between the equinoxes and the solstices

I have been there, with you, dandelions in our hands

yellow noses and cheeks.

We have lounged together in supple long grass just as soft and squeaky

as can be under a newly returning sun.

There were mornings, so many of them,

when we gasped at the sweet young Urtica flashing

her toothy leaves at us. And we whipped each other in

Prayerful Urtication.

I have rolled out of a tall, warm canopy bed of the darkest mahogany

to step onto cherry wood floors and meander to a refrigerator of

Epic EPIC! proportions.

And I can hear the home in your voice now. I can hear the new, wet spring reflecting

off your pink tongue.

I know that brightness of the time of the violets.

it is what I know that envelops my heart when my thoughts hover over you.

I know what to do when you are sleepy and have had too much to drink

from my matching crystal glasses.

In the morning I know when you will wake and what you will do

and what to feed you.

This all floats on top of my new island like the

oil on my vinegar.

What I never knew, could not know, is how surfers appear in the waves

from a lofty balcony off my living room.

Or how blooming aloe appears in the fall. And I never dreamed of

how a Tui sings or sips. I fell in love with what an accent of soft vowels does

To our language. To celebrate northern hemisphere holidays in

southern hemisphere seasons and to learn rugby nuance, to see steam rise from a

City of sulphur. To see cabbages and ferns live as trees and

to dig a hot bath out of a misty black sand beach.....

This is why I left you. This is what I exchanged our

cozy love for. Can you ever forgive me?

Will you never stop haunting?

southerlies

I'm tired tonight. I couldn't say why, there is stress, not all bad, but stress. Although, that's been going on for a bit. And I worked, not too hard, but I did. And I had an interview, also not stressful exactly. But anyway, I found a place to take a nap. After dinner. In front of the TV. Which was airing The Simpsons. How very American.

After that, after my flatmates went out to a posh indian restaurant with someone's parents, I walked outside to empty the compost. And the view of the city lights bouncing off the the ocean waves and the shadowy mountains..... Well, I hope I never get tired of it.

I was thinking, while standing next to the rosemary plant that is as tall as I am, "holy shit. What an amazing life. It's hard to believe I'm here."

I told Chris about what I was thinking later, and he said..."ya. we really hit the reset button hard."

How poetic. We totally did. From mortgaged married picket fence midwest america to a southern hemisphere island paradise with total freedom. It's not easy even now. True freedom is ever so elusive. And what looks like freedom is not so warm and cuddly.

The southerly winds blow in hard on this hillside, but the view from non cuddly is fantastic.

enough grows

Conditional acceptance. He loved me so much he gave his life for me. And then told me I had better not screw it up, this amazing gift. Things are expected of me. I am supposed to be good. NO! Be better!

I was so straight. I resisted, I persisted.

Then, I learned another rule. Another so simple, so laid out for me. "All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals" So, I believed it. And there was no trying. I was already right.

Mother.

Uncontional acceptance. She loved me so much she was me and I, her. And my blood and my breasts and my dirty thoughts, my vulgar desires were all hers. She loved to be fed chocolate cake and to writhe among naked bodies. Nothing is perverse to the mother......except the father.

MMMMMM.....I was so sensual. I surrendered. I merged.

And then there is the nothing. The no thing. The nihilistic orphan. I am chasing pleasure, and I am following rules. But, without believing.

The truth is, I think, that there are people suffering. That's it. There are neglected children, there are hungry millions, there is injustice, corruption. And there are wealthy people suffering. Many whom I know, who have never been hungry or homeless, but whose hearts bleed. I am one of them. I am in a living room with a flat screen TV, using broadband. My belly is full of fantastic nourishing vegetables and grains and lamb. The view from the glass door leading out onto the balcony is of the sea nestling up against green foothills who themselves nestle up to greater mountains. I could go on, but the point is, I am not completely satisfied with paradise. I suffer anyway. There's the truth. "Just when you think that you've got enough, enough grows. And everywhere that you go in life, enough knows."

I was born American. Which is great. And it's also like having a "kick me" sign stuck to your back.

My father has gotten an opportunity to go to Hungary to help orphaned children develop skills that may keep them out of prostitution when they become adults. And, I think that is where it's at. So, I've spent all this time on me, which is a favorite pass time where I'm from. We read books to help us develop healthy relationships and we study yoga and tai chi to keep our bodies attractive and young, we read about how fucked up we are because we were born to protestants or catholics or hippies or whatever. We delve deep into our inner selves to search for a sense of peace and meaning. We take flower essences to repair the subtle damage done to us when our mothers failed to respond properly to our needs. We learn how to radiate positive energy to the universe so it will give us our desires (which we will be unsatisfied with). We work on ourselves so we can (supposedly) benefit others, be the change we seek. But, it feels to me, right now, that we don't quite get to the level of reaching out.

It might be that simple. We don't pray to end suffering, we go to where it is and we start working. Like mother Theresa. Yes. We just stop sending positive vibes out from our hearts like animated care bears, and we get on a plane or in a car and go to where we can do some good. And then just do it.

Yes. I think I will. Not because I hope it will fix my issues or I'll learn some deep truth about myself or the nature of reality. Not to serve God or Goddess or to experience another culture or lifestyle. The reason could be as simple as.....it needs to be done, and I can do it.

Is this what happens when a woman who loves to nurture chooses to not have children? Could be.

Oh, my love.

You'll be with me all the time. Right in my care bear heart.

come

Looking out the sliding doors onto the balcony is a view of the sea and mountains just beyond that. This place is tucked into a steep hillside near a place where the sea comes in from two sides. The drive up here is on narrow winding roads that only motorcycles can turn on. The rest of us pray there is no one oncoming as we drive.

It is autumn, late autumn. And the days are short. But somehow it fails to depress. The days are chilly and the nights a bit more so, but just enough for a jacket. I have little money left and no definite option for making enough to pay my bills. I'm trying anyway. If I run out, then I will adjust.

Walking out at dusk to see city lights below and climbing a stone staircase at the end of the drive down to a park and series of trails through the bush, and sunny mornings with rosemary and borage growing in the gardens, it is in these moments I can realize this is a beautiful moment in my life. This chapter is fraught with tears and some peril, there are risks and sacrifice. But the beauty, the magic of not knowing how next week will go or even tomorrow.....it is gorgeous.

Wellington. I wished it, I got it.

And, it will end. Maybe next month, maybe next year, maybe far beyond then. And probably in tears.

But not today. Today is the beginning. The shivering, shaky, hesitant, blind beginning.

Kisses and hugs. I want you here. I imagine you sitting in the passenger seat as I drive you up the tiny twisty roads to my home. You stand next to me in the back yard which is higher than the roof as we gaze into the sea.

Come. Please.

gray

My eyes are burny, my ears are tunnely, my throat hurts, I keep sneezing and blowing my nose.

I'm sick.

I'm tired.

I watched the movie "earth".....the one about the polar bears and all the rest.

What impressed me is how difficult everything is. I think they were trying to drive that point home, but really, all these creatures are all struggling. Not because of global warming or human exploitation or pollution. Just because we were all built for struggle. Our bodies and intelligence, from little insects and fishes to humans and dolphins and elephants, are all evolved to endure.

And the reason of course, is that the endurance race never ends.

That's the perspective for today. But I am in north Wellington in mid-may. Which means that it's gray and cloudy and that it's likely to stay this way for a while. The mountains are beautiful in the mist, the sea is ever lovely, but gray is gray.

I would kiss you, but I'm sick.

Life loves us

truly

and deeply.

But not the way we want to be loved.

We believe we are her favorite

Special

Precious.

And then our children are born dead

or

Malformed.

Before we know we are young

We are old.

She gives us the largest dose of love,

Sends us out into the world

With no idea of where to put it,

How to wield it.

She punishes us so harshly

But never tells us the rules we are breaking.

And although she takes away every thing that is given,

Though she is ruthless and wild,

Even as she never pities us for the trials we face at her whim, we

Worship her. We tug at her skirts for more. We implore her to

Use us as instruments for her own end. And we

Cannot

Comprehend

(Call it a sin)

the occasional

One of us

Who gives her the big

"fuck you."

Because

We, the sane

Well-adjusted

Know she loves us

Truly and deeply

Just not in the way we

Want to be loved.