Your Souls Are WIth Me Tonight

I was born with an ebullient soul believing that life was joyous, happy and free.  I believed that, at all costs, I needed to remain faithful to my blueprint.  I believed that life was kind.  But the ghosts are hammering and pounding at my soul’s door tonight. And may I say that I miss you?  My life has irrevocably changed since your passing and I’ve lost my bearings and parameters.

There is the brilliant flame who was my sister that I lost at 19.  Her soul and fire taunts me as I tread through a gray, misty landscape, bereft of her laughter and endless compassion.  There is the lover whom I have never forgotten whose heart failed in 2000, the year that I divorced.  Apparently the millennium demarcated a passage of solitude and fire that i could not escape. And of course there is my mother, a delicate soul who could not bear the burdens of her life’s journey.  She left me in 2011.

Vincent was a brilliant and poetic Emmy award winning film editor, whose soul was too sensitive to dwell within the human landscape.  Realizing his inability to cope or accept, I, seventeen years his junior, offered to take the journey before him.  So sure was I in life’s benevolent continuum, I wanted to go before him to lend a light to his journey.  But destiny dictated that he pre-decease me.  I’d had a nagging feeling each May 23 that the date had irrevocably changed my life.  When I finally had the courage to Google Vincent, I learned that his heart failed, May 23, 2000, the same year that I divorced.  Vincent understood the pilgrim soul in me and the changing sorrows of my face.  After drugs and self-destruction had claimed his essence, I left him.  I didn’t think that I would ever love again and chose a man whom I considered stable and loving.  He was a demon.  Vincent had begged me to marry him and follow his uncertain path to Australia where opportunities waited and where we would build a new life.  I didn’t believe in love.  I didn’t believe in him, or myself.  I later learned that a sycophant nurtured his nascent sobriety and folllowed him to Australia. She left, years later, saying that she could no longer live with my ghost  We inhabited each others souls in the silence and spaces that defined our destinies.

I hear you tonight, Vincent, and the cadence and familiarity of your voice and touch comforts me.  Were you my last opportunity to grasp completion’s golden ring? And years later when I met your tortured counterpart, I believed, that you’d come back to me in a healthier version. But he was as tormented and haunted as you.

Are these patterns that beg to be broken or are they remnants of past lives that beg for resolution?  I am deeply sensitive and lonely,yet, I can tolerate but a select few in the inner rooms of my life and psyche.  Still I search for you in stranger’s eye’s and hope that I will hear the melody of your voice.

And what of my mother whose gentle and innocent being was too sensitive for this world?  I wanted to parent you  I wanted to be your strength.   I understand that you didn’t want to live and you accepted the stroke that shrouded your beauty, with equanimity and peace.  Your beauty shone through a broken body that lay contorted and parlayzed, but you never complained.

You are all more real to me tonight than the shadow images and fleeting friendships that inhabit my life.  I wonder where you are and if you are faring well.  You have touched me in ways that I can not describe and your absence has defined the limits of my ability to love.

But you taught me through fire and pain, about life.  I will honor you in every encounter and say your name as a benediction, as a prayer.  You are with me always.  And I am stronger for your love.  I witnessed and treasured your lives.  And perhaps that is all that we can ask for.  Blessed be.

Beading my destiny – one colorful strand at a time

Reinventing myself, I find, is not as complicated as it seems.  It’s worse.  I’m at a skull and crossbones crossroad in my life, deciding whether I should follow the path of the skull or the other sign indicating poison.  Not pleased with either choice, I will allow myself to play.  I may be fiddling while my world is self-immolating, but at least I can listen to some wonderful music as I take the fall or jump to new heights.  Think of Pink’s superfab F’n Perfect.  Go to this link, dance and love yourself, because you are, I am perfect. http://tinyurl.com/cfu27pb

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So with more time on my hands than is emotionally healthy, I am avoiding rummaging through the trunks filled with memories, the shadows of regret, and clearing a space for self-expression.  I’ve been an opera singer, but stopped singing in an amazing display of self-sabotage, after my divorce.  I’ve written a paranormal romance series which I hope my brilliant agents will sell.  Recently, I added jewelry design to my toy chest.  I am passionate about personal adornment.  My accessories, the colors, shapes, textures, that I place against my skin please me far more than the men that I’ve been meeting, and the jewelry elements have more character and interest as well.

So while I am exploring supplemental employment opportunities, and thinking about opening myself to an integral relationship that has yes, integrity, passion, a kinetic intellectual attraction, spiritual resonance and the ability to communicate honestly and openly (anyone see the unicorn running down fifth avenue with the golden horn?); I am also trolling through jewelry supply stores.  I am choosing beads that please me.  I imagine the story that each bead conveys.  I feel their texture, individual energy and shape.  I mentally place them in a pattern that tells a story that I want to tell.  I am in love with violet hues, red-violet, blue violet.  I want to create designs that have an impact.  I am often complimented on my accessories and feel that they express my inner warrior priestess.  I am attracted to pieces that have an impact.  They make a statement, as do I.  My personal statement has not attracted the situations or men that interest me, so I will create another world.  I can create a destiny with each piece.  Each element, color, texture, will co-exist with another until a personal parable is realized and executed through jewelry.

Validation is perhaps the most basic, primordial drive.  We receive this through community, family, relationships, work associations.  I’ve annexed myself from the family portion of the primal program.  I work from home as an independent contractor. And community is fleeting in New York, a city so vast, and with such a rapacious appetite that one feels as though they are eternally running with the bulls

A brief foray into online dating has elucidated another passion – boxing.  Yep, my experiences have been as disheartening and disgusting as swimming in a polluted pond.  But, I am admittedly picky.  Of the hundreds of men that I’ve dated, I only hold one or two in my heart and memory.  My ex-boyfriend repeatedly chastises me for being so picky.  I don’t think that I am overly selective, just discriminating.  I know what pleases me and thankfully, no longer have to apologize for my preferences.

I will construct my beaded bracelets like strands of destiny whose colors and stories will delight.  In this, at least, I have control.  To view my new store: http://www.etsy.com/shop/beadeddestiny/