Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for art

You thought

You thought he was going to be the next great love, another great chapter in the love story of your life. Another man, another great love, perhaps the great love. You saw so much potential in him, he was handsome, he was charming, his smile just melted you, his laugh…. his openness, his bluntness, the way he was raw with you. Even the way he was hesitant, unsure…. this was new for you, not another man trying to get you, you… you had to work for him, show him, encourage him… it was novel indeed.

Gosh, I thought he felt the same way. Maybe he didn’t know it yet. Maybe he was unsure. Maybe he was still stuck on his ex. He didn’t imagine it could be this good, that he could meet someone like me, beautiful, ambitious, smart, successful, funny, talented, caring, open, and honest. He didn’t know what to do with what was sitting right in front of him… why didn’t he know what to do? Why didn’t he try to chase me, capture me, hold on to me because of all that I am…. Did he not see the potential in us that I saw, that I deeply knew. Why was he not being honest with himself. We could be so great.

Gosh. Goddamn. I wanted it to be him. I wanted him to give me what I’ve had before and even more. You’re always told the next love isn’t better, it’s different, but it also fits just a little bit more. I thought he was going to fit a little bit more. I thought he would eventually choose me. But he didn’t. Why didn’t he choose me…

He told me he had reservations. He had doubts. Fucking emotional baggage. I don’t blame him or his exes. It is what it is, but why couldn’t he be more mature and overcome those things. It the saying really true, it’s not only the right person, but it’s also the right time. I would hope, so deeply hope, that if I met the right person that they would choose me, no matter the time, day, night, heartache, or jubilee, the would want me to be there, they would try, they would hold onto me.

He didn’t hold onto me. He told me he wasn’t sure of what he wanted. He told me I was amazing. He told me it was unfair of him to make me wait. Well that’s goddamn for fucking sure. Goddamit. What an idiot. A beautiful, handsome, lovely idiot.

I just go over it in my head. Over and over and over and over. I try to look at every moment. Every conversation. And scrutinize and figure out. All in all, I did fucking awesome, I was honest, I was open, I told him exactly how I felt, I held my standards, and… he still didn’t choose me, he still didn’t want me. Is that what’s driving me? The want of something I cannot have? I don’t think so. I really, truly, deeply think that I am still… still…. I still question why he didn’t choose me because I had high hopes, I saw the potential, but I also felt the connection. As I dwell on it, dwelllllllll, well I start to question it, it starts to grow and distort in my mind, it looses it’s original shape, it’s original dimensions. It starts becoming art, a creation, a fiction of my imagination… It starts to become something that it’s not. I wish my head could lead my heart. I wish to believe that I met a great guy last year, in the winter, and we went on a few dates, and we kissed, and I was excited, but we were in different places, he didn’t know what he wanted and I knew and I still know. He told me I was amazing, he said I wouldn’t be single long. Well that’s the shittiest of them all, isn’t it. Like he is trying to comfort me that some other guy will scoop me up because I’m so great. Fuck you. Fuck you man. Shit. I don’t want to hear that from you, of all people. I wanted that man to be you. You let me go, and you told me to move on. Double whammy. Wha-pow. Damn.

I look at you, and it’s starting to be from a distant. I think time allows us to let things go. Dissociation. The natural forgetting. The forgetting of your face, your glasses, your hair, your hugs, and your smile. The forgetting of the way you radiated when I made you laugh. The forgetting of how awkward and deep your voice was on the phone.

Mixed emotions is an understatement. Because I am glad I met you. You, you reminded me of the things I value, of the qualities I look for in someone. I could list off a hundred, but let’s not blow up your ego while I’m the one feeling down, okay? You’re great, I know it and you know it because I was so persistent with you. But I also want to forget you. I think about you and the missed potential often. I guess there was no potential, there was no reality, no future. You weren’t there. Everything I imagine, it wouldn’t have happened. I want to ease my mind and my heart. I want to slow down and take a breath. I want to remind myself that there are great, wonderful guys who will love me back, who will want me. It’s rare. Maybe I’m saddened by spotting something rare and having to let it whisp by, willingly. I have to encourage myself to let you go. Because you let me go, willingly, you saw me, you knew me, you knew how I felt about you, and you let me go. You told me to move on.

Attachment is suffering, the Buddhists got it right. But attachment is human. And suffering is human. And even with the suffering, I am glad to have known you but more importantly known the potential. Just like my ex, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, because it was such a huge experience and part of my life. I want to be able to admire the beauty in our situation and apply it to the future, without the heartache or sorrow of missing something with you.

I want to tell myself that you were’t right for me. That the right person would have chosen me, every single fucking time. I want to tell myself that you’re an idiot, you’re a shitless coward, you live within your fear. Who the fuck am I to say these things? I will say, it wasn’t black and white. You left us in a gray zone. You left me in a gray zone. And you left me to make my way through the fog, squinting, trying to find my way to the light.

Look. I guess all I’m trying to say is. I am sorrowful for my mind and for my heart. I want to ease them both, comfort them, and reassure them. You let me go. You did that. I had no power, no control. All things considered, I think I handled that situation like a boss. You let me go, and I have to let you let me go. I have to be okay with that. I want to be okay with that. I want you to become a distant memory now. Something of my past. Something I can fondly remember as a distant memory that would take 3.5 seconds to recall and to mull over and to brush past. Like men of my past… I want your details, our interactions, our conversations, I want them to fade away. I want to find someone who wants me, who wants to hold onto me and never let me go, someone who will fight fucking hard to be with me and will show me every damn day that they care about me.  I want a great love. It’s difficulty to find.

I acknowledge that I miss you, that I wish you gave us a chance, that you told me to move on and that you didn’t want to date me. I acknowledge my sorrow and sadness about the situation. I acknowledge that for what ever reason the timing and maybe definitely the person wasn’t right. I acknowledge that my eyes start to water when I feel my heart starting to break. And I acknowledge my desire to move on, to find someone great and for it to be different, even better for me.

A, I wish you the best. I wish that you find your peace with your exes and your past. I wish that you do everything you want in life. And most of all, I wish that you find a beautiful, wonderful, smart, loving woman who will fulfill everything that you want, make you feel wanted and safe, and who will push you, challenge you and grow with you. I want only good things for you. I hope you find great love and I hope when you find her that you hold onto her and don’t let her go. I hope that you know that you’re deserving, that others shouldn’t ever question your worth, that you’re  a catch. I wish you only the best in your future and just… stay open, don’t be jaded, let her in, she means well. I hope you find her when you’re open and ready and supposed to find her.

She looks to her past

She looks to her past, she sees glimpses of memories, the moments that made impressions so deep, imprints in her mind that returns in a fleeting second… triggered by anything, a photo, a smell, an object… She looks to her past, she sees him… and how much of herself was wrapped up in him, how she changed because of him, how much she grew in confidence and self-love because of him, how she loved so deeply for him… She remembers the love, the feeling… and… even after a year, as the details of his face become hazy, and the feeling of his hands become blurry, she remembers within an instance how it felt to be so deeply and purely loved and how beautiful and scary it was to love in return. The mind prefers to remember the good, the beauty, the special moments, the firsts, the laughs, the utter bliss, the passion… I think the mind naturally tries to block out the bad, perhaps it’s protective, but the mind easily forgets, perhaps it actively forgets the moments that broke her, that broke them apart.

And she still wonders why sometimes… She still questions where the love goes. There’s still a slight sadness that she carries with her, always, because it feels like something that was so loved, so cherished, cultivated carefully and bloomed, the love between two people that existed, that spanned a portion of their lives… well it’s not allowed to be anymore, it has to pass, to dissolve, to fade, to somehow cease existing even though there was a time where it was everything– it was vibrant, it was full of life, it was full of  future, of promise.

It’s sad, this is true, because the loss of love feels like the death of something dear. The death of something so powerful and beautiful. But she knows, at least she feels she knows, and her gut nudges her to believe that this is right, that this is how it was supposed to be. She tries, every single day, to take the good from him, from them.. to remember the good moments, the bliss, and to realize that she can and will find those emotions and feelings again. She tries, every single day, to remember that the love that she felt from him was a reflection of the love that she gave, that her openness and vulnerability facilitated that deep connection. That being true to herself, her wants, her desires and her dreams allowed for an incredible relationship with another human. And it’s a learning process, that’s what life is, right? To learn and continually adapt. She learns, she grows, and she hurts but she also adapts.

Keep growing, keep learning, and keep adapting. Take the blows in stride, take the losses as part of the journey… it’s a part of it, it’s the only true way to understand the value of love. Take the lessons and keep moving forward.

Baby

You have the world in your hands, your tiny hands. You have a light in your eyes. Take it all in, every new image, every sunrise, every glimpse of your momma’s face. And learn, crawl, explore this new terrain. Make new memories of this earthy place. It is wondrous, it is vast and it is glorious. Look around with open eyes.

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us.

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. -Carl Sagan

delicate

delicate

Jack London’s Wolf House

Life moves with the waves

The sea is wondrous. Teeming with life, constantly and forever moving. Life moves with the waves, with the surges, with the crashes. The ocean, with such vastness, stretches around this earth, with its deep blues, teal greens, and foamy whites, with its mystery in inky black crevasses, with such power as it surges to touch the sky. As the moon tugs upon its waters, the creatures swim with such radiance and artistry, simply looking for survival. And the whales! Oh how I love the whales, such grandiose and majestic creatures, singing deep songs that echo for miles and miles. Yes, the ocean is wonderful and powerful, deep and wise, living, breathing, and forever moving.