Tag Archives: relationships

Loving What Doesn’t Love Back

Hello, BigBodyBeautiful friends. It’s been a long time since we’ve connected by way of this bloggy, hasn’t it? I’ve missed you all so much. I’ve been working hard on my novel, which is coming along. But, I thought I’d give voice to some things that I’ve felt and processed in various relationships (and a post or two) from the past. I’ve been doing some “house cleaning” so to speak in therapy and it’s led me to a few little-opened rooms where some of my psychology hides away and gathers dust. This post deals with unrequited love (loving an addict, the unavailable). So many of us have experienced this with other people and ourselves. And, today, this asked to come out. I’m giving these feelings some space in the hopes that I can finally let it all leave my lovely body and breathe some fresh air into the rooms inside of me. I welcome your thoughts and reactions, as always, my friends.

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It’s clear. I need to let you go. You’re not healthy for me. I don’t think you are ready to show up for yourself, let alone, anyone else. It’s clear that you need to do this, take your ravaging journey through a dark and precarious land. A land of pleasure-seeking, distraction, and drink. A land that has no signposts or clear trails out. A land that very well might swallow you whole. Maybe, it already has (and I just haven’t been able to see it).

fields

Photo, compliments of E. Lies at Unsplash.com

At any rate, I can’t follow you, love. I’ve already been to that land (in other lives); it has nothing to offer me. It calls to me not one bit. I do not feel a pull toward the false baubles it holds in its skeletal hands, its lipstick stained, garish mouth, its heavily boozied breath, sodden, unwashed hair, and unkempt countenance. I refuse to follow you into the inky darkness. I can’t breathe there, babe. I will not follow, so I have to let you go forward into what you need to experience. I know. I do. And, I hate it.

I feel like I can’t quit you. I can’t turn my back on you, walk away, seek to protect only myself. I can’t be yet another person who turns away from your pain, doesn’t accept you, doesn’t come forward. I need to help you. You need me to help you. Somehow. But, babe. I’m not enough for both of us. You don’t give to me. And, then I realize (have I always known?), you do not really want me. You want what you’re doing now, which is what you’re doing. Now. You do not want to be with me. Because, you’re not. If you did, you’d be here. But, you’re not. And, you don’t.

I’m pretty sure that you don’t want the exposure of my light, the unwavering gaze of my soul that looks into you so clearly, pointedly, and consciously (but also softly and understandingly). You do not want deepest emotion, thought, truth, and exploration of the wounds in the psyche. It’s just too much. I’m just too much. And, you have other engagements, which are bigger than this thing that we’ve briefly co-created (together but apart). So, I have to let you go. To find your way. Or not. Either one is your choice. And, I have no choice but to honor it, whatever it is, however that looks or moves or slinks from sight. I have to hold myself up and move on.

I wish you wanted to take some time, any time, to get to know me. To go deeper with me. Maybe that would gently ease you from your painful path, your attraction for the darkness (that parades itself as neon-lit happiness). Maybe knowing how good it can be to awaken will bolster you, give you enough of yourself to see what I see (when I look at you), and maybe it would show you that you truly are worthy of the light. Maybe. But, then again. Maybe not.

You’ve never come forward with me. You’ve never let me behind your solid-rock walls. I’ve tapped at them again and again; I’ve bloodied my fingers on the door, but you have rained your molten Quasimodo silence over the edge at me. My skin burns over and over from lack. My heart scarring over and over by your reticence, your avid, unavoidable, suffocating silence.

Actually, worse is when you are nice to me and pretend to have feelings (like I do). That is way worse. Because, I let it fool me so often. I keep coming back for one more silver of happiness. Then, find myself standing in a dark room and wondering where the light switch is. Anyway. I have to own my part in it. I will and I do. I’m working on it. But, my heart hurts so much.

I.just.wish.you.could.come.over.here.with.me.just.once. Take the chance. Lift the lid on this thing and peer inside. If only you felt more for me than you do for the other things that turn your head, the other things that possess you. How different it might be with you stepping into the light. Me by your side. But, then again, maybe not. I have no way of knowing for sure. You might blossom or shrivel for all I know. You don’t try and I give too much.

When will I leave? I want to say never. I want to feel, never. But, that’s not realistic, is it? I’m running out of juice. I came in with alot, but everything has a life span, doesn’t it? Everything lives as long as it’s supposed to. I’m running out of glitter, babe. I’m low on stardust and paint. I’m dragging my halo around now and it’s scratched and tarnished. I’m thrust out of the pearly, shiny gate. I’m holding on, but eating just the air is getting pretty old. I need some sustenance. Some meat. I need to know that you know what I’m talking about. But, again, the silence seeps. It comes up around me. All I can hear is the slow katoosh of my very broken heart, my uneven breath, a honking car off in the distance.

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Trapped in a Big Fat Trap

Very recently, I’ve realized something that I have felt for a very long time. I’m in a trap. A trap that I’ve obviously constructed with great care and precision but haven’t been able to step out of no matter how hard I work on myself. I’ve articulated this through some tune-up therapy sessions with a remarkable psychologist here in Sedona and was able to express how big this is for me. In all of my many lifetimes, the collective experiences, exhaustive nuances of emotion, endless thoughts, and activities have created a near-constant sense of claustrophobia or “stuckness” inside of me. I feel trapped. Alot. And, like any trapped animal, hmmm…well, I fight it. In fact, I often feel like I’m chewing a leg off to get free, but free of what?

So, I’ve been drilling into what this idea of being trapped means and why it seems to be coming to a head in this life now. And, believe you me, it’s coming to a serious head right now. I’ve been looking at what these ideas mean for my lovely body. I’ve been asking myself why I often carry an underlying current of anxiety and unease that is closely tied to feeling stuck. I’ve been asking if I am in fact really stuck or is this such a common refrain with me that I’ve gotten used to it and believe that I am stuck. I’ve also been able to isolate that feeling trapped is a “theme”, in most (if not all) of my lives; this feeling is not new to me at all; it’s very familiar, though it feels like it hasn’t been so sharply outlined until now.

I’ll give you an example of one of my more recent lives where I felt so incredibly trapped, I invented a way out of that life at an early age, because I just couldn’t take the pressure, pain, and confinement anymore. In the mid 1800s, I was in a convent in England. Both of my parents had died. At age 12, I was shipped off to live with the nuns in the countryside. I was unruly, loud, restless (hmmm…sensing another life theme here, too?!), disobedient, and constantly punished by the nuns for being so wild and disruptive. Eventually, the nuns grew so tired of my outbursts and having to scold me all of the time that they sent me to live out in the barn with the goats and other animals, where a mute nun named, Mary took care of me and raised me alongside the goats. Mary and the goats were the highlight of that entire lifetime. Anyway, at age 15, I was “purchased” by an older wealthy man, a total stranger, and he moved me to France where he then proceeded to rape me as soon as the carriage pulled up in front of the house. He impregnated me immediately and at age 16, I died horrifically in childbirth.

This is just one of many examples from my past of being confined, stuck, powerless, and abused. And, lest you think what happens in our past lives does not influence the present-day life, think again. It’s all in there, recorded inside of our souls, and it’s all exerting influence whether you believe in this stuff or not. It comes out. It finds a way.  And, oh, mama, is it ever coming out in my life now. In this particular life, I’ve felt:

  • Trapped in a family of angry, dysfunctional people
  • Trapped by poverty and circumstance
  • Trapped in my jobs
  • Trapped by workaholism
  • Trapped in a body that hasn’t been my ideal (until the last 20 years or so)
  • Trapped in relationship
  • Trapped by my own thoughts, feelings, and need for expression
  • Trapped by my ego
  • Trapped by my desires
  • Trapped in an existence that has long-ceased being fun
  • Trapped by societal rules, regulations, gender definitions, and codifications for behavior
  • Trapped by friendships and other people’s expectations of me
  • Trapped by my rampant anxiety
  • Trapped by religion
  • Trapped by a psychic ability that scares the livin’ crap out of me and which I greatly stifle

On and on and on….

In this life, I’ve felt huge resistance to being in yet another body, being in yet another difficult and painful incarnation. I’ve often felt chained to my psychology, bound by my emotional struggles, glued-in-place by yet another abysmal childhood, and suffocated by my intensity. Many times in this life, I’ve turned my eyes heavenward and pleaded with Source/Creator/All-That-Is to release me from this earthly trap. I’m still here. Healthy as a horse. Yes, even with over 20 lung embolisms (in both lungs) in 2012 and a clot the size of Kansas in my right leg, plus six surgeries in three weeks to treat the effects of the clots, I’m still friggen’ here. Trapped. Always caged. Always bound to the earth plane. Always suffering. And, the worst (best?) part of it: always painfully aware, awake, full-feeling, and unavoidably sober. I cannot escape this. I cannot go back to numbing myself (like in past lives). I cannot take the edges off. I cannot get relief except by walking through the fire and burning in it. And, oh, how I burn.

trap

So, why this realization and revelation now? Why is this such a strong sense in me now? What does it mean for my beautiful, long-suffering body now? What can I do about it? What does this situation need from me to shift it? How do I shift this? As you can see, my questions are copulating like bunnies and making even more questions. Maybe it’s partly due to my age. I’m 49 and rabidly menopausal. So, maybe some of these feelings are just what “women do at this time in their lives”. But, what does it all mean? Dunno yet. However, I can tell you that I have an urgency inside right now that is really strong. And, I feel trapped in my work/life situation.

The trapped thoughts/feelings are stemming from confining myself psychically, mentally, and physically. I’ve worked myself into a stupor for 30 years. I’m talking about 80+-hour weeks for 30 straight years. I’ve let life speed past me while I sat at a keyboard tapping out words for corporations and making them gobs of money while allowing myself to remain chained to their success instead of my own. I’ve not rested or relaxed or sat still. I’ve take only one formal vacation in my life (in 2010) where I left the country, but what did I do for most of the vacation? I worked in my hotel room. Work is my addiction, my distraction, my drug. Choosing “paying work” keeps me from doing my deeper self-work. It has distracted me from living in the deepest depths where I want (and don’t want) to be. It has kept me from drilling down on my “sensitivity”, my psychic ability.

Sure, I’ve gotten a crap-load of stuff done. I’m not a total slug. I have more energy than most and I have made tremendous strides on myself despite my work addiction. I’ve come a very long way, but right now, I’m feeling so, so stuck because of these commitments that I’ve made and “must see through”. Seriously, a very large part of me wants to move to a huge mountain, live in a tiny cabin, chop wood, grow vegetables, ride my Harley, work only when absolutely necessary, write my books, meditate, do yoga, and breathe. That’s it. I want to check out. I want to feel the earth, listen to the earth, be fully awake on the earth, and rest for my last 27-odd years here.

So, this week, I processed these thoughts/feelings with my awesome psychologist and he gently reminded me that “being trapped” is a thought that I am attaching to; it’s a “story” that I am identifying as reality, but it is not reality. I’ve been believing my thoughts about being trapped. So, the thoughts are the trap. Isn’t that interesting? But, the reality is: I am not trapped. I am free. I can walk away. I can change my circumstances. I can come and go. I can move. I can fly anywhere in the world, if I really want to, and I can do anything I want. What’s important is the feeling attached to the thought of being trapped. It’s what’s below the stories that I tell myself that is most important to trace and then understand. What’s the feeling? What’s below it? What’s causing the pain? Pause…pause…pause…

Sitting with it, I learned this: I feel HUGE fear and pain below the story of “being trapped”. Fear of taking true responsibility for myself, of standing up for myself, and speaking my truth. Why? Okay…go deeper…deeper…yep…right there…got it. When I stood up for myself in childhood, my mom physically and emotionally abused me. She routinely tried to destroy me over the twelve years that I lived with her and she tried in multiple ways. Other people in the past have done similar stuff to me, too. Feeling trapped is tied to this core of fear, pain, and mistrust. People sometimes hurt me when I stand up and tell them what I think, when I reveal my tender underbelly, when I get vulnerable. People have maligned and shamed my expression. People sometimes use my words against me later. People often judge and criticize me for my feelings. I’ve been hugely damaged when getting real and trusting others.

And, as an aside, like many people do, I’ve “shielded” with my body. I’ve used my body to keep people at bay, keep the world away from me, to keep people out of my tender core. My body has dutifully guarded my innards by being larger and denser. She’s been my “protector”. She’s been my insulator all of these years, my padding against the weapons people have waved at me and used on me. How I love my body for protecting me and doing exactly what I needed from her and couldn’t even openly articulate. I have the best body on this planet. I know it. She’s the best one.

Anyway, on the outside, I know that I want to stand up for myself because it means greater clarity and greater expansion as a consciousness, but when I do stand up for myself, I get stomped. So, inside is a huge feeling of being unable to stand up (trapped) to clear the way for my expansion because that comes with huge pain, familiar pain, unwanted pain. There. That’s it. This is all a natural reaction to past experiences and damage. I can identify with the thoughts that are a lie or I can go deeper and unearth what’s below the thoughts, which is the truth. The feelings are the truth. My feelings are here for a very good reason; they make perfect sense. The feelings never lie.The feelings are the path through the darkness.

Now, my real work comes. What to do with all of this? How to “act” in integrity and clarity around this revelation? How to invite understanding and communication with myself and others on this. How to heal this? I’m going to continue looking at it and going below the surface of the thoughts. For now, that is enough. When I can, I’m going to speak my truth to others and regardless of their reactions, I’m going to know that it’s enough for me to have spoken my truth. They do not have to accept me or my expression. They do not have to validate me. I do. I’m opening the trap and stepping from it. I’m walking into the unknown, into the soft air, into the arms of the mountain. I’m freeing myself.

Closer Than Skin

You know. You do. I know that you know. You’ve been there. Right there. You’ve been to “the” place, the land of exaltation. Your body knows how to tread that narrow, but well-worn path through those particular woods very well. You could get there blindfolded if you had to. Yes, you’ve been there and you’d like to stay. We all want to stay, so we devote poems and songs and great works of art to this magic realm.

heartsWhat is this place? Being in love. You know: when you think of someone you love, and your whole body floods with such emotion and adrenaline that you feel hot, dizzy, weak. Your heart pounds when you think of them. You feel eager, excited, and happy when they are around and achingly lonely when they are not. Like, it’s actually physically painful not to be in their presence. Your body sits up and takes notice when that person enters the room. You are pointedly aware of their every move, where their eyes alight, how they hold their hands, the shape and heft of their body. You want nothing more than to pull that person close to you, look into their eyes, feel their skin, kiss them, and stay in that warm bubble of connection, that syrupy happiness forever.

Yeah, that place. The place we all love to visit. The location of primal, glorious, and flushing feeling. I love that place. My body loves that place. But (and there’s always a butt–hahhaha), we all get there alone and we remain there alone. *Sigh* One of the things that my body and I have been pondering all of our lives, but in particular, very deeply over the past few months, is the concept that we are each alone. Truly, inexorably, completely alone here on planet earth. Despite our connections with others, our abundant senses, our experiences, our feelings for other people, our great and not-so-great “loves”, we are isolated. We experience the circumstances of our lives and live with the effects of our decisions, alone.

No one else can share in our reality. No one else shares one ounce of our perception or even our sight. No one shares our synapses, ruminations, or emotions. Oh, to be sure, we can look at an object and agree to what it is, a car, a book, a table, but you perceive these things wholly differently than I do. We are totally unique in our perceptions of objects and our experiences of things. And, I have to tell you that this causes me some distress. I kinda hate it. More on that in a minute.

atomWe create reality by way of our consciousness, our thinking, and our corresponding actions. Literally. So, each of us is completely separate from others. We are in a bubble of our own creation, a reality of our own design and maintenance. Yes, our bubbles get close to each other and there is energy exchange (which happens all of the time); yes, we commingle and interact, but in that process, what we perceive of as touch is actually an illusion; it’s the sensation of not touching that we actually perceive. It’s a dream of connection, but on a subatomic level, there is no such thing as touching.

The charged electrons in your hand actually repel the inversely charged electrons in my hand. What we feel as touch is nothing more than a tiny spark of repelling energies that shove each other away (quite violently, actually) when they get close together. There is no real connection at all, other than the resultant expansion in our consciousness from the energy that we perceive of as touch and well, our ideas about the person with whom we “connected”. But, no touch actually occurs. Sad, I know.

In my pondering of this sad fact of being human, I realized (yeah, like, just this week) that this is why I’m writing the book that we’ve explored together in other posts and on which I’ve been slaving away for pretty-much ten years. As you, dear readers and friends might recall, a compelling thing happens to me. I’ve only experienced it a couple of times in my life (with people) and find that it happens much easier and more frequently with nature and animals. My term for it is “merging” and my book is a futuristic/SciFi novel about a telepathic race of people who do this practice of merging in pair bonding.

Merging is literally the feeling of exchanging energies with another being. In my book, however, the characters go much deeper with it. They actually swap bodies and physically experience what the other person, place, or thing perceives. Well, I’m now pretty sure that I’m writing the book as a way to slay that dragon who goes by the name of “I-am-alone”. Ah, so there it is. All of my psychology, laid out on the open Internet for all to see. Well, then. I might as well tell you the rest.

It bugs the living crap out of me that we are ultimately alone, that we have to do all of this perceiving and living and learning alone, in our isolated little consciousness bubbles, and that one man’s reality in no way, shape, or form resembles my own. I mean, I get that we feel love and exchange energy with the world around us and I deeply believe in “guides” who nurture us and help us from the Other Side while we are here in earth school just slugging it out. I get that we have some help and that our bodies are a huge boon to us in what we explore here, but ultimately all of our perceptions are our own and we are responsible for grooming them and learning from them.

I suffer from a deep existential loneliness and this “aloneness” is the root cause of it. What I know, I cannot teach (though I keep trying and trying and trying by way of my words, my blogs, my poems, my art, etc.). The fact that what I experience, my merging with others, my depth of feeling is really, really rare. I suffer because when I talk with others, tell them about what I think, people often look at me like I have a horn coming out of my head. I feel really alone here. I think about and say sh*t that few people seem to ponder and then, I’m left wondering where the rest of my tribe is. I wonder where my people are. I wonder why I chose a life where I walk around feeling so terribly alone.

And, I suspect, given how hard I work and how little time I have left, that the book, if I ever finish it, will be my magnum opus. It’s my attempt to beat this loneliness down. It’s a chance to explore what it would be like if there were more people here like me. Yes, it’s narcissistic. Every bit of art is a practice in narcissism. But, I *hope* that it serves others and helps them. I hope it gives something back to humanity.

I want to be closer than skin. I want to merge energies with others. I want to be open and heightened and feeling. Other people’s emotions do not scare me. I want to know what they feel and think about and ponder and learn. I want to experience what others experience, because it causes expansion and growth, feeling and thinking. I just want to know that one other person on this planet gets it, gets me, and that I get them, really get them. But, that’s impossible, isn’t it, my little love-nuggets? Nonetheless, I’m gonna keep trying until I don’t any more.

P.S. In case it wasn’t abundantly obvious, this is me, a bit down-in-the-dumps. Just thought you’d like to know that I am not always “sunshine” and “delirious happiness”; all sides are represented. I don’t come to the shores of sadness often, but when I do, I lug my boat up onto the sand and I camp for a few days. ❤ Love you, my friends.

An Open Letter to Your Body

My friend,

How are you? No, how are you really? I’ve been thinking about you so much these past few weeks and wondering if you can feel me. I’ve been wondering if, as you move through your day, you can feel my thoughts coming to you and moving over your being. Can you feel me: thinking, studying you, holding you in my mind, heart, and psyche?

So, as I’ve thought about you and your life, your bearing, and abundant presence, it only makes sense to reach out, tell you what’s going on for me, and hope that you can receive my words in all of the tenderness and adoration with which they were created. This is my love letter to you, body. Please…please take this in as deeply as you can.

You must know that when I see you, spirit in form, such sweet emotion rises through me. I gasp at your beauty, your contours, your radiance. It’s like you are lit from a fire that radiates outward in all directions. It’s staggering. I can see the light from you. I feel the energy of you, how you move, and where you hold yourself in. I do.

I can see what you carry and how you process the emotions and thinking of your caretaker. You, body, do such a wonderful job of processing what your caretaker hands you and you rarely complain until it becomes too big for you to parse in a healthy manner. I also see that when you receive what you need, you do not hold grudges; you heal, readily and look forward to the next adventure. You do such a good job of being ready and counted upon; it just delights me. I admire what you do with so little.

Further, I can feel when you struggle with the icy hand of hurt or when you bask in joy’s warm laughter. I can feel when you suffer or celebrate. I really feel you. I sometimes think that you can feel me, too. And, that makes me smile, suck the moment down into my body, hold it there sweetly while it spreads to the furthest reaches of my physicality, opening layers, penetrating the center of my molecules, touching, holding. Such riotous joy inside because of you. You, my friend, inspire me beyond description. I’ve written poems about you and how it feels to look at you. I’ve written pages and pages about you in my novel. I simply cannot get enough of you, body. I want more. I want more.

It’s our lot in life, isn’t it? That, despite what people believe, we are all intimately tied together in energy. We are all connected in the ether. There is no separation between any of us. Bodies register each other, don’t they? They know things the mind can never know. They handle things the ego can never evaluate, appreciate, or understand. Bodies are the gateway to the spirit. You know this. And, despite people’s reluctance to take ownership of their feelings and behaviors, our bodies always do. You, dear friend, do. So, this letter is to tell you what I see and hopefully give you a little boost if you need it or a quick pat if you are doing well.

I see a hardworking body doing the best, the very best, that it can to teach, receive, heal, help, grow, process, and protect. I see you working so hard. I see you doing exactly what is asked of you through your caretaker’s attention, beliefs, and choices. I see you accepting and accepting and accepting despite being largely unaccepted. You never waiver. You are a true, true friend, a solid partner in your caretaker’s growth and you receive so little recognition for the role you play in the expansion of their consciousness. But, you do the work, day in and out, year after thankless year. Well, I thank you.

I honor and accept your shape, your heft, your bearing, your light, and your darkness. I will never turn away from you in disgust no matter what you manifest. You are beautiful and don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise (including your caretaker). YOU ARE A MIRACLE of evolution, a masterful design, an inspiration. And, you are perfect. Please know your perfection because I see it every time I lay eyes on you and it makes me swoon.

Know that in me, you will always have the dearest friend. I love you, sweet body. I love you.

❤ BigLizzy

Opening You Inside of Me

When we love another, part of what we’re after is unification, acceptance, and connection with the self. We want to feel our fullest essence, the core of us that is untouched and unfettered by life in a body; we want to feel that sacred self by way of another’s attention and adoration. We want to feel our soul, its longevity, its total, encompassing, deathless, and seductive permanence. We also want to feel the ageless soul and being of another, but in my belief system, what we really want is ourselves: whole, happy, deserving, trusting, radiant, and fulfilled, which is how we all feel when we are out of bodies and on the Other Side.

We truly do live forever. We never die. Oh, our sweet, hardworking bodies die, but our souls do not. We simply change shape. We merely change structure. So, when we love, we get to feel the “forever” of our own self by way of another person’s being; and, it’s glorious and enchanting.

Some of my "tangle" artwork. :)

Some of my “tangle” artwork. 🙂

There is simply no better feeling in the world than love. We LOVE love. We love how it feels inside of us. We love when we are appreciative, connected, dialed-in, and glowing with pleasure. We love our heart and soul connections with others. Sure, what we do with our bodies is important. Sex is delicious and fun. But, it’s what happens in our spirits while loving another or sexing another that truly entices us. We know that physical is only a part of the entire equation. And, I argue that the spiritual elements have to be there for the love to be truly healthy, beneficial, and complete.

I’ve written about this before, but when I love someone, whether carnal or not, it’s a crazy ride, man. My energy is nuclear. I love as vociferously as I live. I love so hard that it scares people. Not in a grasping, dependent, and unhealthy way, but in an energetic, all-encompassing, vigorous, and extremely intense way. I love deep, hard, and fast. I fall in love quickly and it stays with me. If I love you, get ready for some big emotion and big fun. Get ready to play in a river of feeling because my love is a totally physical and spiritual orgy of fast-moving, strong current. When I love you, you know it. There is no question because I’m erupting energy all over the room. If you form the question, the answer is always “yes”. I’m all in. Love for me is intensely physical and achingly spiritual all at the same time; it takes a big person to handle me.

More of my tangle art.

More of my tangle art.

So, on this idea, I’ve been back to writing poetry recently and wanted to float a few pieces your way. Oh, and I’m not sure if I ever told you guys, but I had a 60-page poetry book published in 1998 (back in the dark ages before I was this happy). 🙂 Anyway, I was a working poet for quite a number of years and was published alot. But, after 15 years, I gave it up, walked away, and literally stopped writing poetry. I was sick of poetry. Sick of myself and my psychology. Sick of the conversation and narcissism and depression. My poetry was largely a convenient therapist from whom I had to walk away, because I was not advancing, just wallowing. Anyway, that’s my poetry back-story.

Hope you like my new poetry. See if you can get the “theme” of all of these poems or the general chord of connection here.

The Day We Met

the moment opened up in front of us
all eyes and breath
no one else felt it
but we did

you did

later, in my dark room
sifting through the words
we spoke and how the
light
poured out of you

and lit me up

I knew everything was going to be
different

and it is

(Note: This poem was first published, in a slightly different form, on Jackie P’s awesome blog: To Breath is to Write.)

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And Then, He Touched Me

my mind spilled, spine curled, and hand tingled
for days
and days and days.
still, even now, it moves through me and
blossoms inside of me,
the warmest warm, the strongest tug
up and down my length
the light crossing in front
then rising inside
like the image of you
filling me up
and rocking the curve of my bones
open.

**********************

Him

Rising
inside of me,
him
my body
aching
holding
the sun
asking
him in
asking
again
the drag of him
through me
the pulse
of him
in
everything

**********************

The Stone of Love

pressing my hands against it
the cool rock pressing back
its slow breath
climbing up my arms
its ridges in my skin;
its language decoded
thinking about how you
first grabbed my wrist
one quick movement
that set the world
on end
opened the sun
inside of me
decoded my language
as I slide across the cool
old rock and lay open
to the sky
the stone now
pressing at my back
entering me there
then, you, swimming up and
laughing as you grab
my wrist (again) and pull me
in on top of you.

(Note: This poem was first published on Jackie P’s awesome blog: To Breath is to Write.)

Feel free to share your thoughts. Open yourselves here with me and get ready for the connection. I’m ready. ❤ I LOVE you, friends. 🙂

And Then He Touched Me

…and it was all over. I was mush. I was a puddle on the floor. I was the ocean, the air, the sun, everything and nothing. I was he. He was me.

It never ceases to amaze me how “open” I am and how other people can simply floor me with the simplest of gestures. Sometimes, I’m waylaid by a soft look in one’s eyes, or I’m hypnotized by the barely perceptible smile at the edges of someone’s mouth, the curl of hair across a long neck; other times it’s a well-crafted sentence uttered softly in the room, the timbre in a voice that I love or the brush of one’s skin against my skin; all of these things (so easily and randomly) thrill me out of myself.

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Recently, a friend grabbed my hand and I practically fainted from his touch. It was so amazing. I spent the next several minutes catching my breath and trying really hard to pay attention to what was being said. I know there was talking, but I have no idea what was said. I was GONE!

With that one simple touch, a touch that most would think nothing of, the rock of my heart was blasted open and the shock of sudden, penetrating sunlight illuminated every square inch of me. I was breathless, spinning. That touch radiated through the palm of my hand, a silky electricity, raced up my arm, sped through my chest and gently snapped my heart chakra wide open, where that silk-strand then softly landed and fluttered there, heaving against me with the sweetest, most mesmerizing pulse.

Here’s the crazy thing. I can still feel that energy from him. I can conjure up that moment over and over and still feel it radiating through my body like it just happened. But, it’s deeper than this. It’s both of us together that makes it so intense. It’s the coalescing of energies that builds the monument to the moment. It’s the exchange that I’m after, the heart below the heart, the words below the words, the subatomic particles below the atoms.

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And, I’m so deeply appreciative, so adoring of this open channel, so in awe of him, his energy, his heart, and this connection between us. Because, even if he would not characterize the exchange in quite the same way as me, it did happen; I know that he feels it. I know that it’s happening all of the time. It’s happening to all of us on earth. And, it means something. Something big.

Namaste, my friends. Feel this with your lovely body, with your soul, pull these words into you and hold them against you. Take this in and go forth looking for opportunities to open your channel. There is nothing to fear here, my darlings. There is only love. Use it.