RSVP-ed

During this time of year, I often think about the overwhelming presence of hope and faith and belief that seems to float heavily in the air.  Though sometimes I find myself a little intimidated by the thought of believing in something bigger than me, I have to remind myself that a belief is actually the most liberating experience one can have because in fact it is so personal, so unique. I have to admit I've never been much of a religious person, but during my brief stint with yoga practice, I found the closest thing to a spiritual awakening I've ever experienced.  Somewhere between downward dog and pretzel pose I had a vision.

A woman with long brown wavy hair floated naked down a river, propelled by the soft current of a waterfall.  Her hair radiated around her face in a mane of soft waves and her naked breasts soaked up the brilliant sun beaming down from the heavens.  The coolness of the water and the warmth of the sunlight created the perfect temperature, the perfect balance.  Comfort.  She lay, floating, the universe holding her up and beaming down upon her all at once.  Never before had she known such peace.  So exposed, so bare, so human.  There she laid waiting.

This vision drifted through my open mind during one of these yoga sessions.  I remember interrupting my dream to switch into a new position, but as soon as I settled in, the vision came rushing back.

What was she waiting for?  It was like a cliffhanger that played on loop.  The harder I searched for an explanation, the further away it felt.  Then, as I sunk deeper into lotus pose, I found my answer.

She was waiting for God.

I’m not sure what this vision was supposed to mean: if it was a reflection of myself and my pursuit for spiritual guidance, or if it was a sweat-induced daydream of a woman at peace, constructed to ease my weary mind and muscles.  Whatever the purpose of the vision, it remains ingrained in my soul.  Every so often something in my life will bring this vision to the forefront of my mind; flipping through the latest Oprah magazine in the doctor’s office, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green.  Sometimes I feel like I’m the woman, floating in a world of chaos, waiting on Him to show up--as if I’m the hostess of a dinner party and He is my last guest to arrive.  I can’t seem to remember if He’s RSVPed, but I’ve set a place setting for Him anyway.  This is how I think of my God.  I’m not quite sure if He’s coming, or if He’s already arrived, but I’ll wait for Him anyway.  Because that’s what good hostesses do.

pic: weheartit

Diagnos-ed with Old Love Syndrome

Why is it that the only time we diagnose something in our lives is when we're physically unhealthy?  Perhaps that's the only time when something can be treated.  But when you think about it, aren't there a million other times in our lives when we need to recognize our symptoms, diagnose the problem, and treat it?! 

I ask you to consider the following case: 

An old lover comes back into the picture via a flirty text.  Patient A responds with an equally flirty text and continues to banter back and forth via mobile device into the late evening.  11:58pm to be exact.  The situation that caused to the initial breakup of said love affair is unclear.

Patient A presents herself to her mental health professionals--her girlfriends--and asks them to diagnose her.  Here is what they determine:

Diagnosis: Old Love syndrome
Cause: Flirty late-night text sessions, lack of closure in previous encounters
Symptoms: Incessant thoughts of getting back together with old lover; incessant self-reprimanding for thinking of getting back together with old lover; frustration about current love situation; experiences involuntary random memories of previous hookups, things said, and moments spent together
Treatment: Unfortunately, treatment for this disease is not simple.  Milder cases can be cured with a few nights on the town.  More severe cases must be isolated, tested, and treated with one of the following:

a.  a strong martini, a night out on the town, and a makeout session with a very attractive new boy.
b.  a strong martini, a night out with said love interest, and a makeout session with said lover.
c.  a strong martini, a night in with the girls, and a willingness to accept the fact that the symptoms may have been quieted for the time being, but a future late night text could potentially spark a flare up of the disease and treatment a or b must be implemented.

Please see the front desk for your prescription (vodka) and to schedule your next appointment (tonight).

Hope this helps.
Dr. -ed

Blurr-ed Edges.

Imagine the moon under a magnifying glass.  A layer of hazy purple clouds streak the golden celestial nightlight, exploding into pinks and purples and blues.  Like the moon with its blurred edges, sometimes things in life are more beautiful when we can’t see them clearly.

(Note: this rule of nature also applies to beer goggles.)

Distanc-ed.

I think the worst thing God ever invented was distance.

pic: weheartit

Crav-ed.

I crave you.  At work, at home, on the train, in a plane.  Sometimes I wish the world was made of you, just so I'd always be in sweet surrender.  But then again, the world melts when I think about you, so perhaps it would get a bit messy. 

Mmm, but what a delicious mess.

What if the world stopp-ed?

What if the world stopped when you looked at me?
What if you didn't smell so damn good?
What if your smile didn't light up the room?
What if I stopped breathing when you say my name?
What if this is it?
What if I loved you?
What if you loved me?
What if this weren't a hypothetical question?

pic: weheartit

Never Been Kiss-ed Like This

I've been kissed.  Or so I thought.  Until you came along.  And I realized I've never been kissed like this before...

Kissed first thing in the morning, before the first blink.
Kissed mid-sentence, mid-smile, mid-bite.
Kissed on the cheek for good luck, on the hand for good evening, on the forehead for sweet dreams, on the neck for sweet nothings.
Kissed in the car, before I leave for the day.  And kissed in the car, after I've returned.
Kissed when I'm wrong, and when you're right.
Kissed slowly, kissed madly, kissed deeply.
Kissed because you missed me.  And kissed because I've been here all day.
Kissed until I erupt into fits of laughter.
Kissed for a million reasons, and no reason at all.
Kissed in my language, and bisou-ed in yours.
Kissed because there are too may words.  And kissed because there aren't any left. 
Kissed on a street corner as rain rolls off our umbrella onto the pavement.
Kissed under the covers so that no one can discover us.
Kissed everywhere, kissed anywhere, kissed there.
Kissed while we let our hands explore each other.
Kissed last thing in the evening, after my eyes have shut for the night.
Kissed like this, like that, and oh, kissed like this.

A kiss by any other name would never taste as sweet.