Awaiting Peace

11:45 PM
I lay down to sleep sinking into the voice of positive affirmations reminding me to remember the truths that sometimes I begin to doubt. Somehow, unbelievably, almost 5 months from the last time we made love and well over a year since we officially separated, he still haunts me. Somehow, in the moments before I go to sleep and in those pre-dawn moments, my heart still aches for him and I am so sick of it! There is no way in hell I could even consider going back to him or taking him back so why does my mind not accept that as reality?

I start to drift off, fitfully, still hearing those wonderful affirmations trying to convince my broken heart and twisted mind that everything really is going to be better than I can ever imagine. For a moment I sleep, then the thought of him with the woman he replaced me with in less than 12 hours crosses my mind, and as if on cue, I hear the voice in my earphones say, "I do not look back into the past and put my mind only on the manifestation of those things which I want to be coming into my life now. The universal mind knows no past and by the law of attraction, everything I need is awaiting me now." Yet I still don't sleep. The entire audio track plays thru and now it is 2 AM and I am still wide awake, frustrated, cold and aching all the way to my core.

I walk into the house as if it was my own, maybe it once was. My mother is with me as well as 2 other friends. His new woman is in the kitchen, I walk in and say about 5 words to her, in essence something like, "I'm here to get my stuff," and think to myself "You stupid ignorant pathetic woman, you're so clueless to the truth." The house is big, he is upstairs, sleeping as usual probably and while part of me wants to rage up stairs and shake him senseless, another part of me is so sickened I know that even to see him would make me do and say things that would create far more suffering than I need to be responsible for. My elderly mother is needing the bathroom, and I'm feeling strangely empowered and out of place at the same time in this house that once was mine with his new, younger, fatter and not nearly as attractive as I am partner hiding in the kitchen in some kind of stupor and fear, maybe of having to face the truth of the rebound that she is for him.

I go to the altar and grab my tarot cards, and crystals and a few other things and head for the door. My mother is having some trouble in the bathroom, and in the meantime, she walks upstairs, going to bed with my ex, leaving us in the living room and I am terrified at what I am feeling capable of.

I wake up alarmed and disturbed, my heart aching with full intensity wondering if he's with her now in the "real" world. Is he awake thinking of me too somewhere, is he happy? Are they getting married, having a child? "Geez girl, go back to sleep and GET OVER IT already. How long are you going to let this take power from you?" But I don't sleep. I lay there wanting to cry and trying as hard as I can not to until dawn comes: another nite stolen by this heartbreak.

I start my day in a dreary mood, feeling at the edge of tears in spite of the sun shining gloriously on the mountains. I am incapable of doing anything more than just laying in the grass listening to the creek and feeling the sun on my body, and writing a few poems.

On my mind and not helping much with my self esteem is the fact that a few nites ago I went out dancing and went home with a very young famous snowboarder. I knew there would be passion and I guess some part of me was ready for it, for some distraction, some release and I think I was hoping an opportunity to nurture and be nurtured. This one was more animal than man though, and was so physically perfect I was blinded. Every inch of him, pure muscle from hours of training and perfecting his work on the slopes. His skin was smooth, brown and so soft next to mine and I let him more or less ravage me. At some point I realized I might be in a dangerous situation and also couldn't help but see that my heart hurt so much that even the possibility of him forcing himself into me wasn't enough to make me leave. Despair leading to total lack of self care and self respect? Really? Me? Well, he was exceptionally hot and his sexy voice speaking in German, then English, and his hands literally ripping at my flesh somehow were stimulating me in ways I'd never really experienced and so I let myself stay even when I felt his hand starting to close around my throat for a second and a warning sign flashed into my mind that I needed to be really on guard, that this man might very likely be capable of raping me.

He wasn't tender, nor was he sensitive, he was rough, hard, and like an animal and left me feeling ravaged, nearly raped and a cross between repulsed and delicious. It wasn't all bad, there were moments of tenderness and sweet soft kisses, but this one was just intense and very strong and willful. I let him into me for a very short moment, I'm not sure whether it was that I really wanted him or that I was afraid if I didn't let him in he'd force himself in and I wanted to have control of that. I flipped him over and held his hands down and rode him hard until I came and then told him he had to stop, he'd hurt me with his intensity and strength, which was true.

Am I the monster or him now? Of course I haven't heard from him, nor do I really expect to. We were really just two people who used each other for a nite of passion play, and I am now left feeling cheapened by the repercussions of my own heartbreak and it's effect on so many parts of my life. I am here now just awaiting peace.

Saas Fe

My mostly naked body welcomes the scorching sun's ravenous body licking. My mind is soothed by the sound of the creek's constant breath rolling over the rocks. The glacier's jutting down between the rocks tempts me to push past the pain in my knee for an escape from the mundane boring ness of cafe's and tourist shops.

I want to walk free again, to climb the faces of these mountains, to run, to dance, to be whole and not in pain anymore. Since the accident, the one where I totalled my car, my knee hasn't been the same. I'm pretty sure the meniscus is toast, but the Dr.s seem to think they know my body better than I do. I guess living in it every single day of my life doesn't really give me much authority to know what's going on.

Today I must find all of my strength, solace and nourishment just laying here near town in the shadow of the glacier by the cold silty blue green creek in a field of beautiful wild flowers. Life could be worse.

I am Saas Fe, Switzerland. My first time in Europe and I end up here in this amazingly beautiful little ski town with perfect idealic peaks and lush thick valleys that beckon me to hobble on into the sunset and not come back.

Just being here is an amazing blessing. I am enrolled in a Master's Program for Conflict Transformation and Peacebuilding, and I'm not even sure how it all happened. I don't feel that inspired yet by the program and am having some major doubts on whether I chose well or not. I'm beginning to think I'm here because I couldn't stop running.

Hence the knee. I've been running since the break up. Doing everything I could to keep busy, stay away from where he might be, keep out of town, distracted, full, and not letting my empty heart hurt too much for fear of falling back into the abyss of depression and despair. I've been going dancing as many nights as my fat swollen knee will let me and I know it's not doing any good for the poor little meniscus in there, but dancing is my pain killer and the tequilla and wine help to numb the knee enough to get me through the night.

It's not hard to see what I'm doing to myself. I'm playing with the men I'm dating more than seriously considering them as worthy of my devotion. I'm aching deep within while the outside is having a blast and revelling in my sensuality and physicality. I guess I don't know how else to get through it right now and even being able to see it, I'm not interested in shifting it. This is part of my journey and somehow I know this will shift in time to the stillness and by then I'll be through the worst of it and ready to be still.

That's what winter is for anyway.

The Next Chapter: Moving Into Mastery

Flying over the Atlantic in a timeless world between the US and Europe with a full night of travel ahead, I am relaxed. I am moving into grace and I can feel this next phase of my life holding the potential I've been working towards all year.

New life again at 40. There is no going back now to the life I once had. The life I shared with a man who I have finally had to accept as a coward, a liar and someone I can not trust in any way to be real with me. I'm a woman that needs realness. I have almost no tolerance for games and stories, and increasingly less it seems every day.

Single life has been getting better all the time too, I must say. I haven't been in any hurry to fill up the space he left or try to soothe the ripping hole in my heart, and as a result, I am enjoying the company of many men who are all showing me different aspects of myself and the masculine that I need to explore. It's like a wine tasting party of delightful men. A little sip here, clean the palette and a tiny taste of that one please.

I feel ready for this new life. Ready to face challenges and grow up into the woman I know I've been gestating for the last decade. I feel loved and supported by my community and finally truly feel happy, content and really pretty much OK with what life is presenting.

The men who are showing up in my life are all so supportive, and most importantly they are honest! Halleuijafrikkin-leuijah! Bring it on.

Cuba 5: Meeting the Angel

A huge beautiful man, 6'3, soft but strong, Ishmael is indeed an angel and I'm quite sure he's been sent from God for me to protect and guide me on this journey. He anchors me here in this dusty town as a place and person of refuge and comfort. Our connection is truly as artists respecting each other and as brother/sister family love. What a welcomed relief to spend so much quality time with a beautiful, elegant, refined artist of a man with no sexual overtones. He is so kind always to me, and we are learning to communicate pretty well in Spanglish though I'm sure at least half of what he tells me I mis-interpret or don't fully understand.

We can be silly and free together like children, and his child self, at 48, is so pure and so precious when it comes out to play. we laugh a lot and his smile lites up my world every day I am here. I picked him and was divinely guided to him thru some kin fo intuitive magic for sure.

Frankie and I were walking thru town the first nite strolling in the bliss or our reconnection in this amazing place and came across a man who was happy to hear us speaking English. Turns out this guy lives in the same town as my brother and was in Cuba visiting his father. I was sharing with him that I had come to Cuba to study and explore the Santeria religion and he got really excited and told me there was a cermemony happening right behind his father's house and we should go check it out! In my "first nite in Cuba" ignorance, I assumed it would be going on for a long time and took my time getting there with Frankie in tow. It was just ending when we arrived and I stood there not knowing what to do or how to make contact but knowing I had been led here by spirit the first nite so that I could immediately start the work I had come to do!

Frankie was sure if I initiated contact right then that we'd be sacrificed on the spot, and we laughed hysterically about that story, lingering around outside watching the white dressed Santos pouring out of the house. Then I saw this large man and I knew somehow that he was the one I needed to talk to and lingered around til he started to walk off and then followed him, with Frankie encouraging me not to make contact and to come back in the daylight. When he was a few hundred paces from the house, I said hello and introduced myself and in my pathetic spanish explained to him that I wanted to respect his culture and also that I was here to learn and could he help me! That was how I met Ishmael, my beautiful angel friend!

Cuba 4: Cuba calling: the Frankie Connection

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.

Cuba 3: Poverty & Global citizen

The colors on this rock are vibrantly decaying. The salt air and the wind, combined with years of neglect out of a lack of resources have made for a strangely beautiful and surreal urban landscape here. The music gets into me, even without my attention it moves me magically and with ease. Sitting at one of Hemmingway's favorite spots where Old Man and the Sea took form, I am irresistbly rocking on my stool to a little trio covering Buena Vista Social Club's music, while a German tourist next to me buys cigars at ridiculously overpriced tourist rates.

I can't help but smile at the beautiful weirdness that Cuba is. I've visited some beautiful places and loved a lot of cultures around the world. Cuba though, has my heart in a new way. Far from an ideal place to live, or even visit, it's magic moves me in profoundly intoxicating ways. It's not easy to get things here, and some days I hope I can drink enough water as it seems the stores are always running out of bottled water. The people, by some standards, are poor, but no one is starving or without a place to live. Most people are actually plump enough to look like they'd last a while if they needed to. Obesity isn't uncommon and though much of that comes from poor food, it also speaks to the fact that there is indeed enough food to get fat on! So would I say people here are really poor? No, but I'm looking at poverty perhaps thru a different lens than most do. When I was in India, I never thought of them as poor either. Cash poor? Yes, indeed. Resource poor? Perhaps. Yet what I see in Cuba isn't so much poverty as it is a lack of and poor distribution of available resources.

What they are lacking in money is balanced by what they have in community and family. At nite, the streets are lit up and every porch hosts several people talking, sitting in their rockers chatting about the life they are sharing. Passers by shout out at their friends and neighbors as they go by, and it's now become my custom as I walk by my friend Ishmael's home to shout out "Shmael" and by Jesus's home "Oya Jesus." In less than one month I feel local, and in fact the first night I was here I felt more at home than I usually do in my own hometown.

Sensuality of Woman: Cuba 2

My hips love to walk slowly as if they are making love with the earth with every step. I love the way they feel swishing in perfect time above my feet and sitting just under my navel. Walking slow is one of my favorite meditations and letting the hips bring me into my bliss is the sweet added benefit of being in a woman's body!

This, to me, is one of the secrets about being a woman that I would imagine must befuddle the common man. All I need to do to feel orgasmic bliss is just sink into my hips and feel what lives there. No external stimulation is needed, no coddling or cooing, just a nice slow walk on a beautiful day with the wind licking my skin and I am flowing with the juices of life dripping out of me.

The confusion for men it seems, is that they think it's just for them! A man will see me walking in this bliss and think I'm sexy or attractive. I am alive and letting life pulse up from the earth and down from the heavens into my heart. That young man whistling at me now as I walk, who's probably no more than half my age, gets easily turned on by my bliss walk, and I smile as I contemplate how confounding it must be for men sometimes to witness the Sensuality that is so naturally and effortlessly Woman.

Sensual is defined as pleasing to the physical senses and while it certainly can and often does have "sexual" connotations, it's definition can indeed be expanded as we evolve in our consciousness and connection with Source and our own inner selves.

Union with God and self can indeed be a very sensual and yummy experience as we open up to the passionate experience of life experiencing itself through us. The woman who knows this divine flow in this intimate way has no "need" of a man to please her, and that makes her all the more attractive somehow it seems. She is filled with passionate purpose and pleasure is her natural domain. An awakened woman is sexy because she derives pleasure simply from being in her body. (A sensually awakened man is likewise a very attractive and beautiful vision to witness.)

However, the anatomy of a woman is far more receptive to energy in a much more amplified volume for much longer periods of time than that of a male. The channels are naturally more open and because a woman is often more in touch with the earth and it's cycles, she can receive a constant current of this bliss if she is willing and open to feel all that she is capable of feeling.

There seems to be some confusion amongst many men (& some women it's true) that women dress and move in sexy or sensual ways just to attract men. While that may hold some truth for some women, I'd love to offer a little clarity though and from a woman's perspective:

A woman can be & often is sensual and sexy not to please a man, but because it feels so damn good to swish the hips and roll the bliss! It truly is her Divine Birthright!

My new friend here walks with me often and I love just walking and talking with him for hours. Sometimes I think he can feel that sensual swish & sway too. Perhaps not too many men do, but I think in the Caribbean a few more men do than in the US. They dance, for one, and a man who can dance has a lot going for him and more opportunity to tap into the Divine Essence of the sensuality of life.

My body is ripe for a lover but feeling as good as I have been lately without one and just making love with God again, cultivating my sensuality and my love affair with the wind, is satisfying me fully right now. The trouble with men is their resistance. They are too often scared it seems. Scared to surrender themselves fully to the very thing they truly desire which is the love and devotion of one good woman. I spent nearly a decade with a man who I thought had courage only to discover that he too was just a fearful child, scared to be alone and hiding in the nurturance and comfort of woman to escape becoming a strong empowered man. It was his fear ultimately that ruined us. I left him so he could find himself and he couldn't do it. He went right from me to another woman, and then another and another and couldn't even take a day to be without the apron strings.

Being a single woman at mid-age isn't all bad. It's actually pretty nice to feel delicious and independent again; to move on my own flow, to linger when I want to, to invite company or not.

There are so many beautiful men on this rock, but for most I can see that they are unawakened and have no concept of how to really pleasure a woman or what it means to truly merge as divine counterparts. Few men truly do. Like many women, they are poorly programmed, and so the sad state of confusion, and dis-satisfaction between man and woman continues. This, to me, is one of the biggest trajedies I see in the modern world. Unsatisfied poorly programmed women met by men who have been equally poorly programmed to think a woman's job is to please her man by being sexy. When in reality, an awakened man is pleased most by pleasing and taking care of the needs of a woman who, with or without him, is alive and sensually awakened just by the touch of the wind on her skin.

If it means another three year round of celibacy to wait for a lover worthy of this love and this temple, then I will wait. For today, the wind is serving me quite well and I am grateful to know that my standards and needs are worth waiting for a worthy match!