There are pits into which we willingly crawl. Though painful, dark and alone. They are familiar, comforting, welcome. Surely you know such a place.
Mine alomost feel like home. Stores of varing emotions to which I return. Some are very painful. Tormenting. Hell like. Yet I fall into them arms spread landing flat upon my back. Only to taste it, smell it, live it a little more.
How insane this all sounds. Yet. Upon emeriging to a bright blue sky and gentle breeze. Life is new again. Clean. Fresh. Full of anything. So I set sail and beging to live. Until my anchor drops again.
(The attached image is the sky above me now. How open and glorious it is. The other is my 1st mate Zilliah, no fine a companion was ever made.)
Have you looked for me? Wondered where the traveler may be? A few have, and my gratitude is beyond expression. While we all love to sling our ink to page regarding our last spanking, broken heart, kids, flowers, pets, books, add in some more spanking just for fun; are we not really hear for the community? Who post then honestly hopes it never reaches anyone.
Thus here I am. Actually I am in my “nowhere place” which is emotional not physical. I started going there subconsciously while spending so many years alone as a defensive mechanism. It is a place where I function but quite literally am void of emotion. Very much like a Prozac, Seriquil, Jack Daniels party except I have had none of those this week.
I am here because all that I hoped I might could have in a relationship has gone away. A twenty seven year investiment gone. Very much like staying with one company all your career to discover there is no pension at the end. Not even a cheap watch, or grocery store cake. Just a “if you dont want this I’m taking it”. Then realizing the next morning you do not even have utensils for fruit loops.
So here I am. Nowhere. A familiarplace. Except, this time, I have my Zil who can sense all my medical and emotional issues. She comes over as I look through old Army stuff, puts a paw on my shoulder and gives me kisses. Who can stay in nowhere when Zil is around?
In my dreams she comes to me
I bow to her
A hand for thee
Shall we dance
She does so beautifully
Our eyes engaged
We swirl around
Her hand in mine
Oh please dear one
When next we come to dance
Love is like the waves of the ocean. There are many different types of waves. Some never reach the surface. Others stand hundreds of feet tall. They ebb and they flow. Drift away then return. They can be turbulent or rock you like a baby in a crib.
One when young tends to run from waves out of fear. With age one runs full speed into them. Diving in and splashing with joy. When waves are learned the signs of them can be predicted. Good waves can carry you for miles. One can catch a current and travel the world if so desired. Yet one can choose to catch many smaller waves. Experiencing each one allowing them to carry one a short while until finding a new one.
Sailors of old would search the seas for that one perfect wave and steady wind. Combined they would smoothly travel their journey in comfort and ease. Once ridden that wave would never be forgotten. Often being incorporated into fable and lore until its match could never exist. Although never finding it again. The ability to sing its songs will warm the heart until the traveler himself returns to the sea.