Category: MG (Page 1 of 11)

Under the darkness I slept, transported into a dreamscape of someplace wonderful.  In the expanse between this space and time’s horizon there is nothing but perfect crystals poking through the nighttime sky, and I am a man transported from mortality to eternity. I feel the pulsing of my heartbeat against the stillness of my mind, my body both awakening and resting as the cool breeze brushes along my skin. In this slumber I hear the rustling of the trees just outside my door, and it seems my breath tries to keep pace with the natural rhythm of the Earth’s gentle winds. I’ve dozed here, surrendering to subtle pleas for rest and, hopefully, for a chance to find her once again.

I miss her in these moments of our separation, and when I can’t touch her hand I reach out for her in my dreams. There was a time when she was but a wish, a formless mist in the pulsing of my heartbeat, the rhythm of a breeze that had me looking for her everywhere I could. I’ve searched for her in the lonely trails that took me from someplace low to someplace high. I called for her in the lush canyons and heard my heart’s echo in reply. I felt her coming near as pieces of me fell away, as my soul shed those needless bags and blunders that once defined who I was. Those pieces left a trail as I walked and, somehow, I felt she was following them straight into my waiting heart.

Soon, I realized I was not walking a path just my own. She was leaving a trail as well, and the pieces we were leaving looked very much the same. It seemed as though each stone I turned in my search for her was a stone she had left behind, and each echo made in canyons was not my own voice, but her song reminding me the path I was on would be so worth the effort when we finally met. Our poems sometimes seem written by the same hand, our hearts seem to know the same breeze, our embraces seem to somehow have always been. If there were lifetimes before this one, I’ve known her there. I’m pretty sure we’ve walked together before, or flown the same skies, or swam in the same oceans. My soul knows hers, and hers mine. We’ve been this way before.

I miss her in my sleep, and often rejoice when I awaken in the night to see her silhouette nestled nicely among the shadows. I can find her form in any disarray, the way she rests and hides herself from the noises of the night. I sometimes just stare at her in this portrait, the pixels of time and fate mixing into the rhythmic breezes and hopeful prayers of a warrior who has found his home. Not wanting to disturb her, I caress her in my heart and whisper my truth through the ether into her waiting heart. Then I drift off again, content in the peace of her presence and in a love that has been in our dreams forever.

On this night, I rest alone in a dream of my own making, breathing in a mystic’s rhythm with love pouring from my grateful heart. Then the miracle arrives, and I hear her call out my name. I lay with that sound, the vibrations coursing in the stillness creating little ripples in the puddles of my mind. I stir a little, then feel her hand on my shoulder.

“Come to bed honey. I miss you.”

I smile a warrior’s smile. It’s the kind of smile of a grateful man who finds himself wedded to perfection smiles, that type of smiles that crests on a once-starving man’s lips once he’s feasted on something far superior to bread alone. I stir, excited to lay next to that perfection and feast on my own gratitude.

I can hear her say “I’m not perfect” and utter my truth.

“You are to me. And you need be nothing more than yourself to be that perfect.”

Her being her has never been anything less than perfect for me. I may be challenged in my own frailty while standing in her light, but her light has always shown me another way. I may feel fear in walking on trails I’ve never walked before, but I’ve never doubted the safety of our space.  My black and white may be challenged by her gray, but she has always steadied me in those transitions from what I know to what is possible. I’ve never viewed those challenges in terms of being right or wrong, for in this love I’ve never been wrong in trusting her. I’ve never been more right either.

I sit up to make my way up to bed, realizing I was dreaming just the moment before. I turn toward the stairs, half-expecting to see her standing there waiting for me to follow her. There is nothing looking back at me, not a shadow, not a glance, not a smile; just empty air. I grumble a little sigh, feeling the sadness that often comes when realizing that beautiful dreams sometimes don’t match our reality. I stand, and head toward the stairs and up to bed, realizing that nightmares don’t match my reality either.  I can’t help but smile in the lesson.

When I was securely swaddled in my blankets, I breathed deeply to say my “good nights” and offer my well-wishes. Something dawns on me in this pre-slumber ritual. I was in peace, the type of peace that I feel when she is near me. I looked over to the empty space on my bed, and instead of sadness I felt that beautiful peace. I could not feel her skin, but I could feel her. I could not hear her breathe, but I could feel her breath in my own. I could not talk to her in the shadows of this night, but I could talk to her in the light of my soul. My body wanted her near, but in the caverns of my soul we lived together, never to part even as our flesh went in different directions. My mind is troubled in our separation but my Being is never far from hers.

A man in the truest spaces of love must learn to reconcile the cravings of his mind with the knowings of his heart. He must learn to breathe with the rhythm of  her nature. He must find gratitude in the breezes of togetherness that cool his skin after he’s  been baking in the Sun of solitude. He must trust the process of life to bring him to loving waters when he thirsts, peaceful feasts when he hungers, and contentment’s rest when the fatigue of longing becomes too great for him to bear. He must trust in a truth – sometimes he will leave his footprints for her to follow, sometimes she will leave hers for him, and in other times they will etch their time together on the same trail at the same time. Either way, he has found her and she him, and they finally know each other again. How far they’ve come since the days when they could only dream of one another, and hope for that arrival.

I miss her. In that there is no lie. It’s a solemn truth that makes itself known in every hour of our separation. There is also another truth. I have found her, and in doing so have become the luckiest man alive. On this night, both truths have mixed into one, my black and white has transformed into her gray. What more could I ask for?

I entered what was our room, and just stared. Just moments before you were there, laying as you do under the sheets, your smile bringing my body to life. In the culmination of a wonderful couple of weeks spent mostly together, the end had come and you have left . Again.

I have learned to survive such things in blocks of weeks. This would be just another block of weeks, another moment in our time, another mixture of one’s fear of jumping would be tested by one’s fear of standing still. It’s a story we know well, and though the union of our spaces seems so much closer than it has before, the empty chill of our separation remains as stark as it ever was.

I took a deep breath as the transition took hold in my soul. The room we shared, the room that we had made “our space” had suddenly become just another room in the inn. The tornado that is you, whirling around in the space full of worry about making your flight, about time you had left to get there, had been with replaced with a peace I simply could not cherish. I love the chaos that is you, that mixture of heart and mind, presence and worry all wrapped into one beautiful experience.

One deep breath was replaced by another, joined with a selfish wish made into the ether. I just wanted to sit in that room, feel you moving intently while only stopping briefly to kiss me or touch my hand. I wanted to call out to you and hear you answer, but I knew today there’d be only silence. I wanted another walk around Coot Lake to see your wonder at the mountains that brought me here, and listen to you breathe in the clear, clean air. I wanted dragonflies to capture your attention while you danced to the song of geese landing safely in a splash. I wanted to hear you make an agreement with the Universe, that “if” a bird, a dog, a sign of some sort crossed your path…and that peace that followed your joy as that agreement was fulfilled. I wanted to see you easily finish a loop that once challenged you, and have you want to share that space with those you love who have never been blessed with that amazement.

Today, however, there was only my breath in an empty room at the inn. I could hear the songbirds just outside the open window, and I wished you could hear them too. I swear I could smell you in the room, and that memory brought a subtle tear that gave life to others. I have such joy in our love, in our union, and in our moments shared, but I also feel such pain in the parting, in the weeks between our touches, in the gaps between our words.

I know I am not supposed to. I know I am supposed to focus only on the joy, on the blessing that is “us”. I know that I am to honor this growth, this slow, aching sunrise breaking dawn upon our shared horizon. I pay homage to all of that, but it’s only a part of the story I am writing. I trust my heart, my soul, and they break in every kiss and hug goodbye, and that story must be told as well. There is such a beauty in that breaking. It reminds me of the truth that we, the you and me who flirted with togetherness and then made it happen, have so much possibility ahead.

The “ahead” is now being replaced by the present silence in the room. I put my head on the pillow where you laid, and inhale the scent of you. I notice a strand of your hair laying lonely on the pillowcase, teasing me with a memory of the morning. I remembered the few times I woke up to involuntarily apologize for my snoring, always taking the sight of you in my heart. I remembered the 4:30 AM thunderstorm that woke me for the morning, and the hours spent just soaking in the moment. A flash of lighting would splash below the blinds in our room, and the crash of thunder would echo in our chamber. I could remember you laying where I now am playing with that strand of your hair you’d left to tease me. I could feel you as if you were laying right there next to me.

That has been my journey, sweet beloved. At first I could just ignore it. I was fine in my solitude and my aloofness, and ignored the voice that demanded I change it. Then I began to slip toward surrender, knowing full well the shadows I’d pushed into the basement of my mind would now have their due. Finally, I surrendered in a vision on Mt. Sanitas, and gave my heart its full attention, and those shadows their moment in the sun. Though once honoring the aloof-child within me, then the falling into the angel’s arms, and then the sweet surrender to this certain truth, my heart has always pained in your absence, and broken a bit in your departure. The wonder, for me, was not just in the realization of the soul in you that spawned this process, but the desire to continue while in the throes of it. I have never discovered resurrection without the suffering, and I have never found wonder without a risk. I will endure because I love you, and because I trust the compass that directed us together.

For now, I will hope you take those little pieces of my heart with you as a reminder of the man you leave behind, and that you put them back in the hug and kiss sure to come when we meet again.

It was time for me to leave the room at the inn. I laid the strand of hair where you left it, and said a prayerful goodbye to the moment. I could feel a wave of steely purpose pour over me, a trick life had taught me long ago. Yet, despite the self-protection I , I could still feel the pulsing desire to love you, to weather the storm, and to realize all we’ve come to know since the moment we first met. I will endure until you decide to stay, and we make a life together.

I opened the door to leave and took one last look around, the images beginning to fade as time took hold of my mind. There was a day to live and responsibilities to fulfill, and a familiar weight to bear, and a story to write before the workday began. There would be poetry to come, breaths and words to share with you, and silence to manage until we meet again. I realize in that moment it is not in the parting that I find sadness, but in the absence of your presence. The difference is subtle, but to me so very real.

We both know this is a wonderful thing we share, this love, this breath, the side-by-side footprints we leave in the earth. I am not complaining as much as I am giving life to what is in the empty spaces left by our departures, the full truth of a story so worth telling. The pain felt writes words of honor to you in the pages of my heart. The longing swears an oath to you in the emptiness of this room. Both the yin and the yang of this story must be told in the completeness of the cycle that is love.

I turn to breathe one last sigh while the door clicks closed behind me. I don’t look back, it serves no purpose for me now. Instead, I hope for your safe journey and the blessing of our return to togetherness again, in a room at some other inn, at some other time. I can’t help but smile in that hope.

Today, I release you.

I release you from the idea that you will complete me.

I release you from the obligation that you may feel to shoulder the burdens of my mind.

I release you from the pain of my past, the dysfunction of my demon-mind, and the need to fix me.

I release you from the part of me that felt sinful, rejected, needy and alone.

I release you from having to heal me to make the us, the you and me, be a complete partnership of truth and love.

Today, I honor you.

I honor the agreements we have made, the truths we have spoken, and the intimate depth of our connection.

I honor the path you and I must walk, whether that path is walked separately or with our hands joined.

I honor the footsteps you have left for me to follow, the shelter you have built for when the storms rise above the mountains, and the radiant light you have shed in the dark corners of my mind.

I honor you for the song within me that sings your name, for the way I feel in each and every cell, and the union of spirit and flesh that can only call your name.

Today, I cherish you.

I cherish the moment you took a chance on me, and the way you saved the very best for last.

I cherish the prose you have cast out into the world. Such truth inspires this man to a higher place; a summit he once had only heard of in a dream.

I cherish the thoughts of you that resound in echoes of my beating heart.

Today, I promise you.

I promise you nothing but the purity of truth that shines in our connection.

I promise to honor our agreements to the best of my ability, and to trust you as the loving heart I’ve fallen for.

I promise to seek the liberation of our selves in the commitment that we’ve made, and to heal any remaining wounds that may bind us in a cage not of our own making.

Today, I love you.

I love you just like I loved you yesterday, and am certain I will love you tomorrow.

I love you not just for all your obvious perfections, but also for all those flaws you think exist, and how perfect I see all of those as being.

I love you because I have no choice and because even if I did, you would still be the easiest choice I’ve ever made.

Today, I celebrate the woman who walked into my life with an intention, but not a plan. I celebrate the soul who caresses my own with ease, and who has challenged me to heights I once feared with great ferocity. Today, I hold you close in body and in heart, knowing this vow was as natural as my breath, and as certain as the rain that beats just outside our bedroom door.

Happy anniversary my beloved, and thank you for knowing the truth of who we were even before I would admit it. Thank you for showing me a way of courage to take a chance on what felt so perfect yet scared me beyond belief. Thank you for rewarding that courage with this divine love, the pureness of this truth, and the great moments we have shared in both.

I love you.

~TG

I look at clear, blue skies as she tries to dodge raindrops under the grayness where she is. I view cotton-ball clouds she will never see as she lays alone in her morning repose, meeting the demands of a rhythm that gets her through her day. I walk trails basking in the mountain sun as she overlooks trees not yet disturbed by urban progress. We are in different places while we miraculously share the same space; the space where we’ve always known each other.

While we are both learned souls who have shed many skins along the pathways of our lives, we are also humans who bear the weight of lives lived and lessons inflicted. We’ve left deadened layers of ourselves in the streams and oceans that have nearly drowned us but, as we have seen, caused us to rise to great occasions and meet our demons where they stand. It took us most of this lifetime to realize the promise we’d made in lives gone past, but we are here, finally, at the crossroad where hearts and fears wage war to no uncertain outcome. As we, two warriors destined to find this place along the journey of our lives, fight the battle we were always meant to fight I look at her with a fierceness in my eyes that beg her to listen to my truth in this moment. I know her fierceness and I find strength within it, and want to share a passion of my own with the only heart I want beating with me in the mud.

The greatest poem of my life began with just three words.

“I love you.”

They seem so simple, those three words. Yet within the smallness of their structure lays an infinity of possibility and an undeniable truth. Like a small seed set to one day become a giant redwood, those three words speak volumes as once-blank pages fill with odes, stories and the gospel of our poetry.  Each embrace, each kiss, each moment we share our bared souls to one another fills a chapter in our book. Like branches birthed from great trees, we are living in a universe of our making. It is a universe begotten from the pureness of love in a way most would not comprehend yet all seem to dream exists.

“I love you,” an oath uttered not in the empty throes of passion or desperate need for a hand to hold but rather issued in the stillness of both mind and body. When the wicked winds would subside and the dust would settle those were words seen etched in the granite mountains where we sought our shelter. When we finally touched, when we finally kissed, and when I felt her smile vibrate in the very core of my existence, those were the only words our lips could let pass. Those words are the surrender of our flesh uniting to the involuntary utterances of souls surrendered to their divine undertaking, a remembrance of a promise made so very long ago.

Despite all of our souls’ memorial, we still have those human layers to contend with. Within this beautiful dialog exists a process where we learn the value of our challenge. Great views are achieved only after difficult climbs, and great victories are won after the hardest of battles. It is here that I whisper things she may not know, repeating mantras I am sure have been sung by her soul yet muffled by those human afflictions. It is here that we learn the importance of our presence, of our truth, and of the three words we’ve written in our gospels.  It is here where the Demon Past thrusts a dagger at our exposed hearts and where the Angel Present parries with a truth of Her own. It is here where we learn the value of our hard-learned lessons, where honor rules the day, and love reigns over the screaming songs of fear.

For what she may not know in her humanness, she knows as truth in her soul. There are no others who can take her place. There are no moments where her voice is not the passion of my heart. There is not a single word spoken now that was not written in our annuls even before we first breathed in this life. Now is our time, and we are on our way.

For what I may not hear in my humanness I know as the song of my heart. I have learned a patience once foreign to my mind. I have sought connection when her flesh is absent and her words are sparse, and learned to find her in the silence of mind. I have discovered a trust not born in the certainty of human frailty, but in the strength of her character and the softness of her heart. I have put my faith in another for the very first time in my existence, and I know the outcome even before she calms herself enough to see it. I am no soothsayer but I can read, and I’ve read our story in the fields of marigolds and heard it in the music of wind flowing through a willow’s branches. While I know my next breath is not certain, when it comes I have found a certainty. With that breath will come a whisper that speaks her name, and a voice that calls out for her to kiss me.

Love, it seems, is more a certainty than life itself and much less finite. Warriors will unsheathe their swords and pick up their shields, but lovers will drop them both for one another. My breath may cease and my heart may stop but my love for her will pulsate until that moment when we meet again, remember, and pick up the story where we left off. Yet now I do not seek to wait until my next life, I seek to love her with the certainty and courage I was born to have and with a passion that was born  the moment I first saw her smile.

What is left but to live out that promise? I need not make a new one, but I certainly must live the one made before time existed. That is what I must do, and in doing so my honor is reborn as my love continues on its eternal path.