words and colors

being a wise woman is a tricky place to be when it comes to wiling un- and assuming men...

My lover posted a photo of himself and one of his best buds in his bbm profile and I immediately beamed with love for both men.  I was transported to a party of parties in the city back in our roaring twenties.  Booze, buds and beats abound.  They where both there.  I bonded instantly with best bud. And I remember the assuring wrap of close friends, some from ago, others from my evolving New York City life -- the admirers that kept my flirting energies robust; the go-to crew that kept it all interesting...  

I also remember faces in a flash, like my lover, aka Mr. Friday Night.  There must have been an energy connecting us in ways that we were not to know until now. 

So, where exactly is this here and "now?"  This steaming segmented love affair that takes place in wavelengths that are often too mysterious for me to bear.  The reality is that we live on two different continents.  There are personal complications.  I abandoned boxes long ago; he is still unpacking.  Yet, I don't think either of us thought that this could be as binding as I intend it be (he's already there, he just doesn't "know" it).  I knew from the first real conversation that we shared that in him I had found the truest reflection of me that I have ever met.  Without question I had met my match.  But it took months for me to appreciate that this reflection has been the missing element in my loves lost.  This is the beauty of this love and why our "match" is so important to me.  I have, of course, accepted that you can't always get what you want.  [Those stories are the stuff that Datin' Ms. Behavin' is all about after all.]  But I am finally learning how to engage with men in ways that hold their attention beyond the verbal or physical communication that we are all so used to.  What I know now is that our time is indeed now.  I needed the Alains, and the Jenses and the Peter Pans to realize that rather than reflecting back the energy that I was receiving,  I needed to be more transparent, to project what I wanted reflected back on me.  And this transparency grants me the ability to absorb his light -- the light that colors my reflection in all eyes.  This is our now.

Whenever I think about how me and Mr. Friday Night got here, I wonder what would have or could have been had the spaces that separated us been differently placed.  I understand more about me these days and know that it is part of my nature to move in many circles and to accept that there will be the long lasting and there will be those relationships that endure for only a season.  Almost hauntingly pressing in my psyche is his face in the crowd.  The one that was always familiar, always acknowledging, but never approaching.  Few words were ever shared, if any, beyond "hello."  Yet today, we know exactly how to say hello.  We breath each other's air.  We see each other's eyes.  We touch each other's lips.  We taste each other in sips.  We feel each other's full embrace.  Struck by the surprise newness of each hello... 

'Cause when we kiss 

Oooh

FIRE.  

In this week of monumental moons [you'll come to know much more about me and my stars - this time it is the full moon in capricorn] we have exchanged more words and thoughts than the usual on varied new subjects and revisited some old, bringing me closer to understanding the rhythms that govern our shared consciousnesses and affirming the wisdom with which I embrace the "getting to know" process.  And it is the finesse, even restraint, that I sometimes have to master in loving without ego that allows me not to be too clever to be sexy.  Too honest to be thoughtful.  Too distracting to be interesting. Too imposing to be accessible.  

So, among the words shared this week, one was "Synesthesia" -- later "I have synesthesia;" the phenomenon where one sense is jointly activated by another.  I experience this everyday running, in yoga, stretching etc.  My muscles and my mind seamlessly and vividly remember the many places that they have been and anticipate the journeys yet to be taken.  He sees colors in certain words.  I know that he feels more.  But it is this simple revelation--that he has the capacity to see those colors--that tells me there are feelings that he has yet to believe exist.  Thoughts, words that he has forgotten to remember.

Those days back then, when we could not or would not connect, conjured the kinetic presence that is the us of today.  He was the one that observed; maybe waiting for me to make a move.  I was the one that danced offering an occasional glance.  Today, I reflect colors.  He shines words.  And patience is the meter of our energies.

07/06/12