Archives for posts with tag: be love

Well… Happy Valentine’s Day, at any rate. Try to avoid getting VD (venereal disease) – it would be sure to detract from any potential holiday joy. πŸ˜€

“Lovers” 8″ x 10″ watercolor on paper 1992

I have a lot of thoughts about Valentine’s Day, few of them are G-rated. My personal take on Valentine’s Day, as a holiday, is that it is the one holiday on the calendar specifically devoted to sexual love. Romance. Not “family life”, not little kids giving paper cards, not “hearts and flowers” in any casual sense (“I sent my Mom flowers for Valentine’s Day” is definitely not in the spirit of the holiday as I understand it, myself). Valentine’s Day is a holiday to celebrate sensual pleasure, sexual pleasure, physical connections and bonds, the delights of romance of all sorts, and not some watered-down Hallmark holiday at all.

Is love a journey or a destination? Or… is love a verb?

Having said all that… I’m alone this Valentine’s Day, and lacking co-celebrants of any sort in any near-at-hand physical sense. LOL πŸ˜€ Somehow, I manage not to be bitter about Valentine’s Day. Some years I’ve been partnered. Some years I’ve been solo. Some years being partnered hasn’t resulted in sex on Valentine’s Day… which is like the worst way to celebrate this holiday. LOL At least have some smooches and snuggles, y’all. πŸ˜€

Be love. It’s a choice. Love is a verb.

Somewhere a long the way, people seem to have gotten the idea that “inclusion” and “inclusivity” means everyone can, and must always have access to be able to, celebrate and/or enjoy everything available to be celebrated and/or enjoyed by anyone at all. I don’t think life really works quite that way. This is a really good example. I see Valentine’s Day as a specifically quite carnal sexual celebration of love… I also don’t have a partner at hand with whom to celebrate this holiday, on this day, in this year. Those are all true things. Does this, then, mean I am entitled to celebrate nonetheless and all such celebrations must now be tailored to enable and accommodate my participation? And what if the pre-requisite for such requires that I be fundamentally other than I am? What must change? Just something I turn over in my head now and then. I’m a huge fan of inclusion – sorting out what precisely that actually means is tougher. I mean, I will nonetheless “celebrate” the holiday – by noting that it exists, and quite probably enjoying a lovely meal later, and maybe a very tasty glass of sherry or port – but it is a pale comparison to my preferred ways of celebrating sexual love. LOL πŸ˜€

Love matters most.

Valentine’s Day-wise, Love gets to lead a lot of the conversation. Love has a lot to say. I don’t know what it says about love – or folks who read my blog – but this post on Valentine’s Day, from 2013, is my most popular post ever of always to date. So, this year, remember – even if you can’t “get lucky” this Valentine’s Day, how lucky you are simply to be,Β and to be you; you matter. Celebrate with the person in the mirror (<groan> lol, sorry, I could not resist, but sure, if you’ve got the time and inclination, do you. LMAO). Enjoy you. Lavish yourself with your own affection this year – why not? You may begin the best relationship of your life, by beginning a better one with the person in the mirror.

Right now this is my life. I’m up early on Saturdays, preparing to hit the highway for another trip down to the family home. I drive down. Chill in the company of good friends, fam, and loved ones. I stay up way too late. I sleep decently well in spite of the excitement of just being there. I take some pictures. I walk the hillsides. I pet the dogs.

More than a beautiful view.

Each such weekend, I consider, on each Saturday evening, how little need there is to rush, and how much I want to stay. I tell myself I will relax and sleep in, maybe leave in the afternoon. Each night, by the time I am ready to crash, I’ve admitted to myself that indeed, I do prefer to get back in the early afternoon, ensuring I have ample time to restore some order to my current living space, do some laundry, maybe get groceries – and again, chill, but in solitude instead of in good company.Β  Each Sunday morning I “sleep in” having set no alarm. Each Sunday morning I am generally also up sometime around 7 am or 8 am, rarely any later than 8:30 am. By 9 am I am generally on the road – same as on Saturday – and likely to reach my destination, (generally in either direction) sometime around 1:30 pm. It has begun to feel… routine. Planned, even when not planned. Funny.

It’s a lot of effort, and little down time. It simultaneously wears me down and nurtures me. It is an expense that has to be budgeted, considered, and kept in mind. (Less money for concert tickets, more money needed for gas. lol Pretty basic stuff.) I think I can keep this up though, maybe for years, which is a goodness – since I may be needing to. lol

Next weekend I stay “home” – at my current residence I mean, which feels peculiarly less like home in some regards – and still quite like “home” in others. Well, reasonably enough – all my stuff is here, right? lol

…And the squirrels. The squirrels are here too. πŸ˜€

I’m not sure what I want from my life right now. Hell, I’m not always confident I know what I need. (Quiet acreage in the countryside sounds like a nice start on meeting needs…) The wild level of spontaneity day to day is dizzying, and I am sometimes unsettled and afraid – frightened by a foolish inclination to cling ferociously to some sort of certainty… about something. Well… I am becoming more accustomed to the notion that there is very little cause to be at all certain of mostly anything. lol In a moment of pure joy, and a bit of humor, my brain throws back “this too shall pass”, and I choke on my coffee laughing out loud at myself.

It’s time to begin again – but first, another cup of coffee. πŸ˜€

There’s more to say on such a big topic. A paragraph or two about love and lovers isn’t going to cover the subject thoroughly at all. I won’t try. It’s early in the morning, and I’m headed to work soon. The morning is rainy. The coffee is hot. My mood is merry. Easy stuff on a Tuesday.

The view from my weekend away.

I scroll through my Facebook feed, catching up after a weekend away. I flip through the posts – what’s with all the angst-y relationship drama? (More than enough over the weekend, as well – seasonal?) I don’t laugh – it really isn’t a cause for amusement or celebration when lovers suffer in each others arms, most particularly consider the great care some lovers take in crafting their shared misery. The choices! The effort! The lovingly hand-crafted artisanal misery! It’s amazing to me that even if pointed out such that awareness is unavoidable, a great many people will still “well, she…”, “well, he…”, with real ferocity to return to an acceptable understanding that allows them to rationalize not making any changes at all. It’s weird. It’s as if – wait for it – they are actually choosing to be unhappy together instead of choosing to be actually happy, or at least content and blissful. So strange. It’s hard to watch. It’s always been hard to watch. It makes my acid reflux flare up to have to watch it. It makes me heartsick to have to turn away. (I can’t fix it!) 😦

Love isn’t misery. If you are miserable, I assure you, it isn’t the love causing that. It’s the bullshit. πŸ˜‰ Drop the bullshit. lol (Sounds so easy in those terms, but yeah – there are still a lot of verbs involved, and you can’t avoid those, or pay for someone else to do them.)

I’ve had cause to be soaked in drama recently. Not so much a choice as a test of endurance, loving kindness, compassion, and the experience and (limited) wisdom that come of age – and that come of fucking up several potentially wonderfully promising relationships myself over the years. Doesn’t make it easier to bear witness to the misery of lovers who refuse to see that they are choosing their misery for themselves, with great care, and putting every ounce of their being into tending and maintaining it. Yikes. I can’t even imagine the power and joy of a relationship into which similar effort and energy are put directly into actually loving each other!

Sharing the love, and sharing the building. Destruction is far less joyful.

…Oh. Wait. Yes, yes I can actually imagine the power and joy of a relationship into which lovers are putting the full weight of their effort and energy directly into actually loving each other! I have that! How wonderful! πŸ˜€ I worked – and work – with great care to build (instead of destroying) to support and nurture (instead of criticizing and tearing my partner down) to attend to my own chaos and damage (because we really only have the power to change our own ways, to deal with our own issues, to put down our own baggage), and to learn to love well.

A gray, black, and tan moth is colorful up close. Perspective matters. πŸ™‚

I’m still learning. I practice every day. I make mistakes. I make amends. I screw up. I make it right. Again and again. I learn something new that works. I practice it often. I find out something I do is problematic. I look at ways I could change my approach for a better result. I face the awareness that something my lover does is uncomfortable for me. I learn to bring those issues to the table with kindness, patience, and understanding that I am having my own experience, and “demanding change” is not always the most effective (or efficient) way to achieve the result I want. I learned to assume positive intent, and learned to share my words gently, and to listen deeply. I learned to let go of assumptions and expectations, and to distinguish between acceptance and being a doormat. lol So many life lessons to love well! We have to learn each of them on our own. The verbs pile up.

I may be writing about love for the rest of my life – there is that much to say about it, and I’m no expert. πŸ™‚ Love matters most. Love inspires. Love pulls us. Pushes us. Changes us. Love is powerful stuff. I spent the weekend wrapped in love. Home now to begin a new work week, I’m still thinking about love – and lovers.

There is always time for love. (Make time for it.) What could be a more worthy use of your precious limited mortal life than to love?

Speaking of time… it’s time to begin the work day. πŸ™‚ One new beginning among so many. It’s time to begin again. πŸ™‚

Interesting weekend. I meant to write more, sooner, and probably beginning with events last week, as that week rushed to a hasty conclusion, filled with stress, chaos, failed planning, and forgetfulness. So much has gone on – from poignant nostalgic moments unpacking a precious box of dolls my sister had been keeping for me, (and that my grandmother had kept for me, before her – since I joined the Army. 1981?) I had honestly written them off, grieved the loss, and moved on, figuring that regardless of good intentions, time and circumstance had made the choice.

I lost track of that moment completely in the fumble and tumble of moments that proceeded from there and on into the busy, festive, holiday weekend. I made memories instead of Facebook posts this weekend. πŸ™‚

The weekend itself was so magical, connected, and emotionally nourishing that the drive home was filled with the thought of it (at least until I hit traffic about 90 minutes from my destination). I have yet to fully process it all. It was informationally and emotionally dense, filled with content – and contentment. It was a departure from all my norms – and a break from very nearly all my routines… like… a serious, total breakdown of most of my basic self-care routines, all of it. lol I haven’t yet sorted all that out, yet, either. Turns out – it’s too much. I can’t so easily just sit down and bang out some words that seem to go together and make sense of it all. I’m going to have to be patient with myself – there is more to consider. So much more. Epiphanies. Changed thinking. People. Moments. Moments upon moments of real life, actually fully lived, awake and aware and taking life on a tangent. It was… intense.

As with the weekend, itself, this picture defies me to make any sense of it. lol

There are some lovely pictures… surely I’ll share some of them… in due time. Even the words must be shared “in due time”. My time. My words. I guess it’s only reasonable that I determine the timing and the broadness or depth of the sharing. I need to soak in the feelings awhile, and figure myself out a bit more. It’s a new year – the woman in the mirror has work to do, but it’s a waste of precious limited lifetime to merely rush around randomly doing things and stuff without making some sense of where I may be headed, I think. So… I’ll take some time for all that. Meditation. Writing – private writing, I mean, actually writing in my journal. Self-reflection. Asking the questions. Listening to the answersΒ  – without judgement, objection, or excuse making. Being. Becoming. Beginning again.

Good party. πŸ˜€

Sitting down to write in the morning, mostly exercise in making use of time while sipping coffee, I suppose. I am up both earlier than I’d ideally like, and later than usual. Late night. Concert. Good stuff.

Choices.

Today I’m on the road to see my Traveling Partner. Of the two of us, presently, I travel most. lol Mostly traveling to see my Traveling Partner, who is mostly, at present, at home. lol I’m glad to have the and the means to cover the gas money, and the car in sufficiently good condition to do so. πŸ™‚

Last night I enjoyed a momentary return to utter chaos. I didn’t really “mean to” – that’s not how these things happen. It’s those choices. I discovered that the subwoofers I want to take down to my partner don’t fit in my car. Ouch. (I chose to have them shipped to my place instead of his, based on an early plan that he would come to my place for Giftmas.) Well damn it. So… friends? None interested in making the trip. Well, shit. Okay so… a rental? Oh! LOL Look at the price on that! Yikes. So… well, they fucking got here, didn’t they? I take time to look up the price to ship them down… Damn it. That would have been the way to go and I could have met all the available needs to have done so straight away instead of dilly-dallying with the romantic notion that I could haul them down in a mid-size sedan. LOL

Choices.

So… I schedule the shipping. The package pick up window provided to me begins promisingly early in the day. I’ve got the shipping label ready to… wait… I need to print that? Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck… no printer. Damn it. Seriously?? I’ve got evening plans (concert) – made before I accepted the invitation to go down for New Year’s, and made my own plan to depart forΒ today – without actually thinking that through; I got home after midnight last night (and didn’t actually get to see the one performer I went to see due to changes in set times). Now I’m up again before 6 am, nursing myself back to humanity with a river of coffee (well, at least so far, really only a small creek of coffee) – and planning to drive hundreds of miles, and more than 4 hours, and on the other side? A busy celebratory holiday weekend. Omg – what have I done??? lol

Choices. I’ve made choices. πŸ™‚

My planning is once again in tatters, but the outcomes should be more or less mostly what I’m going for – and that’s going to have to be enough, so may as well let it be enough going into it, to start things off. I’m not even mildly grumpy, at least so far. I got some sleep. I contacted Customer Service for the shipper and ensured I could squeeze in a quick trip down the street to get that label printed – I had tried to do so on my way to the concert last night, turned out that all the sorts of places that typically offer print-from-email services are closed well before 9 pm. Now, I’m confident that I can get it done before the scheduled pickup… but I’m also up 2 hours earlier than I now need to be, living on caffeine and excitement. lol Adulting is hard.

So…I’m okay right now. Merry, even. Ready to celebrate a new year – and most especially ready to let this one go. Then… with the new year behind me, life can return to its slower non-holiday-season pace for a few months, before all of it gets planned again, and the excitement builds toward the bizarre collision of spontaneity intersecting with careful planning in the last 10 days of the year. It’s a thing I know about. lol I even planned for the chaos – and thus the underlying merriment.

Lots and lots of choices. Plenty of tasty fail sauce just… everywhere, and so much more going on that I haven’t even figured out how to consider or how to discuss. lol Are you ready to begin again? I know I am…