Emptied, but Still Present

It came upon me as I had one burned about halfway down.

The storm began within me.
It was me.
And then, it consumed me.

This section of my heart that I've been holding at bay with a fierce power, with so much of my life-source, erupted into the ravenous black hole that it truly has been - and I was overwhelmed.

I felt it rush out of my heart, the center of my being.
I felt it swirl around my body. I was dizzy with the motion.
I felt that it would be endless, that I would be lost in the abyss.

I knew - in that moment - I was gone.

----

And then it was gone.

I was emptied, but still present.

With peace I remembered: I am just the vessel. Everything has meaning.

And although I am not sure what the end game truly is, I've played my part. Fully. I've loved to the point of insanity. I've lived to tell the tale. I have lessons-learned, stories for each scar and a heart that beats stronger, even still.

The Heat Is On and It's Time to Face the Truth

I'm not trying to say that I'm an advocate of lying, but there are times when I choose not to tell the whole truth. Or maybe what I'm trying to say is that I'm very adept at choosing not to walk the line when I don't want to - I'm a skilled player when it comes to evasion and asking questions to keep the heat off of me and focused on you.

So, I was shocked when I told him the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It was the raw underbelly of my heart; and my inner-woman was stunned that I had let it roll off my tongue so freely, so vulnerably. Like it was nothing; when it was really everything.

----

I blame it on the fact that we're fire friends. That when everyone else has retreated into their tents for the night, we alone stay at the edge of the campfire for just a few more minutes.

If there's any place not to lie, it seems to me that it's in front of a fire. There's something sacred and beautiful about fire, and even more so when you share the experience of appreciating it with someone.

Several times we've been left alone - and those few minutes stretch into their own space, where standard rules don't seem to apply. We're not really friends, but around the fire late into the night, we're kindred spirits releasing truths into the air, into the space that is ours alone.

----

I blame it on the fact that we walked on the beach together, hand in hand; that we shared a bed and a beautiful meal; that you took my breath away with beauty, art and music, as well as your direct line of questioning that parceled all my heartfelt responses into nothing but a pile of empty, thoughtless excuses.

I was using them to avoid the truth. You knew it. And you led me to it slowly.

It was a dawning, a fiery sunrise within my own heart that you witnessed. It was sacred and beautiful. And there was no space for lies.

----

I blame it on the fact that I've been too busy and too stressed for too long. I've been telling everyone else's story instead of giving my own the care and room for development that it needed.

I blame it on the fact that I've been evading the truth within my own heart. 

----

"To be absolutely honest, in two years what I really hope is to have need for a family car. To need enough room for a significant other, a baby and a dog."

----

Such a simple truth to reveal, the fact that I want a family. But it's something I want...so badly...that I haven't wanted to admit it.

It's no surprise that a little girl growing up in a broken family would dream of a house full of boys: one big one for me and a few smaller ones that we made together. And I knew that it would be a house filled with happiness. It was what I wanted.

It is what I want.

----

It rolled off my tongue. This confession.

From one beautiful soul to another, in a shared space where lying wasn't permitted, I spoke aloud a truth that I had barely even whispered in the depths of my heart.

And why not? Because I don't want to hold onto it for fear that it won't happen.

If hold onto it and it doesn't happen, I'm devastated - and then have to deal with it; whereas, if I don't hold onto it, I can pretend that it wasn't ever really that important to me to begin with.

A loose hold means that it's easier to move on, move forward. Disappointment is easier to manage than devastation.

A family: a mom, a dad, a kid, a baby and a dog. A happy, silly, growing family. It seems like such a simple thing to want, but it brings tears to my eyes, and my heart swells like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff and I can't see the ground.

----

I held that dream in my hands recently.

It was handed to me. It took me by surprise. And even though I had reason to doubt, I couldn't resist the call of my heart.

Stupid heart. Stupid call. The dream ended abruptly.

It was like being the last in line dancing to the Piper's song and tripping over a limb into a night-cold brook. Holding my throbbing head in my hands, wondering why I was freezing cold and alone in the dark.

----

Was it possible that instead of a happily-ever-after, I had really just been about to sell my soul to the devil?

----

The heat is on - and there is no evading it this time. I've offered up my heart for evaluation.

It's time for me to face the truth.

After Tonight, I Know That You'll Always Be My Crush

Crazy how it feels tonight
Crazy how you make it all alright
Sitting smoking feeling high
In this moment it feels so right 

---

After the wine, after the smokes, after the enchanted drive through a neighborhood filled with sparkling lights, I just knew that I wanted to kiss your face. There was absolutely no doubt. There was just stopping your body long enough so that I could press my lips to yours. I can't think of a time when I have ever been that bold with someone who wasn't already mine.

I mean, I literally stepped out in front of you, grabbed your face, shut my eyes tight and planted a smack on your smile.

I can hardly even believe it. Even now. But it just felt right. So right, in fact, that not doing it would have been criminal. 

Being close to you, tracing your face and the edge of your bottom lip with my fingertip was exactly what I was suppose to be doing that night.

The air around us was heady with "meant to be" and I was high on it. Absolutely out-of-my-mind, no sense left.

That's probably why I took off my shirt; probably why you kissed my neck. Things we should have done a long time ago, but didn't. It was time to cash in on all the experiences we should have had together. In this moment, inhibition booted out the fuckin' door - because who needs to listen to reason when "meant to be" reigns as queen - and I all I wanted was you.

So I had you.

It was simple. Easy. Like we had been together for ten thousand days beforehand, and engaging each others bodies was something we knew by heart. Something we had the right to do.

It was crazy. And at the same time, so absolutely right.

It left me wondering, could any tomorrow be as wondrous?

It Was How He Sang for Me

It was the idea that my holiday could be different; and it was waking up to the reality that it indeed was.

For that, I could give sincere thanks.

It was not a day with family, slaving in the kitchen and stressed to make sure that events unfolded smoothly. It was a sleepy smile and a heavy hand draped against my waist. It was the way he said, "Are you ready for some coffee?"

It was how breakfast was a conglomerate of fresh-lit smokes, creamy coffee and kitty meows.

And it was most certainly how, without hesitation, he sang for me.

It was like finding myself in some kind of blissful teenage dream where everything was romance and art and happy possibility. Cynicism and angst just didn't exist. It was a holiday full of beautiful things; of taste, touch and sound that took me back to a happy time. Back to a time where my heart wasn't so banged up and anything was possible.

"If you could only see the way he loves me, then maybe you would understand..."

Yes, I Like Piña Coladas

It was a brilliant day to walk on the beach. This girl couldn't ask for more. She had a brightly shining sun, a brisk and chilly sea-wind and the company of a dashing young man, an old friend.

It was the perfect escape - as it always had been.

---

As we made our way closer to the water, he talked of his experiences here on the coast, his recent adventures living and surfing in the area. And I thought of the thousand memories associated with this sand and water, and of the surrounding neighborhood. My own memories.

How many times had I come here for healing? To rest my soul and fill my heart?

He grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers, and shortly after, tucked our clasped hands into the pocket of his wool coat. I smiled at him indulgently, but also knowing that I could never express how much this small gesture spoke an overwhelming kindness to my heart.

I felt warmed through. I felt at home. Even with the cold sand between my toes; or maybe I should say especially with it between my toes.

This is where I come to cut through the red tape and just deal with what is - and this time, I didn't have to face it on my own.

Courage from the Heart of Another

Does it count if the courage didn't come from your own heart, but instead was gifted to you by the heart of another?

That's the question of the evening.

---

It almost feels like I didn't fight "the good fight," because I was using a strategy that until recently wasn't my own.

Basically, I borrowed another set of balls to handle my business.

And I'm trying to figure out if it's legit. Does it count? Is it blessed by the gods of good friends who know just how to bolster you up in the midst of a personal battle?

And more importantly, will it stick? Just because I was able to succeed in this one battle, will the winning streak continue on with me to other battles? Or will it realize that it's been lended-out, taken by a less-than-worthy heart; and take a leave of absence just when I need to be my most strong?

---

Lots of questions running though my mind. Lots of trying to be strong and realizing that it's my friends who are making me be strong. On my own, I am a lily-livered weakling.

Or is that what I've been led to believe; and instead the truth is that my friends are trying to jump-start the lioness they know is within?

Eggs and Spinach

I wanted an easy dinner. Something I could make quickly. Eggs usually end up being my go-to when I don't want to take the time to prepare anything else. And this evening, I has some Gouda in the house that also needed using up.

I prepared my eggs starting with high heat and ending with low heat. I tossed strips of cheese into the eggs that were already starting to cook in the pan and that's about when I turned down the heat. I wanted the cheese to melt and get crusty. When it's cooked this way, there's a nice variation between soft, fluffy eggs and crusty, crunchy cheesy spots.

After the eggs were served on my plate, I realized I hadn't really thought through what to serve with them. I had some bread and crackers, but I was looking for something that would be healthier alternative. And then I remembered the bag of freshly picked, organic spinach in my fridge.

It was the perfect contract of hot and cold, fresh and cooked. Each bite of egg had a crisp leaf to go with it.

Dinner was served. And I decided it was definitely yummy-goodness.

Holding Hands Across the Fence Line

He's pretty much the hottest guy I know. Probably the smoothest too. And I slept with him. Again. And, I loved every minute of it.

"I'm gonna need you not to just do this man once a year around the Holidays," she told me.

And I agree. I like her idea of once a quarter, but I'm not sure that my life allows for such a decadent schedule of escape. And it would be an escape; a rabbit hole away from my path to something darkly magical and seductive.

And another thing, I don't know if he'd want me around once every quarter. That's a lot more often than our history has allowed since high school.

See, this very hot, very smooth guy is an old high school buddy. Not a best bud, because we ran in different crews; but someone I shared a connection with. We were friendly; we were interested. He and I had one date. And as dates in early high school go, it was a good one. I kinda though he'd ask me out again. I didn't realize he was waiting for me to make a move, and my consistently friendly approach didn't cut it. And to be fair, from his perspective, it was a pleasant hands-off, non-commital attitude. He wasn't sure what to do with that. He thought about talking to me, but he didn't have my number. I didn't give it to him and he didn't ask for it.

Ah. There's nothing like the memory of high school awkwardness to bring two adults together and transport them back in time to a place and time when anything could have happened.

There was so much low hanging fruit for our taking, we just didn't know it or see it, or think that we could indeed take it. And I'm probably describing me more than him at the moment. He had his own orchard of fruit; and he was busy harvesting. Remember, I told you we ran in different crews. We really had different friends, different lives; but there was enough between us, just enough, that we saw each other and invested in the opportunity to think there was a chance that we could bridge the divide.

We could probably imagine it more like our orchards shared a fence line and every now and then, we took the time away from our fruit harvesting to share a chat and hold hands, each still on our own property but willing to reach across for a shared connected moment.

It still very much feels that way. Different friends. Different lives. Still investing in the opportunity, in the chance, to bridge the divide.

We reconnected on the other side of college, marriage and everything that comes after. First it was online chatting. Then it was coffee. Shortly after, there was a magical evening where I hauled off and kissed him, just because I was so happy in that moment - with him, with me, with us.

And you know easily a kiss can turn into sex...

He is a beautiful soul and I honor our amusing, awkward history; our periodic delicious-and-decadent
present; and whatever the future holds.

I hope that it offers more time at the fence to hold hands, and less preoccupation with the fact that we've always been in different orchards.