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.

you put my feet back on the ground...did you know you brought me home?

home. am i ?

sunday morning. i'm cross-legged before the altar. the bass from zoe's warm-up set is pulsing through root chakra & up my spine. there is an angel drawing reiki symbols on my own wings with his fingers. he leans in after covering my neck & check with kisses & in that voice i know so well, that voice that has mirrored truths & comforted me many times, i hear: "welcome home"

home. this concept is phenomenal to me. home. i am writing this from zoe's house. the place i currently call home. which i share with her & oliver & the two rotties. home. the other day oliver came upstairs, said nothing, sat down on my bed & read while i wrote in my journal. a little while later he got up, said: "thanks for sharing your space" & left.

home. family.

& i'm contemplating going back to boston, though i just got back on the island. though i have all this beauty around me all the time.
my life is here on the island. i have a "home", i have family & community, i have my job & my routines.
& in boston i have......well a home-the only house i've ever thought of as "home" in brighton. i have family some blood, some not, but all of whom have known me for years, know me inside & out, love me & support me.

gypsy. it's what my boss calls me. he tells me he can see the gypsy blood in me. someone who can make a home where ever she goes i suppose. my first real boyfriend called me gypsy too. i guess this will come in handy if i do indeed spend the upcoming year going between hawaii & boston..from home to home. family to family. there are far worse things......

...

desire.
today i desire: chocolate, my journal, children's stories, romance, laughter, moss beneath my feet, activity, art, inspiration, sincerity, intimacy, comfort, to be held.....

10 things that prove that things are beautiful in my world:

1. random phone calls from good old friends
2. collaging
3. sparkles
4. music
5. writing all my thoughts down in my journal
6. women's writing circle planning
7. orchids
8. zoe & oliver
9. dramatic words like: AMAZING. INTENSE. INCREDIBLE. PHENOMENAL.
10. remembering to breathe & be grateful.

crushed velvet

if i could make my heart out of any material, what would it be? (& this is why i love him....)
it got me thinking......
hmmmm
all these thoughts ran through my head of what my heart HOLDS
{rose petals, moss, children's laughter, shattered mirrors, post cards, lullabies, hot chocolate & raspberries...}
or what i FEEL my heart is made of some times (stained glass, velvet, barbed-wire, patchwork quilts, faded pieces of the sunday comics page, seaweed, arsenic, wine, ex-lovers kisses, bonfire ashes.....}
but if i could design it......i'm not sure.
maybe feathers & lace.

crossed wires.

"where do you feel it? if you can take the focus off the pain in your arm" he says, his fingers pinching the flesh of my left arm. i close my eyes & try to clear my thoughts of my arm. "across my brow, i feel it in my head."
his turn. he doesn't feel any pain in his arm, but his eyes start watering & he points to the place in his head where he feels it. his body reacts but he doesn't feel pain.
"do you think when you desensitize yourself to pain you do so with pleasure as well? if you don't really feel this as painfully as you could..." i pinch his arm hard. "...does this not feel as good as it could?" i run my hands softly down his face & arm.
he says, "in my case, yeah......why do you look sad?"
i look sad because i continue to struggle with finding balance between being so sensitive & being numb.
because as i lay with my head on his stomach i'm aware how few people get this close, & how closed off he still is.
because he's fine with this reality, he wants to desensitize his feelings & live more in his head. & i have to fight the urge to find a way to crack that shell, to see his life leak out of those beautiful eyes.
because it's not up to me to decide what's best for him.
because i know my skin is bruising & he is unscathed.

serious island fever. & yet i love this little claustrophobic island so much....