i am full of lightening. desire that threatens to shoot out in little playful or raging bolts. searching frantically for a grounding point. i inhibit small space, i am aware of the damage, the effects (good or bad-however you look at it), such electric passion can cause. i understand & yet one cannot expect to control nature. we can direct & shape & work WITH it. but to ignore or avoid or fight against it, is certain danger. some things cannot be contained & thus it is wise to seek an appropriate outlet. to minimize havoc.
to not leave an oblivious wake of destruction in our paths, as i was reminded long ago.

absolute submission can be a form of freedom. yes. & here i am. "i don't want to make you into a sub, but you have to do what i say" with a smile. with a kind gentle voice & soft touch. yes, i do & that's partly the point.

& the beautiful irony is not lost on me. when i start to wonder what i did wrong, that was part of this journey. this marking. to remember, i am always doing my best, & my best is always enough. i didn't do anything Wrong. shit happens. the universe always has other plans. i can fight or accept. there are some things we cannot change. there are things that we cannot take back. there are times when rebellion is necessary, when questioning is enlightening. & there are times to just accept even if we don't understand or agree.

she says his name & instantly a flood of memories come rushing in~salsa dancing in the kitchen, pancakes after lots of wine nights with larry.....those were the pinot grigio days! pinot grigio, sex & the city at tonic, breakfast at the grecian (may she rest in peace...)---i mark phases in my life in part by where she was living & who i was dating at the time.....

there are the larry months, the ray years, the newbury st time, the coolidge corner days (mixed with the mat, darren & daniel fiascos)

she says his name & i'm mired in remmbering-i wasn't even that close to him-more close to edward & even still......

no matter they were her housemates in boston (the allston era part 1) when i started falling platonically in love with her-when we became allies. whem my world began to change-who knew almost 6 years alter we'd be here. with more radical hnesty & depeche mode & pancakes than i ever would have imagiend! & i am thankful-as i am so far from those days & eyt still so close to her. the flood of memories his name evokes has little to do with him....

he is like a maze of trap doors & smoke & mirrors

he is one beautiful diversion after another

i know the dizzy intoxication & ultimate frustration of walking a labyrinth well

i am not a masochist, i am an optimist

although some may say there is no difference

i believe i can find the magic book that opens the wall disguised as a bookshelf.

i may even read a few books in the process, so it is not all for naught if it's the wrong bookshelf.

i believe in depth-that everyone has an attic containing a treasure chest.

i like to believe i have a shot at finding it

even without a map boldly stating "X marks the spot"....

there is a certain warmth in surrender not felt in the heat of passion...

i am winters daughter sitting on the edge of summer

face tilted toward the sun, a little uncertain.

children of winter have an internal spark, ever resting in their gut. we must learn early on to generate our own light & warmth, for we are awake when the sun likes to rest. born into a time of hibernation, we are predisposed to search the shadow.....

we inherently recognize the value of comfort through layers, warm beverages, fire. there is a certain fear of exposure, a vivid sense of human frailty when faced with the elements. those who choose not to sleep through the blanketed white death will creatively protect themselves. they will grow fluffy down feathers, they will travel foraging for food & shelter in times of famine. they will collect blankets & kindling & stories to keep themselves warm.