On Being a Poet

“To be a poet is to place pleasure, beauty and sensual delights front and centre, it means having a predilection for debauchery.”
― Nicole Brossard

“I have a dark and dreadful secret. I write poetry.”
― Stephen Fry

“...who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?”
― Virginia Woolf

“They say that I am a poet. I wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside. I bottle emotions and place them into the sea for others to un-bottle on distant shores. I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and for that matter as to whether I ever get my point across or my love.”
― Saul Williams

“...poets, and people with mental health disorders, can make people nervous.”
― Ian Sansom

“You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.”
― W.H. Auden

Dear Reader,

If you’re really there, especially you, the girl who often feels as I do, who struggles and falls, and feels oh-so-foolish... who dreams and hopes and works really hard... if you’re really there, you are the one who keeps me honest and raw.  You remind me that I can’t sugar coat my struggles, because that wouldn’t be fair.  You give me hope that my vulnerability will encourage someone, somewhere, if you’re reading here.  I began this post weeks ago, wanting to share what it's like to love a girl like me. And tonight, it's going a different direction than I originally planned. It will be emotional and messy.  I hope it makes sense enough to be worth reading.  Because tonight, I really, really need to write it, for my own heart.  

On Being a Poet

He calls me his Poet; I think it started because Ephemera was an unfamiliar word, and difficult to spell.  I didn’t mind at first, and now, it makes me feel cherished.  He praises my “poet heart” and expresses his love for my passion and emotion, and I am in awe.

Being a poet is probably no more difficult, or simple, than anything else, but I don’t really know.  I’ve only ever been who I am, and from a very young age, I loved language, and my love-language was language.  I have always been passionate, emotional and deep feeling, I have longed to be known deeply and understood deeply.  I did spend many years in my teens and twenties... and lets face it, in my thirties and forties... trying to tone down the passion and emotion, feeling I was too much, difficult to love, and overwhelming if I let down my guard and shared what I was really feeling deep down.  I still carry the scars of those messages that made me withdraw, and close off my full emotions.  I’m learning slowly, how to heal them, how to trust.  For the first time in decades I have felt safe - to not hold back with him.  My “too much” was celebrated instead of disdained.

He has always reminded me that he loves me just as I am... and needs a poet... this poet... in his life.  This year, she has done the same - writing to me, and verbally reminding me that though the parts of me that are mother, grandmother, friend, partner and even little girl are treasured and admired, what captured her heart was my passion and my poet-heart.  I am loved, wanted, needed, desired, cherished and celebrated.  This I know - deep down.

I am also messy, I struggle with emotion and depression, and am challenged by conflicts and insecurities when it comes to the practical stuff.  I battle with hopes and disappointments, with fears and flaws.  I know I’m not the only one.  I want to be clear that I’ve not been made to feel that I am the only one.  Still, lately I’ve been feeling my own struggles acutely.  I can acknowledge and celebrate that in the past year, much has changed, and I am abundantly blessed.  I have worked very hard, and have grown, we all three have.  I’ve also had occasion...several occasions... to have my flaws and insecurities uncovered.  I have been selfish, and unthinking, and I have had my share of failures.  I am not as good at this complex, poly, triad, long-distance, juggling, communicating, handling disappointment and staying positive thing as I would like to be.

Right now, we three are battle weary.

And I feel guilty.

It is very hard, resisting the urge to backspace over those four words and hide behind the rest of them... because tonight those four words are my difficult truth.  It is how I feel. I have more hard questions than easy answers, and though I am trying to make repairs, I don’t yet see how. I see the cost to the ones I love, and my heart is breaking.  

And that part about not seeing how  is not entirely true, because I have been listening, and I know that “next time” I will do some things differently.  I have learned some things from the words and tears we’ve shared.  I don’t have all the answers, but I do have some, and I am trying, oh how I am trying. I am not the only one who is learning as we go.  We each are fallible, and battling insecurities.  We each struggle with communication, and conflicts.  We are in this together, and our love for each other makes us strong, and motivates us to do this better.  We are all trying.

But we are so weary, and sore.

I feel so very much like I can only cling to this half-built raft, and rest while a storm of life keeps blowing. I can only keep repeating that I trust the love we share, and I am sorry for the hurt I’m causing in my struggle.  I can only keep reaching out to pull closer to those I love, those who love me, and keep believing in us.  I can only remind myself, every day, several times a day, to be grateful, and say thank you, again and again and again.

Soon, I will feel stronger, and so will he and she.  Soon we will sort out how to improve our building process, and I will learn to not tear down as we go.  This I believe.  And so, I will listen, and I will give, and I will be grateful.  I will try to communicate, and to trust.  I will not close part of my my poet-heart, even a little, out of fear.  And I will learn to be stronger, and find resources to help me grow and change.  Because though I feel guilty and weary, I have been so very happy, and am learning that happy is my own responsibility.  I will reach out for help, and choose gratitude, and practice the things I’m learning until I get it right.

And this makes me feel a little better than I did when I sat down to write.  

Being a poet is a messy business.  I am not sure I do it well.  But I am willing to work for as long as it takes, to admit my failures and apologize, to change my habits, and try new solutions.  I am willing to seek wisdom outside of my circle, outside of my family.  I am willing to do the hard work, because I love my partners more than this poet can find words to express.

Thank you, Reader, for listening, and sharing my road for a while.

Everybody Heals with Love

we have fallen down again tonight
in this world it's hard to get it right
trying to make your heart fit like a glove
what it needs is love, love, love

everybody, everybody wants to love
everybody, everybody wants to be loved

happy is the heart that still feels pain
darkness drains and light will come again
swing open up your chest and let it in
just let the love, love, love begin

everybody knows the love
everybody holds the love
everybody folds for love
everybody feels the love
everybody steals the love
everybody heals with love

-- Everybody - written by Ingrid Michaelson

(stripped down from the song lyrics)

youtube video

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"Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is.”
- Gary Zukav

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“She's got a smile that heals me
I don't know why it is
But I have to laugh when she reveals me.”
- Billy Joel

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“Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.”
- Novalis

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Sometimes relationships hurt.  Relationships where there are more than two people involved are no different in that they can hurt, they can leave scars, they can be really, really difficult to manage.

Sometimes in a polyamorous configuration one relationship ends, and the fallout, the pain, the scars and the aftermath of that breaking apart process can hurt more than just that one relationship.  Sometimes wounds go deep, and translate into pain and insecurity that continues to spread out beyond the original source.

I have always written honestly on this blog, because this is my journey, and writing the truth helps me find the road, and make sense of the map.  I have been silent though, about many things, out of respect.  Things that were too painful to write about.  Things that came out of hurts caused by others in my love-life and my extended-love-life.  The past year has been so very messy for me.  Truth be told, messy is nothing new, but this messy has been a painful, frightening, overwhelming kind of messy that has caused everyone involved - at one time or another - to consider what it would be like to either lose everything or walk away.  

I don't know if I've been completely clear here about my family structure, though there are bits and pieces.  I won't draw the whole 'white-board' diagram, and I certainly won't include all the pieces, but for the sake of this post, there are three central players and one secondary one who I might never mention again after this post.  When I met Shepherd, he was the primary partner of Sheperdess. A year after he and I met and began a secondary relationship, he began a secondary relationship with Dragonfly Girl.  Today, Sheperdess is no longer part of our lives.  In the midst of all this turmoil, we've fought for each other, and battled our own scars and insecurities.  

For me, one of the hardest things about it all has been feeling disconnected. I am a whole state away from everyone else in this family.  Much of the communication on my end is brief -- text messages, emails, second-hand conversations.  This is just a product of the distance, and the limits when it comes to time and nearness, or the lack thereof.  It also comes from the fact that we are all still learning.  We have weaknesses, personal challenges, we are scarred and wounded, in our own ways.  Making space for others to fail and be human, to need forgiveness and patience... this is something I want so badly for us, and something I find sometimes very hard to do. I get hurt.  I get emotional.  I cry and feel insecure, and too intense, like I'm asking for too much, or expressing too much raw feeling.  Shepherd calls it my poet heart.  To me it's a blessing and a curse.

Over the past several weeks, and especially the week that led to our most recent weekend together, that communication issue led to some words and tears and frustration.  -- It turns out that that weekend became a shared one between the three of us.  Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, and we let our guard down, it was a great opportunity to hang out and enjoy family, to get to know each other better, and plan for the future. We met at a local bed and breakfast in my hometown -- a lovely turn of the century home, with a spacious room that had two beds.  We talked, and planned and laughed and cried. We filled that room with love, and healing.

I know that my own jealousy is rooted in insecurity.  I am a poly girl.  I have loved many.  I do love many, I will love many.  It's how my heart is made.  But my insecurity is.  It just is.  I am growing, learning, becoming less insecure... and yet, I still feel it sometimes.  There has never been a time when I saw Shepherd being affectionate with another woman -- particularly those with whom he shares or has shared a committed relationship -- when I did not feel a twinge in my core, a feeling of anxiety and discomfort.  I have always chosen my response.  I've reminded myself that I love Shepherd, and that I particularly love his capacity to love others.  I have chosen to be happy that others are there, in his life, committed to love him in a way or time or place that I cannot.  I have chosen to celebrate his loves, to support them, to encourage them, and to  work to foster a feeling of trust and safety, of family and respect among his loves.  I think it's very common that poly people feel this twinge, and choose how to handle it. Perhaps compersion is just a happy feeling that some people feel naturally... but for me, compersion is a choice.

I stated moments ago that I have never not felt that twinge when seeing Shepherd share affection with another.  It is true.  It was true.  Until our most recent weekend.  Surrounded by such intense love, acceptance and affection, I kissed Dragonfly girl.  It was unexpected.  It wasn't spur of the moment.  I chose, after thinking through what it might mean and what it might lead to.  I felt safe, comfortable, eager to express affection and yes, curiosity.  I kissed her, and she kissed me.  And it was amazing.  We did fill that room with love and healing.  We shared a love that didn't belong to any one, or two of us.  We shared something that up to this point had been separate parts of a whole.  The lines blurred, and love flooded me, flooded us.

Some of the most amazing moments came when tangled up in the same bed I could lean in and kiss Dragonfly girl tenderly, and then gaze into her eyes with wonder and just over her shoulder see Shepherd's smile, the same wonder and joy in his eyes.  When he would reach for me, and touch me tenderly, then lean in and kiss her softly I felt it every time.  The kiss, the touch, the love.  There was no sense of someone else receiving affection and me being left out... I don't think anyone felt left out, except maybe Shepherd once in a while.  Writing that sentence makes me smile, because though Dragonfly girl and I both worried about him feeling a little disconnected from our exploration and discovery of each other, every time I looked at him he was grinning like a Cheshire.  Every time I looked at her, her smile lit up the room like a beacon.  I felt like I was fairly glowing with love and wonder.  It was something so amazing, so wonderful and so very unexpected that I am not sure I'll ever find the right words to describe what it was like.

I do know this...

I want to do it again, and again, and again.  Everybody heals with love.  Shepherd, Dragonfly Girl, me.  What we shared in that beautiful room this weekend was life-changing, and the healing still flows as we email, telephone and text each other in the days since.  There are no labels for it, no expectations, only love.Pure and simple, and incredible... for everybody.

(And I can't stop humming Katy Perry)
         

Follow your feet, and your hearts, travelers...

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.

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.

 

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.

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
----------

"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)

----------

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

----------

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

----------

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

- Paulo Coelho

----------

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.