Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit - 1

What nourishes me also destroys me. No, this isn't going to be a post about Angelina's tattoos.

This is about my relationship with food. With the ultimate addiction. One that noone can give up completely. One that noone can go cold turkey on. One that you have to allow yourself to feed in small ways every single day of your life.

It's not like alcohol, or drugs, or cigarettes. It's not like chocolate or any other substance we do not need to survive. Without food, I die. With too much, I die too.

I can trace almost to the day, when I began abusing myself with food. I know why I did it. I understood that the person who was 'interested' in me didn't like fat people. I remember at the ripe old age of 12 working out that if I made myself fat, he might lose that interest. It worked. The interest turned to rage, to hatred, to vitriol the likes of which I've never known before or since. And it made me eat more. For I could deal so much more easily with being slammed into the wall everytime we passed in the hallway when noone was looking, rather than having him creep into my room when he thought I was asleep - or maybe he knew I wasn't - to touch me. I tried sleeping on my tummy but it didn't work. I remember wondering how I could sew my nightdresses together from the hem to the crotch.

I know that's when it started. I ate and ate. I stole coins from my mother's purse to buy chocolate bars. Not one, not two, but up to four at a time. And what I also discovered as I padded my body out beyond being desirable to a teenage boy, was that it actually seemed to help fill that deep empty black hole inside me. A hole that had been carved for several years, out of guilt, blame, fear, betrayal and everything bad in my life.

It was dismissed as being 'puppy fat' way beyond the time it could have been excused as being caused by puberty. It paved the way for a horrible relationship with food that lasts to this day. It is said that alcoholics are never cured, they are forever 'recovering'. That is even moreso for food abusers. Actually, it's worse for us. We cannot stop eating, we are forced to continue to participate in our addiction, we cannot give it up completely, ever. We titilate our addiction every day of our lives.

I stayed fat throughout my teen years, and it became my shell. My excuse for not having relationships, my excuse for not going out, my excuse for the crippling sadness that surrounded me when I was alone. But which I tossed to the side when I was expected to become the jolly chubby girl. It was just easier to be that way than to be questioned as to why or how. Let them all think: Oh well she's fat but she's happy. I became the 'what a pretty girl, it's a shame about the weight'.

Until I turned 18 and realised that there was no real control in hiding. I had no control over anything. But I could control me. And I stopped eating. I don't mean I cut down my eating, I mean I stopped totally. For six months my diet consisted of one small tin of V-8 vegetable juice, diluted 1:3 with water and eaten as hot soup at night, taking me over an hour to consume. I was still living at home and I got away with saying I ate lunch at work. I developed sores all over my arms and legs, my eyesight failed, my teeth were loose. But that wasn't even enough, I needed to purge. I did that by taking handfuls of laxatives every day. I needed that pain. It was the only thing I felt. My parents didn't seem too concerned that I was becoming skeletal, there was no intervention of any kind. Not that I'm blaming my parents. What they couldn't understand, I imagine they didn't want to get involved in.

I felt so full of cracks which had formed from so many things being thrown at me over the years. But more than that, I was afraid that if one more thing was thrown at me, I would shatter into a million pieces.

This will be continued.

The Voice Inside My Head

Speaks to me of so many things. Sometimes it contradicts my heart. Sometimes it guides it. Sometimes it agrees with it. And sometimes, just sometimes, it leads me astray and I wonder where I am. And it wonders alongside me, asking me how I got here, why am I here, what purpose is there in this situation? And I say to it - hey wasn't it you who brought me to this place?

At times I think I'm going to go crazy listening to it. Especially when it doesn't question me as to why I'm doing something that I know is so bad for me, it makes my stomach cramp and feel queezy. Isn't my brain supposed to be my ally, isn't it supposed to look after me? When I sleep does it plot against me?

Is there something missing in my cognitive process, when I do things that are not for the good of me? Is cognitive dissonance taking over? Does anyone else feel this conflict? Is there a rational explanation?

Ageing Gracefully

age

One entry found for age.

Main Entry: age
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): aged; ag·ing or age·ing
intransitive verb
1 : to become old : show the effects or the characteristics of increasing age
2 : to acquire a desirable quality (as mellowness or ripeness) by standing undisturbed for some time [letting cheese age]
transitive verb
1 : to cause to become old
2 : to bring to a state fit for use or to maturity

- ag·er /'A-j&r/ noun

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I turn 48 in four months. And every time I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror - not the times I have to go and look as part of maintenance or presentation - I am taken aback. When did I become an old woman? I don't feel like an old woman and there are those around me who will gladly tell you that I certainly don't act like one!

intransitively speaking:

1 : to become old : show the effects or the characteristics of increasing age

I don't think I look 47 mind you, but I do see things that weren't there five, four, even two years ago. Or I see what isn't there that was there just a year ago. Like my hair! I of the red thick curls am now I of the red thin waves. It's not just men that suffer from male pattern baldness as I have discovered. And guys, you may hate that your pate shines through but it's still socially acceptable for you to go down that route. The last time I had my hair cut, my hairdresser (what an odd word that is), my hair stylist (nope that doesn't fit someone like me either), the guy who has cut my hair for 15 years now (that's better) actually tried to give me a comb-over!!! He says, as he's running his fingers through my hair (yes the only one who has done that for a long time) with a worried look, have you ever thought of having more of a side parting? I who have hair that I just let fall where it feels like it. Sadly it's doing that mostly down the drainhole in my bathtub.

And my body. Everything seems to be conspiring to end up as ankle ruffs. I'm convinced I'll end up with a slim upper body and localised ankle to knee obesity. Even my face is falling down. OK not quite to my knees but there is a definite lack of elasticity going on facially. I hear that come menopause, which isn't too far away, I may even start to sprout a fine set of whiskers. At this point I pause to consider transplanting those onto the crown of my head.

2 : to acquire a desirable quality (as mellowness or ripeness) by standing undisturbed for some time [letting cheese age]

Or rather [letting (me) age]. I've decided I want to be quintessentially cheesey. So that I acquire this desirable quality of mellowness or ripeness as defined by Merriam-Webster. No wait, I'm supposed to get that way by standing undisturbed? An unreasonable and unacceptable trade off methinks.

Oh well, lets try this transitively:

1 : to cause to become old

Oh my, you know who you are!

2 : to bring to a state fit for use or to maturity

Aaaaah I think we're getting somewhere now. I do believe I'm now in a state fit for use. Hell abuse even if we can get some fun out of it somewhere. 'To bring to maturity' sounds so nice and respectful. Is it time to buy blouses that can button up to my chin, trade in my four-inch heels for 'sensible' shoes, buy bras sans all the lace, invest in a little more fabric yardage when I go for my next knicker purchase, give in to a side parting, generally speaking just grow old gracefully?

Hell no, there's way too much life left in this dame yet and I mean to squeeze this life of mine for all it has left. Even if I end up bald and with thick ankles.

I Like This One....

List 10 things you wish you could say to someone, but can't. Use a different person for each.

1. You had everything you ever asked of me. It wasn't enough though was it? I just wasn't who you wanted to be with no matter how hard I tried to make it work. But thank you for teaching me that I deserve to be with someone who will appreciate me.

2. I wish we'd had more time together. I miss you more than I can ever explain to anyone. I wish you had met the man who loves me so much he can't imagine living without me. I know you wanted that before you left and I disappointed you three times. I hope I meet him one day too.

3. I wanted more from you. I wanted you to keep me safe. If you had, my childhood would have been happier, my life would have been different. I just wish you had dealt with what you must have known was going on. And I really wish you didn't still laugh, even now, about things you should have seen as warning signs.

4. I'll always love you though I know we'll never be together. Even with the pain of letting you go, I'm so glad I met you and had some time with you the way we did. You were the first man I ever trusted, you made me feel comfortable in my own skin for the first time in my life. You helped me to heal.

5. Admit what you did, you live with it every day of your life like I do. I hardly see you and that's on purpose. You were evil to me time after time. You stole my innocence, you destroyed it. You invited another to do the same. Though only a child, you taught me to hate myself.

6. Why don't you want to let me hear your voice? Why must you remain words on a screen? I know you care about me but won't let me in. You say it's because you've been hurt and you told me about her. But by not letting me in, by being afraid of your feelings, you let her win again each day you keep me locked out.

7. I let it happen. I should have taken more care of me, and of you. I'll always wonder what it would have been like to hold you in my arms, to see a part of me in you.

8. Will this lead to anything? I have good feelings about you and for you. I hate the way the time zones work against us. And yet I hunger for your words. Just one sentence can make me smile.

9. You hurt me. So I hurt you. Two wrongs don't make a right. But I wish you would understand that because of what we went through, we can't be more than friends. Once you betray my trust I can never let you have it again. There are reasons for that and you knew them before you betrayed me.

10. I hope your second wife makes you happy and that you have been more honest to her than you were to me. You consciously led me to doubt myself to protect your own insecurities. It was a hateful and damaging thing to do.

Wow. That was incredibly cathartic!!!

Risk, Sacrifice and Growth

In one of my earlier posts, I spoke of a man who could never put me first. I, on the other hand, did put him first for many years.

There wasn't much I wouldn't do for him, that's how convinced I was of his potential. I invested time, energy, emotion, finances and trust, in the hope of a better life for us. I did love him, of that I'm sure. Everything I gave, I gave unconditionally and from a very good place.

He was an alcoholic. I say 'was' not because he no longer drinks, but because he is no longer alive. It killed him in the end. It is a horrible, hateful thing, to be an alcoholic. And it is especially hard on those who love one. While they may be able to drink themselves into a stupor and forget all the pain that pushes each glass to their eager lips, an alcoholic's non-alcoholic partner doesn't have that escape.

At one point, I gave up my home, my friends, my career (not just my job but my entire career) to give him what he wanted, to give him one of his dreams. I risked everything I had in a business I neither knew, nor cared for. I sacrificed friendships and my livelihood. I left the place I had grown up in and the place I will always call home.

We moved half way around the world to a foreign land where I couldn't speak the language, but he could. I threw myself into a business I had to learn from scratch. I put my life savings into a bold venture that quite literally brought us blood, sweat and tears. I learned the business as well as anyone who had been in it for years. I could quote standards and regulations better than some of the professionals. I introduced customer services that the industry had not seen before and which later proved to be the difference between success and failure.

But I failed in my relationship. And he failed me in the trust I had put in him. Sometimes no matter what we give, it's just not enough. My very soul wouldn't have been enough for that man. However, in the fifteen years I knew him, and especially during the four years I lived with him, he helped me grow in more ways than I ever thought possible. Adversity made me a better person, it proved to me how strong I can be, how resourceful I am. And I proved to myself that no matter how far down I let someone drag me, nothing and noone will keep me down there for long.

Andy, I hope your rest is a peaceful one and that you are finally free of your demons. And I hope you know in your heart that I loved you beyond words and beyond my own good sense, for a very, very long time.

And They Lived Happily Ever After

There is so much angst around at the moment in so many places I read. Hearts squeezed, hearts torn, hearts trampled. No matter how resilient we may think we are, we rarely escape emotional pain when we give of ourselves to others. It seems a rare thing to settle down with someone and be happy forever more. The single searchers are seemingly often outnumbered by the still-attached seekers.

Oh the number of times I've said: I don't understand why he/she doesn't appreciate what he/she has in you. Don't they know how tough it is out here to look for a companion, a friend, a lover, a partner? Don't they know they have such a wonderful gift already in you?

Yes, I realise I have heard only one side of their story and there are always two sides to any tale. But really, there are some awesome people out there not being appreciated. I know, I have been that person a couple of times. Did I try my best - yes I did, my god yes I did. What drives people away from each other? Is it feeling stuck with a bad choice? Is it the excitement of a new relationship? Is it too much familiarity? Is it just something that happens over and over and over again until we get it right? Or is it simply that the bubble bursts of its own accord, or gets popped by something out of our control?

The days of reading fairy tales that end with "And they lived happily ever after" are gone, or should be gone. Parents do a disservice to their children in endorsing this fantasy, no matter how lighthearted the literature is meant to be. How many little girls have grown up believing there is a 'happily ever after' in their future? I know I did for a long time, until real life proved that to be wrong, and not just once.

But like a lot of little girls and grown women, I still wake up every morning hoping for it.

Sorry!

About having to initiate word verification, but I was being inundated with spam comments. Or is there some other way to stop those coming through?

Meme....Branching from DG

What's the first thing that comes to your mind.....

Doll - Barbie
Potato - Masher
Dog - Wagging Tail
Telephone - Voice-mail
Red Toenail - Vamp

Have you ever.....

Gotten stuck in an elevator? Yes (and being claustrophobic it was a very bad experience).
Egged a person? No.
Stalked someone to find out where they work or live? Ummm yes on the web, amazing what you can find!
Spent an entire day in nothing but your underwear? No, but I've had totally naked days.
Gone Skinny Dipping? Yes I have.
Been in a fist or cat fight? Nods. Fight or flight, I fought.

Lasts.....

Time you tripped? Does stubbing my toe count....who moved that door?!
Time you cleaned the base of your toilet? Mid-afternoon last Sunday.
Gum you had? Airwaves blackcurrant.
Pair of socks? White - those little ones that just cover your feet inside your trainers.
Beverage you had? Hot water - it's an Asian thing.
Spur of the moment decision you made? Had rice instead of noodles for lunch.
Movie you watched? Hidden.

What would you....

Say if your best friend told you they love you (male or female)? Say it right back. And she and I do that a lot. Why is it women are so much more comfortable saying that to each other?

Right now ....

What are you wearing? Skirt, blouse, knickers, bra, tights, heels, reading glasses.
What are you thinking? Damn, lunchbreak is almost over.
What are you listening to? My friend asking me if I knew Bruce Lee had a brother (she's reading the paper).
What would you like to be listening to? The sound of waves breaking on the shore.
Are you annoyed by the length of this survey? No, just with being asked that question.
Are you tired? No, my low time during the day is about 3-4pm and about 10pm, other than that I'm always running full on.
How many people in the room? Me and my best friend.
Any cuts or bruises on your body? Checks....no.
Are there any animals in the room? None at all.
Are you eating anything? I'm chewing that airwaves blackcurrant gum I mentioned earlier.

Games People Play

Noone plays them solo. Games that are played on the web aren't solitaire, they involve at least one other person to be in the picture, for 'Game On'. Sometimes the game is clear, sometimes the game box is hidden and you're not sure if you are playing Chess, Cluedo or even Trivial Pursuit. To many out there, these pursuits are indeed trivial and no thought is given to the feelings we expose and which make us so vulnerable. At the merest hint of an easy meal, vultures will circle overhead.

Over the years on the web I think I've honed my intuitive ability, though I'll freely admit that for the first year or so I was pretty green and I looked for the wrong thing in the wrong places, becoming a veritable whirling dervish in my need for attention. Actually, being needed rather than wanted had led me to some bad decisions in my life before, so in effect I was just carrying into here, who I was out there. That is something I continue to do, albeit as a more complete person these days. I know not everyone does that though, and many personas are created to live in this 'virtual' world. The one with the little 'x' in the top right hand corner of the screen. These references are about my past life in chatrooms, not my new life on the blogs. I am finding this so very different and enthralling.

I trust easily, I've always trusted easily. I will think the best of you until you show me the worst of you. And I find it very hard to forget, let alone forgive, a transgression. But I shall not allow anyone to destroy my ability to trust the next person who crosses my path, because that would kill a part of who I am.

I am here with my eyes open and my trust levels held as high as always. I will present to you the person who I am, warts and all. Not everyone can cope with warts, I know that. In my journey I have learned to always ask questions and expect honesty, for I shall always give you my honesty. A question unasked is always a question unanswered. A question asked and not answered, is usually cause for concern.

Don't blame the vulture for feeding off the carcass.

Soulmates

Reading through blogs earlier I was struck by a post about two people feeling they had been made for each other, a physical, emotional, spiritual, mental fit.

It reminded me of something I'd read many years ago which at the time really resonated for me and which I'm glad I've been able to find again. I'd like to share it.

There is someone special for everyone. Often there are two or three or even four. They come from different generations. They travel across oceans of time and the depths of heavenly dimensions to be with you again. You are bonded together throughout eternity, and you will never be alone.

Your head may interfere: “I do not know you.” Your heart knows.

He takes your hand for the first time, and the memory of his touch transcends time and sends a jolt through every atom of your being. She looks into your eyes, and you see a soul companion across centuries. Your stomach turns upside down. Your arms are gooseflesh. Everything outside this moment loses its importance.

He may not recognize you, even though you have finally met again, even though you know him. You can feel the bond. You can see the potential, the future. But he does not. His fears, his intellect, his problems keep a veil over his heart’s eyes. He does not let you help him sweep the veil aside. You mourn and grieve, and he moves on. Destiny can be so delicate.

When both recognize each other, no volcano could erupt with more passion. The energy released is tremendous.

Soul recognition may be immediate. A sudden feeling of familiarity, of knowing this new person at depths far beyond what the conscious mind could know. At depths usually reserved for the most intimate family members. Or even deeper than that. Intuitively knowing what to say, how they will react. A feeling of safety and a trust far greater than could be earned in only one day or one week or one month.

Soul recognition may be subtle and slow. A dawning of awareness as the veil is gently lifted. Not everyone is ready to see right away. There is a timing at work, and patience may be necessary for the one who sees first.

You may be awakened to the presence of your soul companion by a look, a dream, a memory, a feeling. You may be awakened by the touch of his hands or the kiss of her lips, and your soul is jolted back to life.

The touch that awakens may be that of your child, of a parent, of a sibling, or of a true friend. Or it may be your beloved, reaching across the centuries, to kiss you once again and to remind you that you are together always, to the end of time.

~ Only Love is Real - Brian Weiss, M.D. ~

This part:

"You can see the potential, the future. But he does not. His fears, his intellect, his problems keep a veil over his heart’s eyes. He does not let you help him sweep the veil aside. You mourn and grieve, and he moves on. Destiny can be so delicate."

is oh so true for me, about this man I know. Fate can offer up introductions, but it's up to us what we do with them.

How about you, have you encountered your soulmate or, better yet, are you lucky enough to be with him/her?

Speak to us of Love

Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

~ Kahlil Gibran ~

Living In The Moment...For The Moment

Yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Yesterday is gone, all my yesterdays are gone. Tomorrow is there, over the horizon, but like everyone else, it is uncertain to me. I wish for it and I work towards it, but I cannot know with absolute certainty that it will be mine.

I've known too many people who stopped at today, while thinking they had tomorrow, to be so sure. And even if I do see tomorrow, how many tomorrows will there be for me? After all, it's only when my tomorrows become my todays that they are truly mine.

That's when I own them, only then. And I do own my todays. I'll make no excuses for what isn't done, what isn't had, what isn't gained. Yes there are things in my life that hinge on others, but I won't rely on them to make things happen for me. I shall speak the words I feel, I shall reach out and touch the people I want to touch.

I, and only I, am in charge of me.

the bones want to fly

when you are old
your skin will be delicate
fragile as tissue paper
my breath will rustle against it
my fingers will slip over the folds
under the creases
slide into the secret places
(I am always discovering
new secrets within you)
the bones beneath that skin
will be light bird-bones
they will want to go up
want to fly sunward
they will glow through
the skin, at night, when we lie
beneath the covers
it is too warm here
you will cry
I am burning up
I will coax you to stay
I will lick sweat from your pale neck
and blow on that shivering skin
I will lick my way down
(I have done this so many
many times already)
I will lick circles on your sunken chest
I will lick all the way down, and take you
entirely inside my mouth
until you lose yourself
until you are no longer bound
by earth and skin and bone
(I have done this, and will
a thousand thousand times...)
afterwards
I fall asleep
my head resting on your stomach
one fragile arm flung over
your thin thigh, and hip
(it is not much to hold you down)
you will lie there in the dark
hand buried in my silvered hair
listening to the wind
flying
through the trees

~ Mary Anne Mohanraj ~

These words make me hope that I will find this kind of intimacy, even if only in my later years.

Centred in Self.....or Self-Centred

Or maybe just plain selfish?

Centred in self, I let the energy flow from me. Everything I give you, I do so willingly and comfortably. I have enough for you and me, I do not worry about sharing. And I know I shall always have enough.

When self-centred, I must have the energy flow to me, for me. I need validation and recognition. I need, I just need. Look at me, see how wonderful I am. Give me whatever I ask for, I know you want to.

And selfish? Well that's keeping everything in me, for me and me alone. I will take whatever I want without concern for you. I might run out of it. So I'll take more than I need, just to have it. And my rainy days are more important than your todays.

Which am I? I am centred in self.

Praline, Truffle or Just Plain?

It's interesting the chocolates that people choose. Some like the nuttiness of a good praline, or the light velvet of a truffle. And yet others want their chocolate pure, unadulterated and well, plain.

Like these little bites of decadence, the consumer could well be described in similar terms. There are the nutty ones, the smooth ones, and the ones who prefer no embellishment at all. Then of course there are the creams and ganaches, the whole nuts, the fruits. And the fruit creams, the caramels. And let's not forget - the liqueurs!

And ooooohhhh! The muted shades. Everything from unchocolatey white to creamy rich brown milk, to the purist's choice - the rich bittersweet, almost-black, dark chocolate.

Does anyone have an absolute favourite?

My childhood is filled with memories of the way Cadbury (the very pedestrian British manufacturer) would stick to the roof of my mouth. To later developing a taste for finer handmade chocolates by way of befriending the pastry chefs in hotels where I worked. To now having something of a penchant for the finest of the fine.

A bit like life really, from basic taste to developing a palate. And then refining that palate towards being satisfied by only the very best experiences, those that are exquisitely delightful.

Like a mouthful of perfection, the balance of a fine milk chocolate-coated praline (my personal favourite).

archy and mehitabel

the lesson of the moth

By Don Marquis, in "archy and mehitabel," 1927

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

archy


I love Don Marquis' writings. The archy and mehitabel books are amazing and if you haven't partaken of their delights, may I recommend visiting Don Marquis' website

THEY ARE THE MOST UNLIKELY OF FRIENDS: Archy is a cockroach with the soul of a poet, and Mehitabel is an alley cat with a celebrated past -- she claims she was Cleopatra in a previous life. Together, cockroach and cat are the foundation of one of the most engaging collections of light poetry to come out of the twentieth century.

"expression is the need of my soul," declares Archy, who labored as a free-verse poet in an earlier incarnation. At night, alone, he dives furiously on the keys of Don Marquis' typewriter to describe a cockroach's view of the world, rich with cynicism and humor. It's difficult enough to operate the typewriter's return bar to get a fresh line of paper; all of Archy's dispatches are written lowercase, and without punctuation, because he is unable to hit both shift and letter keys to produce a capital letter.

"boss i am disappointed in some of your readers," he writes, weary of having to explain the mechanics of his literary output. " ... they are always interested in technical details when the main question is whether the stuff is literature or not."

It is.

Obsession .... Possession

When does loving someone become an obsession? When does wanting someone become possession of them?

I once knew a man, and knew him well, who was obsessed with possessing a woman. It's a jarring thing to see how destructive something can be. How love can turn to obsession and wanting to hold can turn to possession.

He never did get over her. That woman was not me. I was the woman who came after her. The woman who would always come after her in his heart and mind.

Dancing Around the Edge of Pleasure - 2

I was asked if I would be expanding on my earlier post.

Thoughts have been zapping from synapse to synapse. It is an interesting time for me as I get to know someone new.

In relationships, that dance around the edge often leads to us tumbling headlong into the pool of pleasure, sending waves crashing back to the edges of it. After a while they may become mere ripples.

Sometimes the pool becomes still and without obvious energy, even though the potential is there. Too often the excitement of possibility mutes into the familiarity of the known. However, if we can recognise that lapse before it becomes accepted as the norm, we can stay connected.

Possibilities are endless if we wish that for ourselves.

But, not everything lasts and sometimes we find ourselves back where we started, looking for our next dance around the edge of pleasure.

When People are Torn from Our Lives

Not neatly excised. Or tidily removed. But torn away from us leaving a gaping, ragged-edged hole in our being. Do the edges ever knit back together?

How do we heal from that? Do we ever heal from that?

I suffered horrible, heart-wrenching loss twice in the space of a year. Strangely both on the same day, but a year apart.

My father's mortal shell gave up the fight on March 17, 2005 after several years of unimaginable suffering, courage the likes of which I've never seen before - and indeed hope I am never called upon to bring forth for I know I wouldn't be able to match, in any way, his bravery. An exceptional man, a treasured husband, an adored and adoring father, a cherished friend. And a kilt-wearer! He was 72.

I read twice, once at his funeral in Scotland:

Parable of Immortality

I am standing by the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
And I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a peck of white cloud
just where the sun and sky come down
to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says :
- 'There she goes!
Gone where? Gone from my sight - that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the places of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says:
- 'There she goes! ', there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout :
- 'Here she comes!'

~ Henry Van Dyke 1852 - 1933 ~

and then again at the scattering of his ashes at sea in Hong Kong:

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 ~

A year later, to the day, I lost someone I loved in a way I hadn't loved ever before, in a way where I was loved back as much as I loved. Ripped away at 45 without warning, senselessly gone from my life and others. A man more gentle and compassionate than I have ever known, a man I would have loved for the rest of my life. A man who loved me and forgave my foolishness, my weaknesses, my faults. A man who drew from me, all the wonderful things I am that noone had ever bothered to look for before.

I hope wherever they are, that they are together toasting a daughter and a lover, for I know they would have liked each other greatly. I hope they are at peace, more than anything that is my wish.

I miss them both, my dad who anchored my life, and my lover who brought so much joy to my soul.

The Caress of the Written Word

Three days ago I met someone who, in this short time, has spoken to the core of my being and who has touched and stroked me where I am most responsive. He has talked of things of the heart and mind, the natural world and the world of his life. We have each shared something of ourself with the other.

Today we met and spoke for several hours, feeling our way tenderly and a little cautiously at first, but seemingly knowing the path we had both chosen to take, though never directly expressing it to each other. He pronounced my height relative to his, to be perfect for kissing. There were no expectations, no goals. Only a touch here, a touch there, a soft and caring caress. The taste of his tongue, the scent of my neck. Slowly our bodies came together and I molded my shape into his. Feeling his hands caressing my soft body, I gave to him all I wanted to give and he gave this back to me as we spoke of sharing and not giving/taking. He shared with me his essence.

He honoured me with his affection and his caring, tender ways. We made soft, sweet, perfect love and I left him spent and ready for sleep.

And we did all this, through the written word.

Dancing Around the Edge of Pleasure

Sometimes....it seems that in relationships as they bud and then blossom...the dancing we do around the edge of pleasure is so much more entrancing than later being immersed in the pleasure itself

Now the Pressure is On...

Someone asked me 'do you have a blog of your own' and I answered no ... and then wondered why I don't ... so here I am now, with a blog of my own.

Now the pressure is on to be entertaining, captivating, interesting or at the very least not boring. Oh dear.

I'll be back!!

Welcome to My World

Welcome to my world .... I believe the eyes do have it