Eternal

The word 'romance,' according to the dictionary, means excitement, adventure, and something extremely real. Romance should last a lifetime.

~ Billy Graham

Romance is easy, letting it happen is the challenge. True Romance is alive if you let it be. A real & true love has no ending. No bad ending or happy ending. True Love endures... Even when it is away from your life. It is eternal.

Everything

Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.

~Marcus Aurelius

Pass love on...

“Just like a rumor can get carried on, so can inspiration...” 

- Janelle Monae 

Beauty

The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries or the way she combs her hair.

~ Audrey Hepburn

“I've never met a person I couldn't call a beauty.”

~ Andy Warhol

Love yourself!

Go to a mirror and look at yourself.  Love YOU.  Love the total person in that mirror.  Not just the image.  You are worthy to be here. You are worthy to be happy.  You are worthy to love and to be loved.  Start with yourself and be worthy for you!  ~Richard Martinez

Mad to live

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

-Jack Kerouac

Would you let a mad scientist operate on you?

Reflections

“life is truly reflection of what we allow ourselves to see ”

Trudy Symeonakis Vesotsky 

You are what you see... Try to see love! Love yourself more! 

Here's an excerpt about not loving your reflection!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

cut you open and fix you

Are you ready? It’s time to cut you open and fix you. You seem different. Not in a good way. You don’t think or act like the others. Something is quite wrong. It’s going to be dark soon. So let’s get started.

As long as I can recall this has been my home. The dark recesses of a large room that empty out into a small cavity. My place lies amidst a line of others that can be mistaken for me. Identical to me in every way, down to the scar beneath my right eye and flat thumb on my left hand. Time eludes me so I can not determine any length to my existence. I have no infancy, no childhood. Unlike in the pictures the master keeps by his chair in the study, I am not born. My brothers that line the halls of this place are not either. We have been created. Fashioned from the master and duplicated. I’ve often heard him say we are his masterpiece. The highest form of experimentation he’s ever successfully attempted. A mad man’s army. How can I say that? He’s been quite right. I do not think or aspire to be like the others. My manufacturing seems flawed. I attempt to sympathize with humanity. It is my utmost desire to share their compassion. Several procedures have revealed the cruel nature of the man I call creator. Scientific experiments are not limited to his mindless automatons with their mechanical workings. On occasion there are living breathing humans used in his testing. Suffering and death are quite common. Body parts are removed and reattached in the attempt to construct a human/automaton hybrid. Barbaric tools reach into openings revealing soft insides and pliable tissues. Clamps and braces hold open skin for the living to view the death of the body. Slow and consuming are these procedures. Absolutely necessary is what he answers to my many questions. Questions that I’m reminded seem vexing and without merit. Repeatedly the scoldings insist that I should not question the master’s actions. It is my place to accommodate and support in any research relevant to the cause.

Can it be so simple that he can cut me open and repair the broken piece? Like a faulty toaster oven. A mere fuse will correct the issue. An issue that I do not see as a flaw. Lying on the gurney as the master saws into my torso and head, I contemplate this difficulty. Will I even notice the change? According to the mad scientist I will never notice the change or question the matter with a second thought. The theories of cool calculated logic swim in my head as the nutty professor tinkers around with my insides. Bolts and nuts lift with ease and coils nestle deep beneath springs eject out. There appears to be a slowing of my mind, but there is no real amendment to my thinking. Only now there is a sense of freedom that did not exist before. An impulse sets itself into my thoughts and I desire to act. Quickly Master closes up the holes in my body and head. With a spin and nod he stops short. Something inhibits him. Fingers grip the base of the neck. Crushing. Lifting. Cracking into the thin layer of fleshy tissue beneath the chin. Bones snap with an unexpected quickness and his head breaks free of the body. Without realization I release the body. Collapsing on the floor the frail shell of life seems quite useless. He was quite right. I am not the same as before. Unlike me, he can not be repaired once opened. Such a shame it is my desire to return the favor.

Sleep: Dreams and Nightmares 39

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.” 

Thoreau

Sleep: Dreams and Nightmares 38

Something I rarely discuss is my irregular circadian clock. [which I've had forever and why I write or draw at night[ It keeps me from sleeping regular cycles often. I do not suffer from insomnia. But I enjoy frequent shifts of sleep to day versus night. And often that means enjoying weeks relying on 3-5 hrs of sleep without effort. 

What I do find fascinating those who do sleep. Sleep is considered something of meditative in Buddhism.  Often I admire those able to balance rest and living... And those just able to sleep. Why? Because I must meditate several times daily to quiet my mind... It is a practiced skill; a habit. Those who rest or sleep for a disciplined period can simply let their thoughts go.

Do you have insomnia? Or how do you sleep? :)

Enjoy!

Kisses,

m.

Lighten

Anyone can wear a mask but it takes the real Bruce Wayne not someone playing Batman to kiss Wonder Woman...

“I thought you were going to lighten up, Bruce. ”

- Wonder Woman

Rejoice

Love & Live without regrets!

I regret nothing in my life. I enjoy. I experience. I appreciate. I give. I show kindness. I don't hold grudges. I apologize. I forgive. I love. Get your facts straight. You judge me. I don't judge you. You haven't bothered to know me because you don't bother to know yourself. Love yourself more.

Rejoice and regret nothing!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Sleep: Dreams and Nightmares 37

I sleep with my feet on moss carpets, my branches in the cotton of the clouds.

-anäis nin

M. Barber

Golden Afternoon Light - M. Barber

paint? fetish? - M. Barber

fetish - tyler shields

Do you have a fetish for feet or sleep or are you a photographer that borrows ideas from fans on instagram without crediting them? Well darling, I borrow back. Do you like Tyler Shields photography? I do. 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Be

Always be yourself. Unless you can be Batman, always be Batman...

Let in Love

“Love is like breathing you have to let it in to give it out.

Learn to be happy with just yourself and you will never be alone.

If you always prevent yourself from getting hurt you will never know how to deal with pain.

What good is armor if you never take it off?

Everyone is someone’s ex.”

-tyler shields

Sleep: Dreams and Nightmares 36

“Let her sleep 

For when she wakes, 

She will move mountains.”

-Napoleon 

Dreaming of Paris - Tyler Shields Photography

Possible

Nothing is impossible, the word itself says 'I'm possible'!

-Audrey Hepburn

Possible. Everything is possible. I have had many destinies yet lived & dreams to put forth. Although I have many passions, photography, design, and writing are those that actually produce work. 

I wanted to put out a photo book so I did, in fact 2. I wanted to write ebook novels so I did, 8 or 9? I wanted to write a novel and did...

The novel has never been quite finished since I have been working on it. Lately with the new pieces written, I'm close to calling it completed.

From day one since I've been working on the book, the perspectives/TIA, everyone in my life has always supported and told me this was possible. Strangers included. 

I've only met an ounce of resistance,  from one man, and yep the shitty part of it, he's actually one of my hero's whose work I admire and support. He called my writing "trash" in a visually stimulating way... Maybe he didn't mean it? Funny thing... I hope he did. It means he has an opinion of his own. Why? I suppose we all need resistance from somewhere. I digressed.

For the most part this dream has been so possible and attainable from the beginning that I feel blessed. As most artists struggle for support. I am very lucky that when I discuss my dream with most people and share the book they are incredibly supportive. 

How are they supportive? Everyone I meet & share openly with usually have insisted on giving me help in some way. Which the extreme ranges from phone numbers of writing agents and business cards of book agents to setting up lunches with their publishing editor friends who they swear "will want to publish it after a read." 

I've got the destiny I want as a writer, yet I struggle to finish the novel. No clue why everyone in my life supports the book but maybe it's time to finish... And make it happen.

Here's a short excerpt... 

Alton is one of my favorite characters who has carried more of my own offensive quirks than the others. She's a borderline sociopath and appears in only the other posted excerpts... She has a portion of her own, but this, this is a small part of Alton and she is where the idea for Adrian began...

Do the people you meet support your dream?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Things that go without saying

(10-09-2010)

Things that go without saying.

The mornings start out with a feeling of despair, a sense of remorse for last nights actions. Always the guilt remains. Perhaps over the party or the people, however it isn’t necessarily the case. Some of the parties happen to be fabulous and without a doubt the peak of it all. The fabulous people can’t help but fake it, that’s just what they do. I’m not like them, I’m just me. Not cheap enough to let them own me. Guilty for letting them try.

Even this morning when he wasn’t there. Who, is not important. Just that I’m here still. In his bed, wearing his shirt and reading his tiny notes that apologize by leaving breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Don’t worry, stay as long as you like. I can’t help the weight that sits in my chest like an anchor pulling me down.

The panic attack hits at 6am during my shower. Heart races like it can’t catch up to the rest of my body as I continue to wash the night off of me. Wash that man right out of my hair along with the 12-hr party the smoke, the drinks, and Johnny C’s blood off of my elbow. Water can cleanse my body, but not my cold dark soul. And there’s nothing to be done about my Cavalli dress with a line of Johnny C’s blow smeared across the breasts and the countless cocktails that fabulous Reggie dropped across my lap while talking to the Countess Jessica Grant.

The darkest moments are after I’ve spent the night out with a man who doesn’t know me, doesn’t love me and doesn’t want to. A man who leaves breakfast before slinking out the door, back to his life, maybe his wife, maybe his girlfriend, back to his real.

Even more revealing is that these are the things, the very REAL things I keep to myself. The pieces of raw, vulnerable me the boys will never know or ask to know. The pieces that I choose to leave behind. The moment I cross the threshold into the party begins the transformation. Put on the best FAKE. Keep it clean. Lift your chin slightly to the right. Now act natural. Posing for the imaginary camera. The one that scrutinizes every little detail that’s wrong. One false move and you are considered bitter. Ungrateful. Tired. Get out of the way. Someone is waiting to take your place.

She can have it. Let her. Maybe I’m bitter. Or ungrateful. 

Knowing that when I return back to these quiet moments alone I can remove my smile, the insincere fraud, like it was a soiled dress. Then comes the dreading for the next time when perhaps I once again won’t have the strength to say no. My hand wipes away the steam coated mirror and leaves me staring at the stranger in the mirror. The haggard woman that drinks too much, talks too loud and moves about the party just because it’s what is expected. Coming face to face with the reflection that my life feels out of control and I want out. But I don’t know how.

My towel wrapped hair and I walk through his wardrobe. Vintage Louboutin heels in the three different colors. He didn’t always live alone. She left her Chanel boots from three seasons ago and faux leather wrap. These tiny remnants of a former ‘someone’ lay at rest among his suits and jackets, demolition denim and t-shirts, watches and shoes. He probably doesn’t know. This reveals more about him than he could ever say. She probably thought maybe I’ll come back someday. And he just didn’t notice.

At least I’ll have fresh clothes. That makes up for breakfast. Not impressive without the company. Why couldn’t he be out getting coffee?  I don’t like waking up alone. Yet I choose to. Notes are getting old now. Yet I accept them. At least he’s the same no one important leaving me notes and breakfast. Consistency is better than just anyone. It appeases the feelings of guilt. And the boots don’t hurt.

These boots, the clothes, the notes, the breakfast all come after the fabulous night. Mornings all alone filled with things that I’ll never say. Things that no one will ever ask to know. Things that they don’t care to know. They’ll never know the guilt, the contempt, or the disgust. What they’ll see is the ensemble, the smile and the best piece put forward.

This used to be the life… maybe I want a new one. This is something that I’ll never say.

Rise

A mature person does not fall in love, he rises in love. The word ’fall’ is not right. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. They cannot manage and they cannot stand – they find a woman and they are gone, they find a man and they are gone. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have that integrity to stand alone.

A mature person has the integrity to be alone. And when a mature person gives love, he gives without any strings attached to it: he simply gives. And when a mature person gives love, he feels grateful that you have accepted his love, not vice versa. He does not expect you to be thankful for it – no, not at all, he does not even need your thanks. He thanks you for accepting his love. And when two mature persons are in love, one of the greatest paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone; they are together so much so that they are almost one. But their oneness does not destroy their individuality, in fact, it enhances it: they become more individual.

Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. How can you dominate the person you love? Just think over it. Domination is a sort of hatred, anger, enmity. How can you think of dominating a person you love? You would love to see the person totally free, independent; you will give him more individuality. That’s why I call it the greatest paradox: they are together so much so that they are almost one, but still in that oneness they are individuals. Their individualities are not effaced – they have become more enhanced. The other has enriched them as far as their freedom is concerned.

Immature people falling in love destroy each others’ freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness

-Osho

In the moment

"Women have to be entertained..." he tells me. 

At the time I disagreed because I thought to myself, "what woman makes a man jump through hoops when she already has chosen to spend and enjoy a moment with him? She finds him fascinating or she would not be there." So I decided, he was mistaken. For no man should entertain someone he enjoys spending time with. It's not a chore if you are happy to. 

However, in hindsight, I think maybe I misunderstood. You see, yes women do need a bit of encouragement in the nature of romance. Now, please never mistake entertainment with seduction. You are not merely entertaining a woman for company's sake if you want something that is more than conversation and companionship. So if you enjoy your time with a woman and want to romance her... it is not entertainment. And yes, men, you do need to try to make an effort. Stealing kisses and breaking hearts only works until you decide you want something else.

Here's an older story about sharing a passionate moment... To live in the moment. Some moments are worth the thrill even though they may be risky and possibly reckless. Agree or disagree? 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

 “Would you like me to seduce you?

“What?”

“Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

-The Graduate.

Trying

(8-1-2010)

“Seduce me,” she says.

“I’ll go to bed with you but it won’t work unless you seduce me,” she protests firmly.

So I buy the wine and flowers. Light the candles then spray a light mist of vanilla-rose oil upon the sheets. Setting the scene are the sounds of a Spanish guitar. Warm is the wine, low are the lights, and soft is the music. I’m already drinking a glass of wine in anticipation of her arrival and enjoying the mood of the music as it enters my soul.

“It’s late. Come with me.” I tell her, “We are free and alive; there is nothing wrong with sharing the night together.” She blushes with a smile that shows part of her teeth. “Drink another glass of wine.”

“But what of attachments and commitments?” She continues to blush and avert her eyes. “I do need another glass of wine before I can agree to go with you.”

There is a knock on the door. A glimpse of her in the back of my mind appears out of nothing. I’m still holding the wine and dancing toward the door. Every movement has become a part of the harmony. Including the turn of the handle on the door.

“You’re not even trying.” She smiles with a laugh in her eyes. She isn’t blushing. “It’s all about encouragement.”

“Encouragement?”

“The offer isn’t encouragement enough? You’ve already admitted you are intrigued with my offer.” She blushes and turns away with my candid response.

She’s full of life when she walks through the door. Skin is already in full blush and she has an answer for the question that hasn’t been asked. “I’m just here to enjoy a glass of wine and some conversation.” Her movements have a similar harmony to mine, but she enters with a little hesitation.

 “Intrigued?” Her face is flush with excitement. This is a coy little game. She protests far too much.

“Suggesting that I seduce you was quite agreeable don’t you think? Life is but a passing moment why would you question this moment we are sharing? It could be special… it could be more.”

She says, “Oh please… Tell me more and I’ll meet you for a drink in your room.”

“I’ll try my best,” I tell her. There’s more blushing as she swallows the last of the wine. Leaning forward she rests her hand on my thigh and laughs in a tiny quiet breath.

She walks away from the door. I greet her reluctance with a question of my own.  “But what is this?” I continue to move to toward the bed. She follows and sits silently as I hand her a glass of wine. “You came to the room knowing the possibility of events that would come. Arrival has already set the tone for something to happen. Whether we make love is up to your mood. Let’s not negotiate what will come to pass. Have a glass of wine and let the music guide our actions.”

The music moves her. I can see the magic in her eyes. She requires no encouragement. There is no trying. It’s such a shame she has to play this game with me. But in the end we will both get what we want. If the pursuit of seduction is what she craves I can happily comply.  I ask her what she wants although I can tell that she is here for more than a glass of wine. I know differently. Playfully she continues to talk nervously, talking of passion and romance. She says she is wanting more than what is in front of her.  

With the glimmer of light from the room her eyes twinkle. The air is warm and gentle. I place my hand on her cheek. My words can only continue to tell her of the mood, the beauty of living in the moment and how disappointed she will be if she doesn’t follow through with her desires. This is enough.

Her hands shift onto mine. “You’ve seduced me. And you’re very much right. I’m here to go to bed with you. This is a beautiful moment but unless you undress me soon, I may change my mind.”

  

Answers

Answers are meaningless without knowing what you want or having the mindset to actualize what it is you want. Life, love and happiness are all governed by you. According to the Dalai Lama, "If you have a great deal of knowledge, but you're governed by negative emotions, then you tend to use your knowledge in negative ways." You can seek help for finding the answers, but only once you have the context for them will they mean anything. As humans we are programmed to rationalize and figure out our own truths. Experiencing life is a way to do that... 

Something reminded me of this old story today. Maybe it was because once I knew of a man and saw he had a great vision; now he realizes that vision every day. That is amazing and it is inspiring to myself and so many. It's something to say you'll do it, it's another thing to do it. Anyhoo...

Enjoy! 

kisses, m.

Image courtesy: Cole Rise

A Man with a Plan

(7-11-09)


Here I sit; alongside the road on a suitcase full of money in the dark of the night out this undetermined way. Hitchhiking my way to this abandoned place I’d never been, seen or heard of, somewhere in the middle of the state. Waiting to see a man. There’s been no one along this road for over an hour now, where I’m waiting for this man. This is where I should be; exactly where I was told to be. See I’ve got some unfulfilled thoughts in my head. I’ve spent the last two years without a home to call my own, wandering this earth in a never-ending search to find my way back. So here I am looking for answers. Answers from a man - a Man with a Plan they call him. Some say he’s a mystic and can see the future. Others say he knows every answer to every question that ever is, was or ever will be. I don’t know about all that hocus pocus, but I’d pay any price for some answers to these questions that disturb my mind and condemn my soul to burn in continued torment. 

Lights, far in the distance approach. Too remote to distinguish the image behind the irregular dots that slowly close in on my position. The answers that I seek are coming to me for a change. 100k in unmarked bills was the price I was given. This exact amount guaranteed me three questions. I was told “The Man will have the answers and know you before you even lay eyes on him.” Desperate men cling to any shimmer of hope when the cards are down. Don’t ask me what I did to get that money. I’m not proud. But I need to know NOW! I’ve reached the end of my rope and losing grip on reality. 

In the darkness, the pitch black night is still except for the lights of the car that swiftly approaches. There’s no moon tonight. The sky is a beautiful canvas blanketed with stars. More twinkling diamonds than the mind can attempt to count. The black Model T pulls up and scatters the dust around. In the car is a man. Not an older man by any accounts. Not a young man either. The look in his eyes speaks volumes. He’s seen things that will haunt you to the grave. Eyes are the gateway to a man’s soul. This Man knew things and his eyes couldn’t hide it. “Eli,” He knows my name. “Get in the car. Let’s GO!” I grab my suitcase and walk around the car. Throw my suitcase in the back and before I’ve got both feet in front of me and the door closed, he’s speeding off into the night once again. 

25 minutes have rolled by. No sign of any living thing along this road. Its pitch black and the only illumination is from the small headlights shining out on the road before us. It casts an unusual pallor on the Man’s skin. He almost seems to be translucent. Quiet. He hasn’t said a word since he picked me up. I’m certain he’ll spark up any moment cause I’m shrunk up against the passenger door and staring wildly. He looks over at me with a wide grin and it’s unclear to me who is truly mad, me or him. Just as his attention returns back to the road the Man lets out a roar of laughter. The car keeps rolling. 

Another 15 minutes roll on and he perks up again. “I suppose you have questions for me?” says the Man. I nod my head. “There’s really no need to ask them. I have the answers for you. They’ve been with us all night, somewhere alongside that road, in the dark, under that pitch black night sky filled with the twinkling stars.” I cough and take a deep breath. The Man points out the window. “See that hill out there,” I can only make out an outline of what he’s showing me, as it’s far too dark to see into the distance clearly. “That’s where I’m going, and you can come with me, if you’d like. But I can’t answer those questions for you. I can promise you will find peace of mind if you come with me. The answers on the other hand can only provide you with knowledge. You must make your own peace with what you learn from them. I can’t guide you any further than that. Do not worry. You have time to decide.” The car moves forward at a quicker pace. 

About a half an hour later, we come to a fork in the road. He slams on the brakes bringing us to a dead stop. I lurch forward in my seat and fall back quickly. Before the dust of the road clears he’s out of the car pacing, almost running, back and forth between the two roads. There are no signs of any kind on the road. He seems panicked and bewildered. After a few more minutes, he jumps back in the car, slams the door and we choose the left flank. “Sorry about that I didn’t see this coming at all.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat off his brow. It’s a woman’s, embroidered with initials that I’m unable to see clearly. So, how are you doing Eli? Feeling any better about those questions, yet?” He grins and keeps driving. 

“Alright now Eli,” says the Man as he slows the car, “I know you’ve got a million questions in that brain of yours right now, as I’ve got all these answers swimming around in mine. You know the rules, Eli. Three, I can only answer three. I can’t tell you what happens if you don’t come with me. I can not answer that one.” He pauses and then looks me directly in the eye. “Do not ask me about death or love. There is no certainty in either. I am warning you before you waste your time asking such things.” Just as soon as he’s spoken his peace, his eyes leave mine and return back to the road. Strange fellow. But I like his company nonetheless. 

“You’re READY then?” He spins his head around so fast I almost jump in my seat. Quite startling. The car stops. I take a deep breath and nod. 

“Seeing how I just came here looking for some answers, I think that’s what you should give me. Your offer to find peace is generous. Don’t get me wrong. You’re good people, I can tell. I don’t have anything to hold me here so it sounds pretty fair. And for the most part you’ve been good company so far.” He’s sitting quiet in front of me listening without interrupting. I stop. He pauses and starts to drive again. 

“You aren’t sure. The answers tell me that. I can’t choose for you Eli. You can’t ask that either.” He says in a somber and quiet voice. “But have it your way then.” We sit in silence another half an hour as the car crawls up this twisted and winding road far too small for even one car to pass through safely. 

The car rolls to a stop. Before he gets out something escapes from his mouth. “The initials are M.M. And don’t worry I won’t hold it against you. That one was on me. I always did like a curious man with a sense of humor.” He picks up a large rock effortlessly and throws it in the back. Gets back in and drives. 

“Since you’ve decided and I’m almost where I need to be, let’s get on with this then.” The Man takes a deep breath and looks at me. I swear there’s a tear in his eye. “The 1st - It’s always been there in front of you. Be patient and wait, its coming. The 2nd - 27 minutes left. The Reaper’s moving in fast tonight.” He sighs and stops. “Eli. I’m not answering that one. You already know the answer. You don’t need me to re-affirm it. Eli, it is within all of us to know that truth. Do not doubt your instincts.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “The 3rd - No, I’m not who you think. And yes, I will return for you tonight.” He stops talking and motions me out. As he closes the door on me, “Lastly, another one on me - She did love you. But you can not stop her death.” His lights disappear into the dark just as suddenly as they emerged from it. The suitcase is next to me and there’s a large rock for me to sit on. Wait. 

Revisiting The D Chronicles - (Men): Decisions

“You're born, you live and you die. There are no due overs no second chances to make things right if you frak them up the first time, not in this life anyway.

Like I said, you make your choices and you live with them and in the end you are those choices.”

- Kendra Shaw/BSG:Razor

You can wander the world making choices and carrying the heavy burden of those decisions, but unless you accept them instead of suffering by them you will not find peace. You see, decisions are based on choices that lay before us, some are delightful while others are quite despicable. You may have to live with the product of them but you don't have to live with and suffer by them because you chose to make them. Some are made without consequence and rarely do those stay with you. Actually they do but we pay no mind to the choices we are satisfied with. Perhaps it's best to take the bad decisions and see them the same way. 

In Tibetan Buddhist tradition there is a tale about a great spiritual yogi who lived in a cave. He was there to seek truth & answers in solitude. One day he left his cave to gather firewood & food. Upon his return he found his cave inhabited & overrun by demons. Immediately he was overwrought thinking “I must get rid of them” and begin chasing them to force them out of his cave. But the demons were unwavering and the more he bothered to chase them the more comfortable they seemed to be. 

So the yogi decides perhaps force will not work, maybe hearing the teachings of buddha will encourage them to go. The wise man proceeded to share his spiritual teachings with them. The demons remained only now they sat & stared at him with their wide mouths & eyes. At this point the yogi sighed and surrendered. Looking at each of the demons he says “It appears we are going to live here together now, I open myself to what you can teach me.” As he says this, all the demons leave, except for one. The largest & fiercest of them all. Unwavering the Yogi walks over to the demon and tells him, “You may kill me or eat me whole if that is your intent” & places his head in the creatures mouth. And with that said the demon disappears. 

All spiritual paths start with a choice to change by stepping into the unknown to seek spiritual truth. Once you release your fears you will not carry your decisions as burdens.

Enjoy the story! 

Kisses, m.

Decision

(2-9-2011)

Charles St. Matthews was a man without certainty but on that Tuesday after working at his 9 to 5 job he knew one thing with absolute certainty…

“I’m leaving my wife today,” is what he confidently came to conclude at exactly 12:15 pm. An epiphany had struck him after a moment of sheer release that involved his secretary, Lola helping him with his dictation and so much more.
Although his outlandish exclaim made her smile Lola said nothing about his epiphany as she knew like other women know about the epiphanies men often have when they lose themselves in such moments. Yet, she watched Charles continue to think it as she put her clothes back on.

Charles St. Matthews wasn’t a firm man. He never knew what he wanted and it mattered very little to him until recently. Recently when he began a regular lunch time dictation with his new secretary, Lola. Until Lola, Charles had spent his days in the same routine with the same woman for nearly thirteen years. And he now was certain he’d been spending his entire life with the wrong woman. The thought slowly unfolded from his tongue as Lola quietly re-buttoned her blouse and pressed the wrinkles out of her skirt saying nothing but smiling. When at last she spoke it was softly to remind him of his wife’s birthday and discreetly exit his office.

Charles heard Lola say it but knew what that reminder meant. It was meant to acknowledge his lack of commitment to her. The uncertain nature of his entire personality reflected back at him and stung like an arrow tipped with poison. But she was right. The day would not be appropriate for such actions. Eleanor would not want a divorce for dinner conversation just as she would have despised serving lamb or veal instead of chicken. A change in routine would not do for this evening that would end exactly like any other promptly at eleven. And despite the delight of the occasion there would be no passion for the celebration. As any nudity even in the bedroom wouldn’t be proper; even on such occasions Eleanor would see such things as crass.

The sheer thought of continuing this way sent him spinning. Charles had never done anything fully resolved  in his life. Leaving every decision that mattered to the fates. Someone else will know what to do if you do not. It had been his father’s motto and his father’s and so on. Only it wasn’t working for Charles anymore. He wanted to do something with certainty and commitment instead of letting somebody else call the shots. He wanted lamb for dinner instead of chicken. He wanted to stay up past eleven. He wanted passion without reasons or occasions. He wanted to walk naked in his bedroom, his living room and maybe even the kitchen and he didn’t care if Eleanor disagreed.

For the following four and a half hours in his otherwise dreary work day Charles spent them preparing his certain speech. With it’s certain words and certain flair. And he was absolutely certain of how it was going to happen. He would drop by the florists and get a dozen roses to celebrate his departure from Eleanor. She would receive them without gratitude thinking it was a cheap attempt at sympathy for overlooking the date and seethe angrily at his tardiness. And when the time was right he would give her the last thing she ever expected to receive on her birthday; his goodbye. The expectation he had in his mind was all he could imagine.

Eleanor was ready for him when he got home, same as always. Through the door by 6:30 and already she’d managed to pick out that something was different about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but Charles was behaving out of the ordinary. The look in his eyes was that of a scared lamb ready for sacrifice. It wasn’t like him to arrive late without any warn especially with a dozen red roses. And of all days, he had picked her birthday to pull such a stunt. She had managed to put off preparing dinner in her irritation but decided to greet him with a smile and poured herself a Scotch.

Charles had never seen Eleanor in such an unusual mood. She’d never postponed dinner for any occasion, or drank in the daytime, certainly never on her birthday. And the sheer shock of her greeting him and taking his coat with pleasantries sent his mind thinking recklessly. Eleanor further surprised when she offered him a drink. He instantly wondered if she knew about Lola when she poured him a Scotch. Could Eleanor truly read his mind and know what he was about to say? When she sipped her drink he wondered if she would try to stop him from leaving when he told her. After she handed him a glass of Scotch he begin imagining her with red eyes and a screeching howl. It was a frightening thought. Nonetheless it didn’t stop him from wanting to leave.

As Charles watches Eleanor put the roses in water he knew there would never be a better time than now. He takes swallow of liquid courage to calm his nerves. While he thinks the taste to be a bit sour in his dry mouth he ignores it as no more than the acid of a nervous stomach. Nerves sent spinning over a resolute decision. Charles had typically been a man without a backbone when it came to Eleanor. What she wanted was the law in their life together. There were no ifs, ands or buts when it came to decisions. Even the decision to have a drink seemed thrust upon him by Eleanor. And Charles felt in that moment was time that he made a few decisions on his own.

When Eleanor asked him what he wanted for dinner he interrupted her to begin his speech.

Charles told her that he wasn’t hungry before she could react. Then explained “there’s something I want to tell you.” Until then she had wanted to tell him about the drink but stopped short when he begin to ramble out things that involved a decision that he’d made without her. Charles had made the decision to leave her for a life that involved his unimportant secretary. Eleanor sat and listened to his well rehearsed words and realized that she hadn’t ever contemplated him choosing to leave on his own accord.

Charles swallows gulp after gulp of the dark Scotch. He is simply parched after telling Eleanor the news that he came to decide at 12:15 that day. The temperature of his skin begins to feel warm and his hands clammy in the middle of his speech. After he tells her of money that will no longer be there, the rising heat in the room makes him loosen his tie. When he’s simply overheated the thought of continuing without more to drink stops him in his words. So he drinks the last bit of it. Eleanor quietly sips her drink and looks at him. There are no red eyes or screaming howls released at the news of his departure. Charles thinks she’s gotten the gist of it and decides to pour himself another glass. Drinking a quick swallow he concludes that there is no more to say. Without a word and a wipe of his brow, Charles tumbles downward.

Down. Down. Down.

Eleanor wanted to run over and toss the roses upside his head out of anger. She wanted to be angry but it didn’t matter after he finished his drink. The simple wimbling man with his dramatic excuses didn’t even want to know what she was thinking as he rambled on and on through his treacherous speech. She thought his rehearsed speech to be a bit overdone and listened while watching him swallow the Scotch. Initially Eleanor wondered if he knew what she had planned for him when he arrived home late. But she knew that to be incorrect as he took drink after drink between starting and stopping his speech. The Scotch couldn’t have hidden the strong taste of the poison but he kept drinking it down before he went down.

Charles feverishly lay twitching on the floor; his arms and legs no longer responsive to his commands. Unable to speak as his throat constricts further into a tightness. Sweat beads off his forehead with a brand new epiphany born deep within the interior of his mind. Eleanor had poisoned him with the Scotch and he kept wondering how she had done it. Wondering why when it didn’t matter any longer. He thought she’d been drinking from the same bottle, but realized that he hadn’t seen her pour the same Scotch in her glass before his. He continues to wonder about things of no consequence while Eleanor stands over him watching like a spider with a fly caught in her web.  There in the web, his mind attempts to make his flawed thinking seem rational. Had it been his lateness for dinner? The flowers? Or had she known about Lola all along? Eleanor speaks her final peace before he succumbs further to the effects of the poison.

“You’re right darling. You are leaving me today.”

And with absolute certainty Charles St. Matthews left his wife that Tuesday.