More and more as I travel the world I recognize I am not a resident of one small town, but a being who can find home anywhere I go because I am at home in my own skin and more and more so. Being in one place 365 days a year all the time is like a kind of purgatory for me, maybe worse than death (though I dont know about that yet). Always and forever in one place, now especially at this time in my life, and as fast as the world is changing and cultures are disappearing, seems like a waste of opportunity for me right now. The world is so big and there is so much to learn from other cultures! I'm at the beginning of a new life and ready to create a life of adventure and sensual exploration of the arts. As the winds blow, so shall I go.
I'm a simple woman really, but not so easily coerced into domesticity. The culture I was born into is not the truth of my heart and soul. I am called to explore all of myself in this life: with or without the companionship of a partner. I chose Cuba to begin this cycle with because it's what presented itself so clearly. To be invited by a beautiful man I barely knew, and to have the time and money to go was enough of a reason, that he was also somewhat intriguing to me the first time we'd met certainly helped.
I met him in my past life that is no longer real, at a time when I was more or less falling apart. The thing I liked about him right away, other than the obvious instant magnetic chemistry and physical attraction I felt between us, was that he was funny. A man who can make me laugh is always appreciated. We laughed the whole time we were together and I appreciated that he was able to even laugh at himself. A sign for me of a certain honesty is when we can get real and recognize the ridiculousness of our own behaviors. He wasn't shy about showing his attraction to me either which of course every woman secretly loves. I won't forget the way his big chocolate eyes devoured me and had already made me his lover in his mind before we even spoke. At the time, however, I wasn't interested in making my head any more jumbled by men than it already had been and he seemed like a bit of a project, drunk and wanton and perhaps a bit immature for a man his age.
Nearly 6 months later, I caught wind that he was going to Cuba thru Facebook of all things and somewhat jokingly mentioned on an IM Chat with him that I wanted to go to Cuba, and that was that. In less than 24 hours we were making plans to meet in Havana.
I barely recognized him at first at the airport when he came to meet me, but those big eyes caught me and I drowned in them for a few moments before getting a grip. This man has those eyes that are big and so innocent and pure like an ocean, but one than can consume, devour and empty a woman all at once with what is going on beneath the surface. Everything in me wanted him, and everything in me was screaming, "WARNING WARNING" at the same time! Of course, we were instantly laughing, being ridiculous and loving every minute together.
I came to Cuba with a mission of sorts and perhaps at first, he was a part of that mission. The mission was to gift myself a time out of time and to dedicate myself to the pursuit of my pleasures: music, dance, sensuality, magic, ceremony and adventure. Beyond that was a deeper thread: to re-dedicate myself to my path as a drummer and ceremonial explorer and to learn as much as I could about the traditions and culture of the religion of Santeria. It has held much interest for me over the years I've played drums and worked in ceremony and I have dreamt of coming to Cuba for years to experience the real thing first hand. The fact that this beautiful big eyed man opened the door in a critical time of re-discovery was no small synchronicity for me, and I will be eternally grateful for his presence as the gate keeper.
Our first nites together were magical. Walking thru the streets having magical syncrhonic portals open everywhere I stepped, sipping wine on street side restaurants, sharing the stories of our lives was all so sweet and nurturing. The tension between us was intense in moments and a part of me was so ready to pull him in and devour him. Yet there was also a certain respect between us for the maturity we both have earned by being scarred by past relationships that seemed to prevail and keep us at a safe distance. In moments he'd give me this look that said everything he couldn't say, or act upon and I grew to admire his will power and discernment and to see his vulnerability and fears. It didn't take long for me to realize he was just a scared little boy in there and that the kindest thing I could do would be to steer clear of intimacy or romance with him. I would end up crushing him or vice versa and one of us was sure to get damaged.
He's gone now, and I'm on this rock alone. Somedays I feel like the only white woman in Cuba. I spend much of my time with the angel I met the first nite here, Ishmael and with my drum teachers.
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