Rescue

I wish I could rescue all the people I love.

I can't though, not even her.

My heart bleeds because I love them so.

But, I cannot save them.

I cannot save her.

Only they can do that.

Only she can do that.

I love them so.

I love her so.

It's not what they need.

She has to love herself.

Two Rings

I wear two rings for a reason. The ring on my left hand is for my family, my wife and children. It has five stones, two sapphires for she and I and three diamonds for my children. The ring on my right hand, my dominant hand, is for me. It’s become a reminder that I am my own primary partner. I got it in Galway. It serves as a reminder of my Celtic heritage. It has a heart on it to remind me that I have the power and the right to love who and how I love and that love is really why we are here. It has two hands coming together holding that heart, my heart. I hold my own heart in my own hands. I own my heart and I own my power.

Rage as passion

I remember when I was a child, an abused child in the 1960s, hearing about brutality, rage and even homicide against family members being called "crimes of passion." My father was so "passionate" that my older brother, to this day, describes his favorite memories of our father as being when dad was gone.

I think for some people rage becomes so twisted with passion that it becomes the same thing for them. Rage becomes passion. Rage becomes their orgasm. For people raised with that, it becomes normal. It becomes home.

My beloved ghosts

When we fall in love with someone and they depart from our lives, we still love them. At least, I do. But, it changes. If the separation is through death or irreversible estrangement and they are gone in a final way, especially. All beings change over time. They change as we change. They change as our memories change. They change as our perspectives change. We love that part of our departed loved ones that's remained in us. We love the spirit of them that fused with our own spirit. Knowing that everything changes, if my own departed loved ones were to reappear in my life, would they be recognizable? When I look on my own beloved ghosts. It's like the part of them in me has become separate entities, still separate from me but separate from my actual loved ones too. My beloved ghosts are neither me nor my departed loved ones. My beloved ghosts that come to me now, and then again, and again, are my own and their own. I cherish them just as they are. I cherish them just as they have become.

An infinite number of buckets

I feel this essay mirrors biases and paranoias of our society. The essay seems to me to round loving someone other than our partner up to being infidelity. Why? Life is short. What's wrong with loving many people?
It defines "real" love and tells us what's "real" and what's "fake" love. Whatever doesn't fit the author's love definition is labeled fake. Maybe the author is speaking what's his truth, applied to him. But, what gives anybody the right to tell other people their feelings are fake? That's shaming! How people experience love can be very different from individual to individual.
Love is not a pizza. Love does not run out if you share it. There's not only two buckets, the friend bucket and the lover bucket. In my experience there's an infinite number of buckets. I love so many people, many sweetly, many dearly and my spouse is free to do the same.
I think love is what we should be embracing and not fleeing from. Our world needs more love, not less love.

Reflections on a Three of Swords Day

Yesterday was a Three of Swords day for me. Cards and days like that are a gift for me. Grief is an opportunity for love to shine through. Suffering is the first noble truth. We all have lost and we all suffer. Impermanence is the nature of everything. When I grieve I am also recognizing the sacredness, the beauty, the fortune of that which was and how lucky I am to have that as part of my life story. If what I am grieving was good, I smile over the memories and love. If it was bad I appreciate the lessons learned. I am changed for this grief. What I grieve is part of me. That's the awen. The heart bleeds and the heart beats still.

About Soulmates

In our culture we talk about soulmates like there is one, and only one, person who is meant to be your everything partner in life. But, what if we have many soulmates? What if our soulmates are our village? What if each soulmate has a unique place in our soulmate constellation and no one soulmate replaces or takes away from another? What if in our quest to find the one soulmate, we are missing out on our many soulmates? What if we are not seeing the forest in our quest for the tree?