Juxtapositioning

words are foreplay for the soul

Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

July 14th, 2011 by me

Soulmate

He is cringing already at the title, I just know it, but it is far too late — the word has been said, not once but many times and not just in jest but in the deeper truth that lies beneath the fear. Soulmate.

Not only have I never used this term with anyone in my long and not-so-illustrious relationship history, but I use it now with such certainty, such abandon, such restfulness that I can safely breathe past the wild pounding of my heart that tells me I am walking in uncharted territory. Soulmate.

Not only am I his soulmate but he is mine.

(Does that go without saying? Are there such things as unrequited soulmates? Is there anything more sad than that?) Read the rest of this entry »

June 28th, 2011 by me

Partner

Once there was a girl who learned not to trust. She was hurt by things — big scary dogs, loud people, being left in strange places that didn’t smell like home, people who tricked and lied — and learned to go deep inside. She thought that deep within, she could stay safe. The girl built walls and thought they would protect her, thick tall strong walls.

What she built instead was an entire world that wasn’t safe. An uncertain world lay beyond her walls. Staying small and deeply hidden, she forgot about her magical powers caught outside the walls she built. The girl felt so alone. She believed she would always be that alone, always need to stay small and deeply hidden.

The girl was wrong. One day she woke up and remembered about her magical powers, but they lay out of reach beyond her walls. In order to reach her magic, the girl had to do the unthinkable. The walls she had thought were protecting her had to come down. She had to let the world in. Read the rest of this entry »

June 10th, 2011 by me

Pathway

There is a way through. In the dark times, all I can see are the walls that close in around me, the fears that fill me with dread, the gross inadequacies of my wounded heart and soul. In those times it is sometimes all I can do to take a breath, and another. Anything beyond breath is simply too heavy, too hard.

I have been offered a path. A hand. A heart, tender and afraid as my own. And I am encouraged that this pathway may be the one that forever keeps the walls from closing in so tightly. This pathway, the one that is being created and crafted and emerges from the promise of sustainability and wonderment, may be what I need to stand on to finally reach the stars overhead.

I hold this path, a nascent bird-heart beating, fluttering, between my hands and his. If we breathe on it, it may grow.

May 14th, 2011 by me

Loving

I think I am beginning to feel what love is.

You would think, wouldn’t you, that after spending as many years on the planet as I have, I would have already known what love really felt like, but no. Not being loved like this. Not loving like this.

Oh, I had an idea about love. Many ideas. An ideal. A dream. A destiny.

And I loved, as best I could. With my whole heart, the part that was open. I really did. I loved and was loved to the best of my ability at the time.

I also knew a lot about what love is not. My heart stretched across the distance between the one (what love is) and the other (what love is not), stretching so thin and so tight that it snapped, thread ends dangling into space. Now I am taking up those gossamer threads and weaving them into a beautiful tapestry, strand by strand and color by color, my heart becoming more alive and more filled in every breath, every kiss, every intertwined beat. Read the rest of this entry »

April 19th, 2011 by me

Movement

There is something about looking westward into the waning light that makes me incredibly happy.

Once I drove through Illinois under a spreading wide field of fluffy white that extended into infinity, cottony sheep drifting gallantly and with amused authority over the highways through a sky-blue background.

Then, for a year, I watched purple merge with golden pink over the jagged silhouette of the Front Range, lost in Chief Niwot’s curse of the Flatirons. When the year was over I could still glimpse pinkgold over jutting mountains in my rear view mirror as I turned for east again.

Then for a brief time I saw gold in the brilliant dusk mirrors of the tall crystal buildings along False Creek in Vancouver, sighing every time I biked past the Burrard Street Bridge, glimpsing silvergold on acres of glass standing tall along the water’s edge. I sighed at the beauty of this city that wasn’t mine. Read the rest of this entry »

April 4th, 2011 by me

Joining

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove…

In the morning I am awakened by warmth seeping in close to me, a breath, a heartbeat. I move slowly from dream into being, your heart-filled eyes inviting me into another day. Twin mugs stand by, steaming coffee’d warmth and life with each sip, feet on lap, talking of the day to come. The sun streams in through a wall of panes, inviting us to catch a scent of summer blossom through half-open door; or rain streams over, pattering, rivulets, and we two are snug inside with logs blazing into heartwarmed embers. Twin names on the mailbox, a testament that we walk this path in tandem, hands held, joining.

The day unfolds. I write. A painting emerges from my soul. I sing love into being. You inspire, inquire, clarify, evolve. We taste, we create, we experience, we harvest the richness of being loved and loving.

We dance separate dances, now touching again, now moving apart, always connected, always aware.

Wine glasses clinking, voices, music, shared conversation and laughter. Or reading far into the night. Or drumming, smoky fires, ancestral visions. Or sensual delights, a candy store. Our tandem dance continues. Finally darkness settles in like the purring cat between us, comfortably, contentedly. The world stills around us and we sleep, breathing, joined.

March 28th, 2011 by me

Polynomial

You remember those, right? Am I giving any of my geekiness away when I say that solving quadratic equations was sort of a highlight for me, mathwise? I found a certain exquisite perfection in creating balance. Each side of the equation balances the other. Yummy.

To refresh, in case Algebra II was (cough) a few years ago for you: a polynomial is an expression of finite length constructed of variables and constants.

[What, you don’t trust my truthiness in math? Go on, Google it.]

It has not escaped me that I am involved in the creation of a polynomial. I already told you that 1 + 1 = 3, remember? Well, what does 2x + y equal? Or 2x + 2y? Or … sure, the permutations are endless here.

To be sure, this equation is all new to me. Every equation is the building of a new world. I am just really glad that the magic is returning to this one after having walked through fire. What does not turn to ash and burn away into the atmosphere is made stronger. The path ahead is still uncertain — all paths are — but is made bolder now than before.

February 28th, 2011 by me

Doorway

“The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you
Don’t go back to sleep!
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep!
People are going back and forth
across the doorsill where the two worlds touch,
The door is round and open
Don’t go back to sleep!”
— Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

I stand at the threshold of a doorway. It calls to me, this door into my future. If I stop looking I can see the starry brightness of the path just on the other side, the path that leads into the unfoldment of my destiny. If I cover my ears I can hear the earth sighing in breathless wonder. If I cease breathing for a moment I can feel my body expand in joy, each cell’s aliveness coursing through me and beckoning me into the brightness that covers my face.

The way ahead became clearer tonight. I have been two days in a fog that shrouded me in suffocating fears. Tonight’s moonrise dawns clear. I am not an island. Once through the doorway, I will see how there are hands waiting to take mine, to receive the gifts I hold, and to offer warmth in exchange. Once through the doorway I will see the way clear, my path, a piece of the larger destiny that awaits, and I will know where next to place my feet and in which direction.

I think that’s all we ever know.

I have been afraid because I haven’t remembered to use old patterns as a marker of my wholeness. I was afraid that I erred, afraid I was making poor choices, afraid my past pain would be repeated. But old things can be friends. Allies. I can gather them in. Use them to be whole. Let them give me strength.

I stand at the threshold of a doorway. Tonight I dance through.

February 21st, 2011 by me

Destiny

Girlfriend. I never thought past the age of 17 that I would think of wearing this label as having won something amazing and awesome, but there you go. That’s how life works. Sometimes you come back to where you have been (only it’s way way better now). I am totally loving being a little bit high school. And yes, I have a boyfriend and he rocks.

We own one item jointly. Well, it’s technically mine — a small black hardcover Moleskine notebook, previously written-on pages ripped out to create an open space of possibility, written in with my burgundy and gold Mont Blanc rollerball pen — but we are creating the contents together. In it are many of the secrets of our couplehood awesomeness. Evidence of our co-created experience. Inspiration for further exploration. I am keeper of The Book, and several times a day I relish slipping my forefinger beneath the slim black elastic that binds the pages together, stretching it slightly to widen it, then allowing it to rest beneath the bottom cover while I press the book open to add the next entry. Gratifying.

What may be even more interesting about the life The Book is taking on are the themes that are slowly emerging from within its contents. Without revealing details of our secrets, I can tell you that some of our commonalities are so … unusual, rare, singular … that almost the only seeming explanation for the path that led us to meet is the D-word. Destiny. I can barely utter it without receiving an eyes-skyward glance, but it keeps coming back. Mocking. Inviting. Opening.

I’ll be honest about destiny. I believe in it and yet I don’t, not at all. I believe we each have a potential, a story, and it is up to us to find out what that is. Sometimes we are able to and sometimes we are not. Lives are lived and loves are loved, regardless of whether we find what our true story is, but if we do? When we do? That’s when the magic happens.

I want the magic. I know it is possible. And it is unfolding, within me and around me — I know it is. I can feel it. I want more. Is that my destiny?

February 10th, 2011 by me

T + D

Time and distance.

I know a place in a forest where there is a gateway to other times and other places. Step through the invisible shimmering curtain and the tall trees feel 10,000 years older, transported suddenly across the globe to somewhen. I’ve been to this place several times. Each time it felt nearly the same. Magic.

Time is a funny thing. I observed nearly two months ago (!) that time had slowed down, stretching into exquisitely endless golden hours. It hasn’t changed since then. Time still moves luxuriously. Languidly. Taking its own sweet time. Seconds drip into hours. Worlds are created in a breath. There is always enough, yet I always want more.

Distance is a funny thing. There is physical separation, but … is there? Isn’t distance simply an illusion? I could take one giant step northwestward and be standing among giant redwoods or on a rocky pine-kissed beach. And even if I chose to accept that a mile is a mile and 1112 crow miles is 1112 crow miles, the sense of proximity could still be there. If I close my eyes and feel with my heart, I feel warmth. A presence. A heartbeat. It is enough, and yet I want more.