Hey baby! Thought i’d share a love letter with you this morning (ala Sex and the City style)…

From Gaius Plinius Secundus to Calpurnia (100AD Rome)–
You say that you are feeling my absence very much, and your only comfort when I am not there is to hold my writings in your hand and often put them in my place by your side. I like to think that you miss me and find relief in this sort of consolation. I, too, am always reading your letters, and returning to them again and again as if they were new to me–but this only fans the fire of my longing for you. If your letters are so dear to me, you can imagine how I delight in your company; do write as often as you can, although you give me pleasure mingled with pain.

Isn’t that the absolute sweetest thing you’ve ever read?… love, CC

Is this real? This feeling, this…desire to be held close to you, to have your arms encircling my waist in a never ending embrace. To feel your warm breath tickle my ear.
I lose my senses as I gaze into your eyes. You stop my breath with your kisses.
When I’m with you I’m protected. When I’m with you I’m…loved.

♥

[A] subject who writes love-letters actually does not address the beloved but writes letters to none other than himself. No matter how much a lover tries to capture in the letter the essence of his beloved, he is primarily addressing himself, i.e. he is dealing with his own desires, fantasies, narcissism—all that constitutes his in-love feeling. At the same time, the writer of the love-letter is also in a particular way dealing with anxiety…

On Anxiety,
Renata Salecl

Oh, how many things I could say that are perfect reasons as to why I love you. I shall only name a few and leave the rest to the mind’s imagination:

I love your smile;
So genuine, so playful. It makes me want to run straight into your arms, just so I can be with you.

I love your laugh;
The tone of your happiness threatens all sorrows to flee. No pain nor heartbreak enters my domain when I am with you.

I love your hair;
That the darkness of it rings deeply in contrast to your warm and inviting heart, which echos your love.

I love your happiness;
How even on the bleakest of days, it warms my cold, shivering attitude to a melted glowing substance. Some call that love.

I love your eyes;
Their seafoam tint to the light jade hue, drizzling enchantment and lust to your charm. They make me dream when I see you.

All of these qualities make up you and I love them all. I won’t let anything tear me from you. I wake up in the morning and your face is the first thing that appears within my jumbled thoughts.

It is a joke to think that someone like me: a girl with such a defiant attitude, should  dream of someone like you. And yet, still knowing all of my flaws and imperfections, you call me your princess. And you confuse me so much with all the flattery.

I just love you, it’s that simple.

♥

Over the weekend that we met, Melinda and I talked a lot. We spent as much time as possible in each other’s company and talked about everything from the properties of non-Newtonian fluid to the merits and demerits of Melinda’s first Birmingham balti curry. On the morning of Melinda’s return to Devon, we carried on talking – about canals, about a building in Digbeth – next to UB40’s old studios – that is covered in some remarkable graffiti.

But we did more than simply chat. We found ourselves opening up to each other and – as we later discovered - talking more freely than either of us had done in a very long time about ourselves, our beliefs and our thoughts.

So where to go from here? As we parted that September Monday morning – me to return to my office in the Custard Factory, Melinda to catch her train back to Devon – neither of us knew what would happen next. I knew I had met someone wonderful and extraordinary. I knew that I wanted to see Melinda again. And I knew that we had seen into each other’s souls; each of us opening a door and shedding light on places that had been hidden from view.

So, I texted Melinda to say that I hoped that she had caught her train on time and that she had managed to find the doughnuts she wanted for the journey. She had, but the train was full – and I texted my worries for the safety of the doughnuts. From Exeter, Melinda texted back to say that she’d arrived safely – and so had the doughnuts, only for them to meet a “dire fate”. I replied that their fate was not dire, they had simply met their destiny: a destiny called Melinda.

And, naturally, I wasn’t really talking about the destiny of a box full of Krispy Kremes. I was talking about the destiny of a box full of excitement and nerves known as Steve Coxon.

Donuts of Destiny

From there on, we were in touch every day in some way. When we weren’t sending text messages, we e-mailed. And when we didn’t e-mail, we wrote letters – the old-fashioned way - choosing paper and ink and words carefully. We exchanged gifts by mail too. Books, feathers, petals.

At first we talked about our weekend in Birmingham. I tracked down the graffiti artists responsible for the house next to UB40’s studios and discovered they were from a Brazilian group of artists who were about to decorate the Tate Modern in London. And we e-mailed each other a lot about them until – one day – Melinda asked what we would talk to each other once we got tired of Brazilian graffiti artists. I replied that there was no end of topics – she could ask me my favourite colour, my recipe for North Staffordshire oatcakes or my favourite quote. In other words, I said, there were enough things to talk about to last a lifetime.

Getting to know each other in these early days through the written word was wonderful. Both of us are thoughtful people and I, certainly, find it far easier to express myself in writing than through the spoken word. I have time to put my thoughts into some semblance of order and meaning before they appear on the page, rather than let them come tumbling out of my mouth.

Getting to know each other through writing enabled us to explore deep feelings and thoughts that – otherwise – may have been awkward to express face to face. So much of the spoken word relies on intonation that meaning can evaporate into the air. A written exchange, by contrast, is fixed and can be re-read, re-examined and questioned.

But, you may ask, what about spontaneity? I don’t think either of us had any trouble whatsoever in communicating with real spontaneity. While some of our written messages were carefully drafted and considered, others were dashed off in seconds – simply because the thoughts and the emotions contained within those words were already fully formed and bursting to be read.

Now, of course, we can simply reach out or turn our heads to say “I love you” – and do so every day. Yet we still write to each other – using Instant Messenger to send little notes to each other, even when we’re only at different ends of the flat. And we still text. But putting it in writing as we got to know each other - giving unspoken feelings a voice – is something that we both feel brought us much closer together, much more quickly, than if we had relied on the spoken word alone.

It seems wrong to tap away on a keyboard, to give a machine the power all that energy.  So pen and ink it will have to be for me from now on and then keying it in later.  A thought occurs though, what on earth am I going to do if I decide to write a book?

Christ Church, Oxford, October 28, 1876

My Dearest Gertrude:

You will be sorry, and surprised, and puzzled, to hear what a queer illness I have had ever since you went. I sent for the doctor, and said, “Give me some medicine. for I’m tired.” He said, “Nonsense and stuff! You don’t want medicine: go to bed!”

I said, “No; it isn’t the sort of tiredness that wants bed. I’m tired in the face.” He looked a little grave, and said, “Oh, it’s your nose that’s tired: a person often talks too much when he thinks he knows a great deal.” I said, “No, it isn’t the nose. Perhaps it’s the hair.” Then he looked rather grave, and said, “Now I understand: you’ve been playing too many hairs on the pianoforte.”

“No, indeed I haven’t!” I said, “and it isn’t exactly the hair: it’s more about the nose and chin.” Then he looked a good deal graver, and said, “Have you been walking much on your chin lately?” I said, “No.” “Well!” he said, “it puzzles me very much.

Do you think it’s in the lips?” “Of course!” I said. “That’s exactly what it is!”

Then he looked very grave indeed, and said, “I think you must have been giving too many kisses.” “Well,” I said, “I did give one kiss to a baby child, a little friend of mine.”

“Think again,” he said; “are you sure it was only one?” I thought again, and said, “Perhaps it was eleven times.” Then the doctor said, “You must not give her any more till your lips are quite rested again.” “But what am I to do?” I said, “because you see, I owe her a hundred and eighty-two more.” Then he looked so grave that tears ran down his cheeks, and he said, “You may send them to her in a box.”

Then I remembered a little box that I once bought at Dover, and thought I would someday give it to some little girl or other. So I have packed them all in it very carefully. Tell me if they come safe or if any are lost on the way.”

Lewis Carroll

Presence of Peace By Shiloh Sophia McCloud

Practicing Peace – A 30 Day Plan for Thriving During Challenging Times

Shiloh Sophia McCloud

Practicing Peace is a DAILY walk with mindfulness that takes less than 20 minutes and WILL change how your day goes. Guaranteed! Materials Needed: A Journal

The following practices are to be done daily, with the intention of practicing peace. By practicing peace, and cultivating joyfulness, we can thrive no matter what.

1. Prayer: Pray upon waking. Give heartfelt thanks. Before rising meditate on WHO and HOW you will be today no matter what the circumstances. Then choose to “remember” that you have made this decision.  Ask yourself, how do I want to show up in the world today? See yourself being like that, looking like that and being experienced like that. Visualize it.Suggestions: Today I will be courageous, I will be kind in all situations, I will radiate peace etc…
   
2. Kindness: Choose that by the days end, you will say a kind word to someone. Challenge yourself with this. Whether it is stopping to tell someone close to you something you are sorry for or blessed for because of them or the check out girl – be extra KIND. And look for opportunities to be that way. Search for them and act on them. Kindness will be repaid to you and it is peace inducing!
3. Creativity: Before work or getting into any big part of your day, practice creative writing for a minimum of 5 minutes. Self expression is one of the greatest tools for cultivating a practice of personal peace.Suggestions: Write your prayers. Pray for others on paper. Tell Creator how you feel. Ask for what is needed. Give thanks for what you have. Write down how you will BE today. Create an affirmation of your decision from this.
   
4. Mindfulness: At some point in the middle of your day – lunch or a break. Sit mindfully and cultivate a spirit of peace, and bring to mind your decision from this morning. Feel the experience in your body and heart. Let the reality that you are taking action to improve your challenges through improving who and how you are being – BE a feeling of accomplishment.
5. Blessings: Right before bed – get your journal and do a light hearted self assessment of how the process/your decision of how to be went today.
   
   How did it feel to stick to or not stick to, who you said you were going to be today? Did you do you kindness practice, to who, and how did it go? How about your mindfullness, what was that like.

   This is  a self reflection and self assessment is free of guilt, it is more like a gently noticing. Then count your blessings. Even if it was a hard day, count your blessings as the last thing you do each day. Write who/what you are grateful for. Smile. And chose to sleep really really well. As you fall off the sleep think beautiful thoughts and images, give praises, feel as much sweetness as you can in your body. Let the day be released and let your mind rest. Don’t allow yourself to fret before sleep – give yourself a permission slip to be peaceful no matter what.

Bringing Completion to your process. And if inspired, start another round and adjust it to what works for you!

After 30 days, celebrate your efforts however great or feeble they were. And as you move into your new year, remember that you personally have the power to influence how the year goes – regardless of the economy or circumstance. The power we have to make changes is our challenge, and our gift all in one. Let us choose to continue to thrive and improve, regardless of the challenges, through choosing daily to be our most wonderful selves, and practice peace.

Practicing Peace Plan PDF

The Peace Practices

1. Prayer
2. Kindness
3. Creativity
4. Mindfullness
5. Blessings

A few tips to make this process funner and more satisfying.

Friendly Alarm Clock – I suggest making sure you wake up to a nice sounding alarm, not a beep beep kind, or if you have to have that kind, put it in the other room so it is is not right next to your head.

Tea or Coffee Mug – when you are journaling it is nice to have coffee or tea in a mug you really like, if you don’t have one, buy one just for you and for this purpose.

Creative Threads – Choose a blanket shawl or yummie robe to do your journaling in, something that says, when I put this on, I am writing. Put it on in the morning and at night before you write.

Add Color – get yourself some colored pens or pencils, of if you have one of my journals you can also use watercolors. And when you do you journaling you can do it in color, and draw alongside your entries. I suggest drawing fanciful frames around your entries so the page feels more alive then when there is just text. And, sign your entries.

Get God – I write most of my stuff, or at least I try to – so that someone from any tradition could relate to it, I want it to be useful for the Atheist as well as the Christian as well as the Pagan or the ‘Who Knows’ folks. But for this final tip let me say that finding God is the most useful, powerful and wonderful part of life that makes my own life what it is. A loving Mother and Father Creator who loves me, no matter what.

Blessings to you!

Dear Ones,

I send you greetings this bright December 1^st! I woke up thinking about you again…

and about what so many of us are going through! What a time we are having right now! Whether our challenges are being too busy, being financially stressed or moving through the kind of blues that seem like it will never end, there is always something we can do to lift the dark clouds. I believe!

One of the hardest parts of going through challenging times is that when in the very midst of it, it has this impermeable quality that seems to echo lies like: “this it is how it is now”,which continues to create the sinking feeling we already have. Or we have been skidding downhill for a while now, and it appears there is still very much more skidding ahead, so, despair comes and pounds on the door of our heart and says things like: ”you have been in denial, you are too optimistic, face it, you are going down.”

We have tried red wine and chocolate and festive gathering with friends. We have even tried making a decision to “shop anyway”. But  somehow the old quick fixes aren’t fixing. That is because it is not just us – we know of many who are also challenged right now – and it is not that misery loves company because misery is so morbid, it is because we do not want to feel alone in our dark night depth diving.

And so it is clear, we are not alone in our challenges. Really, much of our world is at war, children are being needlessly killed and people are starving, when there is enough food to feed the whole world. How could we not struggle to keep our joy?

To be completely joyful, without mindfulness is a form of ignorance.  Positive thinking can keep us from going further down – but what does it do to improve the situation of our neighbor, and frankly, if our neighbor cannot pay their rent, just paying ours does not exactly feel like all is well, now does it? The I’ve got mine now you have to get yours mentality is fading away finally. We have a sense of our connectivity and oneness as a people, a sense that if we are to do well, we must at least wish well for others. Right?

I like to think that compassion is on the rise. The kind of compassion Jesus spoke of when He said things like: no greater gift than a person who lays their life down for their friend. And, Love your neighbor as yourself . And, the biggie, love your enemy.

Or the even bigger biggie, love one another as I have loved you.  All of these are tall orders, no matter how you look at them, we are called to profound action on behalf of one another. The good news is, it is one of the best feelings in the whole world, to go beyond oneself on behalf of another.

I am not sharing anything you do not know here – and even my 30 Day plan for Thriving During Challenging Times and Getting Ready for 2010 wont tell you anything you don’t know. But I woke up with a heavy heart – my mind filled with all that is not as it should be in the world, and in my life, and in the lives of those I love.

A heart is full to breaking when we really consider the state of things. Even with ALL the good –which is tons and tons, and thankfully it brings enough light to see by.

Today is my day off, my Sabbath (since I work teaching on Saturdays). But today, because of the heaviness of my heart, I knew I had to get up early, and write a letter to my cosmic community, and then go in and work with the women in my community –today- and share all the cheer and hope that I can! And, add chocolate for good measure.

The very thing that is making us feel depressed or compromised can make us feel more powerful by AWAKENING to what our choices are! Fishing our hard things OUT of the river of denial and taking action is what the doctor ordered. Action and Awareness are the medicine to navigating challenge. The simple act of GETTING present to what is weighing on you changes how the weight FEELS to your body and spirit. Ritual and creativity literally at a molecular level, shift HOW information is in YOUR BODY! And then, of course, in the soul, which carries our whole lives.

I never know what will work or for how long. But I know we can keep trying to create transformation in our lives – we have to. What other choice do we have. So we can do it loving it, thriving from the challenge, or we can do it from absolute resistance. Have you noticed how much energy resisting responsibility really takes?  And using creative practices and mindfulness is one of the best ways  to get going and get ready for our new year.

Creativity, ritual, daily practices and celebration with community is the way to thrive during challenging times. But it takes a commitment that is not always comfortable, but not doing it, WHEW!  So let’s keep working towards our visions for our lives. Let’s keep reaching for the possibilities. Let’s not entertain our dark thoughts too long. Seek the Spirit. Seek life. Seek vitality. It is here always present but we do have to pick up the pen, the paintbrush or the phone to call a friend for tea.

Click here to learn more about my work, paintings and vision.

I write poems to real/imaginary/living/dead people on postcards, usually the kind you find on those card dispensers in bars and restaurants, or I write cyber-cards on my blog. It started in 2004, when I lived in Seville, Spain and was inspired by my dear friend, Jo Melo.

Oddly enough, I’ve actually had a postcard collection since I was about 5 and while those postcards have travelled all over the world with me, I’ve never sent a single one. I recently decided to revamp my existing Love Letter Project and start actually sending out these miniature works of art/culture to friends and loved ones.

My first series will be a set of original Beverly Hills, 90210 postcards from 1993 and the recipients were chosen through a request on FaceBook.

This pic is my hubby holding the cards that soon will be dismantled and sent to all corners of the globe.

I write poems to real/imaginary/living/dead people on postcards, usually the kind you find on those card dispensers in bars and restaurants, or I write cyber-cards on my blog. It started in 2004, when I lived in Seville, Spain and was inspired by my dear friend, Jo Melo.

Oddly enough, I’ve actually had a postcard collection since I was about 5 and while those postcards have travelled all over the world with me, I’ve never sent a single one. I recently decided to revamp my existing Love Letter Project and start actually sending out these miniature works of art/culture to friends and loved ones.

My first series will be a set of original Beverly Hills, 90210 postcards from 1993 and the recipients were chosen through a request on FaceBook.

This pic is my hubby holding the cards that soon will be dismantled and sent to all corners of the globe.

Hello strangers! I’ve become a busy person. Well, a sick busy person (found out that I have had mono for awhile now).

So as usual, time to play catch up.

Roughly several weeks ago, Shicka and I (plus other people) attended a pot-luck where Shicka demonstrated that she sucks at chewing gum:

shicka doesn't know how to blow buddles properly

Then…Denzel-AlwaysupintheGriffith-Washington-Maxwell pied her in the face:

...yea...

Then, later that week, it was my birthday. Bee stayed up all night with me while I made a skirt to wear for my birthday diner, and after I was done, he took me to the parking garage elevator where he wrote this note for me:

:)

and it was still partially there that afternoon

Shicka and I went to Taylor’s to eat some unimpressive white chocolate brownies:

Later that night, Bee and I went to OKC to meet up with my family to have my birthday dinner at P.F. Chang’s:

And then we all took pictures with the horse, although it was terrible lighting:

Then, Halloween night was the OSU vs. Texas as the Temple of Boone. Bee and I had an urge for turkey legs and we succeeded in our mission:

these suckers were MASSIVE

Bee and I had a picnic at Boomer:

we love picnics

We also experienced the Wonder bread shop in town:

best place ever

yummy goodness

muffin loaves!! BLUEBURY!

Got a lot of fabric to make the backdrop for the Phi Lamb formal:

she was really grouchy

There was this car in the parking lot:

blue flames on one side...

red flames on the other!

Origami night happened:

so patient

Member hunt happened for I-Week. Nobody found me! My little had sweet war paint:

I took some family pictures after Initiation:

my step family

Kelly had a birthday:

happy 160000, kelly!

The bear pumpkin rotted and we had to throw him out (literally):

he lived a good life

Gave myself a little tat:

Bee painted a tripping honey bear:

he's out of it

Went to the doctor and read children’s books before being told I have mono:

grover learned how to be a farmer

and bert & ernie talked about Jesus

Got some more fabric cut:

making a business suit!

And finally, I keep getting brainwashed to start a zoo on Facebook:

i DO like that

None of this seemed as interesting as I thought it would be. Sorry for wasting your time, yet again. Come back soon!

Love, MJ

Music is about finding the sweet spot. Or so my music friends tell me. “There exists a magical place,” they say, “where the treble peaks, the bass thumps, the voices ring clear, and the notes come alive. If you want good music, you’re going to have to pay for it. The quintessential beauty of music,” they muse, “may only be experienced in an exquisite live venue or, as a last resort, on an exceptionally expensive sound system. Anything less is pure injustice.”

They say listening to music on a bad sound system is like looking at a photocopy of a Polaroid picture taken of a plastic replica of Michelangelo’s “David”. I say they’re looking for unicorns. Besides, a trip to the local copy shop is a lot cheaper than a trip to Florence. How clearly do you need to see a 17-foot naked man to get the idea?

Sticking to my photocopy theory, the 10-year-old speakers in my car work just fine. Well, technically, only one of them works, but if I turn up the volume really high and there’s not too much wind noise, I can usually make out the words. Then again, that’s only if the CD player doesn’t have a disc that refuses to fully eject.

Considering that most of my CDs are scratched beyond use, I’d say my chances of hearing any music at all, much less good music, lie somewhere between “not probable” and “impossible”. I have to remember to never invite my music friends to ride in my car.

At least I have my computer. I’ve got the classiest pair of headphones that can be purchased for less than $10 and a headphone jack that works intermittently on a good day. I finally figured out that if I wedge a folded Wrigley’s gum wrapper between the headphone plug and the computer tower, the plug stays at just the right angle so that sound comes out of both of the ear pieces. Now that’s magical.

Keeping my standards low has saved me from a lot of undue emotional strain. While my music friends are getting worked up about amps and acoustics and equalizers, I’ve got my 1991 copy of “Too Legit” stuck in the CD player. MC Hammer doesn’t need more than one speaker to rock my 4-door sedan.

I admit that listening to music on intermittent headphones makes the meanings of songs a little more ambiguous. Hearing every third or fourth word changes the message ever so slightly. I find the nuances much harder to appreciate.

When my music friends ask how I interpreted certain parts of the song,  I usually say something about “sublime” and that seems to appease them. Apparently “sublime” is the musical way to say “I have no idea”.

Before I had the revelation of the gum wrapper, I was listening to “How He Loves Us” by Jesus Culture. I wrote down the lyrics I heard. They went something like “He is…for me…a tree…beneath the weight of…His…sudden…afflictions…and I realize…you are…me…so…”

So? So what? I realized the Wrigley’s wrapper had slipped out again. The song picked up again with “we are…our prize…in…an…ocean…sinking…like a sloppy…heart…inside of my…regrets…”

Wow. Sublime. I’ll have to ponder those lyrics. I hope my music friends don’t ask me what I thought of them.

As I was fiddling with the Wrigley’s wrapper for the umpteenth time, I started thinking about the way that I hear God. If there’s anything I want to hear out of both ears, it’s His voice. Yet I feel like I’ve spent most of my life listening through a pair of staticky, partially functional earphones.

I’ve always wondered what heaven sounds like. Myriads upon myriads of angels and saints and martyrs and elders standing before the throne of God, sometimes singing in unison, sometimes sounding like the rushing of many waters. No wonder the book of Revelation is filled with mysteries. How many of us could describe our house clearly and concisely? I don’t think we give John enough literary credit.

It also made me think about how much I’m willing to spend on a good set of heavenly earphones. My music friends tell me that quality sound doesn’t come cheap. You get what you pay for.

I started my journey with nothing more than a front row seat on God’s lap. I pressed my ear against His chest and spent hours listening to the swish and thump of His breathing and heartbeat. After a lifetime spent in the absolute quiet of the grave, it was the first life-sound I had ever heard. It was brilliant.

Eventually, I spent all of my allowance and upgraded to a tin can and a piece of string. I was like a baby being born. For nine months, all I had heard were the sounds of the womb and the muffled echoes of the outside world. I didn’t need anything more. I couldn’t afford anything more.

When God removed the birth fluid from my ears and started whispering into the tin can, a new world of sound opened up. I heard God’s voice and the whispering of the Holy Spirit. The longer I spent listening, the more I wanted to hear.

Ever since then, God has invited me to spend more spiritual currency on upgrading my sound system. I have paid Him in obedience, sacrifice, and selflessness. The more I’ve paid, the more I’ve heard. The more I’ve heard, the more I’ve paid.

My music friends are right when they say that music is addicting. Once you hear a live orchestra in an acoustically perfect concert hall, you can never go back to cheap earphones.

As I sit here writing, I have a “nice” (they cost more than $10) pair of headphones and a headphone jack that doesn’t require Wrigley’s finishing touches. Music is best enjoyed out of both ears. I know that now. I’ll probably share my insight with one of my music friends because I suspect they’ll be proud of me. I might even be able to tell them what I think about the lyrics of “How He Loves Us”.

I don’t know what my spiritual sound system looks like. I bet it looks something like the “My First Sony”  tape player that I got for my birthday in 1988. It’s a bit scratchy because the heads are covered with the remains of my flesh, but I’m hearing the music.

When people ask me what I know about God, I don’t have to use “sublime” quite as often. I’m hearing enough of His words to get a pretty good idea of what He’s saying. Ask me again in 20 years and I might be able to pick out every 5th word instead of every 10th word.

I want to hear the music of heaven live. Paul said we see Christ dimly as in a poor reflection. I suspect the same is true of the way we hear Him. The “danger” of Jesus is that the more we know of Him, the more we want of Him. He’s addicting in the purest sense of the word. We will never have enough of Him until we know Him fully, as we are fully known. The parts of Him which we see and hear dimly will leave us aching for more because even a pale reflection of Jesus is more than we can find in this world.

I’ve been listening to Jesus for more than 10 years now. The music is breathtaking. If heaven sounds like this through a cheap set of earphones, I can’t wait to hear it live. I can’t wait to get knocked flat on my back by the chorus of heaven.

There is just something about you that makes me feel at ease and open to love. It’s hard to describe the emotion churning inside my body. It is like a delicate thunderstorm. With every text, every email, every phone call, the storm gets stronger. The lightning strikes and my body longs for you. The thunder roars and memories of your kiss, your touch, your taste… they all overwhelm me. All I can do is close my eyes for a few seconds and savour the memory before it fades away.

Oh, I have missed you dearly today.

With just your words, you have made my heart soar and my body tingle with anticipation of your warmth.

Baby, you are amazing.

I love you.

♥

“We were written in the stars, my love, all that
separated us, was time, the time it took to read the
map which was placed within our hearts, to find our
way back to one another”

My husband wrote me alot of poems and love letters during our courtship days when he was doing his degree in Brisbane. He has a romantic soul and I think it was one of the reasons why I hung on during those 2 years he was overseas. He never fails to call me every night, and would scrimp and save in the material and food arena in order to supplement the $600 yish of phone bills monthly. My hubby isn’t rich, and neither does he takes his businessman dad for granted by asking him for more money.

Our long distance relationship had been an eventful one; I was still flying while he’s pretty much an insecure boy staying in a rented apartment at down under. At 24, I have a fair share of passengers who would asked me out, and the perks of being an air crew, you get countless job offers because people are too happy at showing you their name cards especially on sectors like China and long-haul flights. Male passengers are interested with the persona and what goes beyond, and beneath that airline uniform.  I have to add though, that they are mostly nice and genuine business personnel (CEOs, MDs) who craved for a little attention and forming new friendship with docile looking girls in mid-air.

To disappoint you abit, the little devil in me was tempted, and I did went out with one, or two men who managed to capture my soul and swept me off my feet. You know, they are the sort of financially independent businessman, or the son of some rich magnate, the kind whom I could envisage myself marrying them to become an instant taitai. A taitai who ferries her brood of four in a stylo-mylo Land Rover.

I am not materialistic; it just happened that the kinds of men who transcend through my life are mostly quite well-to-do. They are also more mature and wiser because of the age gap and most importantly, they talked intelligently which I find intriguing. Money doesn’t buy you everything but it sure can set you up for some happiness, don’t you agree?

I have known of girls who became the mistress of some rich businessmen/tycoons so they can afford to buy all the Chopards, bling blings, bags and Shooes… pretty much all-the-pretty-things that they like, literally.  Most girls like me end up marrying the commoner – Men who make us think twice before laying our hands on designer pieces that would probably cost them their entire month salary.

Then, there’s the other group, women who are stuck in vicious cycles of sustaining the lifestyle of their little gigolos, feeding their egos  and secretly hope that their beloved men will grow up to take care of them one day. Such sad thoughts indeed.

I feel that the purpose of life is to be happy and you don’t have to find happiness because it always finds you. The reality is we have all been brain-washed by the society to stay competitive and be in constant pursuit of the material stuffs in order to feed our bottomless-pit ego.

At the end of the day, there will always be someone who earns more than you. If you remove the outer layers of our physical form, we all look pretty much the same, like shit, if you can phantom that thought in your mind.

Anyhow… through a leap of faith, I married my primary school classmate after 2 years of LDR, 4 years of courtship and 2 proposals later.

First proposal in 2006, hubby was a poor student studying at down-under…still, he got me my first solitaire with his savings..which I apparently lost later ;p

Our wedding in June, 2008

We got married in the presence of 800 guests, with local and overseas folks who shared our joy and happiness.

Do Bear and I quarrel? Of course we do! We have our grim moments as all humans do, but I also learned that the trick to take things slow and easy. Anger is the greatest enemy during an argument. You often say things which you didn’t mean and regret deeply thereafter.

For me, I feel that our quarrels strengthen our relationship and bind us together. I like things hot and spicy ;p Communication irons out all elaborate webs of problems and makes life easier. The worst case scenario is when both parties refused to talk about a long-standing issue and allow deceitful mind games to gain the upper hand. Most of my friends would share that money is the number one culprit which causes divorce. And indeed, new statistics shows that men are most likely to divorce a woman who is not working, and has no income at all.

Most woman refuse to divorce their cheating husband because of the financial status in life. See article here. I adhere firmly for women to earn their own money, and whilst most financial gurus would advise us to have some savings which should last for 6 months in the event of unemployment, unwell pregnancies which requires a lot of rest, or unforeseen circumstances.

I suggest, try to have some savings that should last you up to 3 years, comfortably, even without working. For example, if your take home pay is $2000 every month, try to have $70,000 in your saving accounts keeping in mind that it’ll be depleted in no time if you have a certain lifestyle to maintain.

Having said these, I’ll like to share the three golden words I abide to, in making all relationships work:-

Acceptance

Tolerance

Respect.

How about you? What binds you and your spouse together?

Short blog this week. Short-ishy, I think.

***

On Monday, the Large Hadron Collider became “the world’s highest energy particle accelerator, having accelerated its twin beams of protons to an energy of 1.18 TeV”, which beat the former record of .98 TeV, held by the U.S.A-based Fermi Lab’s collider. 

A TeV is a teraelectron volt. “Teraelectron” is a million million electron volts, or “lots”, or “ever so many”.

So they took their proton beams, and whatall, and they sent them ’round their underground tunnel:

And it made a thing like this [this is pulled directly from the European Organization for Nuclear Research, or CERN's, website]:

 ????????   

***

Whatever it is, it’s good!

They will smash the proton beams into each other, and re-create the Big Bang. Then they’ll tell us all about it.

***

I added the Fermi Lab to my blogroll. It was time. It’s always all “CERN” this and “Large Hadron Collider” that and “glamorous international team of physicists” blah blah blah! I don’t know about you, but I’m an American.*

Go to their website, and give some love to a particle accelerator facility in your own backyard!**

*There are Americans on the CERN team
**If your backyard is Batavia, Illinois

***

I know what you’re thinking. “When is she going to stop writing about the Large Hadron Collider?” you’re thinking. “My eyes haven’t been this glazed over since I pitched face-first into that platter of doughnut holes.” [I'M SORRY]

I promise–it’ll taper off. But the LHC has been off for a year, peeps, and so–for the time being–look for breathless particle acceleration reports from yours truly!

Gee, I feel like a cub reporter.

***

On Monday morning, I sat next to an older woman on the train. She had long, iron-grey hair and a large black coat.  She was reading something I couldn’t see.

At some point, I looked over, and I realized that she was reading letters. They were written on pink legal paper.

Then I realized that they were love letters.

At the top of each page, which I couldn’t help but see, was written one word, in salutation: “Dearest.”  

She would take a letter out of her bag. She would read it, front and back, though perhaps she only skimmed, touched down on the important parts; the odds are good that she’d read them a hundred times.

When she finished each one, she folded it, and then she ripped it into pieces. The pieces went into her bag.

 Then she would pull out the next letter, read it, and rip it apart. Again and again and again.

I only caught three things from looking over at the letters:

1. The word “love”.
2. The sentence “I can’t translate.”
3. The sentence “I took a walk.”

The letters could have been from anyone, of course. But I decided that they must be love letters, because she ripped them apart. She was ensuring that she would never read them again. This is a thing that people do.

***

I really REALLY DIDN’T MEAN TO SOUND SO DEPRESSING

4 REALSIES

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It was just sort of amazing, is all.

***

Wednesday is my 30th birthday! So there’s that.

I think being 30 will be nice. I hear it is, leastaways.

ME: Hello, 30!
30: Hello!

Well, time to make hot chocolate!

Wood

The last thing I ever wanted was to
write again about grief did you think I
would your grief this time not mine oh good

grief enough is enough in my life that is
enough was enough I had all those
grievances all those griefs all engraved

into the wood of my soul but would you
believe it the wood healed I grew up and
grew out and would you believe it I found

your old woody heart sprouting I thought
good new growth good new luxuriant green
leaves leaves on their woody stalks and I said

I’ll stake my life on this old stick I’ll stick
and we talked into the morning and night
and laughed green leaves and sometimes a flower

oh bower of good new love I would have it
I would bow to the new and the green
and wouldn’t you know it you were a stick

yes I know a good stick so often and then
a stick in my ribs in my heart your old
dark wood your old dark gnarled stalk

sprouting havoc and now I have grief again
and now I’ve stood for what I never should
green leaves of morning dark leaves of night

Sarah Arvio