Yesterday I went to the mountain. Again with a prayer to the spirits, a more humble dialogue. Appreciating that I get what I ask for, maybe now I need to ask for what I need... not what I want. In addition, I have to elevate my own nature to that space, that it will resist the temptation of mediocre and respond to genuine respect. I will know and meet and enter into a different energetic space where in fact I have no needs.

Maybe all this change and evolution is not going to happen over night.
But the programming of though is being reigned in at this moment. I am 4 days away from Divorce. Me and him haven't spoken for months other than 2 sentences each time we arrange the exchange of our son. I don't want to start a conversation, it might lead him along. If I am too nice he thinks we can work it out . I have so many questions that I cannot ask, because he could never explain all the whys. I cannot cut him out of my heart, or life. But he has issued enough devastation in my own confidence that I may be reeling for a while and make unconscious mistakes.

I think I have since proved that I do like sex, ( a lot) and I am not a lesbian, two of his main complaints to his friends. I have enjoyed the prospect of kissing and merging with another man, in fact several other men... But that experiment is coming to an end. It has to, because I am seeking substitutes for a hole that is bigger than the reality, and I can work better on that reality alone, than in the catch and release pond of dating opportunity up at the bar.

I will only go so far in opening to a man. I am innocent to the general human nature, because I have lived in a cocooned village where everyone is family, so trust is a foundation. I function on instinct, but a fracture in my perfect world has got the range and frequency off kilter, and my path is a new adventure as a result.

The curse of the Soiled Dove

I am out of touch.
It has been a week, and with all the instant nature of modern communication I was able to text a generous and honest message (albeit naive) the morning after my frollock in the Airstream with Man of Flame. Thanks to those same devices and forums I know he has logged in 6 times in the last week and not even a nudge in my general direction.

The ball is definately in his court, and I have been waiting and waiting now for days for the ball or bouquet to come back over the cyber fence towards me. Waiting and waiting. All this time in a suspended frenzy, still haunted by what the fuck ! (see previous blog) and the over extended lingering in denial, because at this point in my life disappointment has been the pit stop I have been parked in for too long, especially with regards to men.

A simple note, token or expression would suffice. For goodness sakes he could even poke me on Facebook, a simple acknowledgement that he was present and even remotely grateful for the savage frenzy.

But not a bloody word.
Am I out of touch, I must be.
The nature of a decent man is not standard repertoir anymore. But when you move in a world of society where someone send a card after a dinner to express appreciation, a little cyberpoke after a hokeypoke would be nice.

So for seven days I've been coming up with excuses in my mind to make allowances for the man: he's from Oregon they live differently; the moon was in the 7th house and Jupiter was aligned with Mars; it was Friday the 13th.

The most rational irrational explaination I can coclude is that we were haunted, and on reflection that is very very possible. The building we were in is one of the oldest in this state, and it was at the turn of the last century a brothel. I certainly was unable to contain myself, infact I would say I surrendered completely to him.

What is a lady to think, for that aint no way to treat a lady. If there was a bounty or token that would suffice for a soiled dove, but nought beyond a tossed coin of exchange. Sadly i was just another porthole in his starbord view, and now other islands are in sight as part of his voyage. This man was unaware of his fortune, and now I have adjust from giddy and estatic, to stunned, to gratitude for the lesson a rare alchemy of elements albeit one rare fling.

Finding the soil in which to truly grow

I have always had an appreciation of erosion. The edge of the earth is constantly shedding its form. Crumbling, disintigration, an ongoing example of solid form filtering and returning to dust

Where I live the contours of the earth are mearly the wrapping on a history of time. For a few years all l noticed was the surface, but eventually, like in any relationship, the deeper nature of all things soon gets exposed.

It took time, till my mid thirties, to get a realistic overview of life. Enough to appreciate, and maybe even be grateful for every chapter of my life being essential, no matter how painful or uncomfortable. It was also in conjunction with that, I accepted that no bed of roses is without its thorns. In addition to have really exceptional roses, a bit of shit is necessary.

In an interview on the radio EO Wilson talked about, if he took 1 square foot of soil, he could probably be fascinated and content for the rest of his life. To me that spoke of a scientific and inquisitive mind. Maybe my interest in the earth is also about my inner journey. To consider not just my current life, but the origins of me. Beyond the garden I was planted in. There is the nature of me and how I flourish and respond, or what is toxic and has stunted my growth.

I am at the beginnings of creating a new garden for my own existence. From the roots up there is a lot I have denied till now. It is a strange thought to think of growing without my roots entangled. Without being bricked in by the confines of another. Oh how sweet a flower the possibilities of new growth and a forest of my own.

What we ask for we sometimes get.

What was I thinking!
Which is a more restrained way of saying, What the Fuck! which I did, and I shouldn't have. Except I wanted to, and sort of enjoyed it. But I was in a moment of love and possibility, and he was just playing another game of catch n release.

Its been 15 years since I have done the occasional tango with a different man other than my husband. But life has unleashed me from that formula and instinctively I am open to a new sum to complete my equation of Love.

Yes love, I love easily, quickly and it seems foolishly, but its also about respect. I am certainly not naive by usual standards. But maybe every woman is naive by the standards of modern man.

I work and live in a small community, I love everyone I know. Seeing them day after day, year after year tends to sift out the authentic nature of most people. You can't wear a mask. At least not for very long, because the inconsistency of nature and behavior eventually is revealed. If not this week, then next year. How you handle life, death, community and celebration, is all revealed over a period of time. Why am I saying this. Well my mistake is applying that sense of trust and face value to the rest of the world that filters through our little domain. People from outside of here are part of the other world. They do not consider the wake in their trail. So often anonymous encounters happen where you do not have to look the same person in the face day after day. How they will deal with this impulsiveness of today is not concluded tomorrow.

Now you could say I brought this on. On Thursday chatting with a friend at work about men, and fucking as opposed to making love. We were commenting that many man have no idea how to make love. They only know how to fuck and objectify. Internet porn has given the opportunity for men to wack away recklessly at the click of button, whilst observing the unrealistic domain of something other than femininity and sensuality. Hence when reality presents the real life alternative men have no idea how to integrate and loose themselves in sensuality and making love. To me it all comes down to the Kiss. If they cannot kiss then they are not able to make love. Or rather I should say, if they do not know the pleasure of a kiss, they are incapable of the intimacy that making love brings. They are going to hammer away from the distant perspective of getting their jocks off.

So I declared at the moment of this discussion, that ' I want a man that Kisses'. What do you know, blessed universe responded, 24 hours later. Now I realise the need for being more specific in my requests for manifestation. What I should have said is 'I want a man that kisses, and sees me, as me, not a conquest, will cherish the opportunity and will treat me with respect with regards to the rare union of two spirits.

Is that too much to ask.

Now I am not a hussy, never was, never will be. My mistake in leaping into this particular tango, was because I knew this man. Or at least thought I did. I was attracted to him from the moment we met, last year, when he was in town to teach a workshop. But I didn't realize that was a mask. That was his 'by day' facade, and different than his 'by night' mask.
Hence how easily I slipped when I was all liquored up as this man offered me the most perfect example of a passionate ten second kiss.

Before I knew it we were naked in an Airstream and making our own fantastic kenetic energy. Fabulous... or at least I thought is was. But traveling sales men, move on. So did this one, without any indication that anything meaningful actually happened. It did for me, I have learnt I should be more specific in what I ask for. If I could erase the silly expectation that it would be meaningful to him, I would be fine. Instead I feel a fool. For letting it all go, for a perfect kiss.

Living without a shell

I have always had a problem with intimacy. Part of it is down to the fact that I had very little interaction with anyone in my first 5 years, little communication, little response. So I became a master of observing the feelings, emotions and subtle language of the senses of anyone who entered the arena. For years I had observed quietly from the corner of the room, seen and not heard, as my mothers tradition insisted. Yet I observed insincereties & the ideocincrites that were nature of shallow interaction. The only sincere interaction I was used to was irritation, frustration and anger. Thus most of my life I was emotionally mute. Resigned to a stagnent rigid place of defense and survival. Infact it wasn't until I arrived in America and started to adapt to the continum of hugs and mild insistent love that this hard shelled crab started to become softer shelled, and eventually learnt to exist without pinchers.

Often I joke about my split personalities, but it is more acceptance of the adaptive personalities. The nature of me and the formular of acceptance. The nature of me is innocent and sincere, exquisitely delighted with the opportunity to get lost in the moment, as I am oh so prone to doing. My adaptive nature was to burrow into the center of actitivity, find a purpose, be an essential ingredient in the big mix. Some may view this as transparent adaption. I believe that as long as my intentions are to be a force of good, and to offer selfless support and assistance when needed, I am in a right place of right action. All these threads & offerings stem beyond the immediate gratifaciation and are part of the genuine desire to create a better bigger picture.

As much as the hard shelled crab may have shunned the innocence of such thoughts in the past, I appreciate that the essence of my intentions have never changed. It just took 45 years of trying on all the sizes and options to end up with the original theme.

A scent of possibilities

According to all timing, planetary n such, life was to unfold for me last week, and new career yada yada was to become the complete fulfillment of me.

Instead I am in a puddle of unconguiled substance, unrecognizable from the former self, me, no origins of me, no main ingredients, maybe evidence of washed out me, with supporting paperwork to qualify. As empty as I feel, there is also a sense of optimism, for I've been in an inconceivable place before. From there I came to here, and here was a wonderful place until 5 months ago. But I appreciate the subtle loss and surrender of self over the years, and so now more than ever I know great opportunity is before me. For it is certain to be different from the past. The residue of desires is still fragrant enough that the dilution of years and blending cannot disguise the rare original formula.