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Thursday, March 22, 2007

"hmmm ... maybe you need a vacation."

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"Fi ..... we don't need you to post, we need you to take good care of you .... hmmm ... maybe you need a vacation."

So sayeth Sunny. Yep, that sounds like a perfectly wonderful suggestion, my wonderful friend. And guess what, we've got it all planned!! On Sunday I'll be taking off over that airport, on my way across the Pacific. For not one, not two, not three, not four, but .....
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fun-filled, love-packed, sensually-charged days and nights with my man.

I've got a lot to get done at work over the next day and a half, given that I'll be away all of next week, but all will be well. And come Sunday morning at 8:30, I'll be buckled into seat 62G on the first leg of my journey. Roughly 24.5 hours later, including connections, I'll have his arms around me.

Am I excited? I'm beyond excited!!!!!! He was even laughing at me this morning, he said he could hear the incredible excitement and happiness in my voice. Boy oh boy, he thinks I SOUND happy and excited, just wait until I get my hands on him!!

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I couldn't resist that pic - it made me laugh when I realised a fur ball-accented thong is placed atop of a pair of Bridget Jones-style knickers!! Talk about covering all bases .... or not.

And for those enquiring minds, I own neither style of fanny-covering. I'm very much a high-cut brief kinda gal, and boyshorts are incredibly comfy, too. I do love the look of the brazilian cut but I have way too much derriere for them, they end up looking (and feeling) like a thong on me!

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Whirling Dervish

The Secret Turning
A secret turning in us
makes the universe turn.
Head unaware of feet,
and feet head. Neither cares.
They keep turning.

I feel like a whirling dervish at the moment, caught up in so much 'busyness' that I don't seem to have time for anything but work. I should be clear of a few things by the end of the week and hope to be back with something to post about then.

For those awaiting email replies, please be patient with me.

Goes off to spin around this new day.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Dedicated to the Man I Love

I promise that after this one, I'll not regurgitate another OM for a while. With this proviso: if I get an OM that just screams at me to share it with everyone who might not yet be enrolled with the OM-a-day link, I'll just have to post it.

Amiss to Miss
~ by Kidest Mengistu ~
Daily OM

“I miss you” – here are words that hold no truth to what is real. The very language we choose can indicate to us what kinds of concepts we hold within our own mind. The very words we choose to use can show to us the belief or perspective we use to experience life.

When you come to understand that the whole of existence exists in unity, always and forever at-one with everything, you realize that nothing comes and nothing goes. I have never come and gone. You have never come and gone. We have always existed tied and united in the deepest of ways to the point that there is no telling where “I” end and “you” begin. That’s how close we are.

“I miss you” really says “I miss seeing you in front of me” or “I miss having you around” or “you’re gone and I don’t see you anymore but I want to” or whatever other meaning implies that there exists a separation between you and this other person.

What a lie. This is a lie born of relying on our senses and the mind dependent on these senses to tell us who we are. We are not the minds and the bodies that we use. We are not the temporary experiences that we have attached to. We are not the minds and bodies that are constantly renewing themselves to the point that what’s true for this mind-body right now will not be true in five minutes. That’s how fast and how much these layers are constantly changing.

Who I am cannot be missed because it is always the same. When you say “I miss you” you’re saying this to the memories you hold of the person. Those memories stop being representative of this person’s layers the moment they became memories. You’re missing a past story. You’re missing a mental object. You’re missing something that in no way exists anywhere but in your own mind.

There is no space or distance between us, the core of our being – who we really are. There never was and there never will be. Time and space, distance and separation, are appearances but appearances are not the truth, and they don’t even come close to the truth.

“I miss you” is based on false perceptions. It’s amiss to miss.

So what’s the alternative?

“I love you.”

Monday, March 19, 2007

I Feel....

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...as flat as a pancake today

and in need of some cream, bananas and strawberries

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or bacon, orange and kiwi fruit

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Update at 11:45am :

I just had THE BEST phone call from my love (we haven't been able to speak all weekend). I'm all smiles again. It's amazing the effect, just hearing his voice, hearing him say 'I love you', has on me!!! Yipppppeeeee. I definitely look like those last two pics now. God, I love that man!!!

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Two Years Down the Road

He is Gone

You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what he would want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

~ Anonymous

Two years to this day, at about 2:30pm, my phone rang at work and it was my Mum. All she could manage to say to me was: "Dad's gone." And with those two words, my entire world collapsed around me. I remember wailing: "noooooooooooooo nooooooooooo nooooooooooooo noooooooooooo nooooooooooo", as the tears burned a hot trail down my cheeks before dripping off my chin and landing on my skirt. I recall looking down and seeing the dark spots appearing one after the other as my heart shattered. It felt as though my entire world collapsed in on me and I was tumbling down into a deep dark hole.

After that, all I could manage to utter to my Mum was: "I can't talk right now I'll call you back." My blood ran like ice through my veins. Anuja had heard all of it and came to me to comfort me, but I was totally closed off, trying to cope with the devastation that was visiting me. She knows me well and immediately went about keeping people away, booking my flight to Scotland for that night, helping me organise things at work. Basically doing what needed to be done for me while I tried to come to terms with what I had always known was going to happen, but never this soon. I sat for the longest time with my head in my hands as the tears fell. I shall forever be thankful to her, for just being who she is.

I know you would want me to keep my eyes open, to love and to go on, Dad. But there are days that I feel so lost without you, so alone without you. Days I cry because you're gone forever and days I wish with my very soul, that you were still here with me. Yes, there are also many days I smile with memories of you and I do open my eyes and see all that you left behind. So many parts of you, I carry as parts of me.

I do my best to look forward, always forward. To the possibilities of my future and with an understanding of all my yesterdays. I wish you could have known this special man who has now come into my life, this man who loves me beyond a shadow of a doubt. He's not like the others. The others you met who unanimously disappointed you. It saddens me to think that I probably disappointed you too, by not making better choices. You didn't feel the others were worthy of me and yet I couldn't see what you saw, until it was too late. You never pushed me but you did always tell me how you felt. And often without any sugar-coating. I put it down to the old adage that noone would ever be good enough for your daughter. The truth was, noone I found until now was good enough for me. I should have listened better to the message you were giving me.

I'm trying to understand that there is a reason why you were taken away so soon, without a final goodbye, without one last embrace. I'm still living with the knowledge that I was going to call you the night before I heard from Mum, but decided it was late and I was tired, and there's always tomorrow. I soon found out tomorrow isn't guaranteed and the last time I saw you, the life had gone from you and your skin was cold and hard to the touch. But I had to look upon your face that one last time.

I'm doing my absolute best to see the lesson for me in all this. I am trying so very hard to make sure you'd still be proud of me today. In everything I do, there is a part of me that continues to want to check back with you and ask: "What do you think, Dad?" It's important to me that I live with that question in my mind and heart. It still matters to me what you might think about my decisions, my choices.

I know I'll get through the rest of my life without calling upon you for more of your wisdom, your strength, your humour, your love. I keep sacred, all that you shared with me over the years. But nothing can take away the loss, Dad. Every day as I move forward, I feel the loss of you.

Craig A
21 October 1932 ~ 17 March 2005

Friday, March 16, 2007

Lifting Pain's Veil

I know I've been doing a lot of reposting of Daily OMs recently. I'm not sure if it's apathy, laziness, insouciance or just plain having too many commitments on my time right now. Or maybe just being addicted to making sure I get something on here almost daily. All that aside, a large part of it is reading something I find resonates so loudly with me, that I just have to share.

Lifting Pain's Veil

Daily OM

It is natural to feel resentment or anger when life does not unfold as expected. We consciously or unconsciously anticipated one experience, and we grieve for the loss of it when the universe puts something else in our path. Most of the time, we work through these feelings and they pass. Occasionally, our anger and resentment do not fade and are instead transformed into bitterness. Bitter feelings allow us to become perfect victims in that we no longer feel obliged to work toward healing and choose instead to identify with our pain. Yet as unwholesome as bitterness can be, it is also a natural element of our emotional palette. When we acknowledge that it is okay to feel bitter, we reconnect with our hurt in a constructive way and can begin the process of working through it.

The nature of bitterness is rooted in the fact that the pain we feel provides us with a rationale. We may feel that we deserve to embrace our bitterness to its full extent. And to be bitter is, in essence, to cut ourselves off from all that is positive, hardening our hearts and vowing never to let go of our hurt. But just as bitter feelings can be self-defeating, so too can the release of bitterness be life-affirming in a way that few other emotional experiences are. When we decide that we no longer want to be bitter, we are reborn into a world filled with delight and fulfillment unlike any we knew while in the clutches of bitterness. The veil it cast over our lives is lifted, letting light and warmth touch our souls.

Divesting yourself of bitter feelings can be as simple as truly forgiving and moving on. Even when your bitterness has no concrete object, you can forgive situations too. Healing pain can be challenging but may be easier if you remind yourself that you are the only entity truly affected by your emotional state. In time, you will discover that letting go of your bitterness frees you to initiate the healing process and allows you to once again celebrate the possibility of the more wonderful life you deserve.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

If You Do Nothing Else Today....

Please visit
This woman is guaranteed to tickle your funny bone!

There, now I feel I've made a positive contribution to blogland today, albeit vicariously through another.

My Visual DNA

In the absence of any deep thought, reflection, or something quotable to share, I give you....

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

"The Space Between the Rock and Tree"

A little background. R was CFO with us when M and I worked together a few years ago. A great executive, respected, admired and a little feared, but only by the clueless. R has been stricken by brain cancer, third and final relapse, and will not be long with us. I broke the news to M the other day.

From M*:

"Ahhh, Fiona so sad. All his achievements and dogged by this. As you know I admired his intellect, insights and audacity. I believe he would have become the CEO had he not resigned. Who knows what that choice has led to.

I recall how particular R* was about looking after himself, the Herman Miller chair, the staying only where the air was filtered. It's always a ponder when we consider how some fears, even the irrational, become what we head for. Mountain bikers know that when you enter a curve and see a rock obstructing the path, you must look at the space between the rock and tree otherwise you will head for what you are focused on, i.e. the rock.

A*'s father married her mother when he was 54 and her mother was 23. He died when A was 11. Some might say the match was ill-suited. It is what it is, and it produced A, which produced S* and A2*. So the match had incredible contributions for the cost of a small inconvenient departure from conformity.

Live the present, it's the only reality. Yesterday, apart from being gone, has already been distorted by all those who experienced it, so memories of it are not reality, merely our interpretations. Important, but not reality, although over time they become the reality of what happened, when we hang on to those and encounter what others believe happened, then we argue and debate such futile subjects. Tomorrow is a blank space until we fill it with what we expect it to be. Then our unconscious and the people and circumstances we gravitate to, will make it close to what we expected.

Poor R, I wish him this time free of fear and only that which empowers him.

Thank you for sharing this with me,


I miss the widsom, insight and perspective M brought to the table. He certainly made a difference to working here, and continues to make a difference to how I view life.

Who is who:
M - my ex boss
R - our ex CFO

A - M's wife
S - M & A's daughter
A2 - M & A's son

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Scabs and Scars

Sometimes I pick at my scabs. I like them best when they're almost healed over, peeling off around the edges. But in the centre they're still raw and wet. And I know, as I peel off that hard protective shell of recovery before it's ready, carefully working around the edges, that it will leave a fresh open sore again. To be sure, smaller than the initial wound, but no less painful and just as deep as the original, right there at the centre. But around that deep wound at the core, is an area of rejuvenation, of shiny fresh new skin.

I'm not talking about a scab on my knee or elbow. Nor a scrape across my knuckles. I'm talking about the wounds deep inside. The words that have cut like a knife, the old rejections that still whisper in my ear when I'm feeling just a little insecure. The thoughts that eat into my self-esteem to make me doubt what I'm working hard to believe about myself. Oh, make no mistake, 99 percent of the time, I'm in a very good place. An excellent place. A place I haven't ever been until now. A positive place where people tell me that I'm wonderful and amazing and even "admire-able". A place where I'm loved and held close and treasured.

But all it takes is a look. A phrase uttered which I interpret the wrong way. A mistake I repeat and then play over and over in my mind. An overt sensitivity beyond any form of reasonableness. It doesn't take too much for me to doubt myself once more. To consider whether or not I deserve this goodness around me. To wonder if the gods are just setting me up to laugh at me again.

These invisible wounds can lend themselves to being picked at. They itch and demand attention. And I know it doesn't help for me to be picking at them. I need to leave them alone and let them heal. I want to have scars instead of scabs. Scars that have healed over and left nothing to pick at. Scars that I remember and sometimes touch, now with a smile of understanding as I feel the smooth, even surface. Nice pink, shiny scars that are only a reminder of what has been. And won't ever be again.

Monday, March 12, 2007

The Wisdom of Surrender

The Wisdom Of Surrender
Relying On Others
Daily OM Inspirations

Most of us pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency. We like to be responsible for taking care of ourselves and pulling our own weight in the world. This is why it can be so challenging when we find ourselves in a situation in which we have to rely on someone else. This can happen as the result of an illness or an injury, or even in the case of a positive change, such as the arrival of a newborn. At times like these, it is essential that we let go of our feeling that we should be able to do it all by ourselves and accept the help of others.

The first step is accepting the situation fully as it is. Too often we make things worse either by trying to do more than we should or by lapsing into feelings of uselessness. In both cases we run the risk of actually prolonging our dependency. In addition, we miss a valuable opportunity to practice acceptance and humility. The ego resists what is, so when we move into acceptance we move into the deeper realm of the soul. In needing others and allowing them to help us, we experience the full realization that we are not on our own in the world. While this may bring up feelings of vulnerability, a deep feeling of gratitude may also emerge as we open to the experience of being helped. This realization can enable us to be wiser in our service of others when we are called upon to help.

It takes wisdom and strength to surrender to our own helplessness and to accept that we, just like every other human being, have limitations. The gifts of surrender are numerous. We discover humility, gratitude, and a deepening understanding of the human experience that enables us to be that much more compassionate and surrendered in the world.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

I've always found it hard to ask for, and accept, help. My upbringing was very much: Figure it out for yourself and get on with it. But I'm learning. Every day, I'm learning.

Friday, March 09, 2007

And He Tells Me He Loves Me

"True passion expands the soul, enraptures the heart, and enchants the mind, with a feverish bliss."
~ Neil Martinique ~

“O love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.”
~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson ~

I arrive at the airport all grungy from a 14-hour flight, dressed for comfort, hair tousled, makeup (if any is still clinging to my tired face) probably where it shouldn't be. I run into his arms and wrap mine around him, finally looking again into those eyes I love. Our hearts are beating madly, pounding in our ears. I lean my head on his chest and reach up to sniff his neck, breathing in that scent of his. That familiar, comforting and yet so sensually arousing scent of his. Then he holds my face between his hands and, cradling my head, he leans in to kiss me so longingly, so perfectly. And he tells me he loves me.

We sit in the car driving somewhere, anywhere, we need no specific destination, just enjoying the experience of being with each other in such close proximity for long periods of time. Talking, laughing, hands reaching out to touch each other. I say his name and love the way it feels on my tongue. He says my name and it's music to my ears. We can never resist that intimacy, that need to physically connect in some, in any, way whenever we're close enough. The touch of his hand, the way he touches mine, makes my heart tremble. And the way we can't help smiling, we're always smiling, so much that our faces hurt after a while. And he tells me he loves me.

We always choose a booth in a restaurant, oft times confusing the wait staff as we both squeeze into one side of it, making sure my left arm is next to his right arm, so that we can touch and caress while we eat, me being right-handed and him being left-handed. We chat with the waitress as she takes our order and it's as though we speak as one, a seamless and knowing flow of our two voices. It's not unusual for us to choose the same things from the menu, without even influencing each other through discussion. Our fingers are intertwined the whole time. I used to be uncomfortable eating in front of people, a throwback to my eating disorder, but with this man, there is nothing at all which brings discomfort to me of any kind, or at any time. I'm ravenous for absolutely everything, food and otherwise, when I'm with him. And he tells me he loves me.

I sit on the sofa and he comes to sit next to me, holding a bottle of lotion. He leans down to pull my feet off the floor and onto his lap. Slowly and lovingly, he massages the lotion into the rough hard soles of my feet. Taking his time to go between each toe, rubbing each one as I watch him so totally absorbed in this loving task. His strong masculine hands kneading my feet so gently, making them so soft. Ripples of pleasure running up my legs and encompassing my entire body until my scalp tingles with delight. I see the joy this brings him, he actually loves to look after me. No-one has ever done this for me before. And he tells me he loves me.

In the deep of the night I wake and watch him sleeping, the glow of the light we always leave on, illuminating him enough for me to see the gentle peace in his features. I could gaze upon his face forever. My wish is that I am allowed to do just that. My fingers hesitate to touch him lest I wake him from his slumber, but they move a millimeter above his face, so close that I can feel his heat on them. I wait patiently for him to rouse from his sleep, for him to look over at me, to see the smile on my lips that is there always, when I look upon his handsome face. And he tells me he loves me.

He stretches out next to me on the bed, caressing the softest, palest areas of my skin. Areas the sun has never seen, areas no man has cared to regard before. Areas that before this man, hadn't been touched. Areas I didn't want to be touched. His fingertips whisper so smoothly over my warm flesh. He touches my breasts which are past their prime, he caresses my belly where it sags. He's blind to the stretchmarks that tell their own stories. His fingers glide over the bumps of the cellulite on my thighs, as he whispers in my ear how much he adores my body. I hear his breath catch from the desire he is expressing to me through his touch. And he tells me he loves me.

I am underneath him, his weight pinning me down. My head flat on the bed after he clears the pillows out of the way. He likes me flat like this. My legs wrapped around his thighs, my feet resting on and caressing his calves. His beautiful eyes staring deeply into mine, my eyes staring into the deep beauty of his soul. He fills me, totally fills me, touching me where no-one has before, so deep inside the cavern of my need for him. We touch each other's face and smile. Our lips meet and we kiss as he fills me. Not moving inside me, just filling me. Completing me. We pull from the kiss, needing to look at each other again. And he tells me he loves me.

Somehow, through fate's kind hand, we met. And we are so blessed. I long to share eternity with this wonderful man. Time and distance have no meaning in the matters of the heart, we live in our now, in our present. I tell him that I love him all the time, as often as he tells me that he loves me. I'll never get tired of saying those words to him, of expressing in every way I can, the emotions behind those little words. I'll never get tired of hearing them whispered, or spoken, or even shouted in exasperation at times, to me. The inflection, the pitch, the tone, the cadence of his voice make me melt. And with this post, as with so many others, I tell him I love him.

Love is in the passion of the soul, in the strength of the spirit. Our love is expressed quietly and without fanfare. It's in the beating of our heart as it pulsates life through our very veins, it's in the charges passing from one synapse to the other, it's in the way every single cell in our body is energized.

But today, there's no whispering from me, no sotto voce. Today, I want to shout it from the rooftops. I want to really put it out there, right here, in bright, flashing lights.

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my darling man, my treasure, my delight, my angel.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Spring is in the Air

Although we are in the midst of what is probably our last cold snap this winter and we actually recorded the coldest day of the year yesterday (down to 5°C, 41°F), we are on the irrepressible slide towards the worst 'season'. Our 'spring', for want of a better name. Though really our seasons are hard to define, being sub-tropical we have no leaves dropping, no glorious reds and golds of foliage. No snow or extreme cold. No blizzards, no icicles, just a week or two of what most of you would laugh about were I to call it cold.

Here we have a long hot and wet summer, the beautiful cooler, drier days of our 'autumn' and then onto a few cold weeks which we call our 'winter'. Then we go to what is lurking around the corner. The season I call 'blech'.

To demonstrate, this is the normal view from my living room window:

A little hazy, to be sure, as pollution is a major problem here and most days there is that shadow hanging over everything. And please, no comments about somewhat dirty windows, I live on the 35th floor and my windows are ceiling to low bay-window ledge height. One thing I won't do, is climb up onto that window ledge and dangle by my toenails to clean my windows!!

And now in the blech season, from the same window, this is what I look forward to (this was last year):

Thick, heavy mist. I actually opened my window once during that kind of weather and ended up enveloped in a cloud that quickly took over the apartment. While I enjoyed the ethereal feeling of the experience, I later regretted it as it took two days for my towels to even move to the dry side of damp.

Joy, joy. Frizzy hair joy. Soggy toilet paper joy. Damp books joy. Wet bathroom tiled walls joy. Air conditioner on all the time joy. Dehumidifiers that can't cope joy.

Life is hell in the tropics. But everyone tells me that it sure does beat the snow!

Update: I just got home and damn it's cold here. My apartment is showing an inside temperature of only 11°C, 52°F - no heating at home!!! Brrrrrrrrrr

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

The One Good Day

There was one good day in Tenerife.

We started off with a drive up the east coast, from the south, to Santa Cruz. A trip to Ikea and the Levi's store as Rhona was lusting after a new pair of Levi's engineered jeans, but decided she didn't like the latest design (too low on the hips). Ikea, however, was very fruitful - I bought her a set of kitchen knives, some chopping boards, some throws for the now dog-eared and dog-worn sofa, glasses, mugs, bits and pieces.

On the way up to the 'big city' we passed one of my favourite spots, the wind turbine park where they generate some electricity for smaller villages. These structures, and the sounds they produce, always amaze me. Modern windmills, perhaps it's the Don Quixote in me:

Sorry about the photos but they were taken from the window of a moving car, travelling at about 100mph!!

We went back home and picked up the woofers for a run on the beach. I find black sand so hard to get used to, I much prefer white coral-based sand, but on this beach the volcanic sand was actually twinkling with the minerals it contained. It was really quite beautiful to walk upon, soft and warm and sparkling as though tiny diamonds were scattered everywhere. And we had the whole place to ourselves that day, it was wonderful:

Rhona and her beau, Kirk:

Lupo in heaven - surf AND a frisbee. He won't go near dog frisbees or toy frisbees, no no not him, that is a competition level frisbee he's holding. And I have to get them from the local Ultimate Players Association. Each time, the guy I contact keeps trying to get me to join them, I just laugh and say no thank you!!!

Where's Waldo? aka ... Can you spot Kirk?

Left to right - Bozo (Kirk's hound), Kirk (Rhona's alpha male), Rhona (Kirk's beeyach), Shaz (Rhona's hound), Lupo (my hound)

And to round off the day, we actually went to play bingo!! Ummm Spanish bingo. Setenta y siete. Dieciséis. Treinta y nueve. Cuarenta y cinco. We were very gung-ho at first and even took two cards each. As the caller started to roll off the numbers we just looked at each other wide-eyed and cracked up. Thereafter we restricted ourselves to one card each. Thank goodness the numbers were also displayed on a big board but wow, they called them out fast and the caller sounded like Minnie Mouse!! Not as easy as it sounds, all considered.

Kirk actually won a line AND the house on one card - with a total win of €486 (equiv. US$637)!! He was so excited he called out "doh" and Rhona is still to this day pulling his leg about that. Here's the winner (well, a silhouette of him) under the bingo lights.

A really good day. The sunset I posted yesterday, was also from this day.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Like Rivers of Liquid Gold

Sunset in Tenerife. Nature needs no description, and no explanation is possible.

Monday, March 05, 2007

"Our Love is Like Lycra"

Yes *laughing* I did in fact utter that statement to my love!!

We were talking about loving each other and how wonderful these emotions are, which we share. We're always connecting through emails, e-cards, phone calls. Reaching out and verbalising our feelings between the times we can be together. When we get to share them physically and emotionally and spiritually, in all dimensions and in every way possible.

I was trying to explain to him, how I feel that his love fills me to the point I really think I've reached my limit of absorbing his love. But how, I wake up the next day and I love him more. Beyond what I even thought was possible. That our love is like lycra!

Lycra, that wonderfully forgiving - and yet also so unforgiving - fabric. Forgiving in that you can sit down to a big meal in a lycra skirt, with that safe 'give' that it has, and rise from the table without being cut in half by your waistband. And unforgiving in so many ways - I once walked behind a very large woman in lycra animal-print leggings and a matching camisole top, and just cringed on her behalf. Then I wondered why I was cringing, after all she was extremely happy with her outfit, including the ankle-crunching lucite platform heels and tap-teased hair that was probably a walking fire hazzard. Actually the whole outfit from head to toe was a true celebration of the wonder of synthetic fibres!

I love that our love is so stretchy. I love that our love just keeps on expanding. I love that our love knows no bounds. I love that our love gives me the most happiness I've ever felt.

I love that our love is like lycra.

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Love Fearlessly

Love Fearlessly
~ by Kidest Mengistu ~
Daily OM Inspirations

Our problem seems to be that we conceptualize love and over think it rather than just allowing ourselves to feel it. You can't rationalize a feeling. You just feel it. There's no "maybe it's love" because love just is. There's nothing half-ass about it and the part that questions it isn't the part that knows what love is. I don't believe the mind will ever come to truly understand what Love is, what that feeling is. Even the four letter word doesn't do the feeling any justice.

Often enough, fear takes over when we have that inner recognition and connection with someone, that we end up tap dancing all over ourselves rather than leaping into something our heart recognizes before our eyes come to see it. Maybe that's half the fun of the human experience. Maybe the pay off for our self-inflicted mental strife are the feelings that we get from resisting the very thing that lives in our heart. Maybe we like the spiraling and gasping that come when our mind steps in and tries to make sense of what we're feeling.

Is the self-torment what makes love what it is in this world? Is the appeal the maddening dance between two love-struck individuals who spiral in and out of their own mind-created stories? Is that what we're after? Can a human being experience love in its trueness without the interference of the intellect? Are we capable of just loving?

The truth remains that Love has no past and no future. Love is this moment and whatever this moment gives to you. If it happens to be another then you delve right in without mental turmoil as to what came before or what will come after. Just be in the moment. Forget about time, history, and forever. Just be here. Love here.

The only thing that keeps us from leaping into love and experiencing the whole of it is fear. But this fear comes disguised in many forms. It comes in the forms of questions. It comes in the form of future worry as in "where will this lead to." The concern over outcomes, of what could happen in the future, means you miss this moment. It comes in the form of wanting to "understand" what this is, before we commit or decide. It comes in the form of hesitation. It comes in the form of many things that amount to nothing more than mental activity. Fear is what leads us to say "I don't know what this is" after being lit at the core of ourselves by the mere presence of someone. And to the self that accepts that thought, I yell LIAR, and point my finger while I do so.

Yes, you do know what it is. That instant in which your heart lit up is the spark that ignites when two souls connect – that was you falling in love. And this falling in love my friend is you feeling the chord that connects you to this person. It is your true connection and it is a feeling like no other. You don't have to call it anything but you need not deny its existence either. And if it's in front of you, it's there for a reason. Every connection has a reason, whether a lesson or other, and it is the kind of reason that you cannot reason.

The wise heart is the one that recognizes what it is face to face with. And it's this same wise heart that tells you that I'm not talking about lust here. The mind is useful in love only in as far as it balances the irrationalities in all of us, only when it helps us to discriminate between the choices before us. But wisdom doesn't deny feeling.

Love here.
Allow yourself to Love in the fullness of this moment and no where else.
Love in this moment as if this moment is all there is.
Because in truth this is the only moment you can.
Love as you so choose.
Love Here.
Love fearlessly.

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We, my man and I, are doing some big, deep, fierce, fearless loving in our Here.
I really love this OM Inspiration, it means so much to me.


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