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.

to rebecca:

LIFE. i'm glad i can appreciate it from an unbiased point of view some times. marvel in the fantastical experience of merely existing as a human in this realm.

i'm doing well. i'm doing great even. i currently feel like all my emotions are rising to the surface like a million little tiny champagne bubbles, complete with tickling & stinging sensation when they *pop*!

sneeze & continue on right?

it's been a month where i've needed to remind myself (& be reminded) that there is no rush to get there. shit, that there isn't even a THERE to get to. that here is ok. & here is temporary regardless of how good or bad it may feel.

did you know i have perfectionist & control freak tenancies? i didn't. until recently. mild to say the least, but uncomfortable all the same ;)

& maybe the most important thing i am reminded of this week is that it's ok when someone i share an experience with has a completely different version of reality concerning said experience! i think i have haji to thank for that!!!! although there's lots of room for frustration & disappointment & bewilderment concerning my interactions with men (at least they are now men & not boys....as i become more of a woman) there's also the option of acceptance. imagine that.....

funny thing is, once i accept something, i usually find the clarity (in one form or another) that i was originally frustrated & disappointed & bewildered i didn't have.

i know none of this surprises you. hell, it doesn't surprise me either. :)

today i am all watercolor stains & old photos & scraps of fabric. i've been creating all day. it feels good, i'm inspired & i'm going with it!

"lies & half-truths fall like snow, covering the things i remember, the things i saw. a landscape unrecognizable after a snowfall..."-neil gaiman.

lies. half-truths. fantasies. we're not talking a blizzard of deceit. just a flurry of confusion, i suppose. more doubt than anything else. a gentle mist or haze of doubt & withholding.

things left to interpretation..& later denial.

but right now the oblivion of changing weather, the charge of a pending storm, is far too enticing.

stock up on candles & alibis...

the bees come at night...

maybe they know i've been bathing in honey. or maybe they have come to remind me, like my father earlier today, that time passes far faster than we can really grasp. can they sense, FEEL, the shifts raging inside me & have come to buzz their symphony to lull me to sleep.

they gather round my altar light, buzzing their secrets in a foreign language.

i believe they already know all of my secrets, i admit that may be why they've come. their time is waning & i am to bear witness to their last song & transform it into my own breath, honor my own desires.

& when his words hit me like a bunch to the gut, another reality shifts in me. somehow i have come to care what he thinks, & my fragile uncertain being is wounded. & i revisit this weeks earlier epiphany: i want to break open their guarded green hearts & finger paint them with my messy blue passion. & i remember patience. i need not reek havok. i need not break in. i am reminded to walk slowly, softly, intentionally.

i hear her voice telling me to take my restless body, my racing mind & my aching heart & submerge it all in the bathtub. let the water wash me clean, leave it there, watch it go down the drain with a calm mind & a clear heart & a realxed body. i miss her voice. i long to hear her tell me stories. the stories of her life, of my life, of our intertwined paths & separate journeys. the stories that filled me & shaped me as a child. & then as a woman. floating through my ears as i filled out my body. words that gave me hope & perspective & took me on adventures & tucked me in at night. i crave her voice & wonder when i will hear the stories i feel i've been cheated.

& again i remember patience. i remind myself i am a story-teller now.

i fall asleep to the lullabies of bees, i dream of her voice giving me advice about bright-eyed men & sad-eyed women......i wake up & my own words fill the air with their own fierce grace.

delayed processing...but i'm still tightening down on the lagtime...

i take the elevator to the top floor, after a questionable sideways glance from the doorman.

yeah i know it's late. in fact, you have no idea how late.

"i guess he was expecting you" he says with said sideways glance.

i think: he expects a lot, but has no idea who i am.

i reach the 22nd floor & walk into this glass palace overlooking the charles. overlooking a city that was my home for so long.

i've never felt so displaced. the city itself like an ex-lover i'm trying to be "just friends" with. & then here he is. such a familiar stranger.

here i am on the 22nd floor of a past life like a faded photograph taken from a perspective that isn't actually mine. like when i hold the camera over my head to get an angle my mere 5'2" height won't allow.

& i think, so this is what it looks like from up there huh?

as far from paradise & fourth as you can possibly get. it reminds me of fancy hotels i've stayed in, or that time my dad took me up the top of the pru because i always wondered what it was like "up there"

so this is what it's like "up there" huh?

& everything else becomes a blur of familiarity & confusion & words. his proclamations of passion & love & desire & intimacy.

the words lodged in my throat after scrambling frantically around in my head, still desperate for an out. a fire escape. or a little sign that say "in case of emergency exit here"......what would it feel like to free fall 22 floors. what would it feel like on my naked shivering body, all 5 foot 2 of it.

he wants to know what i'm thinking. how i've felt about it all. i mumble something about unfulfilled potential. about disappointment & indecision.

it's not until later i want to scrunch up my features up & scold him like a child.

oh you misunderstood, my invitation for depth wasn't dependent on your romantic availability. oops, i've been operating under the assumption that others make the distinction between intimacy & romance. how foolish of me.

my life feels like it's all up in the air. location, profession, romance.....but i deep cleaned my loft today & feel a little more grounded in this reality.

doing yoga & listening to npr. yeah i'm a dork. life is good. i had a lot of fun, laughed a lot at work. i feel blessed to be able to laugh & learn & grow so much in so many aspects of my life. i'm not an easy girl. i'm a bit high maintainance but not in the ways that usually indicates.....

my expectations are high. for myself & for life. not materialistically. emotionally, spiritually.....interpersonally. i expect depth in connections. i don't take them at face value, though i can appreciate the simplicity of life. i desire intrigue & mystery & challenge. i expect challenge i suppose.....i expect to be challenged. i suppose that's why i live on a volcanic island. & work with teenagers on a farm where i'm FULL IN IT for 8 days at a time. & why i live in a small house in an open loft with two other really beautiful & strong personalities. & why i go back when something doesn't feel finished.

& why i pull out the magnifying glass & unravel the loose threads when interacting with people. not to judge, just to discover. i rarely have attachment to whats underneath, but i want to peek inside.