Tag Archives: love

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Here I Am…………

Trust.  What a word…. encompassing so much.  I have always
tried to Trust… people, intuition, feelings…..  it is something that
comes naturally to me, idiot that I am….and that precisely
is how I got myself into this conflagration…. the Fire in Rio…
a Fire of the Heart.

I come, hat, heart and lingerie in hand, sure of myself and the feelings that were put on ice for the year we were apart.
I was the Keeper of Love, but I have such bizarre assurance of
what I know and feel, that comes somehow from within…..

I go to Rio, I hold to that Feel that is US… Us… and oh my
what a feeling, a knowing, a fire that could blaze through all of our visions, and onward to a future that has no boundaries.

Have you ever been with someone who you Know you can do
Anything with?  I mean, the two of you are such a nuclear fission,
fusion, crashing of dreams and raw energies…  and somehow in
your heart you just know it is fate and it was agreed upon so long ago, that there was no way this prior agreement
cannot be fulfilled.

So Here I was, after nearly a year of waiting and holding and keeping close to him and the agreement… to return to Rio, be together, find a way to co-create our life, and learn just who
WE Are together…
For when two blend into one, a new Entity is created…

So it’s Morning, and our NewYears’Eve has turned to a dawn
of Reality, neither of us had dreamed of or imagined.

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Back but Not …

This blog started as a running commentary on Dating sites.
Then it went in a direction that was not planned, yet one
that was in the card catalogue…
You know… that thing that you know some day you will write about………Someday.

And then that Someday became a train that I hitched a ride on
for quite a while….

Time was,  it was Time to get off that train… for a while at least.

Perspective.   That is what matters in life.  And perspective
depends on your locale, no matter the Bardot, the Time Zone,
the Chakrah….

So here I am, listening to Brasilian Jazz for the first time
in a long time…
I have avoided it… I did not want to go back to it….
go Back to it, to the emotions that the music lead me to. 
For many years, I used Brasilian music of all sorts to
take me back to that magical place that I had attained with
this person who had come into my life. 
And now, for years, I have pushed all of it away….

It’s called Survival.  It’s called Healing…
It’s also called something … oh,
and Right Now as I write, Jobim has come on Pandora, the
station that will be my slave and play whatever mode I choose…
And like I said, I am allowing Brasil to re-enter my reality,
because… although it represents Him… it also represents
the culture that I fell in love with many years ago, and
opened such beauty and rhythms and sweet language sounds to me.

Please…. I am a girl from the sixties, and I loved those days
when Samba entered our culture, and became a part of Movies that
are Dated by the Samba notes that are played as Party background.
I mean, check out Peter Sellers, and an early film… “The Party”…
which, if you haven’t Seen it… oh you Must!
It’s one of his Best, and Samba and those times just envelope
the film. It was a heady, sweet and naïve time, before Reality
struck. I am so glad I got to be there… But…
I am a girl of the times, and all those notes, those feels
go straight to my soul and to my Netherparts as well…

So now Jobim … and his brilliance, his iconic purity…
reminds me that Brasil is more… so much More than Alcir and
all he happened to bring to me….. I fell in Love with Brasil,
and was lucky, privileged enough to really get a taste of a
culture that mesmerized me for so, so long.

So I guess I am saying a few things… I still love Brasil. 
I am still in love with the Music that falling in love with a
Brasilian took me to…. and now I seek to, on one note,
Separate one from the other, and on another level, Allow me
to feel some positivity towards finishing my story about
my love affair with Brasil, and with this crazy Brasilian
who really in all honesty, fucked me over big time…
whilst bringing what I wanted, which was a true real visceral
experience of uniting with this culture.

And yes, still, I feel there are things that need to be
confronted, completed, shared, and yes, even enjoyed,
before this tale is over.

OH… and ps… I am now Listening to DEAD MAN WALKING
soundtrack, and yes, You Alcir know what that means…

 

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good morning, good afternoon and good evening

Well old friend, it’s been a long time since we last visited.

I have stayed away on purpose.  One can only do so many
things at a time well, and my focus has been with things
new and quite different from reminiscences of old loves.

Still, I have made a vow to myself, and I am not one to take
that sort of thing lightly.  I promised I would write a book to
share an experience in my life, one that drifted with me for
a long long time, and then flared like flash fire….and then
evaporated like the ethereal thing it became.

Oh it was real.  No doubt about that.  But it was not something
to last in the planes that we here call real, the here and now.
Worth telling….. worth sharing….. worth finishing.

I’ll be back……………

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… the him of it …

alcir in his cageImagine someone you See…
Someone who is so beautiful beyond the words to say…
Someone who holds himself in his Own Cage…

Prisoner of Himself…
Held within webs of the past
and
No matter how you try…
No matter how many signals he gives..
No matter how many times he says… Please…
Help me… Please…

Please can you tell me… what can one do…?

…. i’m publishing this amazing picture of you…

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…it’s only a dream in Rio…

The plane banked over that giant Bay, with curling coastlines and
mountainous mounds, little lumps poking their heads up, between
the blues.  The Bay that held Pao d’Acucar and it’s little Trams …
….sugar loaf in white man speak …. gatekeeper to it’s glory.

The Bay with the battered ferry boats trekking back and forth to that
ancient City on the mainland… that City built, century upon century,
in styles and cultures from nearly everywhere, as they passed
through on their way to their next incarnation.
The Bay, the Port of a million years, the bridges and beaches of what
seemed a dreamland paradise…

My heart pounded and my breath came quick…
He would be there waiting for me, after all this time.

The view that i’d dreamed of  once again filled my sights, and still
I wondered if I was ready, if I could deal, face the real, make this
thing work in person.
Months of long distance rings, missed connections, echoing words…
please pick up…..what? please repeat.. when will you be home?…
…i miss you, can you call back, it’s a bad connection…. I miss you.

His laughter, his voice, the times he was really There despite the
distances… the photos over and over, holding the connection
like a candle, shielding it from the winds of fear and change.

The unloading, customs, paperwork, luggage, head swirling,
watching and waiting til the moment, and then….
far away in the crowd he stood, and something on his face when
he finally caught my eye brought my stomach to a standstill.

The old Raybans I’d bought him were successful in masking his
mood, but body language, no matter how closely held,
like cards to the chest, revealed so many confusing signals to
my senses, and i fought deciphering them at this crucial moment.
I had to hold to myself, be here Now, wait til he was close and
in front of me to understand.

And then face to face.  I threw my arms around him, and breathed
deeply, hearing his heart, once again smelling his closeness.
He was talking with another man, and shared some sort of irritation
when he saw my luggage.
Eyes rolled, something in the face that wasn’t for me, but for this
new guy friend who somehow understood what was up against.
I felt strangely marginalized.  Part of me was crushed, wishing for
that beautiful rush together that I’d envisioned, the
movie moment replayed in my head.
Part of me knew I had to wait.

I’d brought a big plastic tub, filled with art materials, books,
journals, jewelry findings and stones.  I had to have things to do
in that tiny space of his that only held Him.
I had to hold on to something of myself.
He, after all, was a known factor, and it was easy to be caught up
in the all consuming largeness of Him.
It all seemed quite natural to me, but somehow he wasn’t really
present, something was not aright.
And it felt like a wall…. not of bricks, I hoped….but perhaps of straw,
hay bales, something that i could huff and puff and blow down.

But for now, as we awkwardly trekked to his little Gersel Jeepy car,
we made small talk, and his mood was dark and tired.
Was he glad to see me?  Was he hung over?  Had he not slept?
Was it worry or fear, over amped or regret….
He had that ragged look to his eyes, his skin, that I’d seen before.
He was hung over and sleepless…

After we were in the car, after the miriad of turns and trails, when
we were on automatic, and on our way, did he tell of how long it
had taken to find a parking spot, and how little he’d slept, and
how long he’d been drinking.
The Aeroporto was on the same large island in Guanabara Bay, and
we’d only to drive to the other side to be back in his little cave, where
he could relax and begin to grok the reality bubble we were now in.
He poured drinks for us, and we began.

The Day had come, and here we were… each in our own way doing
our best to come to grips with this rush towards and
away from eachother.

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…i must return…

I called him from the trampoline.
It was out on the grass, beneath tall pines, and with a view
of the ocean from way up high…
My friends’ house was on ‘the ridge’, with far stretched views
of blue going on forever, beneath stretches of pine and fir and
brush that blended together to create the soft muted green
slide, leading to the blue of the Pacific along the NorCal coast.

“I’m jumping on a trampoline”, I told him.  He sounded confused.

“Where Are you?” he asked, and the long distance made a few
second’s  delay in our already challenging conversation.

“I’m at my friends’ house, where I’m working… ” I told him,
“and I’m outside in the Sun, looking at the ocean, and jumping
on the Trampoline…………..Naked…!  ”
I waited for the reaction.

“Reeelly?”  …I could hear his smile, and I jumped and giggled.
“Yes…!  and I’m Missing you.  I need to come there Soon…
I need to be with you Now!”
The jumping became more insistant…

“Waaalll….” came that all too familiar pause while thoughts
gathered like clouds.
“Oh jes geeve me a leetle longer, Babe”  he sort of whined now.
“I’m steeel studying for my lisence, an the test won’ be for a while…”

“OK, but I can’t keep on waiting forever” I said.
“It’s already been too long…”

It had been seven months since I’d left Brasil, seven long months
for us both to get it together, and be back together in Rio.
When I left, it was supposed to be Two…

He’d found and lost work, he’d called me drunk, so drunk he didn’t
remember it the next day, he’d called saying “theese theeeng in my
lap eees loooking vary goood to me right now”, meaning the gun he
warmed in his hands.
I talked him down from being sick, suicidal, sad, lonely and confused.
I’d heard him say “I can’t Dooo theeese alone”, meaning he knew he
needed me, and yet still he hesitated when up against the
actuality of my return.

I sorted through the arguments between my head, gut and heart.
Fear clashed with the knowing of connection, and the distance on
that long long line stretching between us made it even more vague.
What the correct path, the righteous path, the perfect timing was,
no one could know.

It had to be a balance between my needs and his, his fears and mine,
but most of all, a return of eyes and flesh in the present, to remind us unequivocally of the undeniable truth that we had found, just
eight months before.
I knew I had to be there, and in not much longer a time,
for both of our sanities.

________________________

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…i decided…

I woke up this morning, and I decided to be happy.

I decided to stop wasting my days with Waiting til things
were the way I wanted.

I decided to sing more and cry less.

I decided to say Thank You more often than I cursed the sky
for not being the Color I wanted.

I decided to smile and enjoy each Mundane Task as a
Privilege……….and to remember how many people
can’t even walk to

Chop Wood and Carry Water…

The blessings of life are just that…

It’s the small moments, when

the beetle lands on your hand, or

the jays decide to nest nearby.

All is Sacred………………I am Sacred.

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… the manicurist …

So…. I pick up where I left off…. I have arrived in my little coastal
town…the one where we had first met so many years before…
I am greeted by friends from every direction, and being northern
California in the fall…. well…
…it Is called the Harvest Moon, and yes indeed it was.

I had work 7 days a week, such abundance that is hard to imagine…
I stayed in cabins, I stayed in the camper shell on a little pickup…
I stayed on couches, I lived in a luxurious trailer.
I went here and there, working with friends for a while, then
moving on … bounty beyond belief.

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I had access to my friends warehouse where they stored all their
art studio stuff, plus tons of things from the past… the place was
packed, with isle running through and between desks with computers,
half finished art work, collections of materials ready to be turned
into magic.  A Surreal Retreat, amongst the spacey days of work
and changing company.
He works in Holography, she in sculpture and casting, creating
very glamorous Art Deco style awards for huge companies and
corporations, as well as art pieces for famous individuals.

I slept in their little bedroom, dark like a cave, draped in soft cloth
and shoji screens, quiet and shut away from the world…
…and once I’d dug in for the night, I’d turn on the soundmaker,
dial to the Sea, and dream-image being on the boat with Alcir….
…it was sweet.
I’d call him from there, and describe the toss and weave of that
boat we were on, the feel of our togetherness in that nether world.

“Oh that’s beautiful,” he would say.

I was offered a room for a while in my friends’ home, that you see
above… warm and exotic, warm colors of mirror cloth and shimmer,
from other worlds more fantasy-filled than ours.
Waking every day to good work, good company, good food
and music, and nice cold cash…

And Always with the promise of a trip back to Him, to Alcir, who
was alternatively thrilled and terrified…
I think he couldn’t believe I’d really come back, and
I know he was scared that I would.
His life was tenuous…difficult…complicated…
and though he wished for better, that was all he had to offer.

Because of his past as a Revolutionary, and later in the Foreign
Legion, it was dubious that he could leave Brasil and come
to the states, especially with the current administration and
the wars… security and scrutiny had so increased…
although he often thought he might just somehow do that…
He talked of getting a boat and sailing over to Hawaii or the Coast.
Always the romantic dreamer, ready to be the Hero…
…and he had loved his 10 years in the US, back in the eighties.

Much of this story is already written, leading up to this time…
If you want to catch up, click on Brasil or Brazil in Categories,
and start at the beginning…or jump around, I don’t care.
It’s a fun story, very romantic, very sweet, very beautiful, and
yes of course, sad.
Love is sad…. because…it’s always something.

 

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