Noticed this afternoon that my room was a little on the dusty side. Pulled everything off the shelves before leaving for rehearsal.
I returned home to my floor, as I left it, littered with coated-grey objects. I was just about to tackle the issue when an ex decided to make an appearance.
We'd ended on bad terms. Remember? He's the one I publicly humiliated at a party by pouring lemonade on his cheating skull.
As you may recall, this is the umpteenth time a major cleaning, corporeal or otherwise, has summoned unfinished emotional business before me. Indeed, the lemonade incident itself remains a shining example of this very phenomenon.
Years later he didn't want to explain, really, or even entertain explanation. He merely wanted to convince me that, though we made a "dangerous pair," I just might want to flirt with that danger yet again.
Ahhh, so he wasn't married with 3 kids! That's how I envision the whole lot of my former interests: snatched up by better women than I and now, miraculously, fully invested in completely enviable lives of which I dare not learn a single detail lest I become ill over what could have been.
And why wasn't he living the perfect life I pictured for him? Perhaps because he isn't a good kisser or because he is wildly insensitive or because he is always an enigma or because, ultimately, he could care less about this litany of complaints I am now cutting short out of consideration for you, kind reader.
He tried and tried, but time healed AND educated. I met a boy better suited for me, and THAT didn't even work. Here he was presenting me with a lesser option. Absolutely no temptation. Sooo easy to brush off.
There are reasons we aren't together, reasons we aren't with our formers, reasons that aren't always evident because we're not quite ready to see in the midst of the collapse--reasons that later become cause for celebration.
Thank goodness I am not with this man! Thank goodness I am not with any of them!!!
Oh, yes. Sing it with me, and take this scientific morsel with you: next time you think you miss someone or you're simply wondering where he is, you have only to pick up a broom or grab a glass of green juice. Fixing those little kinks is only one sweep, one sip away.
27.7.10
14.7.10
Zen Cool Kitten
It is said that the Tantric experience is cool rather than hot. Thus, a Tantric version of Paris Hilton would instead chime, "That's cool." My teacher is always encouraging us to use this lens beyond the bedroom, and I've toyed with it for some time now without huge results, but, all of a sudden, I seem to have fully integrated this knowledge.
Likewise, my beloved Dr. Loretta Standley often speaks of spiritual romance, and I didn't realize it until today, but boy, am I in love! Today as the priest performed last rites on my grandmother, he was reading this passage, and I'm going to have to call him on his cell phone tomorrow to find out exactly what it was, but it sounded like a love letter. To me. To everyone. I know it sounds crazy, but it was so beautiful I had to hold back the tears.
Dr. Standley sees God as the Father, whereas I usually envision the Universe, but this evening I got a glimpse through her eyes.
My kitty Blake is a bad boy. When he isn't sleeping, he terrorizes his surroundings, knocking things off shelves and crying incessantly to get whatever he wants at the time, that is, until cuddles ensue late at night. Needless to say, he had to be locked in his room while the priest was here. With my "Thank you, Father," Blake was unleashed upon the household once more. He started brushing up against my legs, looking to earn some extra food, so I picked him up, scratched his precious white chin a bit, and let go, expecting him to immediately jump free. Surprisingly, he remained. Still. Tranquil. Just drinking it all in.
He would eventually bounce off of my thighs and onto better things, but those 25 seconds were magic. Right then, when he wasn't fussing and complaining and trying to make things happen for himself, my wish was to simply give him everything. Immense generosity that perhaps only a parent would know. Thus meandered a mind briefly imprinted with the word "Father." Quite the education.
I believe the Universe wants to give me everything, and it is asking that I be calm and cool rather than clamoring to receive. Flossie already told me this two years ago, and it's finally sunk in. In the placid, there is power, so stay zen, my little cool cats.
Likewise, my beloved Dr. Loretta Standley often speaks of spiritual romance, and I didn't realize it until today, but boy, am I in love! Today as the priest performed last rites on my grandmother, he was reading this passage, and I'm going to have to call him on his cell phone tomorrow to find out exactly what it was, but it sounded like a love letter. To me. To everyone. I know it sounds crazy, but it was so beautiful I had to hold back the tears.
Dr. Standley sees God as the Father, whereas I usually envision the Universe, but this evening I got a glimpse through her eyes.
My kitty Blake is a bad boy. When he isn't sleeping, he terrorizes his surroundings, knocking things off shelves and crying incessantly to get whatever he wants at the time, that is, until cuddles ensue late at night. Needless to say, he had to be locked in his room while the priest was here. With my "Thank you, Father," Blake was unleashed upon the household once more. He started brushing up against my legs, looking to earn some extra food, so I picked him up, scratched his precious white chin a bit, and let go, expecting him to immediately jump free. Surprisingly, he remained. Still. Tranquil. Just drinking it all in.
He would eventually bounce off of my thighs and onto better things, but those 25 seconds were magic. Right then, when he wasn't fussing and complaining and trying to make things happen for himself, my wish was to simply give him everything. Immense generosity that perhaps only a parent would know. Thus meandered a mind briefly imprinted with the word "Father." Quite the education.
I believe the Universe wants to give me everything, and it is asking that I be calm and cool rather than clamoring to receive. Flossie already told me this two years ago, and it's finally sunk in. In the placid, there is power, so stay zen, my little cool cats.
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