… what is love?…

Ah the eternal question… n’est pas?

What is it that turns stable and sane people, who are
quite able to function and breeze over most of the big
bumps in life…
…into creatures who suddenly find themselves on a
rollercoaster of internal chemicals, unable to
think of much else, and behave like mindless
blubbering idiots?

“Love…an intense feeling of deep affection, a deep romantic
or sexual attachment to someone;
fondness, darling, passion,
to fancy, be fond of, or adore.”

Well!  that certainly covers a bit of territory.
Me thinks we need about 18 words for love, like the
Eskimo/Inuit with their many words for Snow…
(although Google tells me this is another myth, and that
the European Sami People are the ones with all the words)

No wonder we’re confused. Let’s try going deeper…

“1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as
for a parent, child, or friend.”

or how bout…

“1. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude
toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition
of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness.
2. A feeling of intense desire and attraction toward a person
with whom one is disposed to make a pair; the emotion
of sex and romance.
3. a. Sexual passion.
b. 
Sexual intercourse.
c. 
A love affair.”

And it goes on…and on…My Favorite is ….
“a Zero score in tennis.”
OK… now I’m even more confused.
Biologically, they say it’s all about Chemistry.
There are wonderful substances that release when we
‘fall in love’, and these create such pleasure in our brain
centers, it becomes a high very much like cocaine,
and apparently, just as addictive.
But that still doesn’t answer the Why of it…
Why do we ‘fall in love’ with only certain someones…?

For me, I know that I was programmed for it….let’s call it
Romantic Love.
I’m an American, and between the old fairy tales, Disney,
and Hollywood… well, there ya go.

I was also somewhat sheltered, raised on myths, prone to
fantasy, and innocent in the most wholesome way.
I have grown wise to the world, but I am still a fool
when it comes to Love.

But I Do know the difference between “Being in Love”, which
is the Romantic equivalent of idiotic infatuation, and Real Love.
And I don’t think Anyone outgrows the ability to fall in love,
at least for a little while.
Out of mind would be the appropriate phrase.

But as time passes, if you have some genuine aspects there
that hold your interest and continue the attachments, you begin
to have Real Love, which is this deep and abiding feeling of tender
appreciation and attachment,  plus an admiration for parts of
a person, even though you are well aware of their
shortcomings and rotten parts.

This is very different from the first, and much more satisfying.
It is at this phase that you might actually find someone
you can stay with.

Well…?  don’t you honestly in your heart of hearts finally
somewhere believe there is a Someone for you, a someone
that was predestined to find you, or you them,
…someone who will be the mirror to your disposition and the
puzzle piece you’ve been waiting for…
…the perfect fit sexually, of course…..as well as
Someone who will appreciate the little parts of you that
others might find strange and irritating…
…and it really helps if that someone also Real Loves You…

Oh, the Right one will not only Get it, they will Enjoy it…
Relish it, Savor those eccentric, delightful parts of you, that
you Know are wonderful and shareable… and just a little weird.

Come on … admit it.  Even the cynics, the disheartened,
the broken hearted, and the most world weary amongst us…

I am willing to bet that down in the heart of your beaten up little
heart, is that soft little core, that childishly, purely as a child,
sweetly as butterflies, believes there will be someone who will
Understand who we Really are, while also turning us on….

….to the point of mind bending ecstatic transformational
blending of two souls into one magnificent pulsating
glowing being….whilst allowing us to leave our bodies and
become one with the Universe…
…oh wait…am I aiming too high?

Come on…. it’s there, you know it…
otherwise, why would we keep on trying to find it?

I wonder, as I look clearly at it now, if I was up to the task.
I chose not only a Brazilian man, but also a genius…
a Revolutionary, free thinking, well educated wild man,
…who read all the classics while still a child, and dreamed
of being one of those heroes who changed the world.
A man who saw very early that Most of the present world
is basically bullshit, and way off course.
Someone who didn’t fit in, and never wanted to.
And someone who was punished
from day one for being who he was.

And with a primal spirit that chose a physique so enriched and
so blessed, as to be called Special….in the nicest way….

So able and blessed, that he believed on the one hand that
he was able to do Anything, while on the other hand having
been told he was bad, so bad he was not even worth a mother’s love.
Confused, torn, convoluted, lonely, cynical, and hopeful…
…and a complete Romantic.

Do I like challenges….ya think?

So what’s my deal?  And what have I learned from all of this,
this story that is still and yet half-told…?

One…. Sometimes Love is not enough.
Two…. we know not what the goal or outcome is, or might be.
Three… let go and let…(insert the name of whomever you choose
as your source of wisdom, life and trust.)
Oh, and don’t forget
Four…. shit happens, the Universe decides, and shit happens.
Stuff floats into life…and we call it, even if we deny it.

That, and making Art of Life… is my project, my path, and
my choice… deal with it, process it, and enrich Life itself.

And make your wishes known to the Universe, visualize what
you’d like, and then…..choose what comes…

 

 

… the journal continues …

It seemed a continual pendulum swing, from highs to lows,
from close to push away, from together to alone, and
obviously that was what it was.
Why the mystery?  Onion layers…

Two people, old enough to know too much, to think they’ve
seen it all and enough more to sink a goat, now thinking
they can each transform themselves into the Fool stepping
into the Abyss, as he called it.  And why not?
What more was there to do, but complete the circle,
and begin again.

But new borns cry a lot.  They throw tantrems, they are
afraid.  Nothing makes any sense, and they want to be held
and rocked.
They want soothing songs and nonsense stories
to swim them into themselves, where being is
a Dolphin dance of knowing without words.

The Issues…….and the Methods…
She thought deeply on this one, because just now it seemed
like the “fight” wasn’t about the issues at all.  It was about
the style used to prove a point, about winning, about being right.
At least to her it was, and that was all she knew, of course,
like all of of, each of us.

Consider the life of the man.  Beaten as a young child by
both parents, isolating himself for protection, proving
himself again and again, yet the only answer he ever
got was from himself, like when the father threw him
into the ocean to teach him to swim.  Sinking to the bottom
revealed his abilities to hold his breath, and the complete
and utter joy he felt when he realized he was at last safe
and in his element.  Alone now seemed a strength.

And War.  Always at war with all  of it, but when the real
thing came with the Legion, he saw a path to rightousness,
recognition, and power.  He could be a true Hero.
He hadn’t figured on what it would do to his heart.

So fucking alone.. he was completely alone, wrought with
past cobwebs, ropes, the scars from war…the hardest fucking
plastic known to man wrapped around his heart.

Old ways are not set in concrete, but they Are set in neurons,
pathways, grooves so deep, so repetitiously run.
And new tracks can be near impossible to dig out.

 

________________________________

 

_______________________________-

It’s now Thursday, five days into my visit to Rio, to Alcir,
and we’re home, and he’s drinking.  I have never known
anyone who can drink like he can, and yes I know it’s a
bad sign, and yes I know Brasilians drink more beer than
any other country, and yes in that tropical heat, that half
frozen freezer stored refreshment cannot be beat, but…

This man has such high tolerance to everything, since
maybe birth, and so it’s a gift and a curse.  I have seen
him put away liter after liter, go to the store, buy eight
more, I drink one, he drinks the rest, and while he’s out
he’s done shots of Scotch at the local garage bar.

Yes, along those winding urban streets there are countless
bars in garages, little gatherings of men sitting on cheap
plastic chairs, smoking and bullshitting.  It’s a part of
Brasilian culture, the men just go out at night and drink.

So Thursday he drinks, we cuddle, he asks me not to
let him go, and then sneaks out when I fall asleep.
Friday there’s the usual hangovers, denials, and Mr
Bad Mood.  Sullen isolated shit head.
We go grocery shopping at the giant Mercado that we
usually walk to, sometimes holding hands, but this day
he drives us, because his elderly Aunt Maria needs to
go too.  He goes to a chair at one of the little mall stops,
and Maria and I go in with our separate carts and get
what we need.  She is not a happy person in general,
but when neither speaks the other’s language, it’s pretty
lonely.  She cooks, and I can’t even ask her about
ingredients or where something is.  And he’s back in the
mall drinking beer, and beginning to refer to
us as “you people”.    This does not bode well.

I’d so looked forward to getting out and shopping for
things, finding new fruits and vegetables, people watching,
and now he’s just mean and doesn’t want to be there.

When I’m in line, which is always endless… I mean, take
a book or some playing cards when you shop here…
he comes by long enough to load the cart up with beer,
and a big Scotch.  Oh, and I’m buying.
Of course I’m buying… I’m a rich American and I’ve
intruded upon his space, and I will pay.

Maria and I are now pretty much the same, in his eyes.
Irritating women who want something from him.
Never fall in love with a man who hates his Mother.

 

_____________________________________

… not even a week ….

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.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

…leaving on a jet plane…

February 9, 2005

OK… so here I am, sitting in the airport, all packed and ready to go…
It’s about 5:30 am, and the plane boards at 7.  > EGAD…!

The day is finally here, and I am a bit numb.  The last 24 hours
are a blur of lists and deadlines… I was up at 3am yesterday, and
I think I dozed a couple hours between 5 and 8.  Very physical day,
moving tons of boxes and furniture.  Last minute things all day,
finishing the animals and ebay, and mending,
cleaning, packing…all of it.

And now I’m here, waiting to begin my journey to my future.

She wondered how she ever got here… Looking ahead, to a future
unknown, yet so full of strange foreign fare.  Possibilities loomed…
She’d felt many things in the past 2 months…lately she’d been
saying she felt like the girl on the half shell.
Like a mail order bride. Like Grace Kelly leaving all she’d known,
to be with her man, in a strange country.
All pleasant……all prickly strange.

If it all were true, this would be the last hours of aloneness.
So many years seeing herself alone…how many? 21?  Lots of
false starts, lots of maybe – maybe nots….. And now?
Could this be a cosmic joke?  The signs were auspicious,
she had to admit.

Could things really just fall properly into place, and aside from
the usual day to day drab realities of really knowing someone,
is it possible, just possible that the two of them were inheriting
some sort of golden egg, laid how long ago, but now fully ripe
and hatching forth a creature of shimmering luminescence,
full of light and ready for action.

To see him finally face to face… His specter prowled
the cove of her heart, and she desperately desired
a peaceful resolution to her longing.

It would be many hours, stops in Chicago and Miami, time changes,
dozing and rousing in that dream state that travel creates…
And by late tomorrow afternoon, they would be together.

 

 

…journal entry december 2004…

“My mind wandered past years of mind games, years of imaging,
and I wondered:  has all this thinking, remembering, replaying
old mind videos made it happen?  Or did I just Know to begin with?
Gazing continually at scenes of Rio, Pao d’Azucar, Corcovado,
Guanabara Bay, the Islands, the Music… and always him in each…
Think of Rio visit, and Always in my mind there’s the thought…
I want him to show it to me.
I want to be with him, and see His Brasil.

The days are getting longer again, and just the thought
makes me smile… Actually the thoughts of more than a few things
make me smile…
Such incredible things to look forward to, such possibilities…
My dear darling crazy Brasilian is down and wounded, and I
wonder why… His left knee is bad, and where did that old injury
come from, which dragon was he slaying?

Haven’t spoken with him in many days, and it actually feels better
to take a break.  The longing festers…
It’s only been 2 weeks since we first spoke, and so much already.
And I must wait 2 months for Passport, 2 months of selling,
2 months of workouts..
Last times I called, he wasn’t in a talking mood. I felt awkward, like
I was irritating him, and that just led to frustration and feelings
of rejection, so I do not call.  He’s in his cave, even though he says
‘call any time you want’…  I want Him to call Me.

So now, for one thing, I realize he lied to me when we were together
before.  He told me he was ‘tirty tree’, but his real birthdate is
four years later.  So he was only 29 when we met!  What a Brat!
A brash and bold, incredible Brat.

Now back to December 8th, his first call:

His questions came fast… Is your hair still long?  Do you still wear
those dresses and long skirts?  You sound the same, he said.
I can see you right now.  I always loved your voice…. he’d never
told me that …

“Yes, I remember the hot tub…” he continued.  “And it wasn’t just
the drugs… we went someplace else.”  (… we had smoked the kind,
but god only knows what else he had done…)
“That was the only time I had Peace.  I could fall asleep with my
head on you, on your lap.  I never did that.
I was drunk most of the time… I was drunk that first night, but
you sobered me up…”

“So….when are you coming to Brasil?  We can listen to Real Brasilian
music, and you can lay down beside me.
I’ll show you the Best of Brasil…”

He told me that after the first email, he had called my old number…
he still had my old shop card, from back in the eighties!
He read off the address, the phone… he’d kept it in a box since
the Legion.  He said it was now a store in town, and
they didn’t know me.
My shop had been called ‘Celestial Dreams’… and up floated the
memory of that time early on, when the phone rang…
“Hello..”
“Hallooo?  eees thees Celestial Dreeeems?”
“….yesss…?”
“Yes….. I’d like to order one celestial dreeeem, pleees….”
(snickers all around)
“Actually,” he added…. I’ll settle for an earthly one…”

So now he continued…  “Right now I am alone.  All the time.  I have a dog.
I swim everyday.  That’s Alone.  I want to get a Boat,
I want to sail and fish. ”   He said he was semi retired,
living on a small pension from the Legion…

“I have no enemies now” he shared.  “And you remember
All my names!  Only my grandmother knows all those names!
And I? ….I remember your taste…. you tasted so good….
…..you tasted like flowers.”

 

 

…it’s all now…

Writing is an interesting process.   There’s that word again… interesting.
If you pay attention, you notice changes about yourself… growth,
hopefully, and also a broadening of perspective as you see yourself
as others might see you.

As the years, and chapters, spin by… faster each year, like horses on
their return trip home, one begins to see how the writing
changes the writer.

As I review… Re-View… my journals, I enjoy both the actuality of
the moment, and the perspective I gain about myself.

I still believe the story I am telling is a valid and delightful story,
a classic if you will, with iconic characters acting out some pre-
ordained dance, and I also know that he and I have danced before,
and will again.  For life is not only ongoing…  it is a forever decision
we all have made, and denial is only a brief retreat from what
our soul knows……. The Forever Dance.

A new friend of mine, reading my blog for the first time,  noted that
she hated thinking of me as hung up on some dude, that
she did not see me as someone like that… and so it set me to thinking.

No, my friends, I am not…
Not that type, nor that woman.
This was a chapter of my ongoing life, and I am firmly in the now,
whilst enjoying a story that for me has become something classic
that I want to share.
For there are not only wonderful stories and dreamscapes….
there are things to be learned…. and not just for me either.

When I was a child, I thought as a child, I understood as a child….
… I believe that is some bible quotation, but still it renders true,
for the journals I wrote then were truly as a child.
Love, Romance, and all the attached Thrills were my reality in
many ways, and I have paid the price of that naivete.

I have no need to go down that path anymore, for now I see what
I went there to see.
Love has many flavors, degrees, and depths.  One can Love, and
yes, truly Love at that;  but if that Love is not enlightened by
wisdom and vision, the quest for love becomes a distraction from
the Real, a rush towards emotional sensations, and a mistaking of
passion for Love, of thrills for Love, and worse yet, the choice of
who receives that focus of Love can end up with Love being thrown
at someone who cannot Love at all.

Ah, the Chase, the challenge, the hunt, the seeking of a prize, the
reliving and reworking of past and unfinished scenarios….
I see all these things in my past choices.

I am a different person now.  I enjoy my past movies, but I thankfully
have moved on to a realer place, having learned from my
myriad of choices…
I mean…..How many times before you Get it…?
They may come up above ground once in a while, and wave a little
hello to me, but I see them for what they are, for things I already
have figured out, and I smile at myself.

Interestingly enough, most recently I had a visitation from an
old/younger Love of mine, and for me it was a clear reminder of
what I Really want.
He is clear, high minded, multi-faceted, brilliantly beautiful, and accomplished.  A musician, a writer, a thinker, and…a grown up.

In order to make these things happen, he has not frittered his talents
and gifts away.  Nay, he has made the best of it all, and as we spent
the evening together, I realized that this unassuming and gentle soul
was indeed my Twin Soul in so many ways;  ways that created
seamless mind melds and common ahas…
enough to make you believe in the mystery of connections,
the Mystical Web of Cosmic Consciousness.   And yet in this lifetime,
we each have chosen to pursue the lessons of life that were needed
to fulfill our promises.

I chose bad boys…. he chose complex and neurotic women…
……funny, huh?

Now, we could have chosen eachother, and it would be a blissful and
heavenly blend of all that either could ever want… that became
very clear as the evening progressed,
and much to our mutual surprise.

Instead, we’ve been doing our homework.  I know that we are drifting on parallel paths, and we also know there is a past and
there is a future…….and the Ever Now.

I believe in parallel realities.  I know that these exist simultaneously…
so then I was faced with the fact that it’s all just Fine, that it’s
all going on just as it should, just as it will, and just as we each
decide to write it…
I also realized that the He that he is, that I wish I could blissfully
enjoy right now, is there always, for me once I learn what
I need to learn, once I’m ready to relax, to just Be in Bliss….
Oh, that struggle can be so seductive!  but
it’s like you never Get there…

I know that the bliss is there, because I once woke up from a dream,
and he was still holding me, my pillow his shoulder, and in the
morning misty wakes, I lay in quiet bliss…

For now, I go on learning my lessons, taking my classes in
personalities, and seductive paths.
This visit with my beloved friend has reminded me of how far
I’ve come, and how far I have to go.
It also has reminded me that I Will Not Settle for any less than
exactly where I am, and where I’m going, myself.

At some point there are Bardos that we reach, and we jump…
and move on to new vistas.  I look forward to the next Bardos…
For now, this one has some very nice views and vistas that
I shall enjoy for a while.
The Bliss is there in the future, there in my dreams, and here
in the now as I so choose it.

It’s all here… all of it together …. all Now… all One.

 

 

…be careful what you ask for…

Journal entry…
December, 2004
“She paged down through the poem…
CAROL!… and as she read each line, it dawned on her like a
velvet sledgehammer… It just built and built…
no wishywashy here…  here’s a man of action…and….
oh shit…I have a tiger by the tail.
Holy shit…. to be the love of my life?  … Be Mine…?
Her heart beat itself out of it’s chambers, and flew round the room.
Oh my God, oh my God…she paced, she emphatically pulled her
hair back, she swore…
She wanted to call someone, anyone close, closest, must share,
must pour out, must have support…
But then she stopped.
Whoa girlie, just slow down here, just stop for a minute…
This is big.  This is something entirely different.  Not high school,
not movie romance…
This is the most devistating man she had ever met, coming back
after 15, no 18 years, and basically proposing to her.
Too much, must absorb, must breath, must take time here.
She decided to put the lid on, turn down the heat, let it
percolate a while.
Let it sink in, let this mortal mind wrap around this here thing…
Hours passed before she slept.  Waves crashed on shores of sanity,
dreams washed over her, past footage reviewing itself,
replay, replay… then….now…..then……now….
Him then….him now….. melding, morphing…pulling itself through
a wormhole, to pop up into Now.
On the phone, she could hear the change in his voice.  Softer,
a little weary, not so testosterone based, so deep and insistent,
the ego had polished up it’s edges a bit.
His daughter interrupted, and it pleased her to no end to hear him
pattering with her in Portuguese, hear the patience, the tenderness,
the Realness that he shared with her…
He talked freely with her in spite of the fact that she was there.
He’s so comfortable with his animal…
“I’m a millenium father… my daughter will know about things…
Know how to handle herself in situations, know how to give pleasure
and not endanger herself…”
“She’s very jealous”, he told her… “All little girls are having sex
with their fathers…Oh I don’t mean literally, but in their mind…”
He was right, I guess.  She thought of her father, and how being
with him had made her feel as a child.
He was safe, comfortable, warm, unthreatened and unthreatening.
And Physical… they’d wrestle and tickle and horse around, and she
loved it…when she heard of other girls having creepy feelings
with their dad, she couldn’t even relate… he was never like that.
“And I always wanted to win over Mom,”  she thought to herself….
I thought I was better for him…….Mom was mean, she didn’t
understand him and me…”   All her life, she realized, all her life she’d
had some competition for the daddy going on, in one place or another.
But it was hard for her to think of her daddy as a sex object… it just
wasn’t there at all… she wanted his focus, his attention, but not that…
Maybe that was why short men never did it for her.  Or maybe
it was because the more ineffectual her daddy became under the
duress of years, the more she fixed on tallness in a man.
“Oh give me a big yummy alpha… make him smarter and stronger,
please dear God I can’t do to him what my mother did to daddy..”
And now… Alcir is here.  Mr Alpha Man big Alcir…
He is back and is ready …
He is asking me to come and live with him in Rio.
Oh, I need to write it every once in a while, because my poor brain
is having a contortionist’s challenge, wrapping around this one…
I’m rushing toward it, and
I’m terrified.
I’m hiding while …. I can’t wait.”