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Protected: Essay: Heartset; A #Female #Intimacy Myth Revealed
Protected: Prose; Fact or Fiction
Prose; Liquid Saturday
©️Lisa K Townsend
I roll around in my warm bed by myself like a dulcet silken bag of potential poetry spoken into an imaginary lovers ear. Or I could sing to him. I haven’t had that opportunity yet.
I’m happy…really. It’s abundant, nurturing, warm, and close to the earth.
I find the peacefulness of being by myself in a relationship with myself to be magical. I can surf the waves of words that sit below my navel and bring them up into my stomach to digest with my breakfast, then into my heart where my son, cute animals and gentle firemen reside and express it through the voice in my fingers.
Put me on a secure raft in some warm tropical waters and that’s where I am.
Sure, I have to cook, chew my food, do the dishes and take out the trash, but that is atmospheric seasoning to where my percipience is really focused.
My perception is in my body which is still feeling the dream I had last night like a crab secure in its loose-fitting, restful shell.
Only the inspiration of a local tree could suggest I stand up and walk out the door made from it’s relation. The trees get used and splintered for our delight with the fantasy of solid things. My world is really liquid, empty space full of potential.
Protected: Prose: Why Can’t I See You?
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Protected: Essay: Everyday Intuition; Competition at Home
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Essay: Intimacy balances out by…Part I
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Essay: Social Media Shows Our Veneer
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Prose; Wanting to Be Right
Why do we want to be right all the time?
Why do I want to be right most of the time?
Why do I glee over saying, “See, I was right!”
Because we doubt ourselves too much so we are reassuring ourselves by saying it.
Because others who doubt themselves doubt us and say it!
Because others project their experience of being shunned for being or doing something that was wrong, onto us.
Because “if you make a mistake, you are forgiven”, isn’t widely practiced.
So, now I try to catch myself and say, “Lisa, do what you feel, study what you feel, write what you feel and use the best skill you’ve got. That’s all you can do.” I’ve got a lot of skill and I’ve paid the piper so I have no reason to doubt myself. Whether anyone will listen and understand has never proven to be plentiful. So what?
And now, when someone criticizes me harshly when I meant absolutely no harm and never do, I know that they have not forgiven themselves for being wrong or someone else has not forgiven them for being wrong or vice versa.
It closes the heart.
Wow, the feeling of being around someone with a closed heart and lots of conditions, or an open heart and few conditions, is night and day.
Essay: Heartset; Love is About Appreciation
Protected: Essay: Heartset; “I love you”
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Protected: Prose; Sex as Source Energy
Protected: Prose; The Falling
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Protected: Prose; Spiraling Paradox
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Prose; Adoration Be Damned
I’m stalking a case for spring in the autumn of my middle age.
My assembled energy is diametrically opposite that of needing the validation of an amassed group of imposters pretending to agree so they can drink together later.
It’s not that I don’t like the group, or that I don’t occasionally have a very dry martini, I just don’t viscerally need the group. They get exhumed energy from each other; even demand it threatening social castigation, as though there would be any real loss there.
I haven’t figured out how to affix myself to a rumbling male in my present condition.
In addition, my mephitic eighteen-year-old son will be moving out of the house soon to go on his way to sow his oats and beans. My peaceful environment is proliferating.
As I think back on the men/mates I’ve adored and who have adored me, as vain as that sounds, it was called love at the time and then it turned into territorial civil war and possessive jealousy.
I’m pretty sure that uncorked behavior is common and some couples like it that way but some don’t. I don’t.
It’s just that, in this new paradigm of sitting in my body and owning myself, that adoration doesn’t feel like it’s all it’s cracked up to be.
A man feels as though I’ve forged an alliance with a fawning cat whose nursing by pushing its paws into my chest.
Maybe it’s just the mood I’m in.
When a man starts to adore me he wants to own me, my time, and my body, like a puppy!
That’s been my experience with every man I’ve been with except this last guy I dated. At least he didn’t bug me. I know there are all the ideas about giving your mate the space they need, but then the real emotions of amorous desire creep in.
“I want you”, “I adore you”, “I need you”, “I love you”, “I miss you” becomes a medieval prison!
I used to think I wanted to be adored by a man with high self-esteem and all the pheromones I need to be turned on, but now I’m not so sure.
I love my life, my work, my friends, and my home. Maybe all of that adoration would be oppressive! I’d have to respond after all or that would be rude.
Essay: Love, Affinity, Growth, Fun, & Destiny all needed for Intimacy
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Prose; Analogy & Metaphor
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Protected: Essay: Heartset; Inspiration Is Just Competition
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Essay: Addiction as a Shield
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Protected: Essay: Heartset; Sack it
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Essay: The Word “Truth” Should be Taken Out of our Spoken Language
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Synchronicity is the Source of Consciousness 