About Face

Yesterday I learned that I have issues with my right wrist, a cyst and carpal tunnel. I started thinking about my hands....about how they function in my life compared to my feet or my shoulders. I thought about the importance of writing, justifiably. I thought about playing piano, baking, gardening, and other pleasures derrived from my hands.

It may not have been a natural progression, but I started to think about other priveleged body parts. For instance, when I miss gerg, I most often think about his face. And my response to that was, "Of course you think of his face, that's where the best of human beauty resides." The face is most certainly priveleged by artists and lovers alike. We spend millions on preserving the face from wrinkles. We use cosmetics and other treatments for our faces, committing much more time and energy to what could ultimately be called preservation. Perhaps this is because the face is the launching point for nonverbal human expression and communication.

In a feeble attempt to face the facts, I asked myself, "Would the face be as important for communication if I couldn't see?" Nope. It wouldn't. Non-verbal communication primarily relies on vision, and those of us who can see rely on the face.

There's a point to this thought-train. I write. It's my primary source for self-expression. Yet, I've always committed more time and energy to preserving my face than my hands. Enough. I'm gonna cherish these hands! That's not to say that I'm suddenly going to stop moisturizing my skin or wearing lipgloss, but I am going to put my face in it's place. AND I'm gonna look for the beauty residing in the shoulder, the thumb, and the kneecap. Beauty and expression are paramount, but they need not end at the neck.

Home for the Holidays

Sometimes even clear communication can't prevent heartache.

It seems that some expectations are better left unspoken, as though if spoken, the value in the followthrough becomes displaced.

"I shouldn't have to tell you, you should already know this." And I can relate to a degree.

Some expectations are better left unarticulated. I expect a phonecall from a parent on my birthday. I expect flowers on Valentine's Day. I expect to get a hug when I'm sad. To articulate these kind of expectations, also termed "traditions" can displace the magic of an understanding.

It's a gamble to not articulate expectations. Ultimately, I'm relying on a person's intuition. And if the intutitive understanding doesn't exist, and expectations aren't met, then heartache happens.

The important point is to accept the risk for what it is, and not be devastated when intuition falls short. And if it doesn't come, and I have to articulate it, I will recognize that communicating my needs is my responsibility.

Additionally, I will be pleasantly surprised and appreciative of the moments when my unarticulated expecataions ARE met. How wonderful to have even one moment of that kind of understanding. When there's something I want and it comes to me without asking, that's magic.

The Marquise de Merteuil was right

"Vanity and happiness are incompatible."

Vanity, Marie-style:
I set insurmountable boundaries around my soul...thick self-protective walls; my sexuality can be a tool/device/weapon...whatever I need from it. I get what I want because I feign dissatisfaction. I loathe sentimental limitations. I refuse to be held responsible for the state that I've created for others' because they've allowed themselves to be manipulated.
I am in total control of my emotional state...no one can influence me. Nothing is a risk. I am calculating, witty, magnetic, and pleasure-motivated. If I'm not responsible for its success, then I won't be disappointed. Therefore, I take responsibility only when it's a self-satisfying mission. I'm a player. I'm an island. I'm good at vanity, Marie-style.

Happiness, Marie-style:
Being challenged, I'm inspired. I'm collaborating. I'm motivated by projects, interested in process and method. I am vulnerable because I'm taking risks. I do for others. I become fascinated with growth and nurturing it. I allow others to influence my happiness, lowering the boundaries, letting others in. My sexuality is part of my love. It's precious because it's exclusive. I take responsibility without knowing exactly how I'll benefit from it. I'm part of a community. I hold my happiness in my own hands, but I'll share it with others.

Finally Finals

Spending a Saturday in the office is practically a sin for a fun-lovin gal.

I'm thinking back to summer's Saturdays. Laying out in the sun with oils that smelled like pina coladas and sipping Bacardi and Limon all afternoon. Then, a quick workout and shower and off to dinner in a sundress.........sleepless nights, long days, getting dirty in my garden.....

Today didn't resemble those Saturdays at all. Cold, dreary, tired...working all day on a final project for a grad class that inspires me, and still I'm uninspired today. I miss sunshine. I miss lounging lakeside. I miss sweating without working out. I miss my tomatoes.

Also, I miss my man. He'd warm me up today.

So I'm currently yanking myself up by the ol' bootstraps. Can't spend a Saturday night pining for what cannot be. Embrace the now! And I shall.

Deceived by light pillars

I saw on the horizon beams outstretching, radiating colorful light. As though spot lights had surrounded the city, Minneapolis became so round as the pillars encircled us. And I exclaimed with delight that the northern lights were in full effect. I called friends to witness the coolness. I cheered.

The beauty was real, no matter. I wasn't disappointed when gerg emailed me to tell me that we saw light pillars and not the northern lights. But I did feel a little deceived by my own certainty.