A kiss

With a promise
Of ecstasy
You press softly
Against my cheek
Your dewy nectar
Enchanted potion
Sweet and musky
Fills my senses
Drives me on
To higher pleasure
Fingers touch and probe
To unfold the petals of the flower
Revealed before me
A delicate treasure
Open and inviting
Whispering delight
In carnal sighs
Escaping parted lips
Honeyed tears flow
Urging me on
Demanding “More!”
Burning with desire
Our lips touch
Tiny sparks of living passion
Arc between us
To light the secret space
That only we can travel
This night is ours
You pull me tight
Then
With a shudder
You let go
The promise
But one of many
Fulfilled
The rest will follow


Picture taken at Bellingrath Gardens.

Who am I?

The Buddha was once asked if he was a god to which he replied “No.”
“Are you a wizard, then?”
“No.”
“Well, are you a man?”
“No” he said.
Confused by his answers they asked “So, what are you?”
The Buddha said, “I am awake.”

I can not claim that I am fully awake yet. I still lay in this bed I made and rub my eyes, trying to make sense of the world around me, but that simple answer, for me, begins to define the answer to my own question:

Who am I?

Over the last few years finding that answer has felt somewhat more critical because of the things I am trying to accomplish in life, and while I admit that I feel like I am no closer than when I began, I have begun to understand that it matters less than I originally thought.

Instead, I am finding that it is who I believe myself to be that is more important and that the expression of those beliefs is an expression of the things inside me that I give life to.

Those beliefs come from experiences and those experiences are interpreted through my previous experiences.

If I believe myself to be compassionate it is because I believe compassion to be of more value than indifference and yet indifference, selective and focused to achieve a positive goal, can have value as well. Much like not caring if I smashed my thumb with a hammer because that happens from time to time and does not mean I deserved it or am a horrible carpenter.

However, I would never describe myself as indifferent. In this way my views of Self are presented as more than expressions of those things I believe myself to be, they are expressions of who I hope to be, who I want to be.

So, who am I?

It really is simple. Much simpler than the explanation.

I am the sum and expression of my experiences, I am who I want to be, and I am who I believe myself to be.

I believe that I am on the right path. Making the right decisions despite their outcome because those decisions are based on faith and hope and love. I believe that everything will be okay. That my life will be everything I want it to be. All of those things require that I believe I am already the person I want to be regardless of how transitional my life may appear because that is how I become that person.

I may not be awake, but I am waking up.

——

Image: “Awake” by Martina Stipen

 

sb-donate-button

Life is a Journey

 

“People are hypocrites” she proclaims. “No one lives the life they want.”

I have said those same words myself, or something similar, though it probably contained expletives and self pity.

How do I tell her what I have learned in a single online conversation? How do I tell her that there was a time in my life that I shared that view? How do I explain that my change of view was both instantaneous and took many years?

I had the four bedroom house on an acre of land with a six car garage, a cabin on a private lake, a boat, motorcycles, off road 4×4, a recording studio in my basement, my own construction company, everything I thought I needed to be happy, and in a moment of human failure I lost everything.

Even though it initially brought with it a physical, as well was emotional, pain it also brought a proclamation of “FREEDOM!”, shouted in big screen fashion, it took many more years to understand that none of the stuff I gathered and lost over the years ever really mattered.

At the time of the “loss” it felt like I had been robbed of my entire world. Like I was condemned. Cursed.

Now, looking back with unclouded eyes, I can see that I was most miserable when I had everything I thought I wanted.

It took many miles to discover that what I was missing couldn’t be found on a piece of land or in a store or online or was anything I could carry in my pocket or drive or use in any way.

What I was missing was found inside and I found it only by enduring, surviving, and exploring with gratitude the journey that my life became.

I discovered is that the journey itself is life.

Not the prescribed “this will make you happy” copywriting on a box of sugar sweetened cereal or the dictated image of perfection programmed by hours in front of a screen that insisted I couldn’t be happy unless I owned the latest fashion or drove the newest car or smelled a certain way or walked a certain way or looked a certain way or spoke a certain way.

The struggles and joys and passions and pains and heartbreaks are each but a single step along the paths of our lives.

Today my journey brings me back to the acquisition of “stuff”, but not in the way it did back then. Today my intentions guide both my needs and desires as they apply to others. They tell me that the life I have led these past years, paying off old debt, finding myself and being true to that Self, exposing my underbelly to the entire world, ready to feast on it, without fear, was necessary. Essential.

Each step I have made has led me here to this place of love and gratitude.

Now, in complete surrender to, and acceptance of, a grace that I work to prove my worth of receiving, I push forward with plans left by the roadside long ago.

Plans to live. Fully. One step at a time.

Because life isn’t a destination, it’s a journey.

Travel far.

A simple life

whats.left.of.utopia.by.Julien.Mauve

I live a simple life.

I have spent years disincorporating the trappings that most people suffer from. I have no bills. No material needs. No responsibilities except to my dog, my self, and to those that I love. Because of this I have been able to live without judgment or expectation or hurry. To focus only on those things that matter most to me; love and gratitude. And I am free to love. Completely.

While this may sound ideal, even Utopian, and so long as I was single I must admit that it was, these traits, the very same traits that attracted the woman I love, can be detrimental in a relationship.

Example: I have no credit. Until very recently I literally had a non-existent credit score. Not a bad score. None at all. I paid cash or bartered for everything I owned. Before making my move South I owned all the same things anyone else might own; a boat, camper, motorcycle, car. All without credit. More than others, I owned my home. Yes, it was a cheap home, but it was mine, debt-free. I created sacred space there. Free from all negative influence. It was comfortable. Peaceful. It was my retreat.

Sounds nice, doesn’t it? It is. Very. So long as I was single. Now, not so much.

Living like that has it’s benefits but it is not an easy way to live. It left very little room for savings and none at all for mistakes or accidents. It is a way of life that is very hand-to-mouth.

In the last few months I have rejoined the world, as far as is necessary to be in a committed relationship, and I now have the credit score of a teenager. Not bad for a couple months effort but not so easy to buy property like that. Less easy to reassure my Beloved of my financial responsibility when I can’t even afford to take her out for dinner.

How strange to find myself diving back into the material world after spending so much time dissociating from it. Especially so late in life.

Things will change. They must change if I am to have a successful relationship. So I am back on the grid again. Doing so has taken much time and effort and caused more than a little stress and is the main reason I haven’t written much lately. This is not a bad thing. Not at all.

I will maintain balance in this change. I will never become attached to material things but I know that I must admit them into my life if I am to coexist with my Beloved. I will push myself to those limits I know exceed others because I know that in doing so I will provide a life that my Beloved deserves. Desire, other than the desire to make my Beloveds life better, plays no part in this decision. That is how balance is maintained. What I do, I do for Love. Same as ever.

So now I am like a horse that spent it’s life at the gate, ready to run but without a race to run in. There, at the gate, I lived quite comfortably. I had nothing to prove. Nowhere to go. One might grow fat and lazy living like that but I never lost sight of that gate. I remained prepared, I learned the course and the wind and the best days to run behind the sun or chasing the moon because I always knew that one day the gates would open and I would have to run like the wind. I have never doubted for a second that I would place.

Such faith and hope, the same I so often try to convey here, is also utopian. It is beautiful in word. Passionate in poem. But in real life it requires that my Lover also have faith and hope, and in the world she lives in, the world you live in, faith and hope are things experienced only briefly in flashes or desperation. They are ephemeral. Intangible.

For me, they are a way of life.

So I will run.

I hope it’s fast enough.

 


 

Image: “What’s Left of Utopia” by Julien Mauve

 

 

Watching you dance

last_dance_by_lavida.livon

Light
Lithe
You flow like poured molasses
Like a lava lamp
Smooth
Liquid
You gyrate with abandon
Your moves entice
Invite
Hypnotize
My God, you are sexy!
I watch from across the room
Your smile of mischief
invokes desire
that makes it hard
to walk across the room
and sweep you into my arms
I want to take you here
but for now
I will watch you dance


 

Image: “Last Dance” by Lavida Livon

 

Tuesday

clothed.love

The night is long
The bed large and empty as a vacant lot
I raise up as if from a depth of heavy water
Gasping for breath
Reaching like a tangled weed for the sun
Which has yet to reveal itself
The morning progresses as if through setting concrete
Each second passing slower than the one preceding
Yet with each impermanent second
The day becomes brighter
The air lighter
Sweeter
Time begins to move swifter
The sun flies across the cloudless sky
Until the excited barking of the dogs
Announces your arrival
Then time,
as if under the influence of divine magick,
stops.
You step inside
accompanied by your own brilliant light
to replace the sun
now frozen and pale
I meet your smile at the door
with my own
Our lips touch
and time begins anew
keeping pace with our unhurried
yet urgent advance to the bedroom
where we lay close
Fingers entwine
Soft words are spoken between kisses
Arms enfold
and hold each other close
Hands caress
firm and sure
Legs envelop
Bodies press
as clothes fall away
to allow skin on skin
Urgency becomes passion
Breath becomes heavy
as we
half dressed
and tangled in the other
Join

 

 

Beloved, Mine,

 

spiritual_gate_by_Patrick_Flies.jpg

Beloved, mine,
The days fly
off their spool
like a delicate tapestry
woven from time
that unravels
while sleeping.
Upon waking,
the approaching sun
reveals you there beside me.
I feel a quickening of my soul,
a transcendent drive
to consummate ecstatic union.
I reach out to you
and find you reaching back to me
with delicate hands
and soft touch.
Our lips press.
Our hands caress.
Our bodies entwine.
I enter with intention,
complete in your embrace,
and fall into your eyes.
With every press,
every stroke,
every shared breath,
we reach ever higher.
Our sounds,
like the Song of the Universe,
rise to the Heavens
as the heady scent of us,
like incense,
drifts beyond the atmosphere,
carried by cries of passion
that commune with the Divine.

I turn myself inward,
to see you from within,
and find you looking back at me.
Through your eyes
I see eternity.

We are One.

 


Image: “Spiritual Gate” by Patrick Flies