SEA CHANGE

(The wave, the wave, the second wave is coming.) This may be a pointy thing to take in, but I’ve had eleventy-seven sea changes & headed well over too many waves to number. Occasionally I dove through; at times I dog-paddled up & over; sometimes I jumped straight up & held my nose in case I came down in the crest.

On my walk today, I perused thoughts of where I want to be for the next decade. Answers seemed more available than they were before. Either or both: the veils thin this much or I learned from my “befores” how to choose. A future is an after-burner on the present. When I hit the ignition switch, I’ve always before preferred to know where I will land. It seems less specific in geo-location & only specific in a dream location. My dreams push gently on the bubble I live in.

“Hey kiddo, time to get started to go.” A little tapping on dream doors can haunt the day.

Always I have given my dreams away. Some accepted them. Some found true love instead.

All the Oriental wisdoms say, your thoughts are your future.” As I walked, I outpictured “future.” I momentarily missed again the wishes that got away, the capes I’ve left on the road in defeat while walking towards the next superpower. None of them have anything on that which is coming.

I fill in the vacuums I create with my personal helpers. I read an angel book once where the advice was to form  Angel Committees to help you get tasks done. It’s time to hearken to Chairwoman of the Board stuff… Even as I write this, I can hear them laughing in the occiput of my head. “There she goes again, making plans! Wait’ll she figures out it’s unfolding in divine order (yet again). But hey, you have to admire her ‘take-charge’ attitude. If you can.”

I think the water is the closest I can get to the visible Air element of my sign.

Excuse me, time to plunge in.

Ta!

 

A Hall of Mirrors

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Recently, I compared my life to having lived in a hall of mirrors. There were mirrors that reflected me in beauty, shining. There were mirrors that reflected me as shriveled, dulled. Then it occurred to me they were the same mirrors.

I meanwhile found a greeting card of a woman looking like an “air corpsman’ with a dragon on a hoop on her shoulder. I immediately thought of three women or more I could send this to as statements of our lives. Nurturing dragons is not easy. It is a task brought to the wiser among the women. Dragons ever call for quick thinking.

By these & other omens do I determine my days. I have taken steps to change my home & my energetic signature within it. First the rearrangements to create space. The space becomes organic & begins to grow. The next step in growing is invited in & the energy changes: boom!

So is it not with my life? Refilled over until one day, only new will serve. I am approaching this “new.” As the timelines around me collapse, my life flashes in front of me – a Tarot deck of my own dealing. I spoke elsewhere of seeing my past leap by on its own two legs as I stayed in place in the present. I spoke of doing massage in every room I’ve done massage in – most notably New Mexico & most recently, Delaware. I feel momentarily in that space as I see the room through these eyes.

What’s it gonna be, girl, dragons or mirrors? With what keen beasts will you keep company now that company is shaved away to the barest of minimums as we are trained to keep distances?

Finding the within is worthwhile. My activities of late are what once was called ‘contemplating the navel.’ It is finding the middle lands in me. I have lived from bottom & top chakras so busily. Now comes the time to go back & revisit the middles: relationships, creativity, my re-greening, all flourishing. How long ago did I abandon these to leap with my past over my present into the ever-emergent now?

I might have seen myself go past in one of those other rooms & only now be remembering it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Company’s Not Coming

As usual, writing is my lone companion, the golf towel to absorb my tears, the faraway smile fading into Cheshire darkness.

I hate to admit weakness. I am emotionally stronger than the average, so it is a distant place to find where I can let myself be this weak.

I seldom ask, mostly as I don’t want to be refused & a bother or be considered a pest. And mostly, asking does no good since people do not understand that an offer can be a cry for a visit or a time not alone. They figure it’s an offer & they all have lives so it’s easier to just say “No” rather than, “Oh, hey, come over. Let’s sit on the porch & talk.”

I keep setting my walls higher. I’ll die alone & be relieved to do so. It’ll be the fallout of a life unexpected.

I used to think I’d be married & otherwise in a beloved state, a member of a pod. I make myself a desirable friend; but that’s just being loved at a distance.

Maybe I’ll – but I don’t even think I can do this – maybe I’ll just withdraw entirely to myself. No more dinners with others, no more asking for conversation or laughter, no more sharing.

I feel like this unwanted, underfoot, misshaped person. I feel like I’m a burden & a PITA. The way out of this feeling is to keep moving along in relationships, ideas & in writing.

So I sit with my real BFFs: a steno pad, a pen with a new refill & lovely writing point. And hey, fueled by tears.

Sad, isn’t it? Or? Maybe not. Could just be Fate it would have been so different & maybe could have been so except it’s where I’m at. Me & my words, closer than my shadow.

And I wish there were some other way to live my life. And it may change still. I sure do believe in miracles, so standing by for one isn’t a bad way to go, I guess.

If not for me, the life lived here would be enough

If not for silence I would have even less to say.

I might have been a wife, a mother, a lover, a friend.

Instead of this-that-is, a might-have-been of any other one of these.

Dear World of Carol Borsello

Thank you for being here, for continuing to turn in your inimitable & loving way,

The stars shine, imperious & grand. No dogs bark tonight, the breeze is still. Turtleback waits on the moon to reappear so impossibly high above him. All is mysterious night after the unbelievably energetic day.

The plants are happy to be out of Kitty Quarantine. They add to the peace & quiet depth of joy that I feel.

I am a judgmental human, I know. But I am self-contained & of small note in the schema of a world swollen with emotional life.

I feel “zenned” – uncontained. I am important in my little way: people express gratitude that I exist in many ways.

I do not feel sad about letting Fitz go, tho he brought love into the house. Have I once more traded love for convenience to self? It is easy to say life is full of strange disappointments, that it’s hard & lonesome, that our own selves are what we ultimately rely upon. What is lost in that admission is that life also is composed of ineffable joy in the moment surrounded with beauty & knowledge. I am grateful for all it brings me & more so to be able to return that joy in blessing, presence & sharing myself.

Peace is often hard-won at a steep emotional cost. But peace is what I strive for now. My heart is right tho adamantine in expression of what it feels to be “right.” But peace is my striving right now. I’ve never really been an easy person to live with – for myself or others. Yet these others accept me as I am; as I do them.

Thank you, Life, for lessons in love & life in health. My body moves more slowly but feelings overflow boundaries. I find I mourn less…”can’t lose what you never had” is how the cliche goes. Sometimes I do feel I’ve missed so much, yet I live so abundantly in comparison.

Change is always possible…certainly necessary…usually hard-won.

Others express a belief in me & I am happy to be both in community & isolated. Coexistence pays well!

What else, tho, is a human? All imperfect, mercurial, powerful & at times, godlike.

I hope to live to my own measure & to support & allow, to bring forward light from shadow. May my light ever express in divinity of intent.

Amen.

Sick

I’m coming to the end of so many things: activities, ideas, belongings…One by one these fall away; relationships, favorite sweatshirts subjected to too many adventures with dryers, foods that once hit the spot.

So much has already ended: there is so much more to go. Relationships fall away; others come forward to fit into place. Clothes just wear out or my body assumes a shape where they cannot be worn anymore. Shoes I wore on sidewalks in Delaware don’t work on the gravel out here. Ya know? Just when I thought I had it all set to smooth, it turns out to be set to stun. I appreciate all the change as growth. Often it’s in response to a vague prayer made more powerful far in background of origin.

Last Friday I had pork. Now I have enjoyed the occasional porkchop. I’ve read over & over pork is not the healthiest meat but hey, I’m not sure any meat is healthy today what with hormones & additives & all that jazz. (Sadly, I can’t even be sure of my vegetables anymore. T or C is at the last stop of the food trucks, whatever color things are when they get here, they remain until consumed.)

This single chop followed a week of lazing out on processed food – a Salisbury steak, frozen pizza, finishing a bag of pepperoni I’d bought for Christmas fare…& the excellent, transcendent bacon Mario serves at the Grapevine twice in this same week. My body called a complete, total, utter halt to all of it. My body complained vigorously & copiously to the upstairs john about tolerance levels, helpings, preservatives & much more than I thought I had in me,  which is always the way when one begins the process of reverse peristalsis. I cannot remember the last time I was sick, let alone so enthusiastically. Was it time for a purge? I couldn’t just get a regular cold & go through a couple Kleenex boxes?

I was knocked out the next day, I laid on the couch & snoozed. I held the cat & napped. I went to bed in my sweats since I was too chilled to change to pj’s. I remained semi-conscious & other than feeding Fitz, did not go into the kitchen except for water. Oh, and sugary juice that claimed to be natural. But a little sugar in these circumstances is not forbidden & the pretend-tartness provided flavor to my thirsty palate.

Very unusually, I had an event that Friday night. The only drink available was coffee & I had a cup of “Black Knight.” Shoulda known better, as they say. Something named for a dark star & my thunderous stomach made no good mix together.

After a bout like this, such physical upheaval (excuse the term), I know to watch for Change – capital letter “C”. Yes. I am “off” coffee. Made a cup this morning, had a sip, poured it out for lemon ginger tea. (I can hear my non-java friends cheering.) At another time in my life, my mind would’ve convinced body that I need coffee. Would have pushed me into the kitchen to make another cup. Where will I be without coffee? Don’t we need at least one addiction to function happily in this life? And last night, I went to bed hungry after a half-bowl of my own chili eaten in good company with a friend. As first meal was a scrambled egg Sunday morning, it went down easily. I don’t favor going to bed hungry. There were too many lifetimes when I starved to death. I wear extra pounds to accommodate any ideas of starvation. The first thing that happens when you’re sick is you lose weight, so I keep a bit extra on the skinsuit.

I think that’s over with now.

If I can tolerate hunger, it is time to be hungry.

I wonder if all of this is connected somehow to my running for office here in T or C as City Commissioner.  I have declared & the comments are coming my way: “Hey, saw your name in the paper; Hey, did I see your name on the list? Hey, Carol, good for you!”

Is this all indication of letting go of one way of thinking for another? I say I live to serve, but of course I am more accustomed to serving myself. I volunteer, but I think everyone should stand in where they can help move things along. I have a great service ethic, like a great work ethic. Once I start with a project, I don’t let go – I may delay – but I don’t let it go. Except recently for a cause I deemed hopelessly entrenched in its own process of Ourobouros. Where will this take me? It is a completely new idea. In fact, I almost swore I’d never…

Ah! “never say never” echoes in the back of my brainpan.

Wish me well on this new idea to pursue. Wish me to be the best service person you ever knew. Wish me strength to represent those who are so locked down with work & responsibility they have no time to help in any other areas of activity. My friend tells me be prepared for slings & arrows & mud & all sorts of stuff to be dug up & tossed at me. I don’t know how deep they intend to go, but there isn’t much I’ve done that’s out of line. I didn’t come into this life to be Butch Cassidy OR the Sundance Kid. It’s a snore if they start investigating me.

I pulled a credit report yesterday – $16 & less than a minute of computer time. I needed it to find out where I’ve lived recently – because I’ve lived so many places just seeing the addresses is a surprise of memory. Anyone who has my name in their address book has learned not to write it in ink. My daughter asks my address whenever a card-sending time comes up. But I don’t see myself going anywhere anytime soon.

Ah life. Ah death. Ah taxes. And then there comes one more way to serve in a way that makes me forget all three others. I have the health, the intelligence, the ethic & the time – most of all, the time – to help care for others. I have a tendency to stick through to the end unless I perceive real cupidity doing so.

It still hurts to cough. I have no idea what I’ll eat except I took something out of the freezer which will be identifiable in about an hour or so. Maybe I’ll go for a salad today. I’ve lost a day & am out of time with usual rhythms.

I put my desk calendar outside to dry after spilling a glass of water on it. I think it blew away. What’s that say?

Time Capsules

I want to start off 2020 with a challenge. Well, I can choose one from any number: my most long-running one would be weight loss – but that’s a ho-hum these days. I’m not my Aunt Vi (whom we described as 5×5) but I’ll no longer strive to shine in hip huggers with a croptop either. I need something more real & perhaps more achievable. My body likes the weight…it’s my brain that scrabbles to a halt mumbling “Wait! Do I really look like that?” But I’m healthy. I walk comfortably. I can bend & move & lift & carry. So if it’s only for the image, perhaps it’s time to just let weight loss go so it really can. Because when I focus on it too much, it overtakes me.

I had a thought this morning of asking what would I place in a time capsule? But will this exercise be a time capsule I’d want to reopen later? Maybe it’s not a time capsule but a time dump of that which no longer serves. What is it about this year I would want to re-address? Friendships, funny events, successes like starting Open Mic & doing stand-up comedy; walking almost every day for seven months; catching moonrise over the notch in the mountains outside; helping host Black Cat Poets on second Sundays… I’d love re-addressing being able to earn my way well, to help others in little/big ways, to find what I need exactly when I need it.

It’s easier to list – and a longer list as well – what I am letting go of. Former friendships which soured for their own unreasons; unsustainable relationships; most of the stupid things I didn’t think were such at the moment. I want to release any feelings of being “picked on” or targeted. I wish I could release judgments about my behaviors when I was wrong which I still find myself twisting crazily to be right about.

If I found a Time Capsule from my future self, what would it contain? Success after success, understanding, more knowledge, less judgment, tones of love & affection, a powerfully grounded belief in my own lovableness, many fewer second thoughts or doubts. Strength of mind, heart, body to continue in a world where there’s so much to disagree upon. (Every generation wants the world to move more slowly & resume some quality it had before. I don’t wish Hershey Bars were still a nickel, but I wish the upcoming generations were not so estranged from what I perceive to be basic & essential points of reality.) But then, I was brought up in the paradigm that “boys will be boys,” etc.

But I also grew up in a time when there were fewer rules, much less assumption of guilt before innocence can be proven, simplicity over that which seems complex but still can be dismantled into essential parts. Since I didn’t have many relatives in the viewfinder, I didn’t hear “when I grew up we…” stories. I kept inside the boundaries set for me just because it didn’t really occur to me that I could escape them with any success. I grew up with a single parent possessing “eyes in the back of her head,” I breathed carefully in the Surveillance State Of Mom before this existed politically out loud. I didn’t worry about Big Brother, but I sure did about what Mom might catch on her radar.

I will think on what is worth saving/continuing. I want to help more, understand my life better, re-establish & deepen my relationship to God, my Hero. I want to love what I write & continue touching others with words. I want to rethink how I live & make a smaller, more loving place in which to dwell in my mind & heart. From that concentration I can once more grow up in the discovery of that which is of true importance: establishing ideals to achieve, deepening my prayer practice, renewing relationships while developing more. I will enjoy filtering out what is not needed, keep from acquiring excess baggage, moving forward in light, tracking time better & believing in & understanding myself more. I like to think I can stand up in “do no harm” in my life & bring about nurturing change.

There is always more room for less fear.

2020: clear vision to us all!

Love,

Carol

Blinded by Power & Force

There’s a Ren & Stimpy birthday card where they harmonize about having so many candles on the cake, keep the firemen standing by. If I had a cake for my birthday today, it would be a sheet cake & I’d need an actuary to place the bets on getting all the candles lit … or blown out. Happy birthday, me!

Indeed, happy birthday from my island, this timespace bubble wherein live my cells & thoughts – my Be Here Now.

I was recently told I’m “blinded by power & force.” Funny, this is a fresh, recognizable insight which drew an initial shocked breath & then an appreciative smile. Yup, I do think I’m ready to have the world turn My Way! I’ve described myself as “imperious” many times. My own mother called me Queenie as a toddler. Yet, I’m far removed from the notion of nobility. I am an American woman of Italian descent: I love laughter, being held, good conversation, an unexpected joke…I love spiraling pasta from the sauce & delicious travel.

I’ve arrived at 71 with limbs intact, a cheerful demeanor & a plethora of skin tags. If anyone were to connect the dots on my body, either I would ascend or they’d have the secrets of the universe. As if!

I know the P&F thing to be true. My best friend calls me “Zinger” for a no-holds-barred manner of speaking. In this town of complaint & repetition, I am indeed the Last Brain Standing. I am forever the cuckoo in a nest of robins, my big fat egg sucking up all the energy in the room. I am the most bristly child of Fortune!

My “accuser” stands to one side, in his own bubble of understanding. Do his words sum up all assessment on my 71 years on-planet? And tho accurate, he does himself disservice in his projection of this opinion. I’ve declared him too strange for me to take in & after three attempts to reconcile a bare knuckle friendship, I no longer do so. I have found myself in a fishwife stew, screaming aloud at a man who is not even my husband! No mas!

So, what’s the problem with Power & Force?

Shall I give in to the black pearl of life alone & despairing? (There are times when this is terribly attractive.) Shall I stop offering to help or sharing the graces I also possess? Nope. Not happening.

And if my lifestyle of personal success, blessing & laughter doesn’t bear your stamp of approval, so be it. I’ve gained two comfortable descriptors that fit like softened hand-me-downs. It’s good to be in my own cult. It’s good to have a brand name. I’ve dared the fields where angels feared to tread to choose my path. I am appreciated by students & clients, beloved by [some] friends. I don’t have time for the rest right now.

Last night I met a Siamese named Percy who carefully arranged himself across my lap & nipped me when I stroked him. I hesitated & reached again. He projected, “If you wish to touch my silken grandeur, I will tolerate it.”

I nip at times, too. I push people around. The days of “sweet, silly me” are well & long gone.

I do Tinkerbell as a nuke.

I’m a Real Woman, imperfect in sight & bearing. I accomplish what I perceive as mine to do. I didn’t get here by rolling off the surfboard when the tsunami appeared. I’ll stuff these two words in my Super Powers Backpack from Dollar General.

So, wish me a Happy Birthday, a level stretch in the road, some cash for the sock. Laugh at my chutzpah, mock my Jersey accent. I have New Mexico as my sky… And what I have, I share. In the time when a heart might be heartily scored, I can slam a shield of words in place. One day I may lay them down…or explode behind them. I take my chances.

I am both happier & sadder than anyone else I know. But mostly, I am grateful that I do not succumb to robin-hood, & if it took power & force to get me here, I also have more love in the abstract than most I know.

Come, my kingdom, my mismatched blessings; come my liars & Lovers, settle here with me. I don’t mind being nipped. Should it be required, I will put myself between you & an oncoming train. I will heal you from the heart out.

I will rock your world.

you are here

The forgiveness of morning is a cloak I wear every day. Indeed, I live on a prairie where night holds invisibility so I am always relieved with another morning in which to find a day to fill with loving acts, the blessing of words, the entirety of existence stretching out in front of me today.

The lists are prepared already (all ready), I do exist in a dance of preparedness & accomplishment. I feel the beam of Sourcelight fingering my crown. In this will I live & move & indulge my being this day.

The world is changing rapidly now. Even as the birds awaken Nature, I stretch into the potential of accomplishing all the worldly tasks to which I conspicuously bring my energetic potential. My friends are out there somewhere: some traveling or readying to travel; some laboring with the monotony of dull routine; some flipping anxiously through the Tarot deck of possibility. Me? I’m getting two new tires this morning, helping a good-hearted man organize his new phone system, recycling another’s cast-off computer, buying groceries in anticipation of a visitor returning to her home state. The list would be dull for you to read, but for me it is the tithe I pay in this 24-hour cycle allotted to the limit of its hours.

In background to my little life is a panoply of desire, hunger, satisfaction, blessing, growing…

I have been a traveler. I have reorganized my life to face each direction on the compass. I have tarried in sunlight, searched for meanings, permitted myself pleasures & I laughed with glee at the chance to stir the pots once again, picking & choosing the tenderest bits to enjoy.

The morning is chilly; a countering point to the summer of approaching days of which more than a few will reach triple digit temps. I am happy to be once more in woolly pajamas before clothing becomes a choice of the lightest fabrics & the least covering available. I am happy I left a couple of items out of the winter-put-away to see me through a New Mexico Spring which liberally mixes cool & hot – a sundae of many colors & flavors…strawberries & salad, stew & bread…a diet of days which leave me replete within these few hours as I adjust to all incoming stimulation.

Does this sound a bit patronizing? Impossible? Routine? It does not to me, but I claim this day for the impossibility of being my best self in it & the inevitability of tomorrow’s lists already looming on a clear white page.

Bring me into the mix of life with fervor & forgiveness, with practicality & purpose, with benefit & blessing. I live in a net of many strands. Some are ones I use to climb into completion while others I weave into the needs of others to alleviate & remedy.

I am already choosing the flowers which will provide the bouquet of experiences. I feel ready for challenges & chuckles at the acceleration of light bringing me forward. How lucky can I be to live the life I desire & had no idea how to accomplish – except it’s here, now.

Lords of light & air, friends of home & heart, benefits of health & realization surround me. Ladies of fulfillment, fruition, friendship to offer & enjoy put hands into mine & this May day becomes a pearl I nourish deeply inside.

There is nothing left but to love the each & every: music, food, breath, color, flavor, exchange. I’m diving into it whole-heartedly, lists in hand. It doesn’t get better than this. Good fortune is all ’round me & I intend to appropriate it with accomplishment, endeavor, search & reward.

How about you?

That’s a Plan, Yeh?

It’s ok to be just little me with a big dream, isn’t it? Okay to find my way one footstep at a time across a dark room where light shines from my heart & my eyes to bring along anyone who wants to accompany me to my “here,” right? I hope so, cuz that’s how I’m handling it now.

The palette of emotions drips from the wood; even Michelangelo would be hard-put to create from these colors. The beauty of what is out there is contrasted by the harshness of what is in there – from the macrocosm to the microcosm. And yet only by revealing the ugly can we persevere through the creation of a new world a-borning, bearing us along with it into a dimension where sound is color & senses reel at the promise being created before our very eyes.

I take in one world through all my outer senses while my inner senses vibrate to another. My reality is not real estate, but an imaginary realm of the real that forms up around me like an invisible filter through which I perceive.

Friends fall away if their motives do not bear scrutiny. I wave them off & turn to continue my way. Sometimes I will wonder what happened to them, where they went & why. Sometimes it will seem I did not have to give them up, but somehow, they gave themselves away. Sometimes my heart will open to a glimpse of them “through a glass darkly” … will they miss me?

I am finding out who & what truth is, what it means to me, how to perceive it from best presentation. I discover what I can afford in terms of being a friend. Being in service brings the most return…friendship assumes, with concomitant outcome. Friendship impinges, at times, costs me phone minutes, hours on the clock better used for self-development, little stings to my heart of which I once took no notice. Now, not only aware but sensitized, I understand the difference between the ley lines & the lay of the land. What do bells & whistles serve but to make noise? What do I crave but the silence of my own thoughts happening inside my own head?

I do crave the thoughts you think about me – but only if they’re good ones. Bullshit on constructive criticism: take me as I am or take yourself away. I have grown from a cuddly kitten (tho there are at least two husbands out there to argue that point, the third being dead.) Anyway, from a cuddly kitten to a scaly armadillo, a spiky porcupine, a blowfish thrilled to puff into a terrifying sight, but still vulnerable to protective custody.

Does that mean more than it says? Why do you think I’d know? I am doing a consciousness stream here, a flow of brainwaves washed up on your beach…a glisten of bubbles soon popped by sandpiper feet.  And as some drop away, others rise up cuz that vacuum thing just can’t happen here. Even when I’m sitting still there is something happening inside. My heart beats, my liver thinks, my kidneys filter … all in what I might perceive as silence, but which is actually a storm of perfect precision & hum.

In the mineral water hotbaths, I like putting my ears underwater where I can hear the swish-lub-dub of my heart. In this one organ, clamoring over all the others, I find an existence, a proof of life unavailable in the quiet buzz of adrenal gland, the static revisioning of the colon, the lost movement of muscles in stillness.

An ambiance of spacetime surrounds me. I am spackled with creative clay, which is fun to play with, but which, in my hands, shapes no masterpieces.  I am both starred & tarred with the brush of God’s love – pushing me into sure adventure in His name & tickling the belly of exactly where I am this moment.

Ok. I confess, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I live day to day & work it out as I go. I’ll never lead a country to a promised land, unless others want to follow me around on the off chance I’ll discover one. I intend to live it my way, try hard not to be a target, continue to improve my verbal & written skills, wind my way into your psyche & love all I can.

That’s a plan, yeh?

Letter to a Lover

Feeling more coherent this morning, after sorting through all my thoughts & writing Gina our daily email exchange. I remember significant dreams, tho the details are sifted thru the dreamcatcher & gone. I feel like the untethered astronaut sailing thru space, limited on oxygen, but involved in the grandest experiment & rendition of All Time, my observations birthing stars of only nascent power, tentative glow. “Even a star doesn’t shine on its first day.”

I feel like a poem, short on words, long on powerful yet truncated description & all the more intense for this, fingers dextrous, pen tapping the paper…restless yet settled with the warm, charging computer on my lap.

There are so many things I wonder & will to happen. Yet I must needs stand in the hallways of love, never settling into the pink room, the green room, the red room, the beige room. I am ready to settle somewhere. Part-time love is not what I’m about right now in my life. I need & want to give myself fully into a relationship – Bring It On, Damnit! Yet this is not available. Future is nebulous on this. I am unsettled about the need to settle for what is.

Barking Mary next door is trying to clear her throat. I am trying to clear my heart. Noise & silence, the story-facts of living life.

I appreciate well that you tell me loving things; I am hard-put to respond since I cannot grasp the air they ride on into my lungs, nor take solid nourishment from them. I am ineligible to ask for anything more, only able to settle for less. And I am not a lesser woman withal. My conundrum, yeh?

So, I’ll say it for now: I love you. I’ve no idea where that beach ball will blow to. I do not go gently into any lightening morning. I track bees who are about being furry, winged, hungry for sweetness. Bees who want me to accompany them into dark hives where the honey is hard, compartmentalized, both execresence & food – the gold of life made palpable. Bees who ride stingers & who can tag the unattentive most severely – sometimes even with death.

For want of an epi pen…

I do not know where anything is going anymore. I think I know what I want but the paths I take keep shifting with my dreams, kalaidescopic & tantalizingly incomplete. I dwell in the present of you & hold that at arm’s length since I don’t even quite know what to do with it: put it down? put it away? set it on the bureau to glow under a lamp?

Physical need in the space of psychic want is unbalanced & I am a Libra.

This is the thin line poets have always examined minutely. One side of the hand holds on while the other is only capable of letting go. This duality of life frisks me with cold hands, searching for emotions & wallets both…neither of which are to be found with any level purchase.

I will take what you offer, but I am a dragon sitting on a lake of wealth, licking out tongues of flame, hatching eggs that promise far too much of greed & endeavor without true bonding. My wild nature may overtake the short blonde sitting in front of you at any time, like some celluloid morphing characterization. I cannot guarantee you either flight or burning…most likely both.

Love,
Carol