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Sanity is overrated!

Month

September 2015

Lust

Sexy and smooth

He licks his lips

and I want to

taste his smell…

and let it pour

over me until

everything else fades

away

and we are not us

but

two wild souls

intersecting

in this space

in this time

to fill ourselves

of pleasure

and to explore

the tantalizing tease

and promise of sensation

and

bodies sated.

And for a time

his smell

becomes mine.

Simple Things…

I love the first cup of coffee in the morning.  When I first open my eyes and stumble my way into the kitchen, I am a sleep-blind woman who goes through the motions on auto-pilot until the brew has completed its cycle.  The aroma, the sounds of the machinery, the feel of my favorite cup, are all catalysts that trigger the pistons in my brain until signs of neural activity start to appear.  The fog lifts as I take that first, pleasurable, dopamine-charged swallow, and suddenly I behold the promise of a new day.  I revel in the ecstasy of its warm, perfectly mocha-colored smoothness as it rolls over my tongue and caresses my taste buds with its embrace of sweetness and bitterness, perfectly mated…as I swallow.

All too soon the glory is ended and the bottom of the cup is in sight.  The second cup is never as magical.  Try as I might to recapture the nirvana of the first cup, it is impossible.  Who would have guessed that such a small pleasure would hold so much promise?  I can’t wait for tomorrow!

“I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round…” -J. Lennon

I always feel like I should be doing “more” and that I am wasting my life if it is not crammed full of activity.  This feeling brings with it a state of futility and hopelessness that once started, is very difficult to shake.  What if I just accepted the fact that this “down” time is really preparation time for that indefinable future that is beyond my wildest imagination?

The truth is that I really need this down time to explore my inner world to seek out the hidden blocks to the abundance which I know exists within the constructs of blood, brain, and neural pathways.

I must always live somewhere quiet—where I can hear myself think and feel my heart beating.  To listen to the sounds of life around me is pure bliss, and to sit and observe the living creatures going on about the business of living, is pure joy.  Not the exuberant, loud and disruptive joy, but the kind that is quiet and expansive and knows no limits.

Trees

Reflections on Deep Purple…

Reflections: Deep Purple! What an incredibly talented combination of musical genius. Within their music, I hear the roots of future heavy metal, the unresolved angst of the 60s, the fierce sexuality of the 70s, and the opportunity to escape life for awhile through the emotion of chords, keyboard, and the beauty of a well-played bad-ass electric guitar! I am there, completely in the moment–feeling the music as if I were playing it myself…and in some ways, I am. Ritchie Blackmore did not express his killer vocals like the old days and I am sure those days have passed for him; although Steven Tyler is as good as ever. Ian Pace was on his game and still plays some killer drums! This brings me to another bit of reality: I am looking around the E Center and I notice that there are so many people in wheelchairs…? I almost wonder if a group of some sort has assembled for this concert–then, it hits me: this is the age demographic! I make a mental note of balding, paunchy men and graying, overweight females, and canes; then there is a population of 30-somethings throughout the crowd sporting t-shirts that say “Make everything louder than everything else!” (Those of you who are Purple fans will understand!) However, the music transports each one of us back to a time when we were young, unstoppable, fierce, sexually intense and we possessed the future and claimed it as our own.
The concert ends and after a balls-to-the-wall encore, the band is obviously feeling very appreciated and they tell us that they love us as the lights go dark and the present returns.

Four Types of Men to Avoid Like The Plague

Source: Four Types of Men to Avoid Like The Plague

Men

I want to write about men.  Not because I know so much about them but because I know so little.  What about this man-thing has us women so flustered and feeling like a failure in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary?  I don’t get it; perhaps it links back to our reptilian brain function wherein having a mate was a guarantee of the perpetuation of the species…?  I certainly know this logically, however, we live on a planet with over six million people and I have contributed to three of that number.  So, what compels me to feel as though my life would be better, happier, less lonely, richer, more fun, more tasty, more of everything?

This is how it usually goes: I will be trucking along just fine, enjoying myself and appreciating the freedom that has come from raising three gorgeous, independent daughters, liberated from the confines of a troubled marriage to a narcissistically-driven ex-husband, spending my free thought time day dreaming about what it is I would like to experience next in this life and….BAM!  The vacuity begins to suck away at all of the glitter and sparkles and the next thing I realize is that I am thinking the same boring, repetitious thoughts: if only I had someone to share them with, if only I had someone to adore me as much as I want to adore them….blah, blah, blah.  The truth is that no matter how much self-talk that I do, no matter how much validation I receive, no matter the fullness of my life, this vague uneasiness settles over my joy like a sad movie (and those, I truly detest).

One of the most profound witticisms that I have heard is: wherever I am, that is not where I want to be; and I wonder if this is perhaps another form of that lack of self-satisfaction, or discontent, that is so prevalent among the bored and self-centered.  I have gratitude-d this funky feeling away, busy-ed it away, and made excuses for its presence; none of which lasts for very long.  At this present moment, I am home sick with the flu and cannot shake the absurd notion that if I had someone, they would alleviate my suffering and I would not feel so miserable and empty.  However, I know this to be false.  There is only one kind of loneliness that is worse than being alone and that is being lonely in a relationship.  Period.  There must be some point to all of this and I am going to at least make the effort to discover what this elusive man-thing brings to the table with which we females have set specifically for that purpose.

Looking back on the times that I have had a man in my life, I know that I have been distracted, dreamy, flirty, and giddy; I seem to revel in these immature emotions like a child who doesn’t want the day to end and the playtime to last forever.  I feel lighter than air, on top of the world, immune to the monotony that otherwise would fill a day; I can take pleasure in countless imaginary scenarios and dalliances that will most likely never happen but that provide amusement and inspiration for future get-togethers.  Of this pastime, I have no shortage of creativity.  Just thinking about it is enough to make my heart pound and my hands shake with excitement.

Maybe it isn’t the physical presence of a man that is so distracting but the mindset that accompanies the atmosphere with which man is contained; in other words, the context with which man is surrounded within the maelstrom of viscous he inhabits…?  Not having grown up with a father that was in any way present or dependable, I have had to fill a lot of that vacuum with daydreams and illusions.  Almost to the point of completely recreating the man from scratch, I often have not been able to see the man for who he really was because of the tendency to see only what I have been able to imagine.  Inevitably, the composite man that I have created has very little resemblance to the actual man present and the cycle is reset, again…

So, what does this have to do with men really?  Nothing.  This is merely the way that I deal with boredom and too much time spent thinking in my own head.  Perhaps the next time these illusions of discontent and fantasies of fulfillment attach themselves to my thoughts, I can remember that I am a dreamer and a lover and a creator of things inspiring and exciting and the acceptance of the status quo is something that is best left to rational thinkers and accountants.

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