waxing and waning

I've figured it out. Not me alone. You know. But I think I figured out the problem with the planet, world, country, region, neighborhood, family, and people in general. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it.

That problem being that too few of us understand what it means to love. Simply to love and to love simply. At the heart of the matter, too many (for my liking) are missing heart--a passion that transcends the feelings we have for ourselves (our own individuality, needs, and so on) and that transcends even the feeling we have for the other person involved (the recipient of our love).

That "beyond" place is a place where love loves itself--driven by an undeniable instinct to protect and honor itself at all costs. Suddenly, there, if you're lucky enough to get there, love carries you and yours. You are no longer under your own power--things become more effortless, a moving sidewalk. If you're there, hang on. Don't leave that place, even for a minute. It's like a good concert--if you go outside, you'll have a hell of a time getting back in. Do not pass go, do not leave your spot on the love line.

To lose that place is to be truly lost.

alone again, naturally

George is off to Germany to record for a couple of weeks. I'm back to the familiar alone-with-jenna life I've become accustomed to over the last six months. It's just wonderful. Really. You believe me? Well, then. Don't. I'm not having fun yet. Feeling very family-less. I miss him--I miss "us" the family of three. My life suddenly isn't what it was.

It's funny, when you're growing up you long for that family that will be better than the family you were raised in--in one way or ten.

When you're six, it's "When I have a family of my own, I won't make MY kids go to bed at 8:30."

When you're sixteen, it's "When I have a family of my own I won't run my kids' lives the way my mom tries to run mine."

For me, as a teenager, it was, "When I have a family of my own, no one will ever leave or die." (okay, so I had a little baggage.)

When I was 24, and I heard myself thinking, "This is my husband, this is our house, we're a team ready to take on the world. No one can stop us now."

When I was 36 I thought, "I have a family of my own--this is our baby girl--we're three now. We'll be together always and laugh and joke and play stupid games."

Now I'm 40 and three months, and I hear myself thinking, "Where did my family of my own go?"

skewered

it is sharper
than the edge
of a blade
turned inward
feels like
blood pooling
around my
heart

wretch
to purge
the agony
a feeling
I know
a familiar
letting go,

getting to
emptiness.

vow

From two lips
until forever
spoken on leaves
that drip promise
or is it the surprise
morning shower
that soaks
the day
with heat.

One now
not two
the thickness
of the air
carries the music,
a slow cadence
purposeful,
the notes
have time
to lick my ear
remind me
this day
happens
only once.

Unwrap a lifetime
look at it up close
meaning gives
way to knots, bumps
the bee hive disturbed
children in suits
and party dresses
scatter, crying,
stung
welts rising
eyes
wet with tears
the grownups kiss
away.

step down

Cixous says
climb the
ladder down
step down
into writing
where pain
and grief
bring strange
joy -- relief
if not because,
then because not.

I step down
into pain
again
that doesn't
go away
eases up
for a year
two, five,
minutes
another
step down
now into it
and how do I know
when I'm at the
bottom
my foot
reaches ahead
of me
my toes
feel only air

I am afraid
to know
I'm not there
yet.

more on relateivity

back to relationshipping for a minute, or relationtrips, because they are a trip, right?

tripp-fucking-y.

Elaine had a really good comment (that's now gone because of my disappearing/reappearing previous post) that said some stuff about the power of coming to a relationship already formed, complete, good with yourself, individually together BEFORE you delve into the long-term relationship, not struggling to get there after you've made the commitment. But I think you can't do that, or at least mostly you can't. I think it takes relationships to make you relate. I shouldn't use "you." Or should I? Are we relating? I guess I should use we.

Maybe folks who wait until they're 30 or 40 to get serious about a relationship do bring their more fully-formed individual selves into their eventual relationship. But don't they bring extra baggage too? Because how did they get fully formed? Not by sitting on a rock alone shouting into the wind? By relating, no? I think.

Does it take that kind of thing--that individuality of being completely alone by and with yourself for some I-don't-know-how-long length of time before you become that complete/solid individual who can better fulfill his or her end of a relationship? And if so, where do you run into another individual just like you? Someone who's also been sitting alone on their rock getting good with themselves before they get good with you? Like, how would you two ever run into one another? Because you wouldn't want to waste your solid self on someone who hasn't been doing their own deep interpersonal work--otherwise, aren't you doomed to a failed relationship?

Fascinating to me. Really. Because I'm pretty sure I just don't get it. It's like some mystery novel for me with the back half of the book torn off.

I say that we say this: I fucking love you, that's first, then second, I love us, what we are together, and yes of course, third--this is where last but certainly not least comes from--I love me because if I didn't love me, how could I love you? or Us? And if I happen to not love all of me, then show me how you do. And I'll do that for you too. Look, you love me. That's amazing. What do you feel like inside, now, this minute, no, do you see me? look at me. see my eyes. know them? you do know them. And they love you. It's more than my "self" that loves you--bigger than that. It's my skin on yours, my eyes shining out from yours, my finger tips on your cheek that love you. It's your brain on my funny bone. It's my head tucked under your chin.

It's the wierd places of me that I wouldn't know I had unless they were bouncing off of you.

okay my relate-ivity post got gone, so I copied it and pasted it in again

but... comments from elaine, marek, and ray went away. sorry.... wha happend???

my theory of relate-ivity

Relationships aren't individuals.
Individuals aren't relationships.
You don't relate individually, except, to yourself.

yourself. yourself. yourself.
(that's an echo)

You relate in relationships. ONLY. period.

So, I'm asking. How does it work?

Is there ever or always a third and fourth person in relationships?
You bring yourself in.
The other person brings himself/herself in.
Then each of you brings the self who works on the relationship TO the relationship -- that's the entire job of these third and fourth relationship selves. Because you need them. It's that hard.

Individually it is much easier to remain an individual. Separate from a relationship. No?

Maybe...
Individual self says:
I want my needs met = Meet them for me or I will have to meet them myself.
Relationship self says:
I want my needs met = I want to meet your needs too.

I dunno. This isn't all about love/romantic relationships. I think it stretches across friendships and blogging and work/business and all of that. Our boundaries are ever more interesting. This relating thing is getting more and more complicated as our understanding of our "selves" and "our world," and their limits or lack thereof, continue to morph.

good night.

never mind.

why i don't hit publish right away.

artist+realist=progeny

Getting Jenna to wind down for bed is never easy. I could tell you all of the "conversation"--a demand she makes nightly, no matter how many books, no matter how many stories--that we had tonight, but it would embarass her well into her 30s. This nugget deserves to be told, though. Aunt Net is Annette, our next door neighbor. And for those playing the home game, Jenna is 4.

Jenna: "I love all the arts and crafts Aunt Net does. Those are the kind of things I like to do. Do you know if she painted the pine cones for me yet? I will ask her. Tomorrow. I still want to be an artist when I grow up. When I have my own house, I'll paint and draw all the things I want to, and I'll paint my bathroom any colors I want. I'll draw pictures for it too."

Mom: "That sounds fun--and can I come over and watch you?"

Jenna: "Sure, if you're not dead."

BB votes to amputate RB's lips

Shelley is tired of them. I'm tired of them. We're all tired of them. THOSE FUCKING LIPS! Join Shelley's email campign to nudge the God of Gonzo on to other body parts. No more teeth. No more lips. No more teeth and lips. Say it loud. Say it like you mean it: "Lose the Lips TODAY, RB!"

My body part replacement suggestion was the middle finger. I know, it's been done. But it still seemed fitting. So hands off the middle finger, Paynter. ;-)