Sentiments

Tags

love, sentiment, writing

S –
Do you like me? I like you.
M

Eight years later.

Hey, L –
What’s going on? Maybe we could go for pizza after the game tomorrow?
– MS

Two years later.

Dear L –
I thought about you today. I’m watching the snow fall outside my window and I wished you were here next to me so I could build a fire (if I had a fireplace) and we  could snuggle on the couch and you could fall asleep in my arms. I’d even let you wear my favorite pajamas.
Love, M

Five years later

Dear C –
I can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I last saw you, since I last hugged you, since I last kissed you. The time we spend together is so wonderful, but there is a small voice lingering in the far corner of my mind constantly reminding me that you will leave. Bittersweet. That is the word. It is pure bliss and pure torture each time I see you. Please say you’ll come see me again soon. Or tell me I can come to San Diego.
-M

One year later

Dear C –
I am so completely broken and useless without you. I know in my heart you are the one for me, and I believed you when you told me you loved me. What changed your mind? I do not know how I can possibly live without you. You are the sun that rises each morning to greet me and the sun that sets each night to complete my day. It is because of you that I breathe in the fresh air and feel the wind move through me. Please say you will come back to me and I will show you how much love I have for you. We are destined to be together. Everything will be all right, everything will be better. Please need me as much as I need you. Please want me as much as I want you.
Miserably, M

Three years later

My beloved E –
It is here today that I stand before you and express my undying love. When people spoke to me of true love, of true soulmates, I never really understood or believed until I met you. I thought I had known love, but all I really knew was that I was waiting for you. With you I do not have to fight to fill in the gaps or make believe everything is going to be all right. With you I am me. Be with me forever.
With love, M

Energy, Nerves and Throw-Up

Tags

chakra, communication, creative, energy, feng shui, musings, speech, writing

My undergraduate college focused on creating and producing strong communicators, no matter the chosen degree. This required all students to record one speech or presentation each semester onto a VHS tape.  When all eight semesters compiled, we had an opportunity to review the tape and discover how we had grown and progressed in our communication styles. It was painful to watch the first few speeches, but by the eighth speech, I was amazed at how I developed into a solid communicator. (Insert self-congratulatory pat on the back.)

I still remember that first presentation. I was petrified because I knew I wasn’t good at public speaking and mostly because I thought I was going to throw up. My stomach was in knots, my mouth was alternately bone dry and watering, and my hands shook so bad the girl in the front row thought I was fanning her.

After the presentations were complete, we discussed the most awful six minutes of our lives and one topic seemed to plague us all – nerves. My wise instructor told us that nerves were basically just energy we had to acknowledge, address and then re-apply where it would be better used. Once we could control our energy, we could decide how to use the energy to our advantage.

Hmmmm. Not nerves, but energy. Energy to be channelled and decided by me as to how I could use it. I never forgot her advice. The first time I spoke in front of 500 reps at a company meeting, I thought about how they knew the product and industry better than me and might laugh me off the stage, but then I redirected that nervous energy to deliver an awesome presentation about marketing communications that I knew better than they. They loved the work and respected me.

Energy has become a big part of my life in other ways. Feng shui really does amaze me with its flow. In my prosperity bagua, I once placed a purple item and within two weeks received an incredible promotion and salary increase. And when I put one of my favorite books in my career corner, I was struck with inspiration and wrote a manuscript in three months.

Most recently I decided to have my chakras balanced. My energy flow is good, but it could be better so we focused on the creative, heart and life force chakras that needed attention. And my base has a big problem – a big, thick root that didn’t go deep but appeared to be hacked off. That makes sense since I am alternating between two locations in what I call a “suitcase limbo.”

I still work to channel my nerves into energy, no matter if it’s a speech, a personal discussion or a near-collision on a snow-covered interstate. I am a work in progress, adjusting and expanding my energy, and I love it because it is I who can control it. I can open myself up and make the space bigger than my body. I am not afraid to be open to the energy that I can produce. Maybe I’ll get to the point where I can channel it to others, or at least advise them to take that nauseous feeling and turn it into an awesome presentation.

Roots

Tags

hawaii, kaua'i, life, photography, roots

Everywhere I go, I have my roots.

Waking to Rain on the Roof

Tags

memory, rain, writing

It was a tremendously pleasant morning. An unaided awakening. A quiet surfacing, emerging from the unconscious unhurriedly through the layers. A deliberate and slow rising of the mind and the soul, while the body lay inert, maximizing the rested energy.

She hadn’t experienced an awakening like that in quite some time. She lay calm, realizing her long, slow breathing. The soft cotton sheets pressed lightly against her skin, and she stretched her legs. Her eyes fluttered open to find the room shaded in the early morning light. There was a rhythm on the roof. She closed her eyes again, drinking in the sound. Rain was falling heavily. No thunder, no lightening, just rain. A durable, steady, purposeful downpour.

She took a deep breath, sighed and rolled over. There were no other sounds in the house.

She thought of the cabin, now so many years removed. The little, one room wooden structure on the edge of the woods that had neither running water nor electricity. His bed was tucked in one corner, under a small blown glass widow, an obscured view with its bubbles and waves. They spent the morning inside, listening to the heavy rain from under the bedcovers. They had nowhere to go and nothing to do. She rested in the crook of his arm, molded to his body, tracing the scar along his right side, a wound leftover from childhood. He kissed her forehead and cheek, resting against her. It was fresh and new, without any complications. She would later find out about his omissions. The other woman. His lack of passion for her. The disturbing reality she could so easily be left behind.

She took another deep breath, tucking the memory into the back of her mind. It could not come out again unless called upon. Lying still, she focused on the space above her, drinking in the steady hum. There was a faint smile. She liked the sound of falling rain.