The weather has reflected my thoughts and emotions this week. I adore the congruency with which it does so. It is seemingly attuned, or am I? This day, when I woke up it was a beautiful spring day here on the Oregon coast.

Taking Orion out for his morning walk, I noted the newly budding leaves on my roses, reminding me that although they'd been ripped from their homes in the ground, transplanted into confining containers, and hauled across the Pacific Northwest, still they continue to thrive, waiting for blooms in their transient resting spot. Regardless of their location or orientation, they persist, waiting patiently for the misleadling sunny days to warm, as do I.

With no blooms yet, they seemed somehow lonely, so in the cool dew of morning, I began the process of adding early blooming primroses, violets and pansies amidst the slow mid-summer blooming foliage of the roses. Happy to be outside, happy to be nurturing and growing, happy to be alive. With much delight, I noticed the hyacinth, tulips and irises sprouting their new growth as well. Everything truely wonderful, though, is slow to bloom. The pansies and violets are instantly pretty, but the most wonderful and delightfully fragrant flowers are always much slower; a good mix is just right for me. I hum a line from my favorite U2 song, "Life should be fragrant, rooftop to the basement."

In the midst of adding my carefully chosen hot-house violets and pansies, complete with velvety purple and yellow blooms, to their new homes, dirt under my fingernails, on my face and in my hair, and just about mid-way through the potting, the day went with sudden velocity from sunny blue skies to an on-pour of hail, in a matter of just moments. I had to throw my head back, letting each rocky piece of ice pelt down on my face, and laugh at the gods. Of course it did! How absolutely brilliant! Slap me again; it reminds me of how very much alive I am! A deep and evil laugh errupts from me, unsuspecting, catching even myself by suprise. Now I'm gardening in the hail, and loving the irony. My mind is not just a garden to be planted, but a field to be tilled.

I am a girl of many contradictions, and when circumstances conspire to remind me of this, I couldn't be more joyous. Home is where my heart is, and my heart is always in everything I do, superficial and hot-house forced, or deep and meaningful. With conviction, I finished planting just as the hail turned to a light drizzle, and I sat for a long time...long enough to become completely drenched, along with my new blooms, and letting my roots absorb the life giving nutrients, as did theirs. We live in a beautiful world, this day, I am happily reminded of this.

Sometimes that's all that needs to be said. Why do I always try to hold on to the good parts for too long, and let the ugly things pass too easily, and with such little regard? Is it my blessing or my curse?

I've read the answer to this in his words, but I'm saddened by it, miffed with it; and yet intrigued by it. I know what Krishnamurti would tell me, and he seems to be more genuinely interested in my well-being than He does. I don't care to be a statistic, nor a reeces monkey, left in a cage to do as it will. And if he won't care to play with me, than I shall find someone who will. It's not a difficult prospect, and though he may possess many of the traits that could have made for something incredible--he lacks vital ones.

This life is too short to wait for unknowns, non-comittments, and further let downs. It's too short to wait on no-shows, and of far too much value to be set aside as a decor item. If one can not be entirely tolerant, nor walk the good road, then one must pause at the crossroads, and proceed to move along in any direction. Standing there is of little value, if any... Do something. Do anything. Even if it's not the right thing; it's better than nothing.

He must not have understood the treasure he had found in me. And I must have really over-estimated the value of his worth. Too bad. But you know, every new begining from some other begining's end. I think I'm going to begin my own photography business. I need a love to pour myself into that is rewarding back to me, and worth my while.

Sooooo. Today's theme song: "Thanks, that was fun. No regrets. Cept maybe one, made a deal not to feel. God, that was dumb. Everybody knows the deal fell through. I was hoping I could just blame you. This sentimentality doesn't look good on me, I thought that you would be begging to be with me, now I'm the one on my knees {no longer} begging you please won't you stay. Deflated and jaded. I hate it when you call, which isn't at all."

In closing, I agree, the action's positive value must be weighed against it's negative consequence, and in this case it's fallen far too short. Good project, good luck!

Or perhaps... better spoken: Voluntas Eius.

I do not ask the street lamp to shed its light on me; nor would it if I did, no matter the confection I could muster. It will simply shine its light from the position which it holds; and my own journey should be felicitous to pass through its path if then it lights my way.

Asking it to bend a bit, that I might be privy to that which is yet dark and undiscovered, an obsurd--obscene!--notion. I could not argue its staunch, nor would my plea be answered with anything less than disappointment.

And why should I wish it to be any way its not? It is what it is, and who would I be to ask of it anything other? A silly girl, indeed!

So then, I am to stand in its light readily and with great endurance; the sun shall rise, and its impassioned light will show that which the lamp does not. In the early morning dawn when the day begins to wake, and raises me with it, my desitiny too will shine. For now, I shall seek my assuagement in the anchored glow of the lamp; because it is the only way--because it is His Will.

...

Oh to touch You, to feel Your touch on me... Reading your thoughts, your views, seeing the core of me reflected with so much more eloquence and clarity in you. Oh to listen to your voice; sing me a lullabye, put me to rest? Whisper to me things obscene and beautiful? Play with me, as I am destined to be yours? I can imagine nothing greater, no connection as magnetic, no man as charming.

Thoughts of you, images floating through my brain, i can not deny--nor do i desire to. I'm living in a hazy glowy sublime moonbeam, and utterly drawn to you like moth to flame. I'm infatuated beyond my control, beyond my sence. I desire your commanding, that I may be in your service, that I may find my place to belong. You compel me -- and every intuitive bone I possess drives me to place myself in your strong and capable hands. ...drives me to beg You to take me into Your arms, Your space, Your world, Your life, Your bed, Your world.

I am imbued and alveolate, solid and ethereal, brilliant and naive, complete and fragmented, lost ...and rediscovered. Serendipity brought you to me; a propitious meeting made all the more fortuitous by your aptitude and nurturing attention and affection. Your acceptance of me has become my only want, my burning need, my aching desire; Your navigation my course, Your alignment my structure.

You are my Wanting, my Aching, my Needing. You are my Desire, my Protagonist, my Guide, my Master. I am beholden unto You alone.

I want Your time and Your attention like nothing else I desire. I want it desperately, fiercely, and in whatever form I can find it. It burns inside me, aching non-stop and growing daily... Where is He, what is He doing, when will He touch me again?!

Make me Yours, fully and completely? Unmake me and teach me to be the way you would have me--for I see it is the way I would choose--could I see more of the picture from my vantage point. I can't imagine wanting anything more--and I haven't been able to since the moment I met you. I would give up everything to be made into the thing of your desire!

But, will you light the path for me? Guide me in my direction that I do not steer myself astray? Force me to forget the things I've known before and learn the things you wish me to remember? Bear in mind that I will, as most humans do, fuck up and make a mess of it all. Will you stop me from falling so far down that you will not pick me up again?

I Give me purpose, drive, and stride toward the destination of your choosing. There's no more powerful thing than Your wanting of me, and Your taking that which You desire. I want to feel; Your power, Your will, Your strength--bending me, stretching me, and forcing my growth. I want to grow under you, that I may support you in your climb, while climbing myself to heights I'd never known. My branches are yours to prune, my roots Yours to nourish in the direction you see best. I have nothing more powerful to give you, and so i do beg--yes, me!--on my knees--that you will accept.

With adoration and devotion,

stars and moon