I love stories about vampires, werewolves, fairies, elves, and ogres. Sitting in a comfy chair with a latte and a biscotti watching a vampire movie or reading a fairytale is great for filling up the soul. Images of wonderful beasts relished, magical notions bring sighs, journeys of the heros send thrills, good triumphs over evil, and stardust is sprinkled everywhere.
Sitting in a restaurant with friends I misunderstand one friend. This misundstanding had me inviting a newcomer to our little party. The newcomer was newly divorced which immediately led me to have empathy for him. But this empathy evaporated as quickly as water thrown on red hot lava rocks. He talked about nothing but his houses and his money and how his stunning wife was going to get the million dollar house and how the lawyers were involved. But according to him she is happy because she will still be doing the botox, and shopping, and doing all the things that she does. And on and on he went about the material things. There were no feelings. He was quite rude about the whole thing.
This vampire of energy just kept sucking and sucking all the party out of our party. As my friend put it, he actually sucked the energy out of the table itself. I was amazed that one person could be invited to a table and not be interested in anyone at the table beyond what they did for a living. My friends were a lot politer than I was because at one point I made it clear that I was not happy at the way he was talking about his wife. He made it clear that he did not like me and left.
I have a philosophy. I try to only put things that I love into my body. And damned if I am going to let someone rip all the good energy that I am trying to invite around me. I was not going to sit around and listen to more bullshit. I have too many friends who put the good into the world. And when I have to sit and listen to someone who puts the bad stuff into the world I don't want to be around it. Hell I don't want to be around me when I put the bad stuff into the world!!! On reflection it may be how he deals with hurt. Regardless, I still choose not to be in his sucking energy flow. It takes me a while to refill my bucket. I don't have to give my energy away to people that I don't know and that I don't like. I choose to keep my energy for myself and for those people that I choose to give it away to that I feel need it.
While books on sucking vampires fill up my soul, the earth-bound sort suck at my soul. The garlic in my food didn't keep this one away, but a sharp, questioning tongue did. Thank you Rand(om) Musings for sharing with us the wonderful wine that helped lift our spirits again.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Short Story: The Train
This is my first short story that came to me one evening. It has some autobiographical elements, mixed in it are realities from the experiences of others. It is not always about me!!!
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Once upon a time there was a woman who was happily married. The marriage was not perfect. There had been hard times like when money had been tight or when it seemed that the passion has expired. There had also been terrific dreams that they had made come true. There had been depression and hurt and joy and so many other experiences, but overall a good marriage. That changed the day he came back from traveling and announced he was unhappy and wanted to separate.
Unfortunately, the cords of marriage don’t break with words alone leaving one magically free. Instead, with those words the woman died inside. She tried to hang onto the belief that this was all wrong, that it would all right itself and return to normal. But it didn’t. The woman sank deeper and deeper into despair. As that despair grew the woman believed that the pain could only be removed by death.
The woman prepared herself for the moment, the only real action she seemed capable of. With finality, she sat down, numbed by the deepness of her despair and pain; she looked around her not really seeing anything. Then she froze and stared because she thought she saw a shadowy shape of a female. She shook her head trying to clear it of the fuzzy feeling, the numbness but the shadowy female didn’t go away. Instead she spoke these words, “You have a choice. Come let me show you.” And with those words everything went from dark.
The woman didn’t know where she was, but intuitively she knew it was a place of between. In the distance the woman saw a train careening wildly out of control and at the back of the train was a platform with a rail and hanging onto that rail was a female. Then she was that female hanging onto the rail. She could feel the train running berserk, but all she could feel and care about was the despair, the pain, the blur through her tears. There was no joy or anger in this place; only coldness, yet she gripped onto the rail. The woman raised her head and at the same time the train turned confusedly and she glimpsed the head of the train and heard a soft “choo choo.” It had such a warm glow about it and together with the soft sound, the thought, “What would it feel like to be there?” pierced through her despairing thoughts.
“I am so very tired”, despaired the woman, “I really can’t make it.” And she let go of the rail with one hand. But the warm, calm feeling of the glowing image snuggled into her and she fought to regain her hold on the rail. And then as if by magic she was standing on the back platform. She had made the decision. She wanted to be there; to be surrounded by that calm, warm glow and to hear the “choo choo” again. She was tired of this dark, despairing place.
Then the memories of what had happened back in reality pierced her and she gasped with the pain of it. The door to the compartment at the back of the train automatically opened and she was uncontrollably tossed in. Falling to the floor she sobbed and sobbed with grief. She remembered the unmade dreams; she remembered the unanswered questions; she remembered the love; she remembered and grieved. Then she began to deny that this was happening to her. With this denial she heard the door of the compartment open and her body began to move of its own accord.
As she passed out of the compartment of grief onto the platform of between, she felt despair again and she wanted to stay. But denial was strong and drove her into the next compartment. “This isn’t happening to me. How could this be happening? Why is life so cruel? Things are going to return to normal, I just know it. If I just keep really busy then maybe things won’t really have changed.” So the woman sat a while in the compartment and thought that she could stay here because she felt numb but not despairing. Yet she kept remembering that warm glow and she looked towards the door. But she kept sitting, thinking this place of denial was better than despair. Then she began to feel joy and at the same time she saw the door open. She grabbed her hair and shook her head and yelled, “STOP.” The door closed.
The woman got up and walked to the door, opened it and stepped onto the platform between. She felt the familiarity of despair but she didn’t want to stay here at this moment. She wanted to visit joy. She opened the door of next compartment and stepped into joy.
She began to laugh. She remembered the wonderful moments, she remembered the tender times, she remembered the happiness. She remembered and laughed. Then she began to feel anger and she moved quickly out of the compartment into the next, feeling despair as she passed between. “Ah, she thought, “I remember you”, and opened the door of next compartment and stepped into anger.
She let the anger cover her. It felt so good. She was angry at herself for not understanding him, she was angry at him for not understanding her, she was angry at the lost opportunities, she was angry at his anger at her, she was angry at the world for not stopping for her, she was so very, very angry at it all. She was so angry she was paralyzed by it. But then she remembered the warm, calm feeling and she didn’t want to be here anymore. “I’ll come back and visit” she thought, “but I don’t want to stay here.”
She left anger and as she opened the door to the next compartment she heard the soft “choo choo.” She stepped into the heart of the train. The warm glow was everywhere; it was inside her, it was outside her. It was the center. It was all compartments; it was no compartment. The train no longer weaved aimlessly. It had found its tracks. She looked around her and for the first time she noticed that things were not blurry. She went to the window and looked out and saw with clarity. And she found that she could control the train in the direction that she wanted to go. The compartments would always be a part of the train. But she also discovered that she could add compartments and remove compartments and that she could visit any one of those compartments any time. After all it was her train, her journey.
Then the woman was back in the cold of the bathroom, sitting on the frosty tiled floor. She looked down at the pile of pills cupped in her hand. She stiffly got up, flushed the pills down the toilet and with a smile said out loud to the Universe “Choo Choo.”
For those of us who believe, she did live happily ever after. “Choo Choo”
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Once upon a time there was a woman who was happily married. The marriage was not perfect. There had been hard times like when money had been tight or when it seemed that the passion has expired. There had also been terrific dreams that they had made come true. There had been depression and hurt and joy and so many other experiences, but overall a good marriage. That changed the day he came back from traveling and announced he was unhappy and wanted to separate.
Unfortunately, the cords of marriage don’t break with words alone leaving one magically free. Instead, with those words the woman died inside. She tried to hang onto the belief that this was all wrong, that it would all right itself and return to normal. But it didn’t. The woman sank deeper and deeper into despair. As that despair grew the woman believed that the pain could only be removed by death.
The woman prepared herself for the moment, the only real action she seemed capable of. With finality, she sat down, numbed by the deepness of her despair and pain; she looked around her not really seeing anything. Then she froze and stared because she thought she saw a shadowy shape of a female. She shook her head trying to clear it of the fuzzy feeling, the numbness but the shadowy female didn’t go away. Instead she spoke these words, “You have a choice. Come let me show you.” And with those words everything went from dark.
The woman didn’t know where she was, but intuitively she knew it was a place of between. In the distance the woman saw a train careening wildly out of control and at the back of the train was a platform with a rail and hanging onto that rail was a female. Then she was that female hanging onto the rail. She could feel the train running berserk, but all she could feel and care about was the despair, the pain, the blur through her tears. There was no joy or anger in this place; only coldness, yet she gripped onto the rail. The woman raised her head and at the same time the train turned confusedly and she glimpsed the head of the train and heard a soft “choo choo.” It had such a warm glow about it and together with the soft sound, the thought, “What would it feel like to be there?” pierced through her despairing thoughts.
“I am so very tired”, despaired the woman, “I really can’t make it.” And she let go of the rail with one hand. But the warm, calm feeling of the glowing image snuggled into her and she fought to regain her hold on the rail. And then as if by magic she was standing on the back platform. She had made the decision. She wanted to be there; to be surrounded by that calm, warm glow and to hear the “choo choo” again. She was tired of this dark, despairing place.
Then the memories of what had happened back in reality pierced her and she gasped with the pain of it. The door to the compartment at the back of the train automatically opened and she was uncontrollably tossed in. Falling to the floor she sobbed and sobbed with grief. She remembered the unmade dreams; she remembered the unanswered questions; she remembered the love; she remembered and grieved. Then she began to deny that this was happening to her. With this denial she heard the door of the compartment open and her body began to move of its own accord.
As she passed out of the compartment of grief onto the platform of between, she felt despair again and she wanted to stay. But denial was strong and drove her into the next compartment. “This isn’t happening to me. How could this be happening? Why is life so cruel? Things are going to return to normal, I just know it. If I just keep really busy then maybe things won’t really have changed.” So the woman sat a while in the compartment and thought that she could stay here because she felt numb but not despairing. Yet she kept remembering that warm glow and she looked towards the door. But she kept sitting, thinking this place of denial was better than despair. Then she began to feel joy and at the same time she saw the door open. She grabbed her hair and shook her head and yelled, “STOP.” The door closed.
The woman got up and walked to the door, opened it and stepped onto the platform between. She felt the familiarity of despair but she didn’t want to stay here at this moment. She wanted to visit joy. She opened the door of next compartment and stepped into joy.
She began to laugh. She remembered the wonderful moments, she remembered the tender times, she remembered the happiness. She remembered and laughed. Then she began to feel anger and she moved quickly out of the compartment into the next, feeling despair as she passed between. “Ah, she thought, “I remember you”, and opened the door of next compartment and stepped into anger.
She let the anger cover her. It felt so good. She was angry at herself for not understanding him, she was angry at him for not understanding her, she was angry at the lost opportunities, she was angry at his anger at her, she was angry at the world for not stopping for her, she was so very, very angry at it all. She was so angry she was paralyzed by it. But then she remembered the warm, calm feeling and she didn’t want to be here anymore. “I’ll come back and visit” she thought, “but I don’t want to stay here.”
She left anger and as she opened the door to the next compartment she heard the soft “choo choo.” She stepped into the heart of the train. The warm glow was everywhere; it was inside her, it was outside her. It was the center. It was all compartments; it was no compartment. The train no longer weaved aimlessly. It had found its tracks. She looked around her and for the first time she noticed that things were not blurry. She went to the window and looked out and saw with clarity. And she found that she could control the train in the direction that she wanted to go. The compartments would always be a part of the train. But she also discovered that she could add compartments and remove compartments and that she could visit any one of those compartments any time. After all it was her train, her journey.
Then the woman was back in the cold of the bathroom, sitting on the frosty tiled floor. She looked down at the pile of pills cupped in her hand. She stiffly got up, flushed the pills down the toilet and with a smile said out loud to the Universe “Choo Choo.”
For those of us who believe, she did live happily ever after. “Choo Choo”
Friday, July 11, 2008
Not a Master of Release
How do you say goodbye? A year ago today my ex-husband asked for a divorce. The week leading up to today has been filled with emotions. I believe that the universe only sends you things you are prepared to receive. The universe knows when you have the skills to deal with something and then sends it your way. The question is do you have the courage to take on the challenge with the new skills.
This week has been a pensive one. Two things happened. The first one happened when I found a remote for a fan that belonged to my old house. I loved that house. I had remodeled the kitchen to one that was close to my dreams. It had great light. It was spacious. When my ex-husband asked for a divorce, the house and I went through a lot. The house felt my rage, my pains, my abandonments, my joys, my laughter, my tears, my strengths, my weaknesses. I found my voice there. There was also enough space for my shoes!!
A year later I was driving into the old neighborhood, and my heart caught in my throat. The tears started to fall. My hands automatically steered the corners. I sobbed and sobbed. I could barely leave the car to put the remote in the letter box. Seeing other cars that were not mine in the driveway was too much. I sat there for a little bit and then moved off. I phoned a friend. She has a wonderful shoulder and laugh.
I have been in my new house for over a month and I just now find the remote. Why is that? What do I need to see? To experience? To learn?
A few days after seeing my old house I received a text from my ex-husband. He had just returned from his yearly pilgrimage to Canada. In a synchronous way this is exactly what happened last year. On his last pilgrimage he felt free and determined that it was me that was the issue. Hence the divorce. His text indicated that he had returned and that there were some papers to sign. More papers??!!
We decide to meet but in the meantime I get it into my mind that I want to get out of town for the weekend. I was not sure where I wanted to go -- Keswick in West Virginia, Washington, DC; Charleston, SC. I just know that I needed to drive somewhere. It had been a tough week and I was in love with the thought of traveling somewhere. I am such a spontaneous person, maybe I have gypsy in me. And I wanted to share this spontaneity, this joie de vie with someone. However, the universe had other ideas.
I met my ex-husband and I signed the papers. I asked him about his trip and his family. I told him about my upsetting trip to the old house. And then I was blown away. He told me that on the way back he drove through West Virginia and he started to think about all the good times we'd had at Keswick. And he started to cry. Now in our 14yrs of marriage this guy never showed any emotion. He never shed a tear. Holy crap!!!
And it was then that I felt such incredible disbelief and numbness. Why does it take this for him to show what I always asked him to show? I disconnect from my body, a valkyrie from a different realm wanting to do battle. I realized then that I am no master of release. I have been hiding my heart. I have been so desparate to let go, I have masked letting go. In fact it has been tearing me apart. It's not that I want to hold on, because that is not good either. Some days I feel angry, sad, and numb. The numbness has been masking my feelings. I want to say goodbye to that. I want to hold what we had in my heart and say goodbye. I want to be. I want to feel again. I want to feel the realness again. I don't want the numbness to control me. I want to reconnect. The universe is very smart. For now, with the skills that I have, this is what I have learnt. I may not be ready tomorrow to feel the realness, but the numbness has been pierced. Now, when I say that I am "letting go" it will sound less hollow in my ears.
P.S. I have decided not to leave town. I am content to stay rather than run away. OK, my friends have that plane with a parachute, and we are going to fly down to Charleston in a week or two. Whoo hoo. Drive or fly? Do I need to say more...
This week has been a pensive one. Two things happened. The first one happened when I found a remote for a fan that belonged to my old house. I loved that house. I had remodeled the kitchen to one that was close to my dreams. It had great light. It was spacious. When my ex-husband asked for a divorce, the house and I went through a lot. The house felt my rage, my pains, my abandonments, my joys, my laughter, my tears, my strengths, my weaknesses. I found my voice there. There was also enough space for my shoes!!
A year later I was driving into the old neighborhood, and my heart caught in my throat. The tears started to fall. My hands automatically steered the corners. I sobbed and sobbed. I could barely leave the car to put the remote in the letter box. Seeing other cars that were not mine in the driveway was too much. I sat there for a little bit and then moved off. I phoned a friend. She has a wonderful shoulder and laugh.
I have been in my new house for over a month and I just now find the remote. Why is that? What do I need to see? To experience? To learn?
A few days after seeing my old house I received a text from my ex-husband. He had just returned from his yearly pilgrimage to Canada. In a synchronous way this is exactly what happened last year. On his last pilgrimage he felt free and determined that it was me that was the issue. Hence the divorce. His text indicated that he had returned and that there were some papers to sign. More papers??!!
We decide to meet but in the meantime I get it into my mind that I want to get out of town for the weekend. I was not sure where I wanted to go -- Keswick in West Virginia, Washington, DC; Charleston, SC. I just know that I needed to drive somewhere. It had been a tough week and I was in love with the thought of traveling somewhere. I am such a spontaneous person, maybe I have gypsy in me. And I wanted to share this spontaneity, this joie de vie with someone. However, the universe had other ideas.
I met my ex-husband and I signed the papers. I asked him about his trip and his family. I told him about my upsetting trip to the old house. And then I was blown away. He told me that on the way back he drove through West Virginia and he started to think about all the good times we'd had at Keswick. And he started to cry. Now in our 14yrs of marriage this guy never showed any emotion. He never shed a tear. Holy crap!!!
And it was then that I felt such incredible disbelief and numbness. Why does it take this for him to show what I always asked him to show? I disconnect from my body, a valkyrie from a different realm wanting to do battle. I realized then that I am no master of release. I have been hiding my heart. I have been so desparate to let go, I have masked letting go. In fact it has been tearing me apart. It's not that I want to hold on, because that is not good either. Some days I feel angry, sad, and numb. The numbness has been masking my feelings. I want to say goodbye to that. I want to hold what we had in my heart and say goodbye. I want to be. I want to feel again. I want to feel the realness again. I don't want the numbness to control me. I want to reconnect. The universe is very smart. For now, with the skills that I have, this is what I have learnt. I may not be ready tomorrow to feel the realness, but the numbness has been pierced. Now, when I say that I am "letting go" it will sound less hollow in my ears.
P.S. I have decided not to leave town. I am content to stay rather than run away. OK, my friends have that plane with a parachute, and we are going to fly down to Charleston in a week or two. Whoo hoo. Drive or fly? Do I need to say more...
Can Men Be Friends with Women?
It has been brought to my attention lately that it may not be possible for men to be friends with women without wanting to screw them. This is an emotional topic for me. It saddens me to think that I cannot trust men because all they are thinking about is how to manipulate a situation to bed someone. Is the world so basic and shallow? How can it be possible? How can men possibly want to have to have sex with any woman that they are friends with? Don't they have respect for women? Themselves? Don't they have other things to think about? Are they always ruled by that "other". Sheesh. So I have been gathering data in order to clarify this question. I have been asking everyone that I meet what their thoughts are.
My mother's response was "How immature!! Only a boy would think that way. I hope that you are not dating anyone who thinks like that."
"Ummmmmm, no, not dating, Mum," I said quickly. I wasn't lying to her, really I wasn't. Technically I was being truthful.
Then I asked a close male friend and he has many women friends, including me, that he doesn't think of in any sexual way. Phew!!! And no, he is not gay.
I took a poll in a bike shop with the staff. Off course the data was skewed because I was a potential customer!! They were flirting as they are supposed to do to get a sale so they agreed to the theory but I will put that in the outlier section as dirty data.
I asked my female friends and they agree that they have male friends who couldn't possibly think about them sexually. In fact they become quite upset to think of the possibility. The friendship is so important and there is a level of trust that is tampered with if the sex boundary is crossed.
A friend's husband agreed with the theory. He believed that men couldn't be friends without wanting to have sex. His wife was not happy. We are both baffled by this belief. But then maybe my friend's husband is all talk because a funny thing happened at lunch. I was sitting having lunch with a male friend when my friend and her husband happened to come into the restaurant. My friend and I were close to the end of our lunch so we chatted with them for a while and then we left. A few hours later I caught up with her and she told me that she told her husband, "That guy is trying to bed her." Her husband replied, "He can't do that, he's married." We both laughed. Perhaps this theory has holes in it!!!
If I thought that I could not have a relationship with men without wanting to have sex with them I would feel I was stuck in traffic. I could not relax. I would feel out of control. I would always be wanting to please, always be tuned up, always be trying to be something that I am not, always wanting to look perfect. I would be exhausted. I prefer to be picky in who I am attracted to and to give that person all my attention and to develop a kaleidascope of wonderful friends.
My mother's response was "How immature!! Only a boy would think that way. I hope that you are not dating anyone who thinks like that."
"Ummmmmm, no, not dating, Mum," I said quickly. I wasn't lying to her, really I wasn't. Technically I was being truthful.
Then I asked a close male friend and he has many women friends, including me, that he doesn't think of in any sexual way. Phew!!! And no, he is not gay.
I took a poll in a bike shop with the staff. Off course the data was skewed because I was a potential customer!! They were flirting as they are supposed to do to get a sale so they agreed to the theory but I will put that in the outlier section as dirty data.
I asked my female friends and they agree that they have male friends who couldn't possibly think about them sexually. In fact they become quite upset to think of the possibility. The friendship is so important and there is a level of trust that is tampered with if the sex boundary is crossed.
A friend's husband agreed with the theory. He believed that men couldn't be friends without wanting to have sex. His wife was not happy. We are both baffled by this belief. But then maybe my friend's husband is all talk because a funny thing happened at lunch. I was sitting having lunch with a male friend when my friend and her husband happened to come into the restaurant. My friend and I were close to the end of our lunch so we chatted with them for a while and then we left. A few hours later I caught up with her and she told me that she told her husband, "That guy is trying to bed her." Her husband replied, "He can't do that, he's married." We both laughed. Perhaps this theory has holes in it!!!
If I thought that I could not have a relationship with men without wanting to have sex with them I would feel I was stuck in traffic. I could not relax. I would feel out of control. I would always be wanting to please, always be tuned up, always be trying to be something that I am not, always wanting to look perfect. I would be exhausted. I prefer to be picky in who I am attracted to and to give that person all my attention and to develop a kaleidascope of wonderful friends.
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