What I Would Say if You Were Still Reading

To Seoul:

Oh there are so many things to say, and so few. I miss you like hell, and I leave you messages still where you might read them and know. You were the first to show me what poly love was about. I wish I could talk to you now about how I've found my faith intact, and am happier than I ever thought possible. Your sense of boundaries and honor laid the groundwork for me, so I could learn how to live this life, and love my people with integrity and intensity. Your openness taught me that life is too short to hold back, or hesitate. I will risk. I will try. It's the only way to fly. I still walk in the rain. I still sit in the dark, and imagine. I still have a clock set to your time. I probably always will, just to remind me of the gifts you gave. You know where to find me, and I honestly believe that one day, beyond this world, we'll finally embrace. I'll be the girl puddle-jumping.

To Jester:
Yes, I know you still text me, that our distant, sporadic friendship is still intact, and I love you for that. It would have killed me to lose you completely. I am so grateful for the way you listened, you accepted the girlishness in me, and celebrated the fireflies, the special moments, the dreams and flights of fancy. You helped me to see myself in a different light, and gave me reason to believe in my own beauty, and emotion. You still have a way of reaching across the miles to let me know you're there, and with every connection I smile. I miss you like crazy. I hope you never doubt that. I'm happy about the life I have, and I'm glad you have some small part in it; we've known each other too long to walk away now. I still think of you when I grab my Burt's Bees. That damn song still catches me off guard. I still celebrate the birthday of the Marines, and I still wanna see your new tattoos. Someday, when things are different... we will do all that and more.

To No. 6:
I miss your laugh, and the way we could have marathon conversations about anything. I find myself wondering at random moments whether you joined the force, how your son is doing, whether you letterbox together. I can't go to that coffee house without thinking of Alestair Dorian. I think of you every February 3, and remember the day the Music died. I get it now, not the why, but the how, I suppose. You made the best choice, and it could not have been easy. I thought of you especially this last month when I went to Renne. I walked around all day holding hands with two lovers; you ignited the spark for that dream. When I think of you now, I smile. I whisper to the universe that I hope you are well, and your heart is filled with happiness and love. I hope you still believe in your amazing potential. I wonder if your smile reaches those striking grey eyes. I wish you every good thing, and still hope that someday you'll show up in my inbox, or on my phone. You can't blame a girl for wishing she hadn't lost her friend. Be well.

To Zephy:
I miss your poetry, your love of language, and the way you could teach me the most interesting, things with incredible insight for someone so young in the world. I miss the sound of your laughter, and your sense of humor. I think often of the woman who will become your wife, give you children, share your life. I know she's out there. I wonder if you're happy with your path, if you are proud of the man you're becoming. I wonder if you know how amazing you are. I think of you every time I hear the Beatles, and still have a soundtrack playing while I work. I learned from you that I choose to submit. I choose to honor the relationship, no matter how I feel at the time. I learned from you that there is nothing more moving than a poem spoken aloud. I learned that there's no obstacle that's not worth fighting to surmount, or tear down. I wonder if you know that you will always have a friend in me, even if you choose never to take me up on the offer. I would love to hear of your accomplishments, to celebrate them with you. I'd love to chat about language one more time. Don't ever lose that, please. Keep it safe in you. It's your strength, that passion. I know, it's mine too.

To others, and to each of these:
There are those others whose footprints I see on these pages once in a while. Each stops by silently, lingers a while, and leaves nothing but tracks. I would comment, but some things are better left unsaid. Just know I see the crumbs you leave behind. I wish you well, and even if you don't wish me the same, I can deal with that. The truth is, no matter what your wishes, I am happy, surrounded by people who love me, growing, changing and building that life we each spent so many combined hours dreaming and talking about. What I have now is beyond anything I could have imagined, and I'm working my ass off to nurture and protect it. You fill my thoughts so often, and I know I would not be who I am today without the fingerprints you each left on my heart and life. Thank you each for the part you played in making me believe it was possible, and worth fighting for. Whether you meant good or evil, I thank you. I am who I am today because of the choices I made with each of you. I'm proud of that.

I wish you well,


Ephe

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.

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 Question

“No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy”
-William Shakespeare quotes (English Dramatist, Playwright and Poet, 1564-1616)
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"The ultimate test of a relationship is to disagree but hold hands."
-Alexander Penney
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"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."
-William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Hamlet, 1600
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A very important person in my life, one I'll call Poet here -- and introduce more completely, to all my (five) readers at a later date -- recently asked me to write about what I bring to a relationship. It's a valid question; it actually gives me a chance to examine who I want to be, and what things are important to me in my associations. I have developed some valuable qualities when it comes to fostering new relationships and finding new love. Some have been born out of negative experiences in my past, and yet, many of them are based in the positive interactions I've had with others -- paramours, metamours, and even friends. I hope that in all of my relationships, I offer certain healthy attitudes, beneficial skills, and gifts that are appreciated. 

Kahlil Gibran wrote, "Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens." I want my living to be evocative, exhilarating, and exciting, so I am determined to approach relationships with three specific attitudes.

Because I hope my counterparts will be open and respect my views, my values, and those people and things that are important to me, I first offer a sense of openness. I long to know more about a lover: what makes them tick, what are their dreams, their hopes and fears. I open my life to the individuals and ideas that are a part of the person they choose to be and the manner in which they choose to live.

The second attitude I cultivate in relationships is one of adventure. I want to explore new things, to push my boundaries, and challenge myself. I hope that by doing so, I encourage others to challenge themselves as well.  Shepherd encourages me to keep a list of new things I want to try, and asks me often to tell him what he can do to make items from that list a reality. He pushes me, gently and firmly, to keep working. In new relationships I hope I do the same thing. I choose to try and be the person who is eager to explore another’s interest or hobby, to explore something that they enjoy. I do not want to look back on any part of my life with my lovers and wish I'd been bold enough to try. Life is short, and I am determined to live it.

The third attitude I contribute to relationships is curiosity. In my mind and heart, perhaps even in my flesh, there is a thirst to learn, to experience, to crawl inside a person and explore every room, every dark corner, and every closet. I learned to explore this way from Maks.

Early in our relationship he handed me a set of keys, and welcomed me to explore the many rooms inside him. I learned to trust him with a similar set of keys, and the things we discovered together are memories I cherish every day. In each new relationship I find that I crave those opportunities to know a person, to laugh and cry and learn all about who they are.

I also want to grow, to gain knowledge and better myself. Life is a road I’m fortunate enough to travel -- and I want to spend every step exploring myself and others. To that end, I believe I offer a specific skill set in a relationship.

Relationship skills help in times of transition, difference and decision. I am confident that I have at least three skills to offer in any relationship. Firstly, I know, at least to some degree, who I am, and what I want. I've lived half of my life, and had plenty of time to examine what works and what does not work for me. I have always been the type to explore my own feelings and beliefs, and I have a decent grasp on my own identity. I know myself.

There's more to learn, though; so I also cultivate the skill of examining myself. Life and relationships are dynamic and fluid. To live means to change. I have learned to be a student of my own modulation, my own transformations. I acknowledge that all persons are subject to change. Hence, perhaps the most important skill I offer in a relationship is that of communication.

I am learning to communicate effectively in my interactions with Husband.  He and I are transitioning, and we are both working hard at the changes we’ve made.  Communication is paramount, and he has taught me to listen.  I listen well.  That wasn’t always a strength, before Husband showed me how.  I also speak clearly.  I’ve always been very good at putting my thoughts into words, and being communicative.  

I’ve learned from Husband that communication is both speaking and listening. These skills, I trust, will be beneficial in strengthening other relationships, and giving them value and security.

Finally, I bring certain gifts to a relationship. These emotional investments, if given in an unbalanced way, could become weaknesses. However, I make an effort to give them in a way that’s healthy, as I encourage others to be responsible and contribute as well.

Primarily, I am generous where I can be. If it’s in my power to give time and energy, or space, to make a lover happy, or to make room for their other loves to be happy too, I give. It’s easy to do when I am secure in the generosity of a loved one, or even in the graciousness of a metamour. I am learning such graciousness from Shepherd’s primary. I hope to write more about these lessons in the future, but for now I can say that she has been a mentor, a friend, and very generous in allowing me to find a place of honor and value in his life. I want to be that person, in the lives of all those I love.

In addition, I am an empathetic person, identifying with and often feeling the emotions of others. I can understand jealousy, frustration, fear and other negative emotions in others, and so I extend an acceptance of those emotions, and patience with the corresponding actions.  That tolerance does not last forever, but it is something I give, because I know what it is to struggle with the same human emotions. 

Lastly, I fall in love easily. I accept people for who they are, quite readily. Celebrating a lover's joys and accomplishments, seeing their strengths, appreciating their quirks – these are all things I enjoy. I consider each love in my life a valuable gift, unique and worth treasuring, so I try to do so often. Falling easily can be a weakness. I have been rejected and hurt before. Still, I know that the intensity and passion I feel in loving others is well worth the pain I feel when a relationship ends, or for whatever reason, never begins. 

I have learned to be honest with myself about my own feelings, to grieve and heal, and love again. I learned this lesson from Dorian, and because of our relationship, I have chosen to be the one who does fall, without undue hesitation, to recognize the characteristics in others that I can love, and to welcome the experience with open arms. It’s who I am, and I am happy with this gift in myself.

I realize that I have not yet arrived, and that in developing new relationships, I have room for growth. I hope I am always the person who is eager to better myself in the way I connect with and treat others. I endeavor to balance my strength and weaknesses, and believe I have some beneficial attitudes, skills, and gifts to offer in any relationship. I hope to continue learning from friends, lovers and their lovers, how to best build and enjoy the associations I have. After all, I have room in my life for a great deal of love. My journey is not just about finding love, but about giving it, and keeping it. I hope I rise to the task every day.


Minding my own feet,

Sometimes You Carry My Suitcase

"Lean on me when you're not strong and I'll be your friend.  I'll help you carry on."
~Bill Withers

"I'll lean on you and you lean on me and we'll be okay."
~Dave Matthews Band

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/56695083@N00/4421377186/sizes/m/in/photostream/)

We all have our own insecurities, our issues.  We all have our moments where in spite of any sensible argument to the contrary, we feel childish or out of sorts and afraid.  Emotions are part of relationships.  Jealousy and doubt are universal.  I have no problem admitting that I carry certain baggage.  Most often it's the unweildy green piece with the faulty handle and the broken wheel that bounces along the tile floors of airports with a thunk, thunk, thunk instead of rolling smoothly as it should. 

I have issues.

And no matter how logical I am, no matter how deeply I believe the truth, I can't talk myself out of the emotions; and if I ignore them, they will only expand like too many sweaters in a suitcase I can only close by sitting upon it with held breath and a prayer.

So, I drag my overstuffed siutcase to you.

You.

You make my issues into 'our issues'.  You take hold of my baggage, and willingly drag it though the airport, in spite of the sticky wheel and the broken handle.  You give me permission to feel afraid, and to ask for comfort.  You give me a safe place to process my feelings, and to breathe through them.  You remind me just who I am.  You remind me that you love me, that I belong, and that nobody can fill my place.  You listen and you accept, even love me. 

Baggage and all.

Thank you.


(and mind your feet,)

Sitting With the Feelings

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.

-Khalil Gibran

1883-1931

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/edeninchina/5339833443/sizes/m/in/photostream/)

In their book, The Ethical Slut, Dossie Easton and Janet W. Hardy dedicate a whole chapter to jealousy. The section is dog-eared, because I know I will benefit from reading it over and again. I turned to it tonight to pull out a quote about feelings.

"So here you are, shell cracked, with waves of pain washing over you. What do you do? Get as comfortable as you can, and see how you can learn to ride those waves instead of drowning under them. Gather up the courage to feel what you're feeling. Explore your feelings, nourish them, treasure them -- they are the most essential part of you."

What an amazing thing it is to have those intense emotions encouraged, justified, celebrated. I admit I am an intensely emotional being. I feel. Deeply. Part of my polyamorous make-up is that I desire intensity, seek out strong emotional connections. I have learned that incredibly overwhelming happiness also means a balance of intense pain and sorrow. I would rather feel... deeply... than let fear keep me from risking love.

Which brings me back to tonight.

In overview, I've met someone who is quite amazing. He's been a friend for four months, and a while back we decided to move ahead and explore more than friendship. I am filled with the excitement of new-relationship-energy, and also with the security of a solid friendship as a base to build upon. Honestly, my feelings for Shepherd are intense.

Husband knows about Shepherd. We have spent several weeks talking, sharing, listening to each other's heart about this new relationship. Husband is adjusting to the reality of me loving others. Though the progress seems arduous and sometimes slow, he is making great strides toward understanding and acceptance. I am amazed and grateful.

Things were rocking along so well, I took something for granted. Husband had a trip planned this weekend, and so I thought it would be a good time for me to go visit Shepherd again. I was thinking if Husband had a fun weekend to keep him busy, it wouldn't be so hard to deal with the emotions of me being elsewhere with someone.

The truth of the matter is that Husband is beginning to struggle with the reality of all these changes in his life and our relationship. When he learned that I booked a flight, he reacted. He communicated. We've been communicating about it on a daily basis since. Don't get me wrong, the communication has been healthy, even our arguments are resolved with eventual patience and efforts to understand both sides. We are learning this process. The result is that I reluctantly told Shepherd I needed to postpone my trip, and focus on the growth that is happening in my marriage. He responded graciously, generously, lovingly. He is disappointed, but understanding. I am a lucky girl.

Which brings me, once again, to tonight.

It's nine o'clock on Friday night, and I am sitting alone at the desk, staring at the laptop. If my plans had gone through, I'd be on an airplane about now. I am not. Shepherd has had a busy week, filled with longer-than-usual days at work. He has a life too, and that's our reality. He has been very good to touch base with me via text throughout the week, and I feel very much loved because of it.

Still, I am disappointed and lonely tonight.

Husband is enjoying his trip. He checks in with me to make sure I'm okay. He has acknowledged how hard this is for me; thanked me for understanding. I'm sure he will check in later to say goodnight and remind me that he loves me. I feel very much loved by him as well.

So I sit with my emotions. I remind myself that it's good for me to know what it will be like when Husband is home feeling lonely, and I am out having an adventure. I am tempted to have a glass of wine, to just go to sleep and avoid the pain, but I don't.

I 'gather up my courage' and 'feel what I am feeling'. I follow Dossie and Janet's advice, and explore my feelings. I nourish them and treasure them.

They are the most essential part of me:

 a girl traveler.

I wish you well, and hope you'll take something from my experience here.


Mind your feet--and your hearts,

Wings and String

"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.”
-Jeremy Irons

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/horrigans/5120562483/sizes/m/in/photostream/)

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/dkj/3823047819/sizes/m/in/photostream/)

I took a trip this weekend.  Got on a plane, and flew the shortest flight known to man, and didn't even panic when the houses looked like matchboxes.  I left behind my reality, and for forty-eight hours, entered an alternate one. Effectively, I found a rabbit hole, and dove in. It was wonderful.

I had a long talk with a very good friend while I was in the big city, about relationships and growth and the future.  I've been struggling for some time now, trying to figure out how to explain to myself, to the husband, to those who matter, what I know to be true in my heart:  I love my husband, and I need more.

It sounds simple when it's just eight words.

But it's not that simple.  When I say to the man who has shared my life, been a best friend, father to my children, lover, cheerleader, the one with whom I share the memories of a lifetime, "I need more." what I do not want him to hear is, "You are not enough."

Those four words sound very much like, "You have failed... you are flawed... you are disposable..." and none of those things is true.  He is the anchor I've tied myself to for more than twenty years, and like Theseus finding his way back from the labyrinth of the minotaur, I will follow the string that leads me back to him.  But I still long to travel, to explore and discover, other hearts, other loves.

I had the chance to share my frustrations with my friend in the city. A wonderful, caring mentor, my friend pointed out some things that I'm still rolling around in my head, still processing, still sorting.  Naturally, I will spill them here, and let them run over the virutal page so I can make sense of them.

Poly = more than one.  It's a concept you surely understand, if you're reading this blog, and if you've read any of it, you know I do love more than one, have loved more than one, and plan to continue loving more than one, in the most honorable and honest way possible.    I found a great poem by one of my favorite brilliant-poetic-minds.  It's cute and funny -- a bit childish, but he is a children's poet, after all -- and the truth is still true when you come to the last line: 

"JUST ME, JUST ME"


Sweet Marie, she loves just me
(She also loves Maurice McGhee).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves Louise Dupree).
No she don't, she loves just me
(She also loves the willow tree).
No she don't, she loves just me!
(Poor, poor fool, why can't you see
She can love others and still love thee.)
-Shel Shilverstein

I have a wonderful life, a wonderful friend to whom I am married.  He is so many things to me, I cannot begin to enumerate them, and no matter what happens tomorrow, only he can share my memories and the life we've built together.  Anything else would be just that... something else... someone else, but no one could take his place.

By the same token there is in me a need to escape my life once in a while, to fly away, to step through a looking glass into another world.  I need something different, to journey somewhere new, to discover someone I do not know, and to find a kindred soul that sparks when I draw near.  It makes sense that my husband cannot be both someone different and new, and also the secure, strong anchor at the end of my ball of string.  He cannot be both my big city adventure and my journey home.

And so, now my task is to explain to him, and help him understand.  Just because I need more, doesn't mean I don't need him, exactly as he is.  I hope it makes sense.

Keep your feet, Travelers!

On Love Lost and Found

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/kendrabentle/59782913/sizes/m/in/photostream/)

I was on the phone last night with Shepherd (not his real name) a new friend, when his question about my faith caught me off guard; not because it was an awkward question, but because it reminded me of someone I have come to love very deeply, someone with whom I've lost contact, and miss terribly.

I met Maks (not his real name) online, in 2008. We exchanged emails for a week or so, discovering that we both were writers, both enjoyed creativity and clever conversation. We played twenty questions, two lies and a truth, and generally shared bits and pieces of ourselves. While we held back the details, like names and ages, photos, and such, we shared intimate details, childhood memories, family skeletons and inner struggles. He shared his fears with me, his greif over the death of his mother, his regrets where his children were concerned. Maks gave me himself. Maks was, I would guess, about fifteen to twenty years my senior. He challenged me, and wasn't intimidated by my brains. He celebrated me. He had an uncanny way of reading between my lines, and accepting me under the skin.

Maks was the first man who explained polyamory in a way that made sense to me -- though that's not what he called it. He simply opened his heart to me... gave me a symbolic set of keys, and told me I could rummage around in the rooms of his heart, ask any questions, every door was open to me, but one. That one belonged to his wife.

Maks and I marveled at the way our hearts raced when we thought of each other, at the easy familiarity, and comfort we felt exposing our innermost thoughts and feelings to each other. Maks lived in South Korea, and I in the USA, and yet, there was a connection between us that defied the geographical distance. We walked in the rain together, stared at the same moon, at different times, he told me he kept a clock on his desk set to my time zone, so he could know what was going on with me, on the other side of the world. Tonight, as I watch a meteor shower, I will wonder whether he recently stared up at the same sky.

Among other things, Maks talked to me about faith. He had done something I'm still struggling to do - he'd reconciled his relationship with God to what he knew to be true about man's ability - and what he believed man's design - to love more than one. Maks reminded me that even when I was angry with God, and did not talk to Him for months, that He was still there, loving me, looking out for me. Maks prayed for me. He prayed for my marriage; he prayed for my husband and children by name. When my sister was nearly murdered, he prayed for my extended family, and he encouraged me to trust God.

Maks encouraged me to grow, to learn, to challenge myself beyond my limits. He loved me, and I loved him. We did not use the word love. That was one of his boundaries. Those words belonged to his wife, his lifetime partner. I respected that. Instead of the word love, we used the work know. For truly, the more we talked and wrote to each other, the more we knew each other, and he learned me well. Maks told me one day a story about a couple he'd read about in a science fiction novel. They used a repeated phrase, every time they parted, to express their love for each other. I can't remember the original phrasing, because we adapted it to fit our situation. When Maks and I would end a voice call, or a text chat, we would always say to each other, "Thee, and thou, Maks...and "Thou and thee, Phem."

Phem was a play on the word feminine, as Maks was a play on the word masculine. We were very much simply male and female. We were able to connect on a very deep emotional and mental level. I've never experienced anything quite like that with anyone else. I miss it.

I knew that there would come a day when Maks would log off, and not say goodbye. He knew there would come a time when his committment to his wife would mean that he would close his email account, his account on the website where we met, and stop writing with me in google docs. We talked about how meteors burn white hot... and vanish all too quickly. We knew that we were enjoying the intensity of an amazing relationship that had no guarantee except honesty, and an eventual expiration date.

I had no idea, the last time I spoke with Maks, the last time I heard his voice, his laugh, the catch in his throat when he said my name, that it would be weeks and indeed, months before I realized that he was truly gone. The thought has been in the back of my mind for several months now, and last night, talking with Shepherd about him, I realized how very much I miss this man.

Maks had a huge impact on my life, his gifts to me forever changed me. I don't regret the love I felt, the love I still feel, I only wish I had one more conversation, one more story to write together, one more message, left at the bottom of a google doc.

If I knew he were going to read this, I'd tell him what I always told him:

I miss you terribly, and there will always be a huge room in my heart that you carved out for yourself. Sometimes, I go in there, and sit a while, and feel your presence. Thank you, for giving yourself to me.

Thee and thou, Maks. I know you.

"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough."

-Abdulkhaleq Abdulla

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Keep Your Feet, Readers.