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...

The Prince of Fire: Part 2

People are interesting. Though, not that interesting.

Some people are stupid and yes, they really are stupid.

I can be stupid, too.  I've been thinking about the words, "free spirit." What does it mean when someone says s/he is a free spirit? I'm beginning to see they aren't free spirits at all because being a free spirit doesn't give you permission to be an ass-hole.

I'm thinking these folks are simply...capricious. They're hot and cold. So bloody temperamental. They're of one mind today but of a different mind, tomorrow. Today, they'll say yes when they mean no and tomorrow, they'll say no when they mean yes. They can't keep their word. That's why they can't commit...to ANYthing. It's not because they're living in the moment. It's because they refuse to make any kind of decision that requires them to be kind to another, to be respectful. They don't want to be held accountable. They can be fickle, changeable, unpredictable...yes...capricious.

Good riddance.

Since when does being a "free spirit" give you the right to be disrespectful? To be a total shithead? To be inconsiderate? All I see is a spirit in chains. Fools.

Now, if a "free spirit" can treat me like a nobody...can treat someone like me, who's been nothing but good and kind to them, like a nobody, imagine how they are in the world with people they're actually close to? One might say, "Well, that's different." I say, "No, not different at all." How we treat anyone is how we treat everyone.

I like that I have respect for myself.

I will not be that woman who waits and waits and waits for some idiot to tell me that he forgot to do something, that he forgot to follow through with what he said he'd follow through with...not again. How much do you suppose a person cares when they do the opposite of what they say they're going to do? How much do you suppose you're even in their thoughts? How much can you matter?

You don't matter. If you mattered at all, they'd be apologizing...they'd be doing, at the very least, that much.

Oh...but wait a minute...hmmm...I guess I should be putting myself in the other person's shoes? I guess I should give them the benefit of the doubt? You know...because we all make mistakes. That's true. But, what if a person keeps making the same ones? Am I required to tolerate that?

No.

And, guess what? It's okay that they don't try to make things right. Because they've proven they don't matter, either.

Pearls & Secrets

I'm laughing. You should see how hard I'm laughing...

I apply rose lotion all over my body. I start with my thighs and move down my legs starting with the right and then the left. I apply and rub some on my belly and then my behind up along my chest making sure to give my breasts some extra attention. I smile. I'm amazed how I can laugh at myself. I'm also amazed at how well I can pamper myself, too. I'm really good at it.

I hear a voice, "Never give away your pearls for free, sweetie." I put my hair up and say, "Not a chance." I put on my silky panties with care. I'm in the moment. You can't rush such things. Well, you really shouldn't...

I grab for my bra. I like the way it feels between my fingers. I put it on with a little bit of grace.  A little bit of grace goes a long long way. I look good. I feel good. I've got what I need.

I'm ready.

I had an epiphany this afternoon and what an epiphany it was. The chains are gone. I wasn't really aware I even had them on until I had the revelation and suddenly, I felt a weight lift. Gravity wasn't holding me down. It had never been gravity. It was only ever my mind. Only my mind.

But, there were moments when my sense of gravity felt like it was coming from the outside and I can't ignore that. In a real sense, external circumstances did contribute to my heaviness. Sure, I must take responsibility for my own behavior but there are those we must be cautious of, who only want to take, who aren't upstanding folks, who don't care about you or your feelings.  In their eyes, you're nothing but eye candy or dessert. They want to devour but they haven't even asked permission for a taste...

My mind was playing tricks on me. I was beginning to feel unworthy. My sense of self-worth was being determined by how the other treated me. Not anymore!

I open the closet and decide to go with a sensual outfit. I'm not going anywhere. It's all for my pleasure, right here at home. I try on some high heel shoes. These fit just right, I think. I smile again.

I pour a glass of wine, play some soft music, light some candles. What have I got to lose? Nothing. But, I have everything to gain. I'm so lucky. You have no idea how lucky I am. In my misfortune, I see my luck. I see how the wheel turns. I see how nothing stays the same. I see how things move. I move with the ebb and flow of this life.

I feel good in my body. I'm at home in my body. I'm sacred with my body. I love how one can see but cannot touch. That's my power. Let him see. Let him want. Let him try...to touch. He'll fail. He failed even before he began because I hold all the cards. I'm the gateway and no one's keeper.

Too bad he couldn't figure out that by giving a little, he would have received a whole lot in return.

I'm in tact. I've always been in tact. I decide. I decide. I decide who is worthy or unworthy.

I dance the night away like I've never danced before and the Moon watches. She watches and listens. I watch and listen. How mysterious this all is. I hold my head up high as much as I can because looking down doesn't produce much, except for bad feelings and bad tastes. I want more. I want depth. I've got enough of the superficial and the mundane. Give me some depth. And life delivers, unadulterated, every single time.

I bow my head and give thanks. That's the only time I'll look down...

The Prince of Fire

I walk along an open field. There is no path. I create my own. To my right are trees and on my far left, a body of water.  Where shall I go and what will I do? Here, it doesn't matter.

I remove my white silky scarf with my right hand and drag it along the grass as I walk. My thoughts are being carried by the wind. It's grey and blue out here...again. I let the wind do whatever it does. My hair moves like this and like that and it's just fine with me.

I turn around. No one else is here. I'm glad.

I drop the scarf.

I walk further along and remove my shoes. I leave a trail of my things behind me in case he decides to look for me. What will he do? What will he do? I wonder. I doubt he'll come. The disappointment is leaving me now. I prepared for this moment, this moment right here. It's okay if he does not come. I need a man. A man would come. So, I hang onto this wish like a piece of clothing wrapped around my body, to help me remember how that's exactly what I need. There is no room for compromise.

I keep walking...oh, how lovely the grass feels beneath my feet. Even the grass knows how to love. Too bad for man...A man who has not loved has not lived. A man who has not mourned love, does not know what love is. A man who has loved, who has truly loved, will learn to love again.

I'm tender with my purple dress as I set it down. I imagine it will still be there should I decide to turn back and retrieve it. As I walk, I imagine it laying there, listless and spent. I imagine the wind breathing life into it, creating tiny waves in the fabric. I smile. I come here so that the wind will breathe life into me, too.

I feel slightly cool and that's okay. I take a deep breath and then exhale in my usual way. So what if he doesn't come for me? No, he won't. He won't. I'm sure of it. He's never given me any indication that he would. One time, I disappeared for five weeks. He didn't call once. It's just rejection, I tell myself. It's only rejection. This time too shall pass.

He's a free spirit. He comes and he goes. He's like the wind.

And unlike the wind...because he thinks he's free but he really isn't. Only a fool believes he's really free.

It's alright that I'm not wanted. It's alright that he isn't interested in me. It's alright that he's only looking for a good time. It's alright that he'd rather laugh than cry. It's alright that he wants to keep things light and superficial.

But, I'm not superficial. I'm not free. Nor am I like the wind.

I can't even expect anything from him. I want him to do without me having to ask. He's never once bought me a coffee. He's offered but...I'm regressing...I'm being petty...or am I?

He doesn't believe in love. He won't give unless he's been given to. And what shall I give him? This man who can't even keep his word when he says he'll be back and then doesn't return? I end up being the stupid one for waiting. I become the fool. Tell me, what shall I give him? Shall I ask him out? So we can have a good time today and then tomorrow, he ignores me? How can people not see that how we do anything is how we do everything? I won't take that risk. To invest in a person who doesn't care.  And, I'm not like other women. I won't call and make a fuss but inside, it's been imprinted. I don't forget. Three strikes and he's out. Well, maybe more than a few strikes...Ah, he probably wouldn't even mind. As soon as he got a whiff that he couldn't get what he wanted from me, he bailed. Maybe he wanted to see if we were sexually compatible. What guy wouldn't want to discover the truth of that? But, I'm a lady and he works backwards...

More clouds make their way now. I long for rain. It won't fail me and sure enough, I feel some tiny drops on my cheeks and lips and on my palms, as I lift them up.

We're two different people, he and I. I remove my panties now and my bra. The rain is coming down. Down. Down. Down. I belong to the Earth. I belong to the elements. I belong to the Heavens. He couldn't handle someone like me, anyway. And he probably knew that.

Maybe I'm truly the free one after all...

Empty spaces

I say something nasty to him. I defend myself and then walk away, as fast as possible to the other end of the building. I know this building well. I've been in it so many times. I know where all the stairs are, where they lead to. I know every passage way, every exit sign. He doesn't.

But, I expect the impossible. I expect him to come for me. I expect him to find me. I doubt he even got up to follow me.

I notice a statuette of Mary on the floor behind a glass room. That's where I'll go, I think. That's where I'll sit. That's where I'll wait for him. When I finally find a little spot on the floor, I look through the glass wall, but I don't see Mary anymore. To my left is a small shrine. I see Buddha and other symbols that comfort me, for a moment.

Someone inside the room draws the curtains. Now, I can't see anything. Then I realize, there's a class of small children learning a new language. I'm guessing.

I feel out of place. And, he never arrives. I stare at the grey carpet. I notice white walls, everywhere. I don't like this place. It feels cold. I feel cold. I feel lost. I feel disconnected. I feel alone. It's always the same thing, day in and day out. There's no colour here. Where's the colour...the colour of my life? My Soul? Is this all I'm made up of? Even Mary didn't linger here for too long...