In this moment, I know that Spirit and I are one. There is no separation and no distance. In this oneness I come to see that everything is possible. Let the healing begin.
In the category of things that make you go hmmm? I was wondering why out of the blue the same pair both wanted inroads into me. Must be the dinosaur story as a friend recounted to me – her therapist had two children, four and seven, and she would play dinosaur with them – come into the room and roar and roar like a big T Rex – the girls would scream and scream and then the youngest, the four year old, would say, “I want to be the baby dinosaur.”
Faced with a threatening presence, the youngest aligned herself with the threat.
So it’s up to me to stand up – to diffuse both attractions and make myself smaller in their eyes by getting further away. Like the Old 97s lyrics: “you’re getting smaller in my rearview mirror.”
Out of nowhere on Saturday night, I was accosted by a person who confessed to a certain longing for me – and I couldn’t counter by telling where my longings are – meanwhile in the shadows of the dance floor, someone new watched and wondered, and yet another continues texting and calling, jockeying for position – all while another called and asked me to join him in Amsterdam.
So mom looks at L last night and says with the fake moustache and Turkish fez, L looks like Barry, her ex-lovah. Intrigued those listening say, really now? She says yes, alas, we saw each other only briefly. Then someone asked, how long ago was that? And mom said, “A year and a half ago.”
Things that make you go hmmm. 
The girls were so kind to clean up my entire house while I was off on an adventure last night. I got home at 3AM and walked in to the dishes all done and the floors swept clean. I climbed in bed and sadly was up with the bells chiming at 6AM. No rest for the weary. The morning involved reviewing and renewing what is ahead and then J said let’s take the boat down and bring lunch to F and S who were staining the floors of the house. So we motored down along the bayou, passing the fall foilage and came upon large white pelicans and skimmers skittering across the water. Schools of fish crowded out the sides of the bridges as if something clandestine were happening just under the surface.
We pulled up next to the gazebo and got out and had a picnic lunch. I told the story of Roy’s friend who is called Stupo and while they were duck hunting and each of them were out in the blind a crow started cawing and cawing and Stupo kept yelling, “What? I’m over here! – Over Here!” – we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt.
And then we went over the Turkish party details. Who did what, who said what, who kissed who, and all to whom. Bob had made the comment that we are all harmonious spirits and he added “Rachel’s exploring something right now.”
I got sucked into a whirlwind of desire – caught between the cross wires of someone else’s drama. It reminded me of the portraits that hang in the Redwood Room in San Francisco. They’re pictures of men and women, and their eyes move and the backstory is that this guy is with this girl but he wants the girl across from him, and she wants the girl next to her, and on and on. What activates desire?
I look at beauty in a person – a body that won’t stop, gorgeous face, white teeth and feel nothing. I look at a scar running down the back, lines around the eyes and mouth, an old bandaide, big feet and feel like I’ll walk off the planet.
But I want this one and that one wants me and this one is confused and meanwhile, there are people, also interested, watching every move. I said to a friend today – I picture myself getting caught up in this drama and thinking I might turn out like Anne Heche, found wandering in some distant town, muttering incoherently to herself. Yes, but, I’m told, she ended up married with a baby. Is she divorced or still married? Happy? Insane?
Why send out all the vibes of desire if it causes so much confusion in the world that suddenly there are crimes of passion? In the living room of the LaLa last night, there were living portraits, me looking at you, you looking at me, the other looking at me, a new person looking at me then you, and I missed all the other looks that were directed at other people. I became both the object of desire and the one who desires.
It was a long night.
Fatma and I have been planning to have a Turkish party since our trip. We were going to make Turkish food, play our Turkish music we bought, dance Turkish. and invite a bunch of Turkish people over to look at the slide show. Well we finally had it. Of course, it was only one week after having 25 people over for Thanksgiving and an extremely busy week at work – but the good news was that everyone pitched in and it was a huge success. The food was out of this world – Fatma made her own phyllo and so you can imagine how the treats she cooked melted in your mouth. Senem rolled the dolmas to perfection. Tamer made his pilaf. Zeke brought gazpacho. A belly dancer showed up at 8:30 and she was having so much fun she stayed.