I’ve stuffed my emotions for so many years. The fire in me is now burning, and I’m loving the independence, and new found freedom. I feel like I’m thirteen again. Only much more wise, mature, confident, and damn sexy!
I love songs, like I did back then. I am dancing. I can’t get enough of the outdoors. I am enjoying my friends, as we giggle a lot over girl talk.
I am so excited for life and all life has to offer. I am very satisfied with who I am, where I have traveled, and what I have overcome. I feel like the Cat’s Pajamas. I am the Cat’s Pajamas! I’m great, incredible, and special. Just like YOU! And I’m moving towards my own style and own innovation.
I’m chuckling over the silliest things, like this definition of bee’s knees:
Coined circa, in the 1920’s, bee’s knees means something along the lines of very good, excellent, great, amazing. A bee’s baskets for pollen are located near its knees, so when the bee’s baskets are full of pollen, they are filled with the good stuff.
That just cracks me up! Filled with the good stuff!
I feel filled with good stuff. I truly do.
And of course this stuff turns into the sweetness of honey! Yummy honey….
I also laughed aloud at the less popular terms of endearment that never quite made it through the years—words like: the flea’s eyebrows and the canary’s tusks. I so want to call someone the flea’s eyebrows. Just once. “Hey, you sexy!” “Yea, YOU.” “You, MY MAN, are the flea’s eyebrows!” I’d like to say that to a biker dude with a bunch of awesome tattoos or a twenty-year old kid, just to freak him out. Old lady diving off the deep end.
I am truly enjoying this rush, whatever it is. I don’t really care anymore. I am happy. Balanced. Loving. Focused. And for the most part feel sane…just constantly aching. But hey, an ache in the loins makes for marvelous poetry….
Here’s a poem I wrote in a matter of seconds yesterday, posted, then deleted. I fretted the words would seem silly and non-sensical to the onlooker. But after reflection, I really dig this poem. It makes sense to me. It moves me. It makes me feel alive. And that’s what I am aiming for during this phase of my life. What moves me. No one is stopping me this time. I’m me. And I love me.
Whatever transitions are happening in 2012, I seem to be surfing the wave of the collective unconscious. Or, like my bud Lisa said, maybe it’s early menopause.
Like I said. Makes no difference. Bring it on!
Ocean to Moon
Butterflies at bedtime
Tuck wings into sleep
Dream of when we last touched
And emptiness moved in rhythm
The ocean to the moon
Coming from the twilight
Of heart’s intention
The summer wakening
Whispering sweet surrender
As lovers last remembered
When wisdom paid her toll
As enchanted lairs
Where lioness is held
Beneath the nape of desire
Spin me round the eagle’s call
Inching in as rivers to sand
This tired swooning captain
Into the darkened state
Where silence beckons
And aches divide
But ever merging ecstasy
giggles….”Do you want to have a slumber party in my basement”….giggles