To Carry a Wild Wolf

I love this photo.

It is lovely and wild and sensual and suggestive.  I especially love the look of determination and almost defiance on her face, the deep scratch marks on her stomach and thighs, and the feeling they and every other thing about this pose are perfectly normal. Sometimes I wish I could stand so bravely and show off to the world how very amazing, and natural, and right my relationship is with a wild Wolf.

My Wolf, my Shepherd, is an incredible man.  His life is changing, though.  He has worked very hard to build a family, a pack, and to make it strong, loved, and safe for all who belong. In the past few weeks, His primary female partner has made choices that led to the end of their relationship.  He is standing strong in the rightness of His convictions about love and commitment, and treating others with human decency and compassion.  He has fought to reconcile, and He has stood his ground about what He needs and deserves. I have never been more proud to belong -- to Him, and to His pack, to my pack.

On this path into His woods, I have lost others.  I have grieved two lost relationships and nursed another back to health. He has held my hand, and heard my heartbroken cries.  He has been my strength when I had none.  Now, the world has shifted, and He is wounded, He is grieving.

I love the way, in this photo, she carries the wolf. She is very much a girl - filled with youth and wonder and perhaps even a lingering bit of innocence. Yet she has in her the strength and will to shoulder and support him. Her back is not bowed, her face is not drawn with the effort.  Though her body is marked with the wounds of the struggle, she holds him steady and gently.  I look again at the face of this wild animal, into his predator eyes, and at the drape of his legs, his tail, even his tongue.  He trusts her enough to rest and allow her to bear him up.

I listened last night while my wild Wolf cried.

It was an odd mixture I felt, of strength and helplessness.  My heart aches for His pain. Whether He reveals it to me or not I feel it -- I know it is there.  I know He did not like crying on the phone with me.  He apologized for it, repeatedly.  He wants to be so strong, and not mark me with His brokenness.  I understand that.  But I tried to explain that I see strength in His willingness to be honest, to hurt in front of me, to let me bear it with Him for a while.  It was an amazing gift of trust He gave me.

His pain stings and marks me. I hate seeing and feeling Him hurt.  It's not the fact that I can feel it, but the fact that He is hurting, that I resist. I wish He were happy and whole.  But even the happiest life is filled with pain.  I'm not unused to it, but I wish it didn't hurt Him so. I can't take it away from Him, but what an amazing thing to bear Him up, if only for a few moments, and let Him rest in me. Even these marks I will cherish, I will treasure, for the depth of trust and love they represent.

They are my Wolf, and for me they paint an incredible image of who He is.

Into the Dark and Darker Woods

This post is a response to Sir Lostpup Grey Shepherd

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

-Robert Frost


Into your darkest corner, you are safe in my love, you are protected.
I am the openess you seek, I am your doorway.
Come sit in the circular temple of my heart, & let yourself be calm.
-Agapi Stassinopoulos


There is pleasure in the pathless woods...

-George Byron

Darkness soothed. It softened the sharp edges of the world, toned down the too-harsh colors. With the coming of twilight, the sky seemed to recede; the universe expanded. The night was bigger than the day, and in its realm, life seemed to have more possibilities.-Dean Koontz, Midnight


“I trust only you and the dark always to look at me so honestly.”
-Meredith Duran, Wicked Becomes You

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Who am I?

I am a poet-girl with a raven spirit, who flew headlong into the sky, to find my freedom, and meet myself. I am a grateful dreamer, a child-of-the-wild-blue-yonder, with a big, roomy heart, and a hunger to know and love. I am both strong and weak, young and mature, confident and insecure, graceful and awkward, woman and child. I am a girl who at nineteen, found myself in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy, and spent the next two decades serving my family as mother, educator, wife and friend.

I loved that life, and chose it on purpose. I love my husband, children, grandchildren, and the life we've made. Yet, when my babies were grown and my life became my own again, I needed to stretch my wings and find the path that had always been mine alone. I have been trying to mind my steps and be thoughtful about where they lead me ever since.



I think I have always been a poly girl, though I did not always know it was possible to be so, nor did I have the words to describe or label what it meant. My heart craves people. I am fascinated with their stories, their lives, their emotions and their reasonings. I ache to know and be known. Being invited into someone's heart and their inner world feeds my heart in ways this word-girl can't even begin yet to describe. This journey to find others who crave what I do, has been rocky thus far. The path has been rough. I've been wounded and bruised and have had to learn to heal and be tough.

Enter the Wolf.

One day I decided it was time to go hunting. I felt alone, and alien, and my experiences with loving more than one had been so very painful. I knew I needed more, and so I went into the woods to find like minded beings who understood my need to know and be known. I found Him, and perhaps He was also hunting for me, and my life is forever changed.

He is not what you might expect. He's a Wolf and a Shepherd, fierce and gentle, dark and light, sadistic and loving, simple and complex. He works harder than any man I've ever met at loving those who are His pack. He makes mistakes, and makes amends, and He gets it right.  He fights for me. He is the man I trust with every part of who I am, and He celebrates me fully. He loves my darkness. He is my Wolf and my haven. He lives by the promise to hurt but do no harm. He includes me in his pack.

He includes me.

        I am welcome.
               I am wanted.
                          I belong.
I am at home in His woods, they are mine.



When the civilized world -- where darkness is a diversion locked away in boxes -- becomes too loud, too demanding too much to bear, I know I can come home to His woods and find that I have a place. There is a space in His heart and world only I can fill. I can escape to Him, and find my peace, my center, myself.

And so, I look to the future - into a new year - into a long life in His heart and at His side, and I know I belong to Him. He owns me, has earned my trust, and I am His ink-smudged poet-girl with the heart of a raven.  At his invitation, I will keep exploring. I will fly, I will hunt and play. I will grow and live and inspire words and wonder and the flight of others.

At the same time, I will forever be bound to His heart and life. Soon I will wear his collar, I will be tethered to Him as a bird to her Falconer, trusting Him to train me, care for me, protect me and love me. I hope to always make Him proud and happy He invited me in.

As he said, you are welcome in our forest. I know there are other girls out there like me, who long to find themselves in the dark and darker woods. I hope if you are that sort of girl, and you are reading here, you will be encouraged by my journey. There is a great big, off-the-beaten-path place for me, and for you. I hope you won't stop searching until you find it.

And mind your feathers and feet,

Leaning Closer

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.
-Carl Jung

To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides.
-David Viscott

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

-Henry David Thoreau,

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My Shepherd is coming to me.

He is flying to spend the weekend in my town... to meet my family, my friends... to be with me here, in less than three days...

I love this feeling of anticipation. It's as though every part of me is leaning toward him... and I can feel him doing the same thing... leaning toward me.

My fingers long to touch his fingers, to trace his jawline, to thread into his hair. My lips long to kiss him, and my skin aches for the warmth of his skin. I yearn to hear the rhythmic sounds of his breathing, and to watch his mouth as he speaks my name. I need to see the gold flecks in his eyes, and that far off look he gets when he's just happy to be lying there beside me in silence. If I close my eyes he is here... as real as the keys at my fingertips, the weight of my own clothing on my skin. I open my eyes and I feel the universe shift minutely, as he leans closer preparing to move in my direction.

251 miles is not so far, when he is moving and I am moving. It only takes an hour to fly from there to here, or here to there. It is not forever. But for days I have been feeling his heart, his soul, his body leaning closer, groaning to begin the journey, moving... ever moving... in my direction.

I love him so. I need to breathe the same air he breathes, to have my breath mix with his and fill the room, the sky, the world... so combined and mixed that an alchemy occurs and our two breaths become inseparable. I need to know that somewhere in this world, even after he begins to move away and return to his home, that there is a part of us that cannot be divided, that will continue forever floating over the face of the earth. I need that.

I need him.

Soon.

 

Sir Lostpup Grey Shepherd

What we do flows from who we are.
-Paul Vitale

I want to unfold. Let no place in me hold itself closed, for where I am closed, I am false...
-Rainer Maria Rilke

Daily I learn - sometimes painfully, other times with glee - that mine is a path never meant to be paved.
-Jeb Dickerson

We must be our own before we can be another's.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

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My Shepherd, my Wolf, my Sir recently wrote the following piece and sent me a copy:

Prologue:

It is odd to think I would find myself with another label. I was always the person with another name, another label and I was never the one to choose. I have now forged my own 'found label'. It started five years ago as a simple pun, but it has become me.

Who I Am

I live in the woods, in the shadows, in the places others do not like to go. In these dark places I have found myself, my Mistress, and my pack. In these woods I have learned to hunt and to play. They are traveled by only a few and fewer still make their home here with us. In the day, I see you looking into my woods wondering what is beyond your sight, asking why I do not want to live in your bright world where the dark is locked in boxes and expelled by the lights you burn every night. In the night I see you sneaking into the woods from your cleared, cut spaces. What you do not know is that I see you looking and I am watching you. I see your tracks in my woods. I smell you in the dirt and… sometimes when you enter my woods, I will find you.

When we do meet in my woods, you should know who and what I am. I am the wolf you mistake for a friendly puppy; you will not guess my age, size or identify my markings. I am not what you expect, am unlike anything you have seen before. I am the source of the tales others repeat in warning whispers. My name, like my form, will surprise you in its substance. Like all labels my name is meant to convey something in a few words. Who and what I am is a story that is told within my name and my full name is long and complex, which fits me.

I am the Lostpup who once enjoyed looking around and going over the next hill, until I could never return home and did not wish to turn from the adventure. Like most youthful creatures, I needed a strong guide and protector. She helped and continues to help me learn, flourish and grow into the creature I was born to be. In exchange I serve and love her. Like all puppies I choose fun and play over conflict and struggle. I play the games of the dangerous woods I found myself within and sometimes it is not safe. Sometimes too, the world forgets that behind the grin and the playfulness are fangs and the power of a predator coming into his prime.

I am a wolf and like all wolves, my pack is my life. My life’s work is leaving a strong healthy pack. My pack is made of the people I love and hold dear. They are a part of who I am and what I do. I am the Shepherd who leads and cares for his pack. I do this out of purpose not pride, although I am proud of my pack. I gain pleasure from the pack, but the pack is not for my pleasure. I work to lead the pack with integrity and to enrich its members, but I not for my enrichment or their attribution.

I am like the mist and the fog within your perception but not part of your codes or frameworks. I am Grey; I am neither pure nor evil. I am neither selfless nor narcissistic. I demand that my needs be filled, but not that others needs be excluded. I will hunt and revel in the acts of the hunt, but I will not waste what I take or take what I do not need. 

I have given my freedom and heart to my Mistress, and now I have been given leadership and responsibility for others, at their request and in exchange for their freedom. Now, just as I answer to the lead of my Mistress, I hold leads as well. These ties embrace and bind me. I cherish them because they help me remember that I answer to my Ma’am, that I am responsible to my pack, and that my pack gives to me. 

Feel free to visit us, but remember who and what I am.

Sir Lostpup Grey Shepherd 

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Every time I read through it, I smile.  I'm reminded of the reasons I love this man, and how grateful I feel to be included in his life.  I've written here before about my journey to discover who I am, about the urge to explore darkness, to take that after-dusk path into the shadowy woods.  When I read this piece the girl inside of me wants to cheer and celebrate the relationship, the man, and my good fortune.

Soon, I will post my response to this declaration, at Shepherd's invitation to do so.





This is a cross post on the Kink and Poly blogs.

Confession

I have a confession to make:

I've been silent for far too long.

You see, I started this blog, and the others to chronicle a journey - my journey, and when the road got really, really tough, I stopped writing about it. The point of writing in the first place is to help me process, to show me where I'm headed, to keep me from losing my way. The second point of writing is that, for some strange reason there always seems to be someone asking me for advice... about loving more than one, about embracing your own darkness, about relationships and journeys in general. I don't know why god or the universe, or fate brings people to me with questions. I don't think it's because I know all that much. I rather think it's because there are so many questions, and I am usually transparent enough to say I'm stumbling my way through my life with questions galore.

At any rate, when I lost my way, and got caught in a downward spiral, I stopped sharing my journey.

I wish I hadn't.

I don't want to spend too much time on the negative, but if you're reading here, I don't want you to think my life, and the road I've chosen is always wonderful. I don't float through my world chasing lovers and getting all the kinky play and sex I can handle without ever screwing things up, or getting lost, hurt, taken advantage of, or being misunderstood. I don't do everything right, and I certainly don't fail to deal out a fair share of pain and frustration to others, though I wish I never hurt anyone.

In the past nine months, I've fallen in love, given my heart, trusted.
I've been wounded, depressed, despondent.
I've been welcomed, accepted and loved.
I've been childish, afraid, and repentant.

I've risked greatly by opening my heart and life to women who are loved by the men I love. At times that has been so frightening I felt backed into a corner, fighting like a cat, with claws and terror.... and the result is I've hurt some of the women, and in turn, the men I love most. My insecurity has been a bitch, and I have spent several weeks looking hard in the mirror, taking responsibility for the pain and depression and frustration I've been living, and causing for others.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a martyr complex. But the bottom line is that my happiness is my responsibility.

In terms of the women... three of five have proven to be human. Real. Strong. Amazing. Giving and accepting of my fucked-up attempts to keep my footing. It's strange to realize just now that those three, are all loved by my Shepherd. I think it says something about him, that they are so amazing. It may well say something about me, too. For I have no doubt that I am loved by him, and by these three women as well. I am grateful to be counted in such company.

As for the two who have proven otherwise, each simply decided she could not face me, and could not share. One did so honestly, and is now no longer in a relationship with Husband. I am sorry about that, but bear her no real ill-will. She has to seek what makes her happy. I am watching to make sure she does so in a way that honors Husband.

The remaining woman, I trusted too much. When I began to uncover her lies to me, to Poet and to others, it was too late, the damage was done. I stopped trying to figure out what were truths and what were lies with her, weeks ago, and simply limped away.

I am more guarded than ever with women now. I hope I am not always, though.

In terms of the men... I find my circle of lovers smaller today than it was six months ago. In addition, I carry the scars of those who chose to leave. I have lost a play partner perhaps due to something as simple as scheduling issues. I have lost my young Poet because he chose to stop communicating with me, with no explanation as to why.

I do not stop loving, just because someone decides their life is too full, too complicated, too unhappy for me. I admit freely, that I am still mourning. I especially miss the passion we shared for language, verse, beauty and romance. I believed in him. I still do. I still love him, and probably always will. And yet, today, I accept that he has made the only choice he could. Perhaps someday he might trust me as a friend. Perhaps that door is forever closed. But I cannot continue to lie on the floor outside of that door, waiting. I must live.

I stand in front of the mirror today, and I can still see the scars.
Someday even the scars will be beautiful, and perhaps they already are.
I know at least that I am alive, healing, and stronger.
And I am loved.
Wanted.

Yes, today has been about confessing that I am weak, and messy and have recently been extremely fucked up.

But there is more:

I am strong.
I am beautiful in my brokenness and in my strength.
I am imperfect.
I am willing to be transparent, in case someone else is looking to me for direction.
I don't know the answers, but I do know that this life I've chosen is the one I want.

I only hope I earn the good I've gained so far.

This is a cross post on the Kink and Poly blogs.

Images

When I close my eyes I can still see, hear, feel, smell and taste:

The line of his jaw while he sleeps.
The good-morning scent of him on the pillow-slip.
The flecks in his eyes that catch the sunlight through the window.
The weight of his leg at my hip.
The heat of his bottom lip between both of mine.
The flick of his tongue against the roof of my mouth.
The beat of his heart at my shoulder.
The growl at the back of his throat.
The scrape of his rough cheek against my breast.
The way the words "such a good girl" flow from his tongue.
The dark flame of hunger when he looks down at me.
The sting of his palm on my skin.
The quirk of his brows when I shudder.
The arch of his back as he succumbs to pleasure.
The peace in his embrace.

Letter to Self - Two

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
-Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, Alice in Wonderland.


"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."
-John Lennon, Imagine


"I have a dream."
Martin Luther King, Jr.


"Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.""But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness."
"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
-Max Ehrmann


"I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls."
-Anaïs Nin

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There are those in my life who encourage this "letters-to-self" idea. They remind me to be who I am, and to be gentle with myself as I keep growing. They don't let me get away with childishness, but they acknowledge my child-likeness. They are good people, good friends. I write this letter in response to their encouragement.

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Dear Self,

So, you’ve started, just a little, to believe in yourself again, haven’t you? I can tell, because you look different in the mirror -- more at peace with who you are. I know there are still unresolved issues and things you wrestle with and worry over. I know you still feel not quite normal, and a little ‘too much’. I see that too, when you look in the mirror. It hides around your eyes.

I want to remind you that the best way to find yourself loved and accepted is to be that awkward, romantic, creative and child-like person that you are. You cannot assume, or try to fit the imagined expectations of others. If you do not embrace being your true self, others will find you fake and insincere.

And, baby girl, you should never hide who you really are.

Others may find you naive, an idealistic dreamer, passionate, intense and child-like. I know that makes you want to focus on the negatives, because you remember being labeled a handful, and too much, and you know what it’s like to be left behind because being in a relationship with you took too much energy.

I want you to think about it from another angle though. I want you to imagine that the things others have said -- others who love you very, very much -- are all quite true. You are unique, amazing, growing, changing, passionate, loving, intense, creative, gifted, intelligent, beautiful, child-like, poetic, and loved for being all these things and more.

Your creativity has inspired those you love to be loving to others in little sentimental ways, and so they have been given a part of who you are by someone who loves you very much. You have been influential, and you have marked the hearts and lives of others in ways both memorable and good.

Yes, you are messy.
You are rough around the edges.
You don’t have it all together.

Remember, I told you I refuse to let you polish away everything until you are all perfect and boring? I meant that. You are not ‘normal’. You never have been. Since you were a very small child, you have been who you are. You are growing, changing, blooming, learning. But you have always been who you are on the inside.

That little girl desperately needs you to be true to her.
The men you love - and who love you - want you to be that girl.

So you keep growing, you keep learning. You deal with your insecurities, and you figure out new ways to belong to a family, and to make your relationships stronger. And when you fall, when you are scraped up and bruised because you were awkward and clumsy, you trust that those who have accepted you did so, knowing just who that little girl in you is. They accepted you, all of you, when you opened your heart to them.

Look again, into that mirror.

Keep your naive sense of wonder, and hold to your ideals - imagine, as Alice, five impossible things before breakfast!

Dream - as John Lennon dreamed, as Martin Luther King, Jr. dreamed - and make those dreams a vibrant part of your reality.

Feed your passion and intensity - as Anais Nin was passionate and intense, so that others who share your world can do so joyfully.

Face each new day, each challenge and celebration like a child. “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars -- you have a right to be here.” Dance, sing, laugh and love with the freedom of a child.

See that girl, staring back at you?

She loves you.
I love you.

-Me.

A Love Letter

He has been a sounding board.  He has listened as I cried, offered reassurance, told me I am not alone.  He has the heart of a knight, and somehow I have found in him, a dear friend.  He asked me yesterday to do him a favor, to write a love letter to myself.  I laughed.  Then I sobered.  I was not sure I wanted this task.  But I agreed.  I figured I could at least tell myself to hang in there, and I’d get through the stress and pain on my own,  Positive speak.  I sat looking at the blank page for a while last night, and then just began by asking myself what I wanted to hear.  By the time I got to the fourth paragraph, I knew I could not write everything I needed to.  I was emotionally drained, and could not see past my own tears.  I will be visiting this assignment again.  I don’t know how he knew what I needed.  But as I read the letter aloud to him last night, I finally cried out some of that emotion that’s been threatening to drown me.  It is a deep river in me, and I know I’ve only skimmed the surface, but it is a beginning.  Thank you, to my knight friend, for caring enough to walk this road with me a while.  Your gift yesterday was priceless.


 

Dear Me,

I know sometimes you feel two steps behind, like you can’t get your footing, no matter how hard you work.  I’ve heard you complain about feeling too deeply, too intensely, being too complicated. I have heard you, and I want you to know, I disagree.  I love you, and there are many reasons why.

You are emotional, it’s true.  You feel things deeply, and logic does not always win out with you.  This is something to celebrate, not suppress.  This emotion is what defines you.  It is your strength.  It is the passion that fuels your love, and your poetry.  I love your emotion.

You love deeply, and sometimes it hurts.  Love anyway. "Never regret love. No matter how blind, it improves your world view. No matter how foolish, it makes you wiser. And no matter how generous, it makes you more." If you can say you loved to your fullest extent, no matter if that lover leaves you, the love does not fail.  It hurts, but you are truly you when you love this way.  I love the way you love so deeply.  
You are generous, and sometimes people take that for granted.  Give anyway.  There is in you a gift, a skill of giving, of making others feel safe to be vulnerable.  You are generous with your weaknesses, your struggles, as well as your revelations and your joys.  You give.  Keep giving, and do not worry how people take or do not take.  You make room for good to come to you by giving,  I love your generosity.

I want you to know that I see you.  When you are hurt and wounded, when you wish you had everything solved and did not feel weak, I see you.  I see the beauty in your brokenness, in your weakness, I love you as you are, especially your flaws.  I will not sit by and watch you kill them off one by one until you are boring and plain.  


Love,

Yourself

The Morning After

the sunlight wakes me
traces its fingers across my brow
I open my eyes
and the world is surreal.
Yesterday broke open,
and I emerged
feeling like a baby bird
who had only ever known this broken shell
wings still damp and untested
unsure and shaking with wonder and uncertainty
yet, a new wind blows
a gentle warm breath to lift me
and I tremble...dare to fly

-- For my Sir Poet, and my Sister, His Other Love

It's a Messy Business!

"Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything."
~Willie Dixon
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"There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish."

~John Keats
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"We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later; and the birth and growth of the spirit, in those who are attentive to their own inner life, are slow and exceedingly painful."
~Mary Antin
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"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, of fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations."
-The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 4 (1971)

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He said to me, “Baby, imagine being invited to witness the birth of a most incredible, beautiful creature you can imagine. That’s what it’s like to have you in my life.”

I wrote a post back in April about rebirth that began with the above line.

I've given birth four times.  I've been a witness to births that were not my own children at least four times. 

You'd think I'd understand that though it's an amazing process, it's messy.  I've spent the past several months crying, yelling and pouting.  I've negotiated, I've whined, I've been an emotional wreck.  Granted, I've had upsets in my career, my family life, and have faced physical issues.  But my emotional outbursts have involved my relationships with The Husband, The Shepherd and The Poet.  

Here's the thing.  Things have been changing.  With every relationship I'm in, there's been the addition of another relationship - meaning each man has another woman in his life besides me.  I'm working really hard to be happy for them. I am honestly glad.  But, more people means less time.  It's just the reality of poly relationships.  Of course, there are also other factors, life gets busy.  But I have been really struggling. not with feeling threatened, but with coming to terms with the fact that each of the men in my life have someone local who gets to spend a great deal of time with them.  For the two that are not my husband, these women get to spend more time, only have to drive across town, and that is hard for me, because I am envious.  

I've not been very good about handling my emotions, expressing them, or adjusting to the changes, even the minor ones, in schedules.  And still, these men are patient with me.  The do stand up to me and say, "You need to figure out what's going on with you.  You need to communicate like an adult."  But they also remind me that I need to give myself a break.

Rebirth can be messy.  Growing can be complicated.  Insecurities can be tough.

But I am loved, and pushed to grow, and wanted by three amazing men who want a ringside seat.  I am very lucky.

So, let's get messy.  I have some change to go through.

  

 

Information, Please!?

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.

~E.E. Cummings

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"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. 

That's why people are so cynical about it. 

It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. 

And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more."

-Erica Jong

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We must develop a deeper interest and greater understanding of the people we meet here or abroad. Like us, they are passengers on board that mysterious ship called life.

-Ella Maillart

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“Really important meetings are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other.”

- Paulo Coelho

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by Mark Fischer on Flickr

Evidently the universe is trying to teach me something. 

Communication between lovers, between paramours, is paramount.  It is sometimes hard work, exhausting, frustrating and complicated.  Communication between metamours, those who are concomitant to paramours... partners of partners... is healthy, important, and sometimes just plain hard.

I spent the past weekend with Shepherd, and his primary, at her home in Houston.  I will call her Shepherdess, and hope that it conveys the deepest respect and appreciation, for that is what I feel.   The purpose of this visit, was to make a connection, forge a friendship.  I do not take lightly being invited, and for the most part I felt very, very welcomed.  This weekend was a new experience for all of us.  Not something we've done before, not something we were even sure how to do.  Shepherd and Shepherdess have a relationship dynamic that is the opposite of ours.  She is his Domme.  He is my Top.  I have never been in a Domme household.  The dynamic is foreign to me.  I tried very hard to bear in mind that I was there by her good graces, that every opportunity to both be alone with Shepherd and to share him with her was a gift.  i wasn't always completely comfortable, but I did feel very welcome, very much at home.

Shepherdess has done many things to make me feel an important and accepted part of Shepherd's life.  I don't know that I could welcome Husband's girl into my home and my bed, (Yes, we slept in a king sized bed... with Shepherd in the middle.) watch her kiss him, and flirt with him, and fall asleep in his arms.  Yet I was able to do all those things this weekend, and to see Shepherd do all those things with Shepherdess, too.  I was grateful, and that helped me to not give jealousy a place.  There was no real reason to feel jealous.  I was included.

There were two small things that happened that made me feel not so good.  I struggled with these two things, because I do not believe they were intentional.  But they did hurt my feelings.  I think they were born out of the fact that this sort of sharing isn't something any of us has done before.  I know it was uncomfortable for all of us.  I think we did a damned good job, in spite of a few rough edges.  I did not want to taint the good with my feelings of insecurity.  I kept them to myself, hating the thought of confrontation, and seeming ungrateful or disrespectful.  I took some time to journal about them late one night, and clear my thoughts so I could let them go for a time and enjoy the company.

I expressed them to Shepherd on the drive home; and that is a challenge for me.  I hate conflict so very much, I was tempted to hold them in.  But I am learning.  Emotions need to be heard, acknowledged, so they can pass.  And now, those things have been expressed to Shepherdess as well, by Shepherd, because she sensed there was something wrong, and he was honest when she asked.

There's more... of course.

On Monday, there was a miscommunication between Poet, myself, and Poet's primary.  I was trying to act with honor and integrity, but did not have all of the information.  It seems neither did Poet's primary.  Feelings were hurt, communication was strained to the point of breaking.  We have been up all hours of the night trying to work out this tangle.  Apologies have been made, and steps are being taken toward resolution, clearer communication.  Feelings have been expressed and heard, so now they can pass through us.

by Ell Brown on Flickr

Damn, this is fucking difficult!

I am sure that things will work out fine... that we will continue to learn and grow, to practice generosity and acceptance.  I wish sometimes it weren't so hard... on all of us.  

We are human. We are insecure. We are risking. 

I believe it is worth it, and am committed to being ethical, respectful, and honorable.  I will fail, but I will keep trying.  This too shall make us, all of us, stronger.  I just have to figure out what to do next, to address the feelings, and express my gratitude and respect.  I wish there were a book of answers for dummies.  Relationships don't work that way.

This road is bumpy.

Don't forget your maps, Travelers.

Phoenix

Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix.

~Christina Baldwin

by Temari 09 on Flickr

He said to me, “Baby, imagine being invited to witness the birth of a most incredible, beautiful creature you can imagine. That’s what it’s like to have you in my life.” …and he calls me his poet. Shepherd sees me as a being in the midst of rebirth. I suppose I see myself much the same way -- a sort of phoenix being reborn, not from the ashes of my life, but still, reborn. 

In a conversation with my young adult daughter last week, she confided in me that she sees herself as a curious person; eager to learn and to experience all life has to offer. She’s wondering about how that will translate into her most important, romantic relationship. She worries that she will get bored after choosing the one man to marry and raise a family alongside. My baby girl knows that monogamy isn’t her only option. She also knows that monogamy is a perfectly viable choice on her list. What struck me about her revelation is that I know exactly how she feels.

I remember as a young woman being excited about making those soul-connections with others. The majority of my friends were men, and I didn’t date all that much until I was a senior in high school. But there was something different in me, a hunger – a passion that many wouldn’t acknowledge, or at least some tried to discourage. “You’re too intense… too emotional… too idealistic.” I heard all these indictments from so called friends, and well meaning acquaintances.

At the age of nineteen, I was just beginning to explore the world when I found myself pregnant. Immediately the course of my life changed. My flight was grounded. I married, because it was the only choice given me. I began a family three months before my twentieth birthday. Four years later I had three babies, and was single again. Don’t misunderstand me, because I loved raising my kids. I was a damned good mother – the very best I knew how to be. I’m proud of the adults my children became, and of the investment I made to be their full-time mom.

However, a few years ago I worked myself out of that job as one by one, each of my children launched out on their own and began to fly. The grieving process for that separation was something I never anticipated, but in time I learned to accept that this was how life works. Watching them test their wings, I felt those old dreams fluttering to life in my spirit. It was time for me to go back and explore that life that I’d traded in exchange for motherhood and family, twenty years before.

Some would say that I am the woman who grew unhappy in her marriage, and went through a crisis, deciding to abandon all that I’d worked so hard to build for selfish reasons. I was feeling old, and realizing that my life was half over. So I went a little crazy, and decided I wanted more -- more men, more sex, and more life. The truth is that all those things are true, in a very narrow sense. But I didn’t become polyamorous overnight because the label fit the sort of life I’d just come to decide I wanted. I think this broken bird inside of me has always been waiting to spread her wings and chase those dreams that she earlier laid aside.

Now I find myself exploring, working, building the muscles it takes to fly, and it’s intense. It’s hard, and exhausting, and wonderful. I spend a great deal of time worrying and crying, thinking and communicating, writing and examining my heart. This life is complicated. This being reborn process is painful. But every time I break through and find that plateau where I can soar and rest and think about how truly fortunate I am – I realize the true worth of my struggles.

This is the intensity I’ve always craved. This complicated, painful, stretching rebirth is just who I am, and just where I belong. I’m glad others think it’s a privilege to witness. For me, living it is nothing less that truly amazing – and in the end, if someone who loves me is moved to poetry by the life I’m living, I’m truly blessed to be so loved.

Flying

by Dave Hamster on Flickr

Flying without feathers is not easy; my wings have no feathers.
~Titus Maccius Plautus
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When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.
~Leonardo Da Vinci
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I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I'm just soul on a sunbeam.
~Richard Bach
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If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?
~E.Y. Harburg
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I have my tickets... or my confirmation number anyway. I have my boarding pass... or I suppose I have my early-bird boarding confirmation, too.  The point is, on Friday morning I'll be flying 251 miles to see my Shepherd.  I am beside myself with eagerness and joy.  

There's something wonderful about the space between here and there, only when I'm in it, of course.  It's like slipping through a portal between worlds, and lingering there a while, butterflies dancing in my stomach.  There's a shift from my world to his, and back again.  

In Shepherd's world, there's a place for me, I fit there, welcomed by him and those who are important in his life.  It's a place where I go alone, leaving behind my motherness, my wifeness, my daughterness, my employeeness.  (I know, creating new words, I can't leave behind my writerness.)  In Shepherd's world I am just me, just his girl, and his poet, wanted and loved for being myself.

Husband's world is no less incredible.  In his world, in my primary world, I get to be wife, mother, daughter, sister, Mimi, lover and friend.  I wouldn't trade Husband's world for anything.  It's just that the two are a universe apart for me.  And that's a good thing.  Distance means I go, escape into Shepherd's world and enjoy. Then I come back  to Husband's world, refreshed, if a bit bruised.  I am welcomed with love and acceptance, and I am cherished for being me.

The truth is this.  In Shepherd's world, I miss Husband.  In Husband's world, I miss Shepherd.  I'm always wishing someone were there, or I were with someone, or that we were all... and that is too much to hope for, at this point.  Though I've wondered what it would be like just to sit down to dinner with both of them, or to celebrate a birthday, or a holiday with the men who carry my heart.

The other truth is this.  In that flying space between Shepherd and Husband, I am alone.  Waiting in the airport after my last trip to see Shepherd, I found myself staring out the window at the purple Dallas sky, as tears fell from my lashes.  I felt alone.  I missed Shepherd.  I missed Husband.  I'd had an amazing weekend, was tired and sore and incredibly happy.  I was looking forward to falling asleep in Husband's arms.  And I cried in my loneliness, then boarded a plane, and rode the wind back home.

It will be much the same this Friday morning, as I fly south to meet Shepherd.  I will be excited, eager to see him, to hold him close and feel his lips on mine.  Yet in part of my heart, I will begin missing husband.  I will feel acutely that sense of being alone, without either of them.    It's not always a bad thing.  Sometimes a few moments alone is exactly what I need to be able to breathe.  But I'm aware, always aware, of the distance between me and the ones I'm without.

At least I know I can fly.