a code.

No worries,
the world around me was
happy to provide instruction.

Mature now,
code deciphered,
I have taken my lessons to heart
and left the woman-speak behind.

Now I know that
"everything works out in the end"
really means
Life is hard and confusing
and you will survive its chaotic harshness
until you die.

The outer world doesn't give a rat's ass
for inner beauty;
it's what's outside that counts
and gets paid.

Wisdom has no value,
but knowledge is marketed to the masses;
bottled and sold,
on tv, in public schools,
by preachers and portfolio managers.

It will even show up in your e-mailbox
with the subject header
"Make it bigger for her and she'll beg for more".

"She'll beg for more",
which, in the language of women, means
please,
stop your banging and poking
and give me something more

give me more than your limp bravado
or the back of your hand when you have run out of words,
more than short-term serial monogamy
or a ride in a fast car,
more than this swollen belly
filled with your growing seed
and a story to explain your absence.

Can you give more than an impulse?
more than a car note payment left on the dresser in the morning?
more than HIV/herpes/gonorrhea/syphilis/chlamydia or
the human papillomavirus?
more than a grumble when I can do something
some
one
thing
better than you?

Is there more than drunken Friday nights that bring you home
on Saturday morning
with the smell of a barmaid's thighs still on your lips?
more than how I need to understand about your wife and kid
and your baby mama?
more than your highs
more than your lows
more than the circumference of the small little world
that spins around you?

Can you
give me
what my Nana promised,
in the language of women -
a courageous and priceless Love?


I have come to believe,
that Nana meant
Love is woman's hope;
a hope that endures
and stands
in this world of men.

Late Nite Without Letterman

I shouldn't fantasize about you again;
enough should be enough.
We've had our brief time for this year
or maybe these years
so, my mind needs to find a new focus;
needs to shift into another gear.

Instead, I am betrayed
by a steadfast Love
which will not fade,
nor gracefully whither
even after decades of your intermittent presence.

Desire for you should have dissipated
into the Life that surrounds me
So that, at 2:00 am,
I would be sorry that I could not clearly recall your face,
wistful, that my memory is not quite as sharp as it once was,
I would be drowsy and dropping back into a sound sleep.

Oh, but the gods are full of folly and tricks!

Because, at 3:30 am
(having felt every passing moment)
not only can I recall the tiniest lines
edging out from your dancing eyes but,
I can feel your hands trail lightly across my stomach,
inching slowly towards our desire.

A sudden jolt
and I am at a loss to explain the fear that stabs me.
Perhaps one of us will suffer a serious illness,
or you will grow distant
or some far worse fate that
leaves me
with only my memories
and no possible future where my dreams might,
once again,
have Life.

It is this thought that causes me to sit up
and turn on the laptop
so its clicking keys can record the insanity
which threatens to consume me tonight.

I want to act my age or,
at least act rationally,
and I fear there is no way
to overcome these feelings
of lust, of longing and of love,
except to quietly live my way through them.

(Sigh)
It would be alright,
I suppose,
if I thought you were having a similar experience.
But, Life has brought you complex preoccupations;
big ticket items like elder care, retirement,
and an abundance of middle-aged women.

Besides, you are logical and rational;
you will simply accept this most recent separation
and go about your daily tasks;
making your fun.
(I sometimes wonder
if the time we spend apart ever nips at you)

No,
you,
I am sure,
are sleeping like a log -
a fearless,
sexy,
and loudly snoring log.

If there be any mercy in slumber let it find me...

Ha!

There is no use for this obsession
nor, it seems,
remedy either;
except to hit the save button,
warm a glass of milk and
shimmy deep,
under the covers,
with hope
alone.

Commentary:
This is a tongue-in-cheek piece about how our mental constructs/emotions get in our way. And, sometimes, even when we are aware of it, we can't seem to change them. Or, at least, they take longer to change than we would like. So, we pine and fret and, when consciousness finally starts to rise, we laugh at ourselves and our predicament.
Here's hoping that whenever you are stuck in thought or deed a smile is close to your lips.

Driving Through Life

The title sounds far more philosophical than I feel, at this moment. My car, a solid 1997 Saturn has hiccuped and coughed the past week. I've been concerned about its wellbeing for awhile but, now, I'm afraid I will have to invest a dear amount of money to keep it happy.

I suppose after 11 years it is not too much to ask that I spring for a few parts and attention. I am however, one of those Americans who has lost real income due to the economic downturn (which started 8 years ago with the tech stock adjustment and has been squeezing poor and middle class folks since) fueled by increases in gas costs which has lead to the increases in everything else.

Smart though I believe myself to be, I jumped off the high paying job train in 1991 and have never quite recovered financially. My choice, and I certainly have to take responsibility for that one. Unfortunately, it is compounded by the poor choices made by those powerful politicians who decided that war and the prosperity of a few were more important than the well being of the citizens they were sworn to serve.

As I listen to the campaigners I have a sense of disgust at the way those in and aspiring to office handle politics and the running of this country. It would be sad if it wasn't so damn frightening.

All that being said, I have to decide what to give up in order to have a functioning car. I should probably buy a new one but the idea of signing up for 4 - 5 years of debt sends a chill up my spine.

I'm complaining and I do apologize. I'm just get tired of not having enough. I can do without the frivolous and even laugh at myself when I am lamenting the loss of some indulgence. But it pisses me off when the basics, like a reliable transportation vehicle seem beyond my grasp.

And yes, I do realize there are many folks worse off than me. It makes me wonder why we are not revolting against the callousness and greed that drives our economic system. What is the carrot that we so easily chase rather than look around and say this stinks and we need to change it?

Well, if the timing is right, I'll have some work in June that will create the down payment for a new car. If not, I'm not sure what I will do. Mass transit in this city is virtually non-existent.

I suppose, if all else fails, I will just carry-on. I'll patch up whatever breaks and keep moving as best I can. That's all a girl can do, isn't it?

Stop the Violence

There was an email circulating, not too long ago, that asked those who wanted to stop violence against women of color to wear red, on Oct. 31. I forwarded that email to a number of friends of both genders and varying skin hues. A couple of days later I got a sound thrashing from a dear friend of mine. She rightly and not so gently reminded me that violence against women knows no preference for color.

As if it were a precursor, I find myself, after months of not coming here, writing to express my heart ache, rage, fear and my sense of powerlessness over such violence. I do not understand, in my head or my heart, how humans can be so utterly cruel to one another. This week, it is the battered face of a friend that turns my mind round and round. But, I have been here before.

My mother, fearful, intimidated and controlled. Friends, neighbors and co-workers have walked this path. How is it that this horror can go on and on and on? How is it that abusers can keep us so quiet? Not just the family involved, but all of us who know that she's had one too many accidents. Or, those of us who hear the screams and cries through the apartment walls. Even when we know it's happening, when we see the impact on the children and of course on the woman herself we still maintain our silence.

I have stood in this place so many times, too many times. My friend escaped with her Life and now has choices to make that may prove to be overwhelming. Choices that may keep her safe or choices that may literally put her in harms way. She must choose to Love herself after years of subjugating herself to her abuser. She must choose freedom after years of oppression. She must choose to let go of the dream that one day her husband will stop hurting her and start Loving her. And like an addict, she must make that choice over and over again; one day at a time, one moment after the next.

I am so afraid for her and for her children. Afraid for all of the women and children who run in the dark of night to new cities, with new names. I am angry that some men find their power through the abuse of the people who Love them. Who are we humans? Why do we exist? What is the point of all this pain and horror?

I went to South Carolina with my child a few weeks ago and I admitted to her that I don't really trust people. More to the point, though I didn't say this to her, is that I don't trust men to respect me or care for me or treat me fairly. I don't believe in the humanity of my fellow human beings. Frankly, people disappoint and frighten me.

And, when I hear the pain, indignity and rawness of abuse in the Life of someone whom I respect and I know there is not much that I can do to help her, I get this constricted feeling in my lungs. It feels like crying without the release of tears; it feels heavy and deep, like something is lost that cannot be found.

In this United Stated of America, a woman is beaten every 9 seconds by a man. An average of 3 women are murdered in this country every day (by a partner or an ex-) and 1/2 million women are being stalked by men they know as you read this. We are so self-righteous about the status and treatment of women in other countries, perhaps we need to be more honest about what happens between men and women in our own homes, towns and cities.

I'm not sure how I'm going to move through this. I'm starting with volunteering for a local support center that works to end domestic violence. It's what I can do.

And to you, my friends, I apologize for staying away for so long and returning with such a burden.

Change Can Be Tricky or What's A Daughter To Do?

Yesterday, in a conversation with Mom, I realized how stressed out she is. It seemed that she was taking the whole going to live with my brother in stride and actually looking forward to it. Now, I am not so sure and it concerns me, greatly.

The most difficult thing about all this is that I find it very hard to converse with Mom. She is usually angry with me or, at least appears to be. So, having a conversation about a big Life-changing event is fraught with misunderstanding, lack of clarity and defensiveness - and that's just on my end.

At almost 82, a big move could be very funky and I don't want to precipitate a downward spiral for her. The thing is, I have a need for change and growth. If you've read through my posts, you know that I've been writing about this for awhile. I think I am getting clearer on the what's, and the how's of this change I am making.

I've decided to go back to school, stay steady with the job, make eating and exercise changes and find a new living environment. It would be great to move into the city and be around a few more single people, closer to work, use public transportation (and get some unscheduled exercise), live near my daughter's school and friends - all that would be great. I'm tired of the suburban Life, I thought it would be perfect for the little one, but she's no longer little and it doesn't feed my Spirit.

I am, however, concerned about the cost to Mom.

I don't have any answers for this right now. I suppose it will take a few more difficult conversations and open-hearted prayer to work this out. I'm breathing, I'm breathing...

What The Bleep

What The Bleep Do We Know

Being a parent means coming up with the answers - how to figure percentages, solve algebraic equations, even deciding what's for dinner. It's a part of the job. But what do we do with the really tough questions? Questions like what's the purpose of Life, why I am here, why does it hurt sometimes, how can we ever really know each other, have we been here before and will we be back again.

They are the essential questions that I've asked myself, and doubtless you have too. These days I wonder if I will be able to articulate the stumbling answers I have found when the wonder I call Sky asks them. (You can see that I am ever hopeful that when she asks I'll be one of those folks that she turns to for help with the answers) I feel as if I am still searching for answers of my own. But if asked today here is what I might tell her:

We are here for Love. To give it and receive it, to expect it yet not demand it. We are here to give freely from our hearts, to join consciously with our Spirits, to share openly with our minds. When it hurts it's because we've forgotten why we're here, and if we hang in with that hurt (though not necessarily with the person who helped give rise to it) - we can remember what we have forgotten. That we are perfect creations in a perfect and orderly Universe which is ever expanding and unfolding. That much of what we think we know is only what we believe and each of us is as wrong as we are right. That our perceptions of time and space are mental tricks that we have a difficult time breaking out of.

But, sometimes we have miracles that overcome those false boundaries - miracles of night dreams and daydreams that bring messages; or when a book that holds some truth we need shouts at us in a bookstore or friends and strangers alike recommend it with no way of knowing how much we need that very book; or when a friend or relative we've been thinking of calls; or we get an idea to take a different route to work and find out we saved 2 hours in traffic because the usual way was backed up by an accident. You know what I'm talking about, maybe you call it coincidence. I call it Spirit and it speaks to us all the time.

There are so many markers on the road to our freedom, so many messages whispered to our souls, and we need to pay attention. The real tricky part is that my path is not yours - we're each on a very unique journey. And yet, we're all connected on the journey to One. It's a real mystery, full of seeming contradiction. But for each of us there are also things that we know are true. My one hope is that, for my young one, the path to truth holds as little pain as possible. A hope shared by many a Mom.

So what do you think of the essential questions?