Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

You don’t have to tuck in your cold feet into your husband’s warm ones at night.

There are other options.

Wear warm socks.

Place a furry cat on top of your feet, make him comfortable, and wait till he curls up to take a nap.

Squeeze your toes into that fold behind your knee.

Entangle your feet in your blanket.

Heat a water bottle, and place it at the foot of the bed.

Turn on a vaporizer in the room.

Don’t ever think that you have only one choice.


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I can feel your hold lifting off of me
I crave you no more

Words still pierce my heart.

You preach and preach
Ego flourishing
Imagine yourself raised up higher than the rest of us

I look into your eyes
All I see is
a lost boy

This is the end, for me
for my attachment
for you.

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Move! Get up, go, forward, just do it.

Mulling, analyzing, caught in my story, attached to my bed.

If there was a mood monitor, like those heart rate monitors next to hospital beds, mine would be a flat line right now.

Stuck. Can’t. Get. Un Stuck.

Two days and nights sleeping then one staying awake all day and all night, then two days and nights sleeping, and so on.

Housework has made me sore like I ran a half marathon. Pathetic.

I still dream of you S, but much, much less than before. When you complain about your new wife, it re-affirms for me that you didn’t make the right choice. If you are happy with her, content, I may be able to let you go completely.

A singular emotion at the bottom of it all, Fear is running my life.

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And as I gently toss and turn your words inside my head,
I see a thousand shades of hue.
A silken thread of thought, moving straight ahead, swoons around
and splits into two.
The enmeshed twigs of a magnolia,
your fingers intertwined in mine.
Two rivulets swirling together,
in an ocean of endless time.

Who wrote this? Do you know? Can you tell me?

Someone sent it to me a few years ago, and I didn’t ask him then. We went our separate ways since, and

now I can’t ask him.

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I am shivering in the cold.

May I open your skin, crawl inside, wrap you around my body like a warm blanket?

I can hear the content in your voice, the Happiness.

It sickens me.


Why did you not choose me?

I am happy. For you.

Fly away.

Last night I listened to Ajahn Brahm’s dharma talk on Love. He said, most times when people think they love someone, they actually love the way that person makes them feel. He gave this little example. If you truly loved your partner and s/heĀ  runs away with the milkman, you should be very happy. I mean, isnt’ that love? That you want them to be happy? Well, now they are happy! Instead, you would probably not be happy at all. Why is that? Because you want them to be with you. But what if being with the milkman is what makes them happy? I thought, well, I’m not angry that S has chosen someone else. So, I’m okay. I truly do love S. Then it occured to me that I may not be angry but I sure am deeply sad. And why should that be? Isn’t it because I wanted him to choose me? Instead he chose someone else. If I truly love him, then I should be happy. I look within. I am happy that he is happy. I am also sad. I suppose I truly love him and also love the way I feel when he was around me.

Now, the possibility is gone.

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An end and a beginning

Here, my marriage is on the verge of ending.

There, S is getting married, beginning a commitment, to someone he has met once, but believes that she is the piece of the puzzle that was missing.

Their family will be transformed from a triangle into a square.

I am alone.

I am so happy for him, wish him from my heart, want him to be happy in this marriage.

I am also so sad, the word “sad” cannot possibly contain the angst, the depth of my melancholy.

It was my fantasy, that sometime in the future, S and my paths would cross again, we would re-connect, he would realize that I am the one he is meant to be with after all.

What is missing for me is anger, and I don’t feel any. Do I need to feel anger to move toward total acceptance?

I leave it up to Rumi to explain my feelings for S, as they have always been, still are.

The minute I heard my first love story,

I started looking for you,

not knowing

how foolish that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.

They are in each other all along.

S, you were always in me, I was always in you. Still was, still am.

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Come back

When I walk past the deck door, I still glance out through the glass and look for my baby. Is she waiting by the door pawing at it? Does she want to be let in? Is she waiting patiently? It was me who took her to the vet more than six months ago to end her life. She was in visible pain, unable to eat, unable to even move much in the throes of kidney failure. Oh, the denial, the deep wrenching sadness, tears that are sitting at the edge of my heart but won’t spill. I miss my Billoo, my baby with a ferocious pain. Without thinking logically, I still wait for her to show up at my door. Maybe, just maybe, she will be there again and I will open the door and let her in and she will sit on my lap and purr and take my hand with her paw and place it on her heart and I will hug her and kiss her and she will fall asleep in my lap and warm me inside and outside and she will wake up and eat hungrily and lap up her water from a glass not a dish and watch the birds from the windows and terrorize the neighbor cats and I will love her and she will get inside my comforter and we will fall asleep back to back holding each other’s hands.

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