Tiny Fragments

I thought I mattered a little bit...

Surprise. Surprise.

I lay here listening to 80's music. Nostalgia is having its way with me. No time like the past. I remember walking down the corridor and smelling the Spring air. It still smells like that except it's Winter, now. How cruel, the way our minds play tricks on us...unless, you like Winter?

It's almost dark. I take off my clothes and head for the bathroom. It's time to slip into the tub. I wait for the water to fill, first. I pour some salts and a few drops of rose oil. I keep the lights down low and light a couple of candles. I slide into the tub. I sigh. I'm free.

Even when bad is really bad, it's okay. The water is my refuge. Water saves me every single time. It doesn't matter what's going on outside. It doesn't matter what's going on inside. Here, right here, all is as it should be. All is well. I am free.

I take a sponge and dip it into the water. I pour the excess over myself. Sensuality is my best friend. You can't imagine the power I feel when I connect to it. My Imagination becomes alive. I see things I've never seen before. I hear in a way I've never heard before, too. Each scent is vibrant. I don't need a bucket list to go where I already am...I just have to close my eyes and 'poof', where ever my mind goes, there I go...

I gently wipe my body down with some oil. I'm learning to love myself an inch at a time. I need to stop comparing myself to those flawless bodies depicted on the air. None of that is real, anyway. It's just the Magician playing tricks on me. On you. On us. I spend time with myself. I enjoy my own company. I care for each part of me. I must come first. If I don't put myself there, no one else will or can...

This is a kind of intimacy most people will never experience. In this space, I am in touch with every cell of my being. I know what my heart is feeling. I see what my mind is thinking. I understand the function of my body and yet, I am none of these things. I am more. So much more.

I wiggle my toes for a few seconds. I place my right hand over my chest and my left hand over my belly. I slowly lift my legs and rest my knees to the side - left foot over the right. I thank the gods for my gifts. Whether they can hear me or not, I do my part, no matter.

Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow. The contrast it's able to reflect back is astounding. It's just the cold. It's only the cold. Keeps the heart and blood warm...here, in the water...this water that IS my life.

As The Veil Lifts...

Don't wake me from my slumber. You and your senselessness. Stay where you are and don't move an inch. I won't receive you no matter how shiny and shimmery you become. You're no star. You're just fragments of a thing left behind. There's nothing of you here. There never was. 

You're a fake, not because you and I are not on the same page but because you didn't follow through to the end. You sneaked away like a coward. I know I shouldn't blame you. We do what we need to do when we don't get what we want. And you did, by walking away. It's okay. I walked the other way long before you when I saw what you are. You're no prize. You're no jewel. You're nothing special. But, I am. 

Now, I understand you. Now, I see...see the nothingness it really was. Just ups and downs, lefts and rights but no real movement. You want casual? You got casual. You got what you wanted. And yet you didn't, did you? Not the kind of casual you were seeking. I'm not sorry I disappointed. You're the disappointment. You can't help what you are. 

All your posturing amounted to foolishness and illusions. You can't deliver. You don't have what it takes. Why should I feel bad for being stuck up? You're not worthy of anything more. This is what you attract in me. It can't be any other way than how it is. 

I hope you're ashamed of yourself. I hope you feel bad. That's my only revenge. It makes me smile that I don't behave or respond the way you hoped I would. You're just a snake in the ground. You carry no poison. I hover and tower over you like the 5 ft 6" being that I am. Inwardly, I'm so much grander than that. You can slither all you want. It didn't make a difference then and it won't now.

I remembered how I waited. Oh, how I waited. Like the High Priestess. I sat there with all the knowledge of the world on my lap. I knew the truth then. I decided to rise above it. What else could I do? I am so much more than you could ever fathom.

Emotionally, you're immature. You're incapable of investing. My lack of response towards you says more about you than it does about me. I'm the star that shines in the sky. I'm that thing you'll never reach or acquire. You sneaked away because you saw there was no point in hanging around. So, go. Go. Slither away in the dirt the way you do in search of your next casual connection. I'll still be the star in the sky who didn't fall for your nonsense. You'll always be.. just a man.

Ponderings

He asks me what I want. I say, "I don't know." But, I'm lying. I think I'm figuring it out and it's not something I would have imagined ever wanting. So I take a step back. I look at it from every angle possible. I talk myself out of it...because I'm a lady.

It's not my fault I am the way that I am. I blame the Angel for my essence. I blame the Angel for my personality. Well, it's not all bad. It's not all terrible. Only inconvenient. Yes, sometimes, it's so darn inconvenient, unless I look at it from another angle, and then I see, it's all just right. I'm just right.

How can I go against my nature? I don't know how. It's comfortable over here. I don't know how to play the game. I don't know how to take the risk. I'm too...naive?? I'm not sure. Apparently, I'm too heavy. I bring him down. I have nothing to say. Hmmm. I have plenty to say, just nothing he wants to hear. It's okay...I guess I'll have to take off my clothes...alone.

I remove the clip from my hair. I look up at the cloudy skies and smile. I walk towards the shore, the shore that is my life. I marvel at how the waves move the way they do or the way the wind blows and how the trees talk to one another. I can feel the grains of sand between my toes. I know it's futile to hang on. But, I don't want this moment to end. I want to prolong it, stretch it, expand it. I pray - please, just a little longer.

I hear a whisper, "Your wish is my command."

I ponder. If I can't talk to him about my personal life, what's the point? What's the message? First off, there's a complete resistance to 'natural' progression or to the natural flow of interaction between people. There's a hindrance to growth. In a real sense, to building and creating. There's resistance to emotional intimacy. Am I missing something? Is that really what he wants? I don't see where the value is, where the exchange or reciprocity is. Or is that the point? There is no real value. Why would I want that? To ease my loneliness? To have a good time for time's sake? To appreciate the beauty of no attachments or expectations? To be satisfied with what is? Because it's here today and most likely, gone tomorrow? So I should just take what I can get and leave my troubles behind...for a little while?

But, what am I then? What would I be? Who would I be? A commodity? For as long as he has a use for me? For as long as he's satisfied with getting whatever he gets from me and I from him? And what would these 'things' be? Companionship? Money? Sex? Love wouldn't factor in. The set up is designed to keep love at bay. I don't see why I would ever agree to such an arrangement. While I enjoy his company, spreading my legs for him while other women are spreading their legs for him, under the guise of 'friend', doesn't turn me on or make me feel special. And, I want to feel special. So my legs are staying closed. If he wants to enter my depths, he's got to do better than that. 

We can't change people. He is who he is. I am who I am. He can't sell me what I'm not willing to buy. I refuse to be a faceless being. I keep coming back to this. I can't help it. I won't stoop for...pleasure. I'll have some chocolate instead! The idea of a man using my body, and then trying to convince me that I'm getting something of value out of it, too, is repulsive to me. 

I was looking at myself this morning in the mirror. I admired my breasts, my stomach and pelvis. I felt tenderness towards my arms and legs. I remembered the line - how we do anything is how we do everything. Sure, I can live in fantasy. I imagine what it could be like with him. I imagine him being a certain way. But can I be sure he is who and what I imagine? He can't be. I've seen what he is. How attentive could he ever really be with me? What happens out here is a reflection of what happens behind closed doors. I'd be left heart broken and the heart was never supposed to play a part. He's even said that. So, fuck off! It's all bull shit. None of it matters. How utterly shallow! Why would I want that? That kind of nothingness? To be reminded of everything I absolutely despise about mankind? No thank you. 

I don't understand why I would have sex without caring and tender feelings in the mix. It's so easy for him. He can stick his wand in anything. I can't let just anyone cross that threshold with me. It's too sacred to me. I'm the woman he thinks doesn't exist anymore. But he doesn't want the real. He can't handle the real. He wants to remain in the shallow end of the pool. I've been swimming and residing in the ocean for a good long time. He's got to come where I am. I have no interest in going backwards.

Unspoken Words

I stood in the silence of my heart hoping to be anchored as he uttered
his senseless words
Only to discover there was no silence there but a tempest of great
magnitude waiting eagerly to spill over and devour this scene

I grabbed hold of my book of secrets
raising this jewel to my untamed and roaring heart
I whispered as loudly as I could
I pleaded to remain calm
I tried to comfort her
"Remember, they're only words. Only words."

I felt the heat of the sun on my face but longed for the coolness of the moon
I mustered a smile as my eyes reached for his
I'd recalled how that morning, in the bath, I'd taken my bottles of
lavender and rose oil and added a few drops of each to the water, how
I'd said a little prayer, how I'd set an intention, how I'd pronounced
the words with such power and emphasis, it became a mantra
My heart's chant

The space widened
I slowly crawled out of my abyss
And he saw. I saw that he could see.
But what did it matter now?
What good is a Prince when you're already a Queen?
What good is his light if my dark outshines his?

Flesh & Bones

I take off my clothes, one piece at a time. Slowly. I know he's watching. He thinks I can't see him. He can look all he wants. He'll never touch.

I'm just flesh and bones. Nothing more. That's all he'll ever see. I'm a woman of convenience. I'm a giver. He'd be taken care of. He'd have all his needs met. That's what he wants but since I'm just flesh and bones, he's getting none of it.

Because I'm more than this flesh and these bones. He can't see that. He can't see me. But, I see him clearly. 

A confused man is the worst kind. Why would I waste my time on a man who isn't sure? Clearly, he's got nothing for me. I want heart above all things and his heart is closed to me. If I was just flesh and bones, I could give myself away. I could slip into pleasure and fantasy. I could do all those things he finds no problem with. If only I were just flesh and bones...how happy I would be...

Hmmm.

No. How unhappy I would be.

I'll take this sadness over that kind, any time. I see it now - the moment after having shared intimacy with a person who never cared to know me. I'll remember all the charming things he'd said and then I'll feel sick to my stomach, at how I allowed myself to be conned by...libido. I'll see that's all it was. And he never said it would be anything more than that. So the feeling of sickness would grip me more. What would he see? He'd see he was more than just flesh and bones, to me. He'd see just another woman, another stupid woman, another lonely woman, a woman who needs a man like him to wave his wand around. Please. He'd see nothing more than flesh and bones.

I refuse to be reduced to that for...pleasure? What does pleasure have on me? Nothing.

What does he have that I can't give to myself? Nothing.

I brush my hair for five minutes. I then proceed to apply some rose and coconut oil to my legs, my behind and move up along my stomach towards my chest. I'm extra careful there. I make sure to be as sensual as I can because every moment counts. I count. Backwards and forwards and all the way around...

Do you know what I'd lose by spending a night with him? With a man who doesn't love me? 

All that makes me the woman I am. Do you think I'd pay that price? For a man who's like every other man? Who has no trouble penetrating any woman? Why would I want to be in that category? Why would I want to be reduced to a number? Or a faceless being? I can do that all by myself. I don't need his help.

I lay on the bed before putting my clothes on. I spread my arms out and raise my legs up. I stare at the ceiling. A hint of light comes through the curtains. I can hear soft rain against the balcony rails. I smell the freshness of the air and grass nearby. 

I smile. He'll never taste what I am. Oh yes, I am expensive and all the money in the world can't buy what I am. If all he wants is flesh and bones, he can get that anywhere. 

On A Rock By The Sea

I feel lost. Lost in the wilderness of my mind. I feel the wind on my face and it brings me peace. For a moment. A moment. If I hang on, I can extend and expand this moment, stretch it out, until I can smile. Smile a melancholic smile.

It's not that hard to do. I lied. It's difficult. My thoughts pull me back in, towards that depth, that darkness, where dreams are crushed or revived. I'm not sure what's worse. I decide to have a good thought, to see what I've got, how blessed I am to be. Then I hear and sense my Spirit's longing. I don't understand. I believed there was more. I wanted more. Maybe when I really appreciate what is, I'll perceive it as 'more', as the gift it truly is.

But, I fail. If I was fulfilled, or rather if I felt I was truly fulfilled, I suppose I'd have nothing to write about. I imagine there would be nothing worth exploring. But, like this, like this as I am right now, I can delve. I can swim out to the farthest shore. I can penetrate the waters. I can find pearls. I can. I can. Maybe the thought of drowning won't even cross my mind. Maybe I'll relish the sensations. The warmth. The softness. Maybe all of that will be worth the storms I'll have to journey through. When the water gets cold, when I feel myself shiver and my teeth chatter, I'll wonder why I ever ventured off. Too late. Here, in this grey blue space, I find myself. I apologize to the gods for my heavy heart. I apologize for not being light and fluffy. I apologize for the essence that is me. It's the only route I know to myself. I ask if there's another route and they whisper words in the wind that will reach my ears. "No, there is no other way."

I'll forever be sitting on a rock by the sea. When I'm in the water, I'll miss land and when I'm on land, I'll yearn for the water. I can't have both. Not at the same time. It's always one or the other.

There are times, though, when I'd prefer nothing but the sea. I wait for the sun to go down, to go to sleep so that it can wake up somewhere else. I wait to see the moon. I wait for some clouds. I wait to hear what secrets lurk in the night. I wait to see what I can become under the light of the moon on a rock by the sea.

Then I pray for rain while my feet flirt with the earth. The gods listen. Who needs anything when you can be intimate with and fed by the landscape of your own life? When you can take off your clothes and feel your own vulnerability? When you can see your own beauty, without judgment or ridicule? When you don't have to feel shame? When you can tap into the eternal simply by being in the presence of sky and stars? Who has time to "need" when your cup is already full and is overflowing? What's the real issue here? Sometimes I fail to see how full my cup really is and when I don't see, I am blind to myself and all that I am. How can I not see when I'm made up of stars? Of the cosmos? Yet, I'm pulled down by this or that thing and all that is not of the real. This vortex will not let up. It's up to me to circumvent. I am no ordinary being.

The Art of Letting Go

My name is Grace and I live in my imagination.

Gosh, I can be so cutting. I can make assumptions when I know better, when I know not to, when it would be best to wait and see. Yes, I can be stupid, too.

Sometimes, it's just the hurt talking. Actually, it's the hurt and pain that talk most of the time. I don't know how to turn them off. I shouldn't verbally vomit all over everyone. It's unfair and no one cares. Men and women are so different. A woman's mind can go to places she's never been before, to the furthest corners of the earth, corners she has no business traveling to. I can be so black and white. I fail to see the grey areas. It's something I need to work on. I ought to be using all of that energy to create poems and stories and not to bring myself down. I have no trouble taking my own sense of hope away. When I feel hopeless, it's because of me and nobody else. So, if I put myself there, I can surely take myself out of it...in a single swoop...with a change in perception and attitude.

That's what communication can do, too. Words can clear away the confusion. They have the power to do that. I'm glad. I feel bad and sorry for the nasty thoughts I had, day in and day out. I'm better than all of that. Still, I falter. I need to accept people where they're at and not where I want them to be. I need to stop taking everything so personally. I'm not the center of anyone's universe and nor should I be.

I'm not the type to throw dishes across the room when I'm upset. I just walk away. I've always just walked away. I wish I could say I didn't look back because I've always looked back, too. But, with disdain. I'm not as forgiving as I believe myself to be...

I lived like a hermit these past two months. I even stayed away from my favorite neighborhood cafe, a place I'd go to relax and unwind. How things change. When I felt the urge to take a walk outside, my mind stepped in and said, "You need to rest." And so I did. I felt happy with the rise of the sun and as it hid behind the clouds, I felt myself go down, down, down, into the abyss. And that's when I prayed. It wasn't even intentional. I just found myself saying the words. I wish they all didn't begin with, "Please, help me."

Saturday morning was a little different. I sat on the couch, cross legged, watched the rays through an opening in the curtains and I didn't use my mind to connect this time. It was more from the heart. The sensation was quite distinct. I had a heart to heart with myself, I suppose. My prayer rolled off my tongue, the words unhindered, unspoiled. Even I had to step back to contemplate the words that had come from deep within. I shed a few tears and made sure to end it all with a smile. I guess you can say that I was feeling desperate. I dislike the taste of despair. I must have surrendered to a moment, though, because I saw I had no choice but to accept things exactly as they are and I'm telling you, it's only painful when you resist or when you hang on, when you want something so badly, you sabotage any good that can come out of a simple letting go. Do you know how much power there is in letting go? How much energy is wasted on hanging on, needlessly? That's when the light comes in because the act of letting go creates an opening. It's not enough to know this in the mind. If it was, we would have all let go when it was required for us to let go, minus all the unnecessary heartache and pain. It's experienced through the heart and sensed in the body.

It's not about avoiding pain or guarding oneself. That's still rooted in fear. Sometimes, what we want isn't what we need. Sometimes, they're just not the same. You can only start where you're at so there's no point in judging yourself. It's difficult to be compassionate with oneself, that's for sure. I guess what I'm saying is that moment on the couch was an experience of peace. I was at peace. I was okay. I had what I needed. I was exactly where I was supposed to be and for the first time, in a long time, I paid attention. I wasn't distracted by this or that thought. I was reaching as far as I could, as deeply as I could with the tools that I had and I did pretty good. And, with Great Help! I exhaled. I had finally exhaled and what a relief it was...