Time to Fly

I'm migrating to a new site.

Not sure why.

Better view . . .

maybe.

There's something happening here . . .

I can no longer reach Crazy Jane at Feral Women and Angels, for some reason. The link on my page rebounds back to my blog, even though it's correctly addressed in my template. When I navigate directly to her URL, I get some weird propaganda about "effective manipulation." Does anyone know what's going on? I'm confused and a bit concerned.

In Memoriam

Our dog, Sadie, died early this week. I found her when we got home from work, lying under the house where it's cool. She was on her side, as usual, and seemed to be looking at me. But she didn't come when I called, didn't wag her tail. Then I realized that her eyes were watching god.

She seemed so natural, otherwise, that I was having trouble processing the unreality of it all. "How could she be dead? She was fine just hours ago, and now she's suddenly, inexpilicably dead?!" I told J, who---like me---lapsed into shock.

J gathered up Sadie's toys and her bed while I retrieved her body, wrapping it in the comforter from her doghouse. We then carved out a grave with a pick axe and spade. The clay soil, baked hard by two month's of drought, was unforgiving.

She now rests in the grotto, a shady area just outside the bedroom window. She's close in death, just as she was in life. Still, our world just isn't the same without her. Sadie wasn't much of a watchdog because she simply loved people---better than most people do. I wish everyone had a heart like hers.

We miss you, Baby Girl.

Till We Meet Again

I'm taking a sabbatical from all this. Time to get introspective and reconsider my personal and professional priorities. Maybe one day, when I get my shit together, I'll return--armed with relevant insights, meaningful philosophies, and amusing anecdotes.

Those of you who care, thanks for listening and sharing these past months.

Vaya con Dios.

The Meaning of Love

Both light and shadow
are the dance of Love.
Love has no cause;
it is the astrolabe* of God’s secrets.
Lover and Loving are inseparable
and timeless.

Although I may try to describe Love
when I experience it, I am speechless.
Although I may try to write about Love,
I am rendered helpless;
my pen breaks and the paper slips away
at the ineffable place
where Lover, Loving and Loved are one.

Every moment is made glorious
by the light of Love.

---- from The Love Songs of Rumi

*An instrument used to determine the altitude of celestial bodies.

Wants

In my previous post, I declared rather boldly that J and I know what women want. A friend has since asked me to elaborate. (I imagine your arched eyebrow and sly grin, Jane.)

Women, like men, want numerous things, most of them trivial, transient, and often unrealistic. Such wants are usually appeased through the acquisition of things and by resolving emotional issues (sometimes the former attempts to do the latter). But wanting a new pair of black leather heels or Tivo is not the same as wanting to be safe and unafraid.

At our core, each of us has basic needs that we strive (want) to satisfy. According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, all humans need/want such things as food and sleep, health and security, friendship and intimacy, recognition and self-esteem, self-actualization, and self-transcendence. In a healthy relationship, a man does his best to help a woman satisfy these needs, and she does likewise.

In addition to these core-essential needs, the women with whom I’ve have had intimate long-term relationships had individual wants, and they let them be known in their unique ways. I didn’t always recognize their wants, I couldn’t always satisfy them, and occasionally I simply chose not to. And vice versa.

At present, J and I are pretty attuned to one another, which means that we are sensitive to each other’s wants. It’s a matter of awareness, attentiveness, and love. Since we articulate our wants to one another, satisfaction is just a matter of attention and desire. I know what my woman wants, which is as good as it gets.

While I was in the other room, J snuck in and wrote the following:

“Women want the same thing as men: to be validated, listened to, honored, and respected. The catch is that every woman defines this differently. You learn how YOUR woman defines it by validating, listening, honoring, and respecting.”

So there’s our elaboration of what we feel women want. I hope it touches the chords of your heart.

Art is an intimate concept

This past weekend was a real masterpiece. No cat emergencies, no weekend office hours, no tickets. Just fun, intimacy, and new beginnings.

After a rainy day spent sleeping in, watching movies, and cuddling blissfully on the couch, J and I went to dinner Saturday night at one of our favorite restaurants. It reminded both of us of our early courtship, when going on a date was a romantic affair, full of discovery and sharing. We went home and discovered some other stuff, but I won't share that here.

Sunday morning we went out for brunch and then visited some antique and curiosity shops as well as a folk art exhibit. I admit that I have a love/hate relationship with this kind of art. Some of it, like the following piece, was thoughtfully designed, displayed skill with the tools and materials used, and exhibited a creative coherence. It was compelling and had heart (no pun intended)--though it didn't appeal to my aesthetic at all.

Price: $750.00

A few steps away, another artist had his maps on display. (They aren't to scale, so they would be useless to a mariner or a family on vacation.) A nearby sign said that he creates his art by scratching away layers of paint on old boards that he finds.

Price: $600.00

WTF? I'm sorry, but maybe I just don't understand what constitutes art. I do understand that I have far too many uses for my money to pay $600 for an old board that someone scratched on with a rusty nail while watching Gilligan's Island reruns and drinking Captain Morgan. "Aye! This one be worth a king's ransom, I'll wager!"

Anyway, J and I played dominoes for about two hours later that day, tossed back tequila shots because we could, and had an uproarious time. I cooked, we watched What Women Want (although we both already know the answer) on television, and then retired to the love chamber and celebrated our glorious weekend, our glorious relationship. . . which truly is a piece of art that to this day remains absolutely priceless.