This side of Heaven

[Sweet Bliss]

For now, just rest, feel my comfort,
safe are thee inside with me,
Nest awhile, receive a peace.

Filling quiet spaces gently,
Lean thy head upon my breasts,
Warmed by strength,
Empowered with knowing,
The knowing of thee.

Trusting thy touch, thy voice, thy power
Safely harbored within my heart,
Encircled by arms warm and tender,
uplifted by souls sweet surrender.

Embraced by song, of souls entwining.
Feel in me the strength from thee,
See in me the power from thee,
Touch in me the center of being,
Join with me in explosive surrender,

Place your sword within my sheath,
Breastplate to breastplate shield to shield,
Kneel at your feet prepared to yield
Prepared for battle, knowing defeat,
Accepting none but one -
Defeat of fear.

[Sweet Bliss]

As i sit here on the front porch i can see the lights of the valley below me sending out their last bit of twinkle, letting me know that all is well and running smoothly. Somewhere along the Rio Grande River Valley is my precious youngest granddaughter to the south of me and to the north along the same valley is my oldest granddaughter and two grandsons. To my left, too far to see is Arizona, where my son is probably taking a shower and getting ready to attend his college classes and swigging a cup of coffee, straight, grabbing his backpack and heading for the University. My daughter is probably letting the dog out to tinkle just like Yoda just did, and as she stands in the doorway waiting for him to find the perfect spot, she is probably thinking about all the things she has to get done today before my granddaughter awakens demanding to be held and wanting cereal.

The moon is setting in the western horizon, a kind of orange glowing ball, it is sliding behind the west mesa as i write this for you. i'm feeling kind of melancholy this morning, not sure why. My ceramic Goddess is watching to the south, silently standing in the chilly air. She is simplicity. As i sit next to her i am reminded of all the women who have come before me, the women who share this time on earth with me, and the ones who will arrive after we are gone. The First Mother, what challenges did she face? Did she know she was the First Mother? Her DNA beginning the wheel of humanity, civilization, culture? Did she i wonder, cry at the birth of her first child, cry at the death of another. Did she mate for life or was she a member of a tribe where intimacies were openly shared with all? Did she bare her soul to the Moon or the Sun, or were the Mountains that sheltered her the foundation of her awakening sense of self? Did she intimately connect with the Earth that recorded her steps and passage, memorizing the details of each plant she tested, each berry nibbled and each fiber woven into the texture of her world? Did she have visions of a future she didn't understand?

Morning Sun is arising behind me, the mesa to the west is no longer sharing the twinkling lights of the valley. the roar of the freeway is getting louder, and the hum of tires and pounding of the asphalt is familiar and irritating at the same time... the quiet solitude of my childhood is a faded memory, i recall little of that time. The sleepy village in France, with the smell of bread baking before dawn can still be recalled in my mind if i concentrate really really hard. It was the only place on earth where i felt at home. Not knowing that it would be over 40 years before i would discover it was my the home of my ancestors. I want to see it again before my time here is done. I am grateful that my mother was an aspiring artist and created many works of art while we lived there. There is a painting of the little old lady with the stooped back feeding her chickens and ducks across the creek with her thatched roofed home behind her nestled under an ancient tree. The happiest time of my life was spent by that creek. Each morning upon waking i meditate as i drink in the visual reminder my mother gifted me.

While you sleep safe and warm in our shared nest, i remember when we first met. You were with her and i was with hym.....i was thinking how i wish i could walk in her shoes for just an hour, The tenderness and compassion and love you gave her so freely, expecting nothing in return showed me that the love i craved was possible. I never dreamed you saw the same in me until you shared your secret longing during our pillow talk time. Every moment spent with you is a jewel that i tuck away in my heart, the ease with which you care for me is proof that loving is a natural state for you, i'm so grateful to be a part of your life and receive the gift of love compassion and tenderness that is you.

When you awake i will pour your coffee for you in one of the Goddess cups i made years ago. Her plump figure, round soft breasts that feed the world, and the tiny feet she stands on tippy toe to kiss your forehead and bless you, will warm your hands as we sit out here on the porch sharing our morning thoughts, holding hands across the table.

[Sweet Bliss]

I don't even know what I'm doing today, plodding ahead, numbly doing rote tasks. I asked "why don't you help me? I can't move as fast as I did before my surgery, it takes me much longer to do stuff now." and you answered, "because it's your stuff."

Because it's my stuff.

Because

it's

my

stuff.

When you wake up and coffee is ready for you
When you come home and your laundry is done
When you come home for lunch and a hot meal is waiting for you
When you are tired and your back hurts and I give you a massage
When you have a headache and I rub your temples and give you a foot rub to pull your attention from your headache
When I bring you a cold drink and cool towel to wipe your sweat away when you do the yard
When I make your lunch when you work out of town
When I get you fresh ice water without being asked
When I put fresh sheets on the bed I'm not allowed to sleep in
When I paint the interior of your house
When I take out the trash daily
When I clean the 3 bathrooms
When I vacuum 2300 sq ft of floor
When I plant flowers, trees, palms, plants
When I sweep the porch
When I clean your truck
When I scratch your back
when I hug and hold you when you are sad
When I clean your man cave
When I feed your pets daily and nightly
When I provide first aid for you and the pets
When I cook giant omelettes for you and all the trimmings
When I clean up the yards after storms
When I clean up the yards after the tree guy makes a mess
When I do dishes and clean up 3x a day
When I clean out the fridge
When I pick up your dirty clothes and shoes
When I buy your favorite cookies or make them from scratch
When I fix your torn clothes, sew on buttons
When I do all these things and more

I say te amo,.......................not "that's your stuff".

You are right. yes. it's my stuff. Thanks for the reminder.

[Sweet Bliss]

I had no idea how true and painful those words could be until I heard them. I'm recovering from heart surgery, 8 hours of it. Will take at least a year, and have a ways to go. So I'm moving by myself, again. Lifting boxes, furniture, stuff. (Against Dr's orders) It's all just stuff. I don't want to leave it all behind. Omg, how cryptic is that.

Good grief. More truth stuck in my craw. lol, this too shall pass... really? are you sure? My inner self does not believe it.

So now my home is on wheels stretching 38 ft long. She is my Grace. My saving Grace. I have no idea where I'm going after I leave this current situation.

Maybe this time instead of following my 'Bliss', I will just live in 'Grace'.

[Sweet Bliss]

http://www.flickr.com/photos/17857260@N00/

Take a gander at Grace's new riser.... not done of course but maybe by the weekend?

[Sweet Bliss]

Some say love, it is a river

That drowns the tender reed

Some say love, it is a razor

That leaves your soul to bleed

Some say love, it is a hunger

An endless aching need

I say love, it is a flower

And you, its only seed


It's the heart, afraid of breaking

That never learns to dance

It's the dream, afraid of waking

That never takes the chance

It's the one who won't be taken

Who cannot seem to give

And the soul, afraid of dying

That never learns to live


When the night has been too lonely

And the road has been too long

And you think that love is only

for the lucky and the strong

Just remember in the winter

Far beneath the bitter snow

Lies the seed

That with the sun's love, in the spring

Becomes the rose

[Sweet Bliss]

I'm doing some thinking about what i think love is.

Taking another look at my list I see that if the person I'm with doesn't see what I do as love in action, then maybe there is something I'm missing. So I looked at the list, really looked at it and tried to be neutral. Not easy.

If I look at the list and see it as good breeding, good manners, things I 'should' do as the femme partner, the domestic half... then it's NOT love. It's just a list of things I do to express MY love. But it's not Love. It's just stuff I do. Stuff I do in the name of love. So if you erase the stuff i do. All that's left is the feeling. Maybe that's the love. The feeling. Not the doing. So if I stop thinking that the things I do are love, then thinking I'm not loved in return will be gone. That would free up alot of energy used to be hurt and angry over something that is not even happening. What could I do with that overload of energy? Maybe i could use it to get rid of other silly things I do in the name of Love.

Hummm. Food for thought.