“Loss makes artists of us all as we weave new patterns in the fabric of our lives.”
– Greta W. Crosby

I received the above quote in my inbox this week and it was rather apt, as they usually are.

I don’t do confrontation very well.

Don’t handle loss either.

Funny, as this year has had a good dose of both.

I have learnt enough lessons and experienced enough karma to fill a few bags.

But, I don’t intend taking them with me.

No, I have learnt my lessons,

but will leave my baggage behind, thank you.

For where I am going,

you need to travel lightly.

The silence in the room echoed

although loud voices filled the air

I glanced at her sitting alone

uneasy in her chair.

In her eyes I saw a reflection,

a shadow of who she’d been.

I thought I heard her whisper,

it was her silent scream.

We learnt to breathe life from the moment,
to observe every drop of dew,
every blade of grass
But life is finite,
all things come to pass.
I know in time the snow will cover the fields
and the cherry blossom will cease to bloom.
It is then that I will miss our conversations
It is then that I shall have to be content
with the memory of your smile.

Her hands were cupped
holding a pearl
a drop in the ocean of a heart
still longing.
She heard the silent whispers
of her soul
she felt the gentle tugging.
It would not be long now
the sea promised.
And she held on to those words,
she held on tightly.

I arrived at the party wearing my best, or rather my only dress. It was black, plain but flattering, or so I thought until I entered the room. There they were, the bevy of beauties – women who made looking like a movie star seem effortless. They moved gracefully to the music, swaying their tiny hips, swishing their golden locks. My eyes moved to the bar where I thankfully recognised Gloria. I waved and she looked at me, her eyes distant as if it took her brain some time to register that it was in fact me, her old friend from college. I walked up to her, tripping over someone’s leg and almost colliding with a cocktail waitress. I recovered, the way you do, in a manner that pretended my little ‘foot-dance’ was intentional. I approached Gloria as she stood up to greet me, arms wide and lips all bright red and glossy. I needn’t have worried about lipstick stains on my face though as her mouth barely touched me as she air-kissed both my cheeks.

“Janice daaarling!” she shrieked. I noticed a slight American accent but could not help wondering if she had in fact ever set foot in the States. I smelt a whiff of her designer perfume as I stepped slightly back, smiling at her, while noticing her flawless skin. Face-lift, I wandered? I was not normally a vindictive person, but this place had that effect on me.

“Martini?” She asked, already signaling for the barman.

“Um, well, I don’t normally drink…”

She wasn’t listening, so I gave up and took the time to look around the room. It was an up-market bar, if you got such a thing. Chandeliers, check floors with red and black walls and couches. Fiddling with my skirt, I sat down rather awkwardly on a red suede bar-stool and tried to look like a belonged. Beautiful people everywhere – socialites, actresses, models and people who pose. I was intimidated. I felt like an antique next to most of them and realized how outdated my plain dress and pumps actually were. My hair, wavy and wild lacked the smooth glossy salon finish that Gloria’s had. My nails were chewed and my make-up minimal. I felt too plain. Gloria handed me my glass and I downed it in one huge gulp. I could feel her eyes on me, but did not care. I felt like I was shrinking as I sat there. Suddenly this was a bad idea and I wanted to get the hell out of this place. I was aware of Gloria’s lips moving, but the music was too loud and I could hardly hear a word she said. I gestured towards the loo and fled towards it. I just needed some space. A few minutes to calm down and get things in perspective. So she was gorgeous, still, after all these years. So what. There was more to life than looks. And she was successful – I had heard. And married, if that egg of a diamond on her wedding finger was anything to go by. I made my way to the toilets and into a stall, shutting the door behind me, while I pictured the shiny rock. So someone loved her. Lots of people loved me. My gay neighbour Stan who made me the best spaghetti every Monday night, the cleaning lady at the florist where I worked who always greeted me warmly, Charlie my cat. I realized the last two probably didn’t count as bribery in the form of money and food where responsible for their enduring love. My thoughts were interrupted abruptly by a loud thud outside the stall door.

“Hello there Simon, surprised to see me?” sneered a gruff voice.

A man? Suddenly I became aware of the strong stench of urine and the fact that there was only one toilet stall. I was in the men’s toilet, I realized with horror.

“Please, please no” begged a second voice, also male and clearly drunk, as he pleaded with the gruff-voiced man.

“You knew the deal. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch you?’

I could feel a cold shiver go down my spine. I slowly lifted my feet off the floor, trying my best not to be noticed. Whatever was going down here was not my business and I didn’t want any part in it. I carefully balanced on the toilet seat, my underwear still down between my ankles, legs dangling now in the air.

“Please, don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything you say” screamed the young man.

“Too late. First, I will take my time and thrash you. Then, well then we will see. You can scream all you like, but the music is loud and I locked the door.”

I gulped. Where the hell was Gloria? Surely she would come looking for me? But would she think to look in the men’s toilet?

I tried to block out the muffled screams and the sounds of someone being viciously beaten to death. This could not be happening. What about a bouncer or security guard or something.? A place like this must have one. Unless of course he was it? He locked the door, which means he must have the key? The horror of this thought seemed to echo through my mind and I could feel the sweat trickling down my back. ‘No, no, no”

From there it all seemed to happen in slow motion. I lost my balance and before I could save it, one of my out-of-date black pumps, fell loudly to the floor.

‘Who the fuck is there?” shouted the gruff voice.

With the music I see sound
flickers of colour and light.
Spirals and swirls,
circles and flashes
while she dances round
and round.

Memories of another lifetime
play in my mind.
So many questions we all ask.
So many promises that must be kept.
And so the world turns
and we feel as if we too
are spinning out of control,
Perhaps,
we should all have more faith in gravity.

Thoughts of you sent electricity through my body, adrenalin pumping, mind swirling. I remembered your words and felt overcome, filled with excitement and a new zest for life. I stared at the heart-shaped trinket you bought for me. I held it in my hand to feel its’ weight. Heavy, solid, permanent. I did not know how long you would be gone or if the memory of your kisses would fade in time. I knew though I trusted my heart to love you forever, if that was what we had.
If I could, I would dissolve into you.

I wrote this a few years ago, but now dedicate it to you. Keep the faith xxx

The path of the warrior

The quietness of the night surrounds her
as she walks the path of blackness
on the voyage of the internal landscape.
The blue hawk sweeps past
and the forest sings in tune with each step.
She is alone and yet not.
Her path is that of the jade dragon,
her heart a cool stone of remembering.
Each mountain is a goal to her,
each valley a reminder of where she has been.
Fear not faint hearted
life is but a shadow
that follows you until your last day
upon this craggy hill.
Your soul is silent in the night,
but upon the birth of a new day
it shall, like the sun
shine very brightly.
and give warmth to the dawn.

Well after some prodding from various people I am back in the world of blogging. I planned to fill you in on my account of the past busy few weeks as well as the upcoming 1st birthday party of my daughter, but have decided to leave that for another time. Suffice to say I have been very busy, tired and ill but have never the less had a wonderful time sharing some very special occasions with friends. I am also looking forward to Amy’s Tigger party on Sunday!

The topic that has been on my mind today is relationships. I have just read the beautiful poem on Lailaa’s blog that speaks of new love and it has made me reflect on this some more. My mom’s post and Louise’s comment gives one hope for love in the longterm, but never the less it has to be said that there is nothing quite like the early days of being in love. That awe struck feeling. The butterflies in your tummy. You can’t sleep, can’t eat, all you want to do is be with that person. There is no wonder being in love (lust?) can’t last – it would kill us if it did! Generally over time, love changes, evolves into something else, hopefully something greater, deeper and perhaps less superficial. In my opinion, to be good friends is by far the most important thing in a relationship as this is what sustains you when times get tough. Where passion may fade, friendship will last. But passion, oh, who does not like a good dose of that? I have a friend who despite many admirable suitors, simply cannot commit to a relationship. She has admitted to me that when the ‘in-love’ feeling dies, she moves on. She is addicted to it, but as a result does herself a grave injustice in the long run. I fear she will end up a lonely woman with only her memories of passionate moments to contain her. There is a part of all of us that can associate with that though. I think that is why so many people have affairs. When life gets boring and we see the same person day after day, of course you will be interested when the sexy colleague at the office flirts with you. We all want to be acknowledged. We all want to feel cherished, special, sexy. But no matter how strong the initial feelings, lust eventually fades and love evolves, according to Yeats’s into some ‘lesser thing’. I love this poem, although depressing….

Her Anxiety
William Butler Yeats

Earth in beauty dressed
Awaits returning spring.
All true love must die,
Alter at the best
Into some lesser thing.
Prove that I lie.

Such body lovers have,
Such exacting breath,
That they touch or sigh.
Every touch they give,
Love is nearer death.
Prove that I lie.

My version, is a poem I wrote many, many years ago, although some elements still ring true…

My Anxiety

My anxiety Is that you’ll leave me
Standing in a large, empty room
Naked and vulnerable.

I worry people will mock me,
Poke me, shout at me.
All my secrets auctioned off
On the cyber highway.

My paranoia is that
You’ll move on,
Cross the river to greener pastures
that are perhaps,
Just an illusion.

I fret and toss and turn
In jealous, confused dreams
That leave me drowning
in my own sweat and tears.

I fear that perhaps Yeats is right
And the worst of all
That I shall grow bored
and discard of what we have
Before you do.

Just this week Craig and I had a deep discussion about soul mates and whether or not we feel we are that to each other. My opinion on soulmates is not really in keeping with the norm. It is not a romantic ideal, but rather a more spiritual perspective. If it were a movie, let’s just say it wouldn’t be Disney. There would be no soppy background music or butterflies or rainbows. Being a person’s soul mate in my opinion does not necessarily mean happily ever after. No, my movie would be a drama, because I believe the whole point of life is to love and the greatest gift a soul mate gives is to challenge us – to love, to live and to experience life and ourselves to the fullest. It is not always easy and yes there will be fights, but relationships are the greatest teachers of all. Our soul mate encourages us(actively or passively) to grow, to expand our horizons and to make decisions. This means your soul mate could be your husband, your lover, your divorced husband (yes), someone in the spirit world(that is a whole other blog), a friend or a person of the same sex. As for how or if you will meet them, I believe that fate will show you your soul mate – possibly more than once – but it is up to you and your free will to read the signs and take the plunge to be with them. Otherwise you may see your soul mate on a train/subway/pub/at a party/shop etc and just walk on by, the possibilities lost forever(well, until your next life). You may think I am making this soul mate stuff sound like hard work and well ask if there will be happiness and passion in my verison? – of course, in the beginning. Because even with soul mates, the love shared alters in some way. The main thing is that lessons are learnt, love is experienced and life, well, life moves on…