Tuesday, June 24, 2014

As if by Gypsy Magic

As a school psychologist, I do my life's work in the school system. Among the many things that that means, it means that I have the summer off to play a different kind of daily life game for weeks and weeks at a time. It also means that I have endless hours to think of something other than children. That comes with a great deal of excitement and anticipation plus a series of questions that sound something like this: Where will my thinking wander off to when kids are not there to ground and frame my thinking?  Who/what will keep me up at night? Where will I go when children's instability won't be there to stabilize me? Where will I Wander to?

The week before summer vacation began, I was working on my end-of-the-year work checklist that needed to be completed before leaving for summer. On a warm Wednesday of the week before vacation, Wandering happened somewhere inside of me and it was time to go. Oh my restless gypsy soul, I still have a few more days of work to work, why did you show up so early?

I woke up, this Wednesday, and I wore a green dress.  The only dress, and I've got many, that makes me look at myself in the full length mirror more than once to double check the length.  One time, then once more...and one last time. Its always the same conclusion, its not too short, especially if I wear it with flats...maybe covered-toe flats...otherwise, too much skin?  I wore the green dress.

I don't know if it was the warmth of the day, the green dress and opened-toe shoes, my messy curly hair, or my nerves about dancing Salsa that night but I was ready...I was ready for Wandering: to capture something new, to see something different, to feel something more. But it's Wednesday and I still need to go to work.

And it happened that on that warm Wednesday morning, I rearranged my office and I captured something new. I moved my desk closer to the window and I saw something different. I organized my books, my photos, my things and I felt something more. My movement, my vision. Mine. My gypsy yearning felt  satisfied. I went along the rest of the day and did my work. And I did good work.

The rest of the days before flying  out to my summer of music adventure were hectic. As if by gypsy magic, in the middle of this most hectic week, I spent time with someone whose company I really enjoy...as if by magic, it started in a concert and there was music, later there was food and some cake too. There was slowly melting chocolate. And then I really knew that the summer of music had begun before I even left.

One Republic and The Script



And then I left...

Friday, May 30, 2014

Once upon this time

I'm thinking about the language of my heart, the way I experience the different aspects of who I have been, who I am, and the woman I’m always becoming. I think about how I write that out, how I write Her out. And who doesn’t think about that?

Once upon a time, as the story always goes, I shared myself with you as I uncoiled me from the spinning spiral of my double helix relationship with him and grief and death and love, his love, my love, our story. Why I shared it…I don’t know. It certainly is not easy exposing a wound…its like 1000 times that strange, uncomfortable yet exciting and intoxicating experience of taking your clothes off for the first time in front of someone who knows how to appreciate nakedness. And I don't mean a physical act, but that one too. Do you know that feeling?

Once upon this time, as the story now begins, I share myself today with you as I uncover me, a sitting still single strand of curving wave relationship with the woman I am always becoming. In the last months I have been working on this “thing”. Sometimes I call it Eva Luna. Sometimes I write it out, like writing a book. Sometimes I talk about it over coffee, drinks or dinner with girlfriends. Sometimes it wakes me up, bright and early energy that wants to swallow whole the day. Sometimes is soft and supple, sometimes hard and edgy. Sometimes I dance salsa with it, sometimes I flirt with it at some Spanish restaurant, sometimes it holds my hand walking down a street because sometimes its with a man. Sometimes he wants too much from me and sometimes he wants so little its not enough. Sometimes it wears a fitted skirt, sometimes it bares the back.

I’m about to start telling a new story. A story where the relationship is not a pair of double helix strands crossing each others boundaries, floating about without touching each others fiery core. I’m going to put my hands in the fire and tell you the stories of the single strand I pulled from a spinning double helix that turned out to be the curvy wave of a woman’s soul.

And although the story began some time ago, it will start here, with you, sharing a summer of music. And of course, some gypsy traveling.







Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Her

Like a shooting star that holds my gaze, She flies on by and guides my sight. Like a wishful wish, I wish for Her.

And in the dark, I catch a glimpse... I see Her Light, I see a curve, I feel an edge that prods in firm. The edge in me, a curve in Her.

And when I wish upon that star, to curve the edge within this heart: a chisel flakes, it cuts and carves the pieces of edgy scars...it cuts and carves to form the Stars.

And in the dawn of a new night, a curve appears and bends the Light and a new path protects my flight. 




Thursday, April 24, 2014

Your Hand to Hold, your Life to Sew





I have the needle and I have the string. I need the Hand that sews the seams. I have the paint, the canvas and things….I need the Hand that stokes and flings. Where are you Hand? Where are you now…I can’t see you in the cloud.


I see you in an image, I feel you in the hours of a day, like a binding together of pieces of clay. Where are you Hand I want to hold? The needle threads, it pokes and stings, it binds together a million things...


You were, You are, You'll always be the Hand that threads a Will in me to Sew this Life that I once Dreamed.







Monday, April 7, 2014

Acompáñame la Soledad



Algo sobre la Soledad que me ha acompañado estos últimos años. Te quiero. Ya no te tengo miedo, aunque a veces me matas, te adoro. Algo de ti me hace Vivir. Es esta Soledad que no es ni Soledad más que un espacio vacío pero lleno a la vez, lleno cuando me permito la locura de permanecer ahí. Esta Soledad, el sentimiento de sentirme contigo. La Soledad el vacío que, páseme lo que me pase, siempre será mío, y solo mío. Mio y de nadie mas. La Soledad el Silencio mas conversador…que te grita sin palabras pero con entonación. Es mi Paraíso Terrenal, mi nuevo Edén. Acompáñame a estar sola…juntos.



Friday, March 28, 2014

A Witness




You held me in comfort, wrapping me in warmth. You held me in rest, offering me a place for fleeting sleep. You held me in love, conspiring with two bodies in becoming one. You held me in pain, absorbing my tears and silent screams. You held me in refuge, defending me from the Thief in the Night. You held me in intimacy, a witness to my innermost unfolding. I hold you in me, writing you in my Truth.


In the courtroom of my Heart, you are the most ardent Witness of me. And today I call you off the stand.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

I found...


I found this morning that I am reading my favorite book.  I found that I cannot stop reading it and that I want to slow down so it doesn't end at page 461.  But it will.  Es El Amor en los Tiempos del Colera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I am reading it in Spanish, which makes it all the better.

I have got to put it down this Sunday morning. I have got to get to Mass and thank god for the gift of The Word.

I found it.

It sits next to mi Cama, junto a los Rosarios