August 2, 2013 § 3 Comments
When I was little
I used to think we were the stars
That the cosmos was just another part of the human condition
Now I look at the stars differently
Rather than twinkle lights
Our cosmic reflection.
August 2, 2013 § 1 Comment
“Why?” Bewildered I peer up at him towering over me. I truly want to understand why he finds this funny. It’s like he’s waiting for me to connect the dots, only there are no dots, no shining stars for me to navigate out of this enigma. I still don’t know how we get here, whatever or wherever here is. On the surface it’s a beautiful beach with a watercolor sky of blended indigos and turquoise, the sun perpetually setting, bathing us in this golden hour as the undulating waves glisten like sheets of diamonds while they roll in; so warm and inviting, sometimes the tide tickles our toes as we burrow them into the tawny sand. I realize then we both come barefoot. Me in a white tank and faded jeans, rolled up just under my knee. Abby, well, he’s a bit more dressed for the occasion, his jeans rolled just ankle length, but wears a tailored white dress shirt, with 3 inch cuffs, rolled back exposing his muscled forearms.
“Because you still don’t see the forest through the trees.” His blue eyes shining as he continues to gaze at me, patiently waiting for me to put two and two together. Only his phrases confuse me, so I play it off. That’s how I move around blocks sometimes; throw everything off course a bit and see if intuition will guide me through, while my logic side is stuck on the word puzzle.
“Psst, Abby, hate to break it to you, we’re at the beach. How am I to see forests or trees, there’s nothing here but you and me and this picture-perfect ocean front. It’s so serene here, I could just plop myself here for eternity.” Nodding my head I realize I mean that. There is something so comforting about being here, I feel my body unwind and tap into its natural rhythm.
“Haha, you’re such a goofball and suffer from terminal literalism. But I get it, you don’t see it like I do. One day, you will, however, until then, let’s dance love.” Reaching out his hand I place mine in his as he pulls me up to my feet. He’s so strong that for a moment I’m suspended in the air, eye to eye with this gentle giant. Slowly, I feel this quiet longing unfurl, I’m so close. I resist the urge to wrap my arms around his neck and swing my legs around his waist, threatening to never let go. Because I wouldn’t want to. Wait. Did he say dance?
”Dance? There’s no music….”
“Nonsense, we’ll make the music” He smiles lighting up his face.
“We’ll make the, what?” Shaking my head, thinking Abby’s clearly lost his mind. But whatever, I’ll just go with it, so far he has been right about things here.
All of a sudden, as if the sky held tweeters and the sand concealed woofers, the beach was filled with a beautiful melody.
“How?!?!” turning to him realizing I must be the one losing my marbles. Music doesn’t just appear, out of nowhere.
“Hush, save the questions for later love. For now, let’s enjoy this moment”. His hand sweeps a stray hair out of my face then trails down my shoulder, continuing along my side, and finally wrapping around my waist. I feel his touch deeply as I blush. I focus, trying to maintain control as I place my right hand in his and rest the other on his shoulder.
Looking into his crystal blue eyes I see that he is curious about how I’ll respond. He knows this is pushing my analytical side a bit too much, to just acquiesce to what is rather than let my inquisitive nature take over. I crave explanations and reasoning, especially when it comes to the music here on our beach, I mean dreamtime does mean that anything can happen, but this isn’t even something I’d initiate. If it’s my dream, why does it seem he can control it too? If he’s some part of me I’m projecting into this space, I’d love to know just where I met him, to dream him up in such detail. Back to the music, if this is a world of wishes, then what’s next…is the sun going to turn in to a giant mirror ball?
“Ahh, I see you’re getting the hang of this, Anachel.” Barely containing his appreciation that I seem to be catching on. I turn and look behind me and see that the sun is now a giant golden mirror ball reflecting shiny orbs of light all over the beach. What a site!
“Hmmm, I didn’t do anything, I just thought it, Abby.”
“Exactly, you thought it. Thoughts are energy and hold intention. Well, here, in this space, they become simply be being thought and let go” he begins to twirl me, then grab me tight, pulling me in closer. I’m losing my ability to breath and concentrate, if what I’m thinking suddenly manifests, I’ll be quite embarrassed.
We begin to get into a rhythm and glide across the sand, our bare feet barely touching the ground. Thinking that I look down to see if in fact our feet are still touching the ground.
“Ummm, usually when one dances, one looks up, not at one’s feet.” he laughs his deep timbre laugh as I feel it reflected in his eyes delving into my own. He so loves it when I am seeing this things for the first time, he’s like a kid in the candy shop, except he’s entrhalled with the other kid, me, taking in all the sweet treats; eyes-wide open and full of possibilities.
“Funny, Abby, I just had the thought that we were floating so I was checking to see if that was really happening or if it’s simply how I feel.”
“I like that, Anachel, that you feel like you’re floating while dancing with me.” Feeling his sincerity, I lean in and lay my head on his shoulder looking out at the mirrored sun. Glancing down, I can faintly see black swirling lines criss crossing his back, connecting this two broad shoulders.
“You have tattoos?” I’ve always like tattoos on men, but it’s hard for me to see these as they’re hidden under his shirt. I’m intrigued and want to know more, but don’t want to overstep. He shares as he’s comfortable and I want to respect that.
“That’s right, you’ve never seen my shoulders.” A bit of concern seeps into his voice.
“No worries, I like tattoos on men. They’re kinda my kryptonite” I wink at him, hoping he realizes I’m not here to judge and actually appreciate good ink. It’s part of one’s expression in who they are.
Before I can use my charms to find out what Abby’s tattoos look like, the lyrics to Yellowcard’s “Sing for Me” swirl around in my minds eye, and sure enough, soon the sky changes tunes to match my thoughts.
“Save tomorrow, I can’t follow you there, Just close your eyes and sing for me, I will hear you, Always near you, And I’ll give you the words just sing for me. I just hope you know, the future in your heart, is just about to start…” Abby’s singing to me softly as his voice trails away, the forcefield pulling me back to reality.
My eyes open and blink from the sunlight shining through the window. Sure enough, I’m not on the beach but curled up in bed, my down comforter twisted around my legs as if I was trying to dance in my sleep. I tap the snooze button of my alarm clock, hearing “Sing for Me” as part of the morning wake-up playlist on Z100.3 radio. Ugh, 6 a.m. comes too early, ever damn morning. It’s so hard going through the lather-rise-repeat motions of my daily life when I have Abby to meet nightly. I’m still not sure I understand where we go, or even where he comes from, but for now I’ll let those questions rest and see where this goes if I leave enough space for the possibilities to flow in.
July 31, 2013 § Leave a comment
Have you ever met someone who just sees you? Sees through the layers, senses the shadows, the fears just as much as the hopes and dreams. Someone who opens you from the inside out? Beyond romantic possession or persuasion, but a connection tied to the very art of being human; subtle on the surface but very much delving into the deep.
It’s easy to confuse such a connection, love versus romance, I know this because along with separating those two distinct facets of emotion, I ended up redefining love, only to turn around finding love.
But he, yes, he, came into my life and so clearly saw me that I did what any other curious, yet fearless, woman would do. I stuck around, rather than keeping to my usual motto “keep everyone at an arms distance and bail before getting attached”. He did the running, for the record, not that a record is being kept. But honestly, if he hadn’t, at some point, I would’ve ran. I would’ve pushed him away to protect myself and my fragile human heart. I know love makes us strong, but in the terms our culture defines it, it can hurt. Hurt like hell with blinding clarity that there is so much out of one’s control. It was around this time, during my maelstrom of identified and unidentified factions of self, that he, Abby, entered my life. He squared my heart moving me from the inside out, and loves me for simply being me -a whirlwind of love, light, hurt and pain. Somehow I found myself reconciling the duality of life through the compassionate eyes he turned on me, and the empathic heart he used to kickstart mine.
Hmmm, I better back up and let this story unfold. My name is Anachel and I’m someone I’ve newly met. This may sound like an odd thing to say, but rather than awakening like Sleeping Beauty from a kiss, my Prince Charming awoke me with a touch; when our souls touched. In meeting we tunneled down to the very depths and saw ourself reflected back. In seeing such, we accepted each as we are, as only we could be. Sounds corny, I know, or perhaps perfectly normal. Take your pick.
Either way, I wasn’t prepared for him or the events that came along with him and I liked to think I was ready for almost anything. Boy, was I wrong. And I’m very grateful for being wrong. I had lost faith in myself, lost the magic, the joy, and wonder for which to view and experience the world; the spirit child’s eyes. I kept myself in a boxed up version of “perfection”, which is in quotes as there’s nothing perfect about me other than being perfectly imperfect. I’m flawed and make mistakes, however, I thought that if the surface looked picture perfect, then no one would look deeper; forcing me to look deeper than the thin facade I present as myself. I was silent, afraid and always feeling like an impostor in my skin. Until Abby. Until I rose to greet him and in doing such I grew into my skin. What greater gift can one give than the ability to be yourself. And that’s what he gave me, along with reams of romantic poetry and love letters that seemed to flow endlessly from the stirring in his touch. I used to harness my romantic self, feeling she was a fool to put her heart on the line for someone else, however, even a fool can realize the folly in keeping one’s heart in an iron clad cocoon, nothing can be released and seen, but in the same vein, nothing can connect in either. I felt the reflection of whole through Abby’s divine lens of love turned on me. He directed the light to the recesses where shadows touched and then like the sliver of the moon waxing full when the whole shines, so too I shine, finally whole.
Tonight looking up at the moon, a pearlescent beacon of hope, I know that somewhere, somehow he’s looking up at the night sky. Feelings for him stir me as remember something I wrote to him, long ago.
Our spirits have always known, but this human longs for your touch, never have I found myself so thirsty for the quench that you bring for in each others presence time fades away and we settle like twin stars reflecting back the beauty of just being, sharing, living, learning, loving.
Oh the loving, for you fill me up by reflecting the wholeness I possess, for in your heart I am whole, complete. Divine love for which you spring eternally, into my heart like a river to the ocean, endlessly.
But this sad human framed mind knows not that which my soul knows and heart feels, for the passions remain untamed and loneliness does break my feeble mind trying to escape as you caress me with your words, embrace me with your heart of no form, you reach across this peceived distance of time and space revealing to me, that which is already known, already felt…
That we are one.
You’ve woken me from my slumber love, your eyes reflect the quiet passions of this place where wanderers still roam free with the knowing between you and me, that we are always and forever, beloveds.”
Chuckling I’m reminded of writing that prose, I was missing him terribly on a night much like tonight. He’d laugh his deep timbre laugh at the use of beloved, but smile knowing that he feels it too. Seeing beneath our beautiful.