My Time Machine

Tell me, have you ever met ANYONE who isn't in some way defined by some kind of emotional turmoil in their past
I've been thinking about emotional moments
truly tough times
that somehow change us
define us
and then i started thinking again
that it isn't those MOMENTS that define us
it's how we REACT to those moments
think about that for a minute
because it has profound implications
because I think we can get stuck in RUTS
and we continue to react to those same situations in the same manner
but what if we could CHANGE the way we react
what if, all of a sudden, when those old feelings come up
we can change the reaction
so that we are no longer defined by the MOMENT
but by the way we REACT to the moment
and if we can change the REACTION
we can change the MOMENT
do you see where I'm getting with this
hell
i'm not really sure where I'm going with this
but that maybe
we don't always have to BE what we are
we can be something different
something better
by recognizing those moments
identifying our old reactions
and modifying them
i don't know
i just got to thinking that you (and I) don't have to be creatures of sympathetic reaction
of continuous knee-jerk blinks of conciousness
you don't always have to be defined by the blonda
and I don't always have to be defined by my sick father
i don't know. maybe I'm crazy. maybe I've been thinking too much.
but if humans are a compilation of MOMENTS...
big ones.
small ones.
huge ones that cause us to make the same mistakes over and over
tiny ones that we don't react enough to
i believe we can change the MOMENTS
make some bigger
make some smaller
until we limit the refraction
duh. how do I explain that
until we can contain the emotional wreckage

Things I know and things I don't know

This may be an overly logical way to do this, but it's the best I can do today.

Things I know
1. I encouraged you to do this.
2. I believe it's the best thing for you for a variety of reasons
3. I have no hold on you in that fashion and never did
4. Constraints upon your time are going to make create huge changes to "this".
5. I already feel like I wait around for you to have time for me already... that's only to get worse.
6. I have to change how I feel about you, stop waiting around, stop moulding my life around the possibility to talk to you.

Things I don't know
1. Why I am suffering from these dark visions of you and this other woman wrapped together like two fishing worms.
2. Why this is bothering me so much. It's illogical, given the things I know (see above).
3. How to get rid of this hollow feeling in my stomach.

Can you see why I'm so confused?

this evening

somewhere in between
i think i am slowly getting a handle
i am not sure about anything
but then again i wasn't supposed to be
its all part of the flow
the shift of space time and everything in between
is not predictable and not really controllable
the dice are thrown ever moment of every day
and we the blacks and the whites
move acording to the numbers rolled over us
each and every moment of every turn of every second
and all we can do
is
play

yeah yeah
i heard you say pray
funny how close the two words are..

neshikot my lover
this is me
loving you
however i can
because i can
because i do
not cause its wonderful
for i in all my glory and my gloom
don't know how to do anything else
but love you

rights

i have the right to remain silent
anything i say or write can and probably will be used against me in the real world
the world doesn't need me to tell it anything new
in fact the world would probably appreciate me much more if i just shut up
on the other hand... when have i ever shut up
so
i very much do have the right to remain silent
but i don't have to exercise that right if i don't want to

tell me here what you think

Aroma Eilat

Back in the corner again

This time it seems that I'm going to actually live through this.

This is going back on the blog cause I cant write to you directly.

So I guess this is going to be the channel till we figure out something else.

Aroma, beach, Eilat, alone again.

The feelings are strong again

Like I'm seeing the world through the pain again

And it seems familiar

No

This isn’t for you

This is for me

Not cause of you… this is because I need to change into the man I want to be and I agree with you that it's only and totally and always up to me. And always has been and always will be. But I don’t agree with you all when you say that all you need to do is want and it will be. Will doesn't make change will might show the way, might illustrate the need but will will not make change. Only action of the mind can bring about the shift in thinking that will result in a shift of motivations that will bring on a shift in priorities that will change the channels of need that make up the soul.

I need to change the insid

I know that

Even you know that after watching the change I went through in taking my pacifier away from little old me and throwing it under the bus that will drive me off to my new life.

So I'm changing the inside of me

The deep part

And you see this happening and you who feels my pain more than anyone alive cry out in anguish over what I am and what I am not. 

I am sorry my Tinkerbelle.

Alas, Tinker Bell could not explain this, for even she did not know the dark secret of Slightly's tree. Nevertheless Hook's words had left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

"Besides," said Peter, quite believing himself "I never fell asleep."

He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with one of her lightning movements Tink got between his lips and the draught, and drained it to the dregs.

"Why, Tink, how dare you drink my medicine?"

But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.

"What is the matter with you?" cried Peter, suddenly afraid.

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I am going to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

I am a believer tink I truly am… it's just that I'm not a good one.

I find it extremely hard to believe that which I cannot understand and that includes first and foremost… me.

That’s why I need you… because I do believe in you…

I don’t always understand you…

I think that finally I do believe in you…

Maybe not totally and completely but surely much more then I believe in me.

And this is the part that I like.

Since I do believe in you and I do respect you I hope that you might be the one that helps me to understand me enough…

To help me believe in me…

Though right now

You are sure I'm crazy… right.

That’s all for now

Six sides

She watched from the safety of the treeline.

He had spent so much time clearing the space.
Chopping down the trees
Ripping out the trunks.
Pulling up the bushes and weeds.
Smoothing and leveling the land with his hands.
He was... breathtaking.
Something to make her heart skip beats.
If her eyes were hungry, her body was starved.

Now as she watched he stood, heavy brick in hand, laying the foundation for the Wall.
She watched him examine that brick.
Check it from all sides for imperfections.
Carefully weighing it in his hand.
Six sides:

One to hide the pain
One to soothe the loneliness
One to dampen the anger
One to show the longing
One to express the frustration
One to dry the tears

And then, having weighed the brick he reached down for the trowel, scooping up a bit of mortar. And the mortar was this:

One part true grit and determination
One part shameless love and endless fear
One part honor and loyalty

He smoothed the mortar over the brick, turned it over, and stood there contemplating. Then he stepped back, looking at it, tears in his eyes.

And she stood in the treeline, torn.
God.
To let him build it or to stop him and leave him defenseless?

So she stepped out into the sunlight and slowly walked to him.
Standing in front of him he regarded her, blue eyes glistening with hope and fear.
Oh God, so much fear.

Facing him, she took the brick from his trembling hand and the trowel from the other.
Then she stepped over beside him and made her decision.
She couldn't change the bricks.
But she could change the mortar.

She leaned down and into the bucket she poured from her heart:

one part selfless love and trust
one part unconditional acceptance and encouragement
one part admiration and hope

and his arms came from behind her,
hands covering hers, shuddering, as they made slow circles in the bucket.
His breath on her neck made her nipples scream.
In her ear he murmured over and over again,

"Tink, do you know what you're doing?"
"I think so, Blue. I'm helping you build your Wall. It's the same Wall... just held together with something a little different. It will look the same from the outside, but from the inside, where only you can see... you'll know it's different."

And the two of them began, shoulder to shoulder, to craft the Wall.
And when she brought him windows, something he'd never used before, he looked at her and shook his head in amazement.
"Windows let in light, my Blue. And warmth. And a fresh breeze from the ocean."

But it was the door that moved him.
"A door?!?"
"Yes, my Blue. A door. How else will I get in?."

Aroma Four

Back in the aroma corner

Hiding from the world

Hopefully this time the few hours I have to myself will not be taken up by someone walking by that recognizes me

Hopefully this time I will manage to say what I have been trying to say for a few weeks now.

----

It was just another normal day

He stumbled out of the brush that actually came up against the fence in back of her house.

It was early in the morning and the sun was still throwing the shadows across the fence into the closely manicured garden.

"Finally", he thought to himself "I made it".

Peering over the wooden slats he gazed into the shadows hoping maybe she might be outside. He knew that when the weather was like this she enjoyed working in the garden.

She wasn’t

He climbed over the wood and made his way across the lawn onto the back porch.

She was sitting in the kitchen and when she heard his first step into the house she raised her head.

"Hiya handsome"

"Hi wonderful" he replied and pushed the door open into her world. "why dont you sit down"

"You sure you don’t mind?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.

"I don’t mind my blue, I love having you here"

"I still don’t really understand this; why she lets me into her life like this, but it feels so good I'm not sure I even want to know why this is happening."

He wanted to say something but no words he knew seems appropriate to convey the gratitude.

She saw him hesitate and she took control. He smiled for the first time in days.

"Why don’t you take off some of that weight before you sit and I will make us both some coffee"

"I think I will" he replied and started to unbuckle the shoulder plates.

The buckle on the left shoulder was a bit bent, must have taken a blow, and he was having trouble getting the strap out of metal square so she reached out from behind him and pulled it free.

"Thanks" he said and she smiled.

"That’s what I'm here for" she replied and he smiled.

Slowly she helped him out of all the armor he carried around on him all the time.

Pieces and plates and layers she helped him remove from all over himself.

And when she came down the inner layers she cleaned and soothed and kissed and healed running her fingers across wounds closing the gaps and blowing pinkness back into the bruises.

When he was down to his intricately patterned briefs he sat down at the table and let out a long breath.

The coffee was ready, warm and thick.

The conversation was deep, open and reassuring.

The sex was passionate, soft and amazing.

And when the time had come she helped him cover back up all the parts and pieces of him that needed protection adding padding and kisses here and there where the leather and metal might scratch and scrap his sensitive skin.

When the worlds they lived in started to seep in, again, he bent over and kissed her gently on the softest lips of them all (they really are) and her turned her face up and blew all the thanks of his soul into her eyes.

He walked back out across the back lawn, over the fence and into the bush.

It was just another normal day