Potential energy

"He had so much potential as a person, and us together, and all that energy was just wasted after 3 years." she said to me on the phone.

"It's just like Kyle and I," I shared. "We had such great potential as an 'us,' and are such great people as individuals, but we just lost our forward motion together and came to a standstill where things coagulated..."

"... and just think of all that time spent trying to direct that energy somewhere, and to end up going nowhere after 6 years..."

"Yeah, I know. We need to find someone who matches our energy and wants to carry it forward with us."

"No more being in love with potential!" she issued.

Happy Anniversary

He sat across from her on the brocade bench by the window on the one-way side street restaurant on the day after their first anniversary, with a full view of the gallery in which they celebrated their marriage.

"I think you probably already know this at this point," he began, " but I decided I want a divorce. I want to be in mediation within the two weeks and put the house up for sale right away..."

In that moment she felt like a newborn giraffe who had just dropped 6 feet to the ground after leaving the cozy safety and comfort of its mother's womb.

She had been waiting for him to make up his mind for himself about what he wanted in the relationship, and only the speed of his delivery came as a surprise. But still, she was speechless considering the juxtaposition of their first anniversary date - not that she had ever been one for such novelties. The only sound that could be heard was the silence of her response and the blink of her eyelids as she stared at him from the other brocade bench across the table. She had a full view of the County Courthouse (across from the gallery), where they would end their legal contract of love. What a triangle. Oh, the irony...

His eyes became a bit watery as he delivered a surrender: "...I tried hard for 3 weeks, thinking of what I could do to save this... I didn't sleep that whole time, and nothing I thought of seemed to work. I really tried, and it makes me mad at myself that I couldn't make it work..."

Blink. Blink.

The space between

It's hard enough to wrap our minds and hearts around our significant others without projections and seeing through our disillusioned visions of them. Talking to him/her still sometimes skirts the subject, or object of our affections, and some things are lost in translation. But what goes on in the space between is the opportunity for a connection that is beyond words, if we give that space the room it needs to flourish.

I read a great article today on the inherent laziness in busy-ness by Dr. Reggie Ray, Buddhist scholar, teacher and practitioner. I most liked his comments in regards to what his wife won't put up with and how she demands his presence:

"My ambition to accomplish things is going to be one of the last things to go. I can’t help it; it’s just the way that I am. I see a pile of leaves that need to be raked up and I start salivating. I love to do things. I love to be active. And you can say, “Well, that’s great.” But there’s neurosis in that. It’s a way of shutting out space. This is another thing my wife has taught me: when there’s no space nothing really happens.

"I had a wonderful quotation by Chögyam Trungpa up on my wall during my [meditation] retreat. It goes something like, “If there isn’t a complete sense of openness and space, then communication between two people can not happen. Period. It’s that simple.” The communication we have with each other is often based on agendas: negotiating with other people to get what we want. That’s not communication.

"My wife taught me that. Insistently. It’s to the point where that busy mind is just not acceptable in our house anymore. It doesn’t matter what’s going on my life. If she comes into my study, I have to be completely there. And that’s fabulous, because I’m never able to get invested in that neurosis. If I do, she’ll let me have it.

"Giving up this state of busy-ness doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to be active, creative people. We’re giving up the mentality where you can’t actually relate to what’s in front of you because you have this mental speed going on. Let it go. I’m saying it to you. This is an issue that we are going to have to address if we want to be any good to anyone."

Read the rest of the article at elephantjournal.com

The saddest part of a broken heart

Let it Die, by Feist

Let it die and get out of my mind
We don't see eye to eye
Or hear ear to ear

Don't you wish that we could forget that kiss
And see this for what it is
That we're not in love

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

It was hard to tell just how I felt
To not recognize myself
I started to fade away

And after all it won't take long to fall in love
Now I know what I don't want
I learned that with you

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
The tragedy starts from the very first spark
Losing your mind for the sake of your heart
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

Contract out

"Do you feel guilt?" the therapist asked from the chair across the room.

"About what?" the client asked for clarity.

"About thinking about someone else, wanting someone else, at this stage of your separation?" the therapist replied.

"Not really." The client continued, "I know I would never act on it until the final line was drawn and the terms between us had changed - I'm not out to hurt anyone in this scenario. That's not fair for any party involved. It should be clear and kind, through and through."

"That's good, as the guilt is unnecessary baggage in the process of letting go," the therapist counseled. "The heart has its own contract. When the heart's not in it anymore, you know that those ties have been cut. The piece of paper is just a piece of paper at that point."

Superfluous, or a necessary flavor?

"when i say you sucked my brain out
the english translation
is i am in love with you"
- Ani Difranco, Dialate

In a most recent discussion re: crushes with a dear pal, the question was posed: So, really, how much of your brain power was spent thinking about this person all day?

The answer was scary.

In a very recent movie I watched but can't remember (Dan in Real Life or Charlie Bartlett, maybe?) one of the lines went something like this: "You know that if you think about someone for a total of 20 minutes a day you have a crush on them?" I was sheepishly self conscious after hearing that line echoed from the silver screen, namely because I've blown that number out of the water a few times on fantastic people who barely knew me.

Besides the fact that it's nice to have lovely distractions about a person that may or may not know that you exist, something so removed from reality that it makes your heart flutter with that sweet nectar that feeds the love centers in your brain, why do some of us feel like we need another to the point that it occupies that much brain power?

"If I had a nickel for every time I thought of you..."

In biology courses in undergrad, we learned that the males are dispensable. It only takes one well equipped dude to do the necessary deed with a handful of females to propagate the species. Of course, that's just purely procreation. So what about the recreation part makes this interplay of desire so fixated and paramount? Are we really nothing more than genetically programmed hormones?

In the beginning (and end) of the movie-musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch (highly recommended), there's a tale of a circle that's cut in two and is constantly searching for it's other half. Hedwig has a musical soliloquy at one point that goes like this:

"It is clear that I must find my other half. But is it a he or a she? What does this person look like? Identical to me? Or somehow complimentary? Does my other half have what I don't? Did he get the looks? The luck? The love? Were we really separated forcibly or did he just run off with the good stuff? Or did I? Will this person embarrass me? What about sex? Is that how we put ourselves back together again? Or can two people actually become one again?"

Getting back to the most recent conversation with the dear pal that brought up this blogoriffic rumble-tumble: the other question posed was "What would it take for us to NOT have a desire to find another, or be preoccupied with another? I mean, we're fine alone, etc., but why - what is this...need? Especially, when (as we are well aware) relationships take work and are not easy and no one's perfect and people change and for some reason even if there is enough to build a relationship on it still doesn't always work out, and some of us can't stop thinking about guys who are assholes and have done us wrong, so wrong... [etc. etc. etc.]."

My mind searched the Sex & the City episode catalog with no recollection of this specific question, which seemed unlikely, and (note to self) required further research. But, on this topic: consider for a moment the Carrie and Big plot. In the meantime, it would be nice to have an 'off' switch for those thoughts that play in loops till it's madness in your head.

Is this life ever without a love story? Is bittersweet always the flavor? Desire - Eros - is a verb. It moves. It never stops, and there we are in it's wake.

Four types of relationships

Back when I began to sense that most partnerships seem to have a lifespan of about 6 years and that two people really weren't meant to spend an entire life together 'till death do they part, I learned that there are 4 types of relationships: reason, season, purpose and divine partnership.

Reason: two people come together for a reason, whether it be for growing each other in certain ways, or to learn a valuable lesson.

Season: perhaps you find each other through a brief spell, that turns and changes as soon as the seasons. This can still hold valuable lessons.

Purpose: when two people come together to serve a joint purpose -- and without that purpose, the relationship fades.

Divine Partnership: This is what you think of when you think of finding that one, you know That One. When two souls shine very brightly together and are connected on a level that (I'd hope) we all aspire to experience.

Tenderfooted & toil in love

Tenderfoot: A newcomer or a beginner at something, one not used to hardships.

This dissolving relationship was my very first one. From the outset, it's been a hell of a learning experience. I went into it knowing what I wanted, but thinking that perhaps I was a bit too idealistic and inexperienced once the reality of a real relationship formalized, so I let some things slide. "Maybe this is normal...?" I kept going with the flow - filled with self doubt, feeling like I was wrong in regards to all those things I thought I wanted, even though I got a gut vibe that this wasn't totally what I wanted. Having never been in a relationship before, how was I to know, right? But on paper, it all seemed so right.

As Jack Johnson sings: "You can't always hold your head higher than your heart."

Self doubt in the face of a strong intuition spells trouble for the luminosity of the soul as it tries to shrink into what it's been given to fit into. It just felt like work to stay there - work in terms of all the relationship issues that would arise that just didn't fit me - yet, it all seemed to be status quo. "I'm supposed to what?" Why was this human love business so hard and not always so fun?

Consider the myth of Psyche and Eros. Psyche, a mere mortal, was alienated because of her intense beauty, loved and impregnated by a god whom she had never seen, but one day did and was subsequently put through the ringer: she did away with her jealous sisters, ended up in a most unhelpful temple, was refused sage advice and assistance by the big goddesses Venus and Juno, was ordered to separate a pile of mixed grains - an impossible task - by nightfall (was helped by an ant and spared), was then ordered to gather wool from vicious sheep and get water from the unattainable river and then - THEN! - demanded to venture into the underworld and get a piece of Persephone's beauty creme for Venus's tired and stressed out mother-self. To make a long story shorter, finally Eros rescued Psyche and they got hitched by decree of Jupiter.

PS. Their daughter was Voluptas (meaning: pleasure, or bliss) -- the goddess of sensual pleasures.

Psyche didn't have it easy either, but at least she got to hook up with the immortal hunk of burning love and give birth to bliss.

Perhaps, beyond and in the midst of the human story, the moral of the stories lie in the journey, the lessons from the toil, and perhaps in both cases, it is the story of the soul searching for something more blissful - the divine partner.

Splitsville

"I've got a lot of love and a lot of nerve /
So watch me while I take this curve..."
- Ani Difranco

I think I'm headed for splitsville - yes, the D-word - and I feel fine. I have no regrets. It's mutual and we owe it to each other to dissolve kindly.

In other news, my happiness is slowly creeping back. I've been shrinking for too long, and my soul can't fit this limited span of love-container any more. I need more depth and richness. I deserve more. I want someone to see my soul, to see the sun shine out my ass. And, it will come in due time -- in universal porportions -- I know this.

Hear me roar

I received Robert Master's September Newsletter - the Crucible of Awakening - in my inbox this morning. The essay this month was on Feminine Anger, so I checked it out for his insights on this very powerful matter.

Clear female anger is fierce heart-compassion beckoning her beau (or whomever the anger is directed to) to wake up. I've felt this. I've voiced this. I've roared to my boy. (And, I'm not sure he really got it even then.)

But, it amazes me that it takes that much of a reaction for the female voice to be heard by her male counterpart / consort at times. I mean, really - this rage takes energy. Sometimes it feels like I need to harness my inner-bitch (who is much closer to the surface at certain times of the month) and risk being called such trite labels as 'overactive', 'nag' and 'fun-ruiner' by an unreceptive audience. The ninja-force of a clear-cutting goddess roar should never be missed or leave you unmoved - unless you wanna get booted to the curb or drop kicked into the next universe.

Robert Masters eloquently writes:

"Anger is culturally held as far less legitimate an expression for women than for men. The result is that for many women anger is unavailable as a resource. And a woman marooned from her own anger is very likely going to have a much harder time maintaining healthy boundaries; she will tend to feel more helpless, more fearful, more prone to despair and depression.

"When her anger cannot be depressed — kept or pressed down — its energies may be routed into resentment or bitterness. And what a pity this is, given that anger can be, whatever its degree of fieriness, a form of caring. In my work I have often seen a woman’s anger — full-out clean rage, free of sarcasm, blaming, and shaming — cut through the cognitive muddling and emotional dissociation of her partner or others, waking them up to what they’re actually doing.

[...]
"Yet a woman expressing non-abusive rage is no murderess, psycho, or Medusa gone into isolation, but rather a potent awakener, the power of which is present to varying degrees in “everyday” women whose anger is significantly infused with caring. Wrathful compassion. Anger and love are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Anger can be full-blooded, fierce,and fiery, and still be rooted in compassion. Heart-anger.

"Just because many men fear openly expressed female anger — retreating like frantic sperm from the suddenly engulfing power of the ovum— is not reason enough to slander or suppress it. A woman who is out of touch with her anger is a woman who cannot stand her ground or give full voice to her needs, a woman who cannot sufficiently protect the little girl in her, a woman whose love lacks the guts needed to manifest real integrity."

One fish: Starfish

When you're gone, I sleep in the middle of the bed and starfish.

There is nothing better and more free and sprawling.

This is why I don't really miss you.

Boy talk?

Whenever I came back from a walk or dinner out with my girls, Kyle would always asked if we talked about our men all night. To which I pretty much said: yes.

"I mean, don't guys talk about their girls and relationship issues when they get together?" I asked him.

"No." he replied with a blank look on his face.

"Well, what do you guys talk about then?" I asked.

"I dunno, but we don't talk about you."

Wow, I thought. I couldn't imagine a conversation with a close friend not covering the current state and status of our relationships. It's how we deal and commiserate and offer advice and wisdom to each other. It's our outlet, release, and way of knowing that we're not alone. In a way, I sometimes feel like we are sharing the story of all women in a fundamentally essential way by sharing our own stories about relational scenes and scenarios.

If men don't seek this outlet with each other, where do they find it?

The guy that cut my hair said to me once: "As a whole, our society doesn't give us or promote the tools to we need to react and grow consciously, in relationships - with lovers and acquaintances."

Another darling male BFF wrote to me on this very issue: "It seems that there's a lot I take for granted about relationships. I wish they were better circumstances that brought about this discussion, but men don't often have this kind of dialog - I mean the kind that goes beyond what's covered in Cosmopolitan. I don't know if women do, but it seems like a lot is lacking the the social knowledge bank."

So, what's lacking in the social knowledge bank? More importantly, WHY?

Ever since Kyle and I started counseling this summer, he's been waking up to a new game plan when it comes to himself and his relationships -- one that squashes the tired, residual fratboy manual of the ol' in and out. The first book that was recommended to him was The Way of the Superior Man, by David Deida. After I read this book, I was doubly impressed and felt it should be required reading in Sex Ed - or future classes I forsee taught in schools of the future on Relationships: the energetic You and the energetic World.

Kyle has bought this book for a handful of his friends, and they now meet to discuss it. Some even bring to the table success stories -- things that worked -- in relating to the essential feminine in their lives. He pitches the book to them as: "If there was one book that would answer all of your questions, would you read it?"

So far, it's been a resounding yes from his circle of friends.

Spanglish

"Even though he's going on the trip, I didn't cancel it because I really want to go to Spain regardless." She admitted, not too bummed about the pending breakup.

"Yes," I said as we walked through the foothills. "And you will find a hot Spaniard named Enrique Alejandro Diaz... he will have dazzling eyes, and a thick head of hair, a warm smile, and a seductive presence... he will teach you to tango and you can make out with him in front of what's-his-name..."

"I can't wait to practice my Spanish..." she gleamed.

What was in that candle's light?

Water from Your Spring

What was in that candle's light
that opened and consumed me so quickly?

Come back my friend! The form of our love
is not a created form.

Nothing can help me but that beauty.
There was a dawn I remember

when my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank water

from your spring and felt
the current take me.

from The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

The passion quotient

Is passion really another unquantifiable vapor that everyone wants? A dear pal emailed me pondering this very question. But he arrived at a stellar conclusion:

"... I think that the "passion" most people are looking for is the interest and desire to commit to a person and a relationship. It's the same continued fascination that keeps people driven in a career or a hobby, but instead of being directed towards a project, we want that drive, fascination, inspiration and commitment to be directed at our person."

I followed his train of thought, and I like the station it landed at. It takes something to keep a spark sparky between two people. I envy those for whom the flame always burns intensely. David Deida would suggest that a polarity of the feminine and masculine essences must always be at play to keep this dynamic fire alive.

Paris & bikinis

She strolled along the neighborhood path under a promising late summer sky, morning coffee in hand, and said, "It really sounds like you don't want to be married."

"Yeah, pretty much." I explained: "I mean, I got a student loan to pay a mortgage, not take 3 trips to Europe, ya know? I'm only 28..."

The early sounds of the day filled a brief pause when she mused, "Yes, I see it. I'm seeing this. You're too young to be married. At your age, you should be wearing bikinis in Mexico and gallivanting around Paris - not married."

Something about hearing that made me feel infinitely grand. I laughed and thought about what might lie ahead. "Paris and Bikinis it is..."

My apologies, and that smug look on my face

Ogden Nash wrote:

To keep your marriage brimming,
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you're wrong, admit it;
Whenever you're right, shut up.

Another day at the office

Written by Nicole Musmanno

“Marriage is hard. Seriously.” This is what people say.

Seriously.

I missed that part between the Disney movies and the English gardens. Know it now. Missed it then.

My father actually once sat across from then boyfriend, now husband, not even engaged at time, and over breakfast informed us that, “The hardest job I have is not the one I go to every day, but the one I come home to every night.”

What is less mentioned is that marriage becomes comfortable. One or both becomes comfortable and if not comfortable then one or both becomes aloof. There is schedule to marriage. And if that schedule is followed then marriage is not really that hard. It is a routine.

The trouble only occurs when someone in the marriage suddenly decides they do not like the schedule anymore. They want to eat dinner 6 instead of 5. They want to have sex in the living room not the master bedroom. They want to be naked outside of the shower. All this bucks the schedule.

Then what?

Marriage becomes hard. Marriage becomes work because someone decides that the schedule no longer works for them. Then the question arises, do you still want the job? Once you see the job description has changed, do you want the job? Do you want to work with the same person, the same pay with no certainty of bonuses? Is the work load worth it?

The best part is it could have all been avoided if both involved had listened in advance and realized that marriage is a hard job. A job that left unattended, with paper piling up on the desk, might one day need two people to take on the back flow. Or, left unattended or only partially cared for, the lights will go out in the office and the job terminated. Done.

No wonder English gardens and Disney exist: for those of us who cannot face the work load and need to escape even if just for the fantasy of a different job.

What I've learned

Written by Nicole Musmanno

What I have learned: I have learned that I need passion in my life. I have learned that my parents have affected my choice on marriage. I have learned they might have been wrong.

Just like they were wrong about college out of high school, that I gave up on a horse too quickly that soon after broke my mother’s neck, and that I would regret my dog. My dog is the least of my regrets as it turns out.

What I regret is that I married a perfectly wonderful man who looks perfect on paper. He is responsible. He has an excellent work ethic. He has a great job and a promising future. He is kind. He loves dogs. He loves me.

I needed passion. I told my brain while it screamed, “no” when he proposed, that I would be fine. That I could not hurt him and actually (verbally) say “no”. That this was what I had been pushing for only to learn that indeed I should be careful what I wish for, that five years of dating does not a reason to marry make. I think maybe I gave up or just gave in.

I wanted to be married. To be someone’s forever. I had that romantic view since I read my first Jane Austin or probably earlier, maybe it was Disney’s fault or musical theatre. Point is: somewhere along the line I created an image of love eternal. Though I know marriage is work. I watched and still watch my parents work at marriage. Maybe I am a product of my generation, but I work at everything else, I am not certain I have the energy or time to work at love and marriage. But would I have the energy if I felt it were worth it?

The horse gets his supplements, the dog gets her run, my client’s get their contracts filled, and my deadlines are met. So it goes without saying that I would work at the marriage if I had to, if I saw an ends to a means. But isn’t that the end, love eternal? Or is that a fairytale? And the truth is people do live together forever, love each other forever, grow comfortable forever. They never ask what if and find the answer.

What if I want to learn the answer? Does that warrant the hurt of another? I don’t know. I have not learned that yet. I fear I might be too afraid to gain an education. So have I learned what matters?

Effulgence, or where the sun does shine

From JUNO:

Juno MacGuff: I'm losing my faith in humanity.

Mac MacGuff: Think you can narrow it down for me?

Juno MacGuff: I guess I wonder sometimes if people ever stay together for good.

Mac MacGuff: You mean like couples?

Juno MacGuff: Yeah, like people in love. [...] I just need to know if it's possible for two people to stay happy together forever, or at least for a few years.

Mac MacGuff: It's not easy, that's for sure. Now, I may not have the best track record in the world, but I have been with your stepmother for 10 years now and I'm proud to say that we're very happy.

[Juno nods]

Mac MacGuff: In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.

On the Richter scale of love

If you were to rate your current relationship on a scale of one to 10, where would you find your self? Where would your partner be?

Consider it your love number: At the low end, one means looking forward to divorce. 10 likens itself to the strong, affirmative desire and intention and excitement (think of the line Mr. Darcy echoed in the best love quote ever: "...I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.").

It it difficult to sustain a relationship if there is greater than 2 points difference between each partner's perceived love ranking.

Likewise, if both constituents are sitting mid-range (4-5-6) in mediocrity and ho-hum-ness, they can settle in that rut until the gaps between love numbers increases unsettling, thus tipping the scales to something either more fulfilling and alive or resulting in a breaking free or dissolving of whatever weak bonding mechanism keep things together.

Perhaps we've seen the mediocrity more than the matching high numerical digits from lovers. I think of my parents and grandparents (and other couples from that generation) who stuck it out for the sake of sticking it out, because that's what you did even when your spirit was writhing and withering.

I don't think it's unreal to expect a correlating elevated degree of desire, aliveness and intent (and thusly, passion) between lovers in a committed partnership. If that's not there, what keeps a relationship together in low-gear? If you're not firing on all cylinders, are you doing anyone (self included) any favors?

Snow kissed

He had just dropped me back off at my parent's house. And we were standing outside in the chill of the late night air continuing our conversation from the car which had flowed just as easily and comfortably as the rest of the evening's dialogue of many topics.

We were both home from our respective universities for the holiday break and came into contact pre-Christmas when we both hijacked our respective sister's instant messenger chat. We all went to the same high school. He graduated a year after me. Our younger siblings had been best friends since second grade.

He had always been fabulous in a super cool way -- friendly, approachable, kind -- and we always had much to talk about, not that we had really talked much over the years. So, over IM we decided to go out for late evening chai, board games and people watching at the notorious local coffee house by campus. We closed the place down.

The winter air was nippy, and the fresh loose snow flakes sparkled in the light of the porch lamp. As the talk wound down as if to call it a night and bid adieu, his hands played in his pockets as he looked down at the patterns his shoes were making in the snow. "It was lovely spending time with you," he said.

"I had fun too! Let's do it again before vaca ends." I replied, looking forward to it already.

"Come here and give me a hug."

I stepped towards him and embraced the wool peacoat that covered his tall thin frame.

"Good night, Patrick." I smiled as I turned towards the house.

"Good night, Miss Ali." he lingered briefly. "Wait..., one more thing..." he said as he turned me around and pulled me close.

"Wha..." I uttered, bemused by the moment's flurry.

"I want to kiss you."

I had no time to worry about the syntax of things before his sure hand lifted my chin to his (mighty fine) warm lips. The perfect blend of suave and desire set an electrical storm through my core for days. I could not have imagined a better first kiss.

Nothing has topped it since.

feeling is first

since feeling is first
by e.e. cummings

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a far better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for eachother: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis

Leave me breathless

Nothing wells me up and takes my breath away more than this quintessential line echoed best by Mr. Darcy in the cinematic depiction of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice:

"...I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on."

In each other all along

'The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.
They're in each other all along.

- Rumi

the deepest secret nobody knows

i carry your heart with me
by e. e. cummings

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Osculations

os·cu·late –verb (used without object)
1. to come into close contact or union.
2. Geometry. (of a curve) to touch another curve or another part of the same curve so as to have the same tangent and curvature at the point of contact.
–verb (used with object)
3. to bring into close contact or union.
4. Geometry. (of a curve) to touch (another curve or another part of the same curve) in osculation.
5. to kiss.

Mmwa.

What I thought you said

A fan of the hilarity of mis-heard lyricism, in which the meaning of songs goes awry, I often find myself mis-hearing comments, especially on road trips. On the wide open spaces of the open road "Did you see this lane is closed?" sounds like "Did you see that lady's clothes?" Where a comment about "getting enough air" morphs into "get an end of the affair." Where something entirely unrelated to food is received as "Did you say you had pumpkin bread?!"

Due to crappy reception, this also happens in dialogue on my cell phone. Case in point: a conversation with a my incredibly loving and fearlessly interrogative friend, Bethy, with whom hard questions are thrown out like cliches and no questions are taboo. I tell her everything.

She called to segue into the current state of my union via a question about basil.

"He left yesterday morning. and I'm kind of in this limbo space. We're still monogamous, but I feel like I'm just waiting... Obviously my homework is on hold..." I said.

"Did you have good-bye sex?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. You cut out. Say it again?" I asked for a repeat.

"Did you have good-bye sex?"

"What?! Could I have good bi sex? In the meantime you mean? Oh, well... I'm not sure that was in the contract or that I'd even be interested..." (Oh my terror. Did she really say that. That was so left-field. I was so confused. Wtf.)

"No no no! [laughs] good-bye sex -- you know, like hello, good-bye, I'm leaving. Sometimes it can be good because you're both so vulnerable..." she clarified.

"[Copious amounts of laughter and audible relief] Oh, god no. None of that. And none of what I thought you said, either."

Fight & flight

"Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight," said Phyllis Diller.

In the one real intimate relationship I've had thus far, we've never really been the fighting type. We've been calm and cool and level-headed towards each discussion of difference when it would arise. It's my method of choice. The first time we did have a all-out fight, it was instigated by underlying pre-marital stress and someone's desire for me to change my name. It was almost a one-sided fight, as I found myself confronted with a very upset person fighting on what seemed to be the foothold of principle only.

Besides being hurt, alienated and almost dumbfounded that we were actually having an explosive blow up about what I have dubbed "the name change debacle," I found myself at a loss for feeling towards his loss for words as to why this really meant so much to him that he had to pursue it in such a nasty way. To me, his arguments and reasons didn't hold up to why this was suddenly such a make it or break it matter. I found it terribly insensitive and just wanted to leave. I wanted a divorce before we were even married.

Later, I mentioned this first fight scenario to my therapist, as well as my lack of trust for the statements that had then been issued before me. "Feelings don't come from the intellect," he replied. "Feelings can't be rationalized. But it is strange that it meant so much to him then."

I mentioned then that just recently the he that had unleashed the intensity of fight admitted to me that he did it to see what would happen if we actually had a fight.

WTF? Is fighting really necessary in any relationship? Why would anyone want to be in such a volatile space?

When I think of the times when my friends report that "they had another big fight" with their significant other, that never feels right to me. I again asked my therapist for his thoughts on the necessity of fighting, and he agreed that it is superfluous. "Fighting only creates hurt," he said.

Indeed it does. And it sure as hell didn't make me want to change my name, either.

Arguments are won intellectually, not love.
Tallyho,
The Universe
PS. Love is won, with a dash of trust, a smidge of fear, and a pinch of letting go.

Tickle

"Erotica is using a feather, pornography is using the whole chicken." - Isabel Allende