Potato Chip Lovers

I had a picturesque conversation with a lovely friend yesterday afternoon. As we fell into easy laughs, salt kissed my toes and we found that place only a few know how to look for.

Eros has been good to me.  Love surrounds me, touching me before I rise and long after I've slipped into a web of off white. I'm blessed with thoughtfulness, simple gestures leaving me always in a state of crazy happiness, random gifts placed strategically for maximum surprise and time in a world where non of us seem to have enough of. I am loved.

It's not healthy to be in constant bliss. Irony at its finest. To find the calming gratitude in all the emotions is the test. I've been learning how to feel lately.  Feel it all. Happy, sad, shitty, amazing, wonderfully chaotic, gorgeous messiness, rock bottom bleeding. Feel it all and if I like it stay there awhile. If not, breathing the grasped emotion out. I am a work in progress still teetering on the edge when alexithymia flairs.

Love absolutely terrifies me.

I don't long for love. I feel love everyday.  I love the sound of laughter, the feel of raindrops streaming down my forehead, sunshine on my back, wind between my legs, sand between my toes and looks that last for days. Yes, that kind of love. Giving love has always been enough. The gratitude, peace and knowing the act has the healing power right up there with Prozac lays in comfort with me.

I don't mean to disturb the love blessings. I will continue to give with every ounce filling others glasses leaving character questions irrelevant. I love, love. And as my ghost writer so eloquently put it, I'm ready to be.

There are no fantasies where love and fear coexist. So how can it be so hard to let fear go and let love be. I came across the below, an obvious 2am dictation I closed my eyes to see.

"We're here because of who you are, not who you think i want you to be..

It’s exciting, and scary. It feels like I’m flying, and falling, and happy, and sad, like my stomach is full of hot sand and my chest is full of hummingbirds.

I love to fall in love. I love the warmth, and the fire. The way a new lover is unveiled like a summer’s day, slowly at first—a promise of heat in the air.  Sunlight on the horizon. Dare I say it… Birds singing, flowers blooming? Only a new lover, no matter how long they have been falling, can relate.

A summer’s day can unfold into a scorcher though, as well. So before my new love unfolds too much, there are some things I would like to say.

I’m not here to fix you. I’m not even here to figure you out. If you need to be fixed, or figured, or chased, I wish you all the best, but I simply cannot be involved—I don’t have the time, energy, or inclination. I am not looking for someone who is fixed, because I am still filling in my own cracks in many ways. But I need to know that you are capable, and willing, to fill in your own, without looking to me, or alcohol, or sex, or football, or outside things to fill in yours. From this place of caring deeply for ourselves, can we come together and care deeply for each other?

I need alone time. Probably about an hour every day to read, practice yoga, run, read the news, or just veg out. Some days it may be less. Some days it may be more. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It doesn’t mean you’re annoying me. It simply means that in order to take care of myself, and you, and everyone else in our lives, I need time to reconnect with myself. I will always give you this same consideration. If you need more, or less, don’t be afraid to ask for it—or anything else, for that matter.

I need to marvel. I am someone who thrives in the richness of the soil, the brightness of the dawn, the colors of the sunset, the taste of rich black coffee. Even in the acuteness of the pain. I need to throw out my arms at least once every day and feel my heart sing in joyful harmony with the universe. And I need you to understand that.

Let’s agree that our relationship is a no judgement zone. You are free to be completely, 100% you. All of the burping, slightly odd, hogging the covers, overly generous, wickedly funny, crazy affectionate, million other wonderful you things that you are. Be them. Don’t ever hold back, even a bit, even when you think you will offend me or hurt my feelings, or that I will judge you. Because if we’re going to do this thing, all of those things will happen. And we cannot be afraid that the person we care about is to not going to care about us when we are not perfect—we will be cranky, and eat an entire bag of potato chips (me), and never clean the bathroom (you). Thoughtless words will be said. Let’s pause. Breathe. Address the issue without judgement, and talk.

On that note, let’s fight. Because sometimes you will hate me.

Sometimes I will annoy you so much you will want to claw out your own eardrums just to quiet the sound of my voice. And believe me, I’ll do the same, because my temper is like a thunder storm. Usually short, but wicked, and known to cause damage. We will get past it. If we accept each other. If we don’t stonewall. If we can give space, and love, and don’t fight dirty.

We will drive each other nuts.

Let’s talk.

Let’s be on the same side. Ours.

I want to feel amazed. By my love for you. By your love for me. By our love for each other, for life, for sunshine, for adventure, for patience. I don’t want to ever take advantage of you— if I do, I want you to gently remind me that sometimes I am selfish. I want to look at you every day, at least once, and wonder at how this perfectly imperfect life came to be.

I want you to think I am beautifully flawed and hopelessly whimsical.

Let me make blueberry scones for you, without a recipe, because I cannot follow them, and serve them on mismatched colored dishes. Then I will write, and practice yoga, and you will work on your computer. We will be quiet, but content. Later, we will walk downtown, and have a drink, and talk. About bicycles and tequila and Brazil, or perhaps fashion, because we can talk about anything. Or maybe we will sit quietly, because we can be quiet. We will walk home, touching hands occasionally, because I like to walk alone. We will make love slowly but roughly, full of the passion and heat born of two people who cannot get enough of life, or each other.

Let’s be silly. And sad. And joyful. Let’s explore the world, and each other, and the backyard. Let’s make cookies, and memories, and love, and gardens, and a life that is full. Of what, I’m not sure yet. 

It’s taken me a long time to get to this place… I’m ready to find out."

The mere thought of giving romantic love that cripples my deepest desires. Fantasy's destroy any possible boredom with their entertaining thoughts keeping the desires seduction frozen. I've gotten so good at happily dancing in this pretty place I almost forgot their lack of body heat.

This year has unfolded me, rattled my cage, rearranged my vision and provoked a calm. The unexpected can do that if we just let it. He woke up my heart, my mind, and my body. But most importantly, he helped me realize that I am all I have, so never compromise myself for anyone or anything.

I've tried another lover clinging to new hope laced faded cotton. Words haunt me. The crowded room deafening stare lingers. The voices in my head run wildly circling walls so high Olympians couldn't breach. I'm practicing. There's an art to letting go. It's talent hides the deciphered letting be.

I crave someone to stop me. Not just anyone. Not just anyone could. But as I lay in anothers bed desperately peeling away vulnerability I felt something missing. I stayed the night. A sign, I just didn't care. I don't run when it's easy. I run to make it all easier. I run to let go. I run to catch my balance.

I don't want someone to run with me, I don't need the crowd, the attention, the distraction. I need the comfort when I strip it all off, left dripping in sweat, standing in the pool of emotions it's ok I can't express. Staying is letting be.

So as I work to undo my heart caged by years of thoughts, I've discovered the gorgeous difference in loving and being in love. Like all the great emotions their uniqueness will crack us. It's the dark's absolute pitch waiting for us to perfect the yin and the yang. I'm not going anywhere. I plan to stink up paradise a bit.

Irresistible Insanity

Are you willing to loose it all for the one thing that matters...

This topic seems to fill my dreams and pour into my days recently. We spend so much time we insist we don't have adding distractions to our to-do lists while not living at all. It takes strength to live simply. It takes courage to love with a vulnerability. It takes mindfulness to discover ourselves.

I stopped wearing mascara, took my first yoga class, watched a baby sleep for hours, sat with a neighbor an entire afternoon, did an underwater hand stand, and told everyone I loved them without fear....
 
Ok, so I tried to go to my first yoga class. I want to love the calm, I want to scream how incredible I feel since I traded in my new balances for a bathing suit- or 5. Thank you Target. Then it hit me....why do I want to love something I just don't. The problem isn't the problem, the problem is the way you think about the problem. Thank you Johnny Depp. So let it go. Surround yourself with the shit that makes your soul spontaneously erupt because its finally allowed to unveil itself. To you. Those who can see its beauty will come. Patience is a virtue right.

Bust the lock to the cage of questions clouding the sun beams seeking answers to convince some other mind we've got it all figured out. I don't want to be governed by alarm clocks, zeros in my bank account, miles left until empty, numbers on the scale or the best hue for my skin tone suggestions. What if I want red to be the new black or sprinting to be the new strong.

What if I don't want to be the strong chaotically wandering independent woman anymore. Plot twist. End scene. Hell, whole new script.

I want to unravel, unmatch, unconfirm, cancel reservations and sporadically roam with wild berries staining my toes, the wind kissing my freckled neck, sweat dripping off my chest because you've pushed me to that edge, showering in salt water until the moonlight runs out. I want more of less. I want to take you with me to bring me back just before I've lost my head. I want to lay with the flowers screaming deliciously to the angels to sing louder because there are so many who can't hear their simplistic symphony. I want to quench that stomach roaring thirst and then do it all again.

For now. For today. For this moment. Maybe new moments are filled with corporate ladders and entrance exams. Being in this moment is enough. Nothing is enough.

Life is about the beauty only our eyes can see. Letting the rain dance until it sees the sun. Holding close and learning how we can make the world a drop better by touching all we can in whatever way they may need, not for us, but truly for them.

Learning has always been a part of my day. I'd rather read a book, sit at the library, research something from a different era or speak with a wise man than mingle about happy hours. That martini may be Bond worthy, but unfolding a black and white releasing images flutter for lifetimes.

It takes a willingness to be mindful, to practice real compassion, to think outside of the box, to breathe into your core, to discover that you too are worth some compassion. I hate to break it to you, but the clique of the decade is false. You live everyday, you only die once.

The thing that matters is different for us all. It changes as we change, as we grow as we realize that the dogma has clothed us somewhere along the way, deviously masked in warmth and colors to comfort and muffle voices, the voices- or lack there of, that matter. Ours.

So if following the crowd is making you happy, well by all means proceed. If you are waking up every morning slowly repeating mantras of happy thoughts, knowing wonderful things will flood your day and a smile is a give-in, take a moment to dust it off.

But, be real. Take a moment to ponder the moment you're in. Ask yourself, alone in a quiet room away from facebook, instagram and tweets, is this is the life you want. If the "what ifs" out number the daily agenda, its time. Own your crazy. Don't take the quotes that fill your bathroom mirror, diary, pinterst board, living room wall for cute little sayings that you just love. Actually live by them. Whatever it is that matters, let it matter. Do you truly know what matters....

We can learn so much about ourselves from these moments. We can learn how we deal with adversity, how we love, how we think, how we feel, how we truly see the world, and who we really are.

You don't even have to say it out loud, no one needs to know. No one needs to accept it. No one needs to follow you down this road. Quietly go about it at your pace until one day they turn to you and say, "How do you do it? How do you always make me smile?". Truth is, you may not know you have that much power. The happiness will ooze from your happy soul inspiring all who cross your mattered path.

When your thoughts wander, follow them. When your body speaks, listen closely. At some point, you will feel the magic and know it is time to make a commitment to the irresistible insanity.

So, are you willing to loose it all for the one thing that matters? You.

The I'm Sorry Squeeze

You don't want to talk about it. No one wants to actually talk about it. Footprints on our souls leave their mark only when we've walked the culprit.

It's like walking the walk and talking the talk. You only truly can relate to an experience when you've traveled in the shoes. The trouble with experience is we all journey differently.  

You went to the beach today!? Me too, it was awesome. Oh, a bird shit in your hat. Not so, awesome.

Immediately you process a response. Chances are laughter. Ahh, you needed that. Well, hate to break it to you, they didn't. Neither did their hat.

Don't process their negatives. You're adding weight they don't need to carry. Their soul is heavy enough. A bird may have shit in your hat before, but no, you do not understand. Stop it. Stop trying.

You can't understand another experience, you can only be there to help them cope. And, like all the great ones, coping is a mechanism operated on a case by case basis. There is no manual or user's guide. There is no right or wrong way. There isn't a youtube video to tell you how to proceed or a self-help book to cross off the steps. 

Being present is the gift, the meaningful thought out response to those little robotic questions. Find out what they want to unwrap and allow yourself to marvel in the surprise.

Who gives a hoot if they want to drink the entire bottle of Johnny, sleep the day away, drop off the face of the earth, eat the whole gallon or suck on their thumb. Time will soften the edges, turn the colors from color to black and white, but the hole will remain. This is the beauty of experience, we gain wisdom and knowledge to allow the hole's darkness to bring in the light.

The black keys make music too. Even if the listener can't hear the melody, the artist plays on for those willing to remain present to witness the notes journey.

As my Dad tells me, Don't be sorry, just don't do it again. Don't convince yourself a little statement we say when we've spilled our glass of milk holds the same compassion to lay with soul experiences.

Someone's heart broke, someone is missing a piece of what makes them who you care for, someone is lost. Someone's hat is a little shitty. Someone is unable to fix them, you.

A day from now, a year from now, the hole will still be there. The I'm sorrys can't last that long. Too many are tossed around cleaning up spilled milk to wipe away tears that may or may not fall.

People actually get paid for this. Clearly, someone thought it was a good idea. It's also been said too much sweetness is bad for your health.

So, please don't be sorry. In a world spewing ignorant niceties, suffocating kind words and questions with thoughtless undertones, be present.

Go be. Be the way they need, not the way you can. Say I'm sorry quietly, safely in your head to the voice shouting It'll be ok. This isn't about your voices. Sit, stand, sprint, slowly ponce, erupt and learn from the calming seas ability to go with the flow. All the good emotions have soul. No two are alike, leave your flattery at the door. Imitation will get you no where. Let them row the boat. Just be there to keep them from drowning.

PS~ However, I am very sorry for your loss tonight. Lion blooded. The end.

Happy, Healthy & Hot

So whats the big deal. You literally would not be reading this right now if 2 people hadn't come together for some hot and sweaty cardio freakiness between the sheets, in the shower, on the floor, table top, against a wall, in the back of a car.....

Ok. You get the point. So why is it so tabu to even say the word.

Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.

In the end something wonderful happens, you. Beautiful.

I stood in my pool the other day and watched 2 thirty-something men make out. In broad daylight, while children played near by. If this act is happening, and I am in no way judging, I'm not the type....then by God... all together now.

Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.

We all need it. We all think about it. So let me give you a few reasons why you should be doing more of it with whomever you choose, whenever you'd like, in any way you can. If you're not capable of dealing with the aftermath, think about the act before giving into its grasp. End mother-like tone.

Science Says So: Your body releases (deep breath) Estrogen, Oxytocin, Prolactin, Serotonin, Dopamine, DHEA, Immunoglobulin A and pheromones during the height of the act. Better hair, glowing skin, less belly fat, pleasant auras, alternative flu shot, peaceful sleep and happy thoughts. Magic. Sorry, pharma.

Cancer Fighter: This one's for you boys. Try for 211 times to reduce the risk of Prostate Cancer.

You Need A Little Pick-Me-Up: Well, we're all only one good workout away from a fantastic mood. Focus your energy on finding good workout buddys. You're going to have more of it!

Bigger Boobs: This is a win-win. Evidence shows a 25% increase during the act.


Frankly we should all be more appalled by overhearing what so-and-so ate for breakfast rather than what kind of cardio they were blessed to start the day with.

Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.

You say you hate Mondays huh. So end this one with a bang.