Holding On

Sometimes the capacity to imagine a future that has yet to become reality is both a blessing and a curse.  Nonetheless I am glad that my personality is hard-wired with such a skill.  I came across the picture below and was left spellbound by the inherent message contained in it.

It looks as if the tree with its overstretched limbs will give way at any moment and the tree will perish as it crashes to the rocks below.  No one could argue with that assessment; the picture clearly shows the stress and the exposed roots dangling beneath the tree with nowhere to go and nothing to hold on to.

Look closer – only the roots hanging from the bottom of the tree are withered and fading.  The roots hanging on, even if only by a thread, are darker and alive.  The tree has green leaves and its bark is still dark too.  Only the lower right part of the root system is decayed.

I see hope; I see healing; I see life.  I see a chance to survive.  This photograph says Hold On.

Ignited

Sometimes I find the most compelling truth in the lines of random text:

“One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die.  However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find––is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.”

I suppose the mistake I made was assuming that one with such a profound influence on me would remain present for awhile and continue to fan this wondrous flame that he ignited.  Unfortunately it turns out that this was not the case.  At first, his disappearance was painful and I felt it all the way down to my bones.  I ached from the relentless, deep, dark, dampening pain.  But when the disorienting fog of rejection finally dissipated the warmth from the flame remained.

I was stunned to find the fire he started was still there.  The flames weren't the same life-affirming spectacular flames that danced across my path as before, but were more like flickering embers that tiptoed in my shadow whispering, "I'm still here." Those flickering embers were here to stay; their soothing comfort provided a steady tender quiet glow.
     
Maybe my path was not meant to be illuminated by the unending flash of intense fire; perhaps the momentary blaze was meant as just a match to stir the embers, clear away the suffocating ash and stoke the fire that was already there.  

Blame it on the Music

Two

It took her a moment to rebound from the soul shaking surprise of seeing him again.  “Oh, it’s been a couple of years now, I think,” she muttered casually.

He placed his hand around her arm, steered her toward the bar and murmured, “I think I need to get you another glass of wine.”  Unable to get any sound to come from her lips, she smiled coyly and nodded.  She wondered if he could sense the excitement she was so expertly trying to conceal. After all this time he still looks so damn good she noted silently relishing each stolen glance at him as he navigated through the crowd toward the bar.

He handed her a glass of red wine and motioned to an empty table, "Let’s go grab that one.” She nodded as they made their way to the table along the fence.

“This looks like a cozy spot and the breeze feels nice” she observed.

He smiled as he brushed the windswept hair from her eye, “So tell me; what are you up to, still teaching? You still have a few weeks of summer break, yes?”

She savored his touch and hoped her reaction could keep that delicious secret.  Nodding, as she sipped her wine, “Right, I have 5 more weeks yet.  What about you?  Are you staying out of trouble?” she teased.

“Hehe, mostly. Work keeps me busy and I try to get out on the bike whenever I can.”

“You know, you have not taken me for a ride like you said you would,” she challenged brazenly.

His steely blue eyes peered directly into hers and he trumped her challenge, “Well this is your lucky day; I’m on the bike tonight.  Drink up and I’ll take you right now.”

She swallowed what was left in her glass in one gulp and upped the ante, "Come on, let’s go then.”

He laughed, grabbed her by the hand and walked briskly toward the lot behind the park.  As they reached the bike, he took her purse and placed it in the side bag. He asked, “Do you have anything to tie your hair back?”  She shook her head no.  He reached into the side bag and pulled out a bandana.  He instructed her to lift up her hair as he tied the bandana loosely around her neck and then pulled it up like a headband making sure her long blond tresses were tucked behind.  “Is that, tight enough?” he questioned. “You should put on some sunglasses too, if you have them.”

She put on her sunglasses making sure that the temple tips were tucked securely under the bandana.  “I’m all set,” she replied eagerly.  He extended his arm for her to hold onto while she mounted the bike.  Once she was seated, without warning he grasped her face with both of his hands and kissed her unsuspecting lips firmly.  “You better hold on tight,” he admonished teasingly. Still breathless from that stolen but delicious kiss, all she could do was nod.

It was hard for her to resist him even though she knew she should.  The allure of his kiss, his very touch sent her into a place where logic, common sense and rational thought wouldn’t follow.  Every moment with him was like being suspended where time ceased to exist and only unbridled raw emotion and passion reigned.  He was so dangerous to her and she knew it.  As he revved the engine he glanced back at her and smiled; she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

Blame it on the Music

One

“I want you to want me; I need you to need me; I’d love you to need me; I’m begging you to beg me,” she belted out as she finished curling her long honey blond tresses.  She hadn’t been to the music festival for the last two seasons and she was long overdue for some enjoyment.  It had been a hectic few months at work and she was mentally and physically drained.  It was time to unplug.  Cheap Trick, a group that was popular in her youth, was headlining and she was excited for the chance to hear some good music. She had some of their top hits playing while she was getting dressed for her evening out.

Her sing-a-long “Feeling all alone without a friend, you know you feel like d-“ was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. It was Kira.

“I’m almost ready,” she answered.  “I’ll be leaving in 5 minutes; are you ready?”

“That’s why I’m calling; I have to cancel,” Kira responded. “I’m still in Indy at the competition; we advanced to semi-finals.”

“Wow, that’s great news, congrats to you and the team.  You’ve worked really hard for this,” she enthused.

“Yes we did and I am excited, but bummed too,” Kira explained.  “I was looking forward to our girls’ night out. I’m sorry, but I promise we’ll make up for it next weekend. I gotta scoot; the next round starts in a bit.”

“Sure we will catch up next weekend and celebrate your victory too.  Good luck,” she wished as the call ended.  As she grabbed her small bag, keys and cell phone and headed out the door she mused; it may be fun to fly solo for the night. 

The crowd was already growing as she wandered toward the beer tent to grab a glass of wine.  She positioned herself at the farthest end of the beer tent closest to the stage.  She couldn’t help noticing the sunset filling the sky with strokes of rose, violet and coral.  The cool gentle breeze felt good against her warm skin.  Soon the band took the stage and started out with a rousing performance of Hello There to a roaring crowd.  She continued to sing along to the songs she remembered as did the audience members around her.  She smiled when the couple next to her commented how their generation was the last one with great rock bands.  She nodded and raised her glass to them. The first set concluded with Ain’t That a Shame when she wandered to the bar for another glass of wine.  Just as she took a sip, someone bumped her elbow and sent her glass plummeting toward the ground.  She lifted her leg at the knee to shake the red wine from her foot.  Teetering on one leg, she recoiled when a man grabbed her arm and muttered, “Careful there, so sorry – let me get you another glass. I’m really sorry.”

“That’s okay, it was an accident, no harm done.  My foot will dry,” she laughed and glanced up to acknowledge him.  She gasped her voice catching in her throat, “YOU, it’s YOU!”

Jolted by her response, he looked directly into her blue eyes as his mouth formed into a big smile, “Oh my god, how long as it been?” 

Patiently Waiting for One Green Boot

https://vimeo.com/112947154

It’s ironic how sometimes you stumble upon the answers to life’s most perplexing problems in highly unlikely places.  I had just such an enlightening moment after reading the children’s story The Blue Shoe by Peter Reynolds.

Children’s stories are like that; they teach us simple life lessons in an uncomplicated straightforward manner.  I think as adults we unwittingly make things more difficult than they need to be.  Now normally I don’t pick up children’s books, even award-winning celebrated ones like this one to read for my own pleasure. I’d like to think my reading tastes are a bit more advanced.  However on this occasion I was looking at various children’s stories for inspiration for the young students in my writing classes.  For my innocent exuberant audience I wanted something short, simple containing some sort of lesson, something with a universal moral similar to Aesop Fables.  I fondly remember as a kid I just loved those stories.  The premise of The Blue Shoe is quite simple – a shoe is looking for its “sole” mate.

After reviewing the story, I immediately saw its uncanny relevance to my own life.  In fact I laughed out loud and continued laughing so heartily that tears spilled down my cheeks.  Like the blue shoe, I too am progressing through my solitary journey looking for my own soul mate.  I know that my journey would be much more delightful with an amiable companion, perhaps another blue shoe thus creating the perfect pair.  In fact, I've been searching high and low for just the right match.  Oh how misguided I am!  Maybe it’s not a blue shoe at all that will make my soul sing; apparently it’s a green boot. 

I suppose the universe is serendipitous that way and provides you the answers you seek in the most unexpected places. It’s not quite the match I envisioned, but as my journey continues I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for a marvelous green boot.

Cue the swell of romantic music and the sunset….while I'm waiting, a cup of tea sounds lovely.

Wind Chill Advisory and Unexpected Detours

We are currently under a wind chill advisory until tomorrow morning and school was cancelled due to the dangerously low temperatures.  So I am home - cold, alone and thinking.  The cold can be easily remedied by putting on my favorite cozy comfy blue sweater and thick woolly socks. The alone and thinking part may be not as easily remedied. When I find myself teetering at the ledge of that emotional precipice - I write.

I rather enjoy sitting here in the quiet alone with my thoughts.  In a little more than a month I'll turn 52 and I can honestly say I am not where I thought I would be at this stage of my life.  Being alone in my middle years wasn't exactly part of my plan; it's been an unexpected detour to say the least. While some parts of my life are absolutely wonderful - I have an incredibly exquisite grown daughter who amazes me everyday with her compassion, intellect and zest for life.  I consider myself so fortunate to be her mother.  I am blessed to work in a career that brings me untold joy and I feel like I am making a difference in this world - at least I hope I am to my students. I am lucky to have amazing caring friends who surround me with their love and support at every juncture of my life.  The only area that falls short is my romantic life or should I say my lack of one.  It's not for lack of trying either.  Since I rejoined the dating pool less than two short years ago I have met and enjoyed dates with some very interesting wonderful gentlemen.  But there is only ONE who I cannot seem to forget.  For reasons I do not fully understand our time together was cut short.

Like an inquisitive scientist I have dissected and analyzed every moment trying to understand and unravel the mystery of the undeniable pull he had over me. Was it the timing of our encounter and the emotional need he filled for me at that particular moment?  Or was it his amazing wit, intellect and his ability to make me laugh?  Or was it the immediate comfort I felt whenever he was close and the feeling of being safe?  Or was it his inner "brokenness" I was able to intuit because it was hauntingly similar to the telltale scars born from my own pain?

Perhaps our incredible "moment" was only meant to be fleeting, yet his presence has never left me despite my best and most focused efforts to move forward on my journey.  I don't know what to do with these lingering thoughts of him and the brief magical moments we shared.  Fate is a cruel master - she shows you a glimpse of bliss and just as quickly snatches it away from you and then taunts you teasingly reminding you of the promise of what could have been.  I suppose that's the funny thing about journeys - even armed with the most thoroughly planned itinerary - life presents a detour.

Still  hopeful, we are left with only one promise about life - it goes on.      

"The Promise" by Tracy Chapman

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXpwd38W1Lk

Witness

I heard the most profound dialogue in a movie a few days ago.
She asked, "Why do people get married?"
He offered, "Passion?"
She countered, "We need a witness to our lives.  There's a billion people on the planet....I mean, what does any one life really mean?  But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything - the good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things - all of it, all the time, everyday.  You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it.  Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness.'''

For some reason this exchange between the characters resonated on a deep level; it has stayed with me even days later.  Is this desire to have a "witness" to our lives what causes such restlessness?  Is this what creates the emptiness that plagues the deepest recesses of our soul when we lack that one other person to "witness" the carefully choreographed routine that has become our life?

I think it may be.  Some mistake this yearning as lack of a physical connection with another, but find that when morning comes and your lover is gone and the wonderful after glow has faded - the restlessness inevitably returns.  Essentially we may be answering the immediate physical need, but we are cheating our deep soulful need - the need to have our own witness.  Not just any witness will do either; it has to be the one who will stand by you during the good times, the bad times, the terrible times, the mundane times and every time.

Relevance Our Quest to Matter

Is our journey to find love an attempt to be relevant?  Is it a thinly veiled endeavor to matter, even if only to one other person?  Do we seek this endorsement from another to know that our very existence does have meaning, purpose, and relevance?  Why does our quest to matter seem to govern so much of our existence? 

As an educator I am reasonably sure and can assert that I matter; I matter to the many students who cross the doorway into my classroom every year.  My existence matters in the respective lives they will go on to lead for I helped shape their growth.  Doctors matter to their patients who may succumb to life threatening illnesses without their help.  The doctor knows that often the quality of his patients' lives is improved by their association with him.  Business owners matter to all their employees who may be jobless otherwise.  The business owner knows that many lives depend upon him and the success or failure of his business.  His economic impact is further felt by the surrounding community.  Parents matter to their children for without them (biologically) the child would not exist.  Parents continue to matter as bonds of family and connection continue to form and cement throughout all of their lives.  Churchgoers and the multitude of the faithful know that they matter, because God’s word tells them that they do.  His word reminds them of His infinite love for them.  It seems that our relevance matters only when examined in conjunction with another.

What does that simple utterance imply?

Does it mean that our own relevance is only measured by the lives of others that we touch through the course of ours?  Does it mean that if one is alone he is irrelevant?

I find that hard to believe.  I think each and everyone of us matter and while it may be nice to matter immensely to one other person, we are in our single solitary existence relevant in this big cold and sometimes impersonal world.

Longing

Being alone with my thoughts in the quiet of the night may not always be such a good thing.  I find that my thoughts drift to what I yearn for….it is that intense longing that I think we all feel at one point or another.  It is the insatiable hunger for our lover’s touch found deep within our soul that defies reason or understanding.  It is that thirst for another that is unquenchable, yet our body craves it and we are certain we will perish without it.  Who among us has not felt this type of incredible, inexpressible longing for another?

Sometimes it feels as if our heart is sending out a barely discernible signal to that other heart that is meant to join with ours and we search until we find this elusive union regardless of how long, how far or how many lifetimes we must traverse through until that love only our heart will recognize is finally requited.  From the heavens Plato is nodding happily that someone understands or laughing and nudging Aristotle saying, “See, I told you they would believe it!  Silly humans believe anything when it comes to love.”

This longing I speak of can come in different forms.  For some, it may just be the idea of the other; one who you have yet to meet, but you have the vision of him (or her) in your heart and no one can compare or at least that is the message your heart sends out to you each and every time you meet someone.  Your unconscious mind measures that person against the ideal contained within the deepest recesses of your heart found only at the most soulful level.  It is like missing someone you do not even know.  Yet you will recognize in an instant once he (or she) does cross your path.  Could this be why so many believe in love-at-first-sight?  Does our heart instinctively know what we do not? 

For others, it may be someone you already know or knew, maybe briefly, or intimately, and that love was left unfinished for some reason.  And it still has a powerful magical hold over you, an uncontrollable desire that can even make the sanest person appear mad.  For reasons beyond mere mortal comprehension you were fortunate enough to cross paths with this person, yet fear, misunderstanding, or uncertainty plagued the union and it slipped away to leave your soul crushed and full of despair.  This type may be even more perilous than the first; your spirit has already tasted the sweet ambrosia of bliss and the powerful, painful, bitter aftertaste of longing can consume your soul if you do not taste it again or at least that is the truth your heart recognizes.

Then in attempts to bury the pain you divert your attention to another or put all your energies into other singularly driven pursuits that take you further and further away from your bliss, further away from the divine communion with your beloved, the one who sees your genuine essence without judgment and responds with complete acceptance and adoration.

  

Perhaps the great 13^th century Persian poet and mystic, Rumi captured it so succinctly when he wrote of surrendering to the power of love to realize the state of infinite bliss:

“There is some kiss we want our whole lives, the touch of the spirit on the body.  Seawater begs the pearl to break its shell, and the lily, how passionately it needs some wild darling!  At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine.  Breathe into me.  Close the language door and open the lover’s window.  The moon won’t use the door, only the window.”

Like Pandora, the mortal who unwittingly unleashed countless ills and evils upon humanity, we have one remedy remaining in our cache – we have hope.

White Water Rafting and Falling in Love

If anyone had warned me of the emotional energy necessary to navigate through this journey to find love again, I am not so sure I would have suited up for the challenge.  Perhaps a better approach would be to sit silently on the dock and just dip a toe in a bit to test the waters or secure myself into a tranquil stream with few waves or at least obstacles that are easily avoided without discernible threat, perhaps rapids rated as Class 1 or 2.  But no, I threw caution to the wind and I jumped in feet first, while still buckling up and WOW what a rush!  I’ve never been one to do anything half-way, so I guess it is not that much of a surprise.  Now that I am in, I better get my game on. 

This quest to find love again is like being in white water rapids at least in waters rated at a level of Class 3.  This is the level where experienced paddling skills are absolutely necessary.  There is plenty of excitement and the ride presents significant maneuvering, but not really all that dangerous even though some risk is involved.  It’s fun and enjoyable.  Moderate skills are needed to evade obstacles, but survival is reasonably certain for most while some swimmers may need assistance.

I’m discovering that every now and then you will come across the potential suitor who requires a more advanced white water rapid skill level, perhaps those for Class 4 waters.  This requires more skills and often sharp maneuvers are necessary; be certain that manageable danger will be encountered.  In fact swimmers will face risks and need assistance should they tumble headlong into the rapids.   

It is unfathomable to think what on earth you would do when you run across the guy that demands a skill level necessary to confidently navigate Class 5 rapids; the one who requires your utmost attention and skill because success and survival of the journey depend upon your proper execution of those skills.  This is the one you better be paying attention and not slack for a moment, because if a wave knocks you out on this one, it is going to hurt.  You can be assured damage will occur; knowledgeable rescue crews may not even be able to help you.  It will stretch and push you to your absolute limits of capability and then push harder.

If given the choice which waterway would you choose to traverse on the journey to find love?  Will you choose the safer route and stick with a Class 3 or under?  Or would you choose the more challenging Class 4 waterway, or not for the faint at heart, would you be bold, daring and maybe even a little crazy, and choose the ultimate challenge to life, limb and mind and choose Class 5?

In matters of the heart, where choice often is not based on logic or rational thought, I think you would be surprised to see how many would say that they would choose Class 5 waterway for love's quest.  We often say we want the passion, “the can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even function until your heart is enjoined with his” kind of love.  This type of love is the one of legends; it is the volatile passion that transcends our physicality and vibrates on a deeper more soulful level.  It’s the one that we see in Hollywood movies with the big grand swell of music at the end; the one, where when all hope is dashed, the hero emerges to claim his frightened but ever so hopeful lover. 

It is a nice thought, but in reality I think we settle for so much less.  Why?

Not me, I am definitely going for the Class 5; I want the love that consumes my soul and every bit of me.  That’s how legends are made; those are the stories we remember.