Watching a brigade of butterflies, as swarms of clouds pass by. The words of many unanswered questions bounce around as I ask myself, "why?" Shadows dance, I feel the trance, as sunlight appears and vanishes. I feel hypnotized by sunbeams filtered through green leaves. They surround me, warm me and entice me. The cicadas hum and the bees fly by. I sit and stare blankly at the clouds and sky. The hammock in filtered sunlight, music in my ears. The embrace of the wind, comforting through the years. It speaks to me of being willing. Of trying something new. Of taking a chance I had not considered viable, when logic advises against it.

The ocean between our shores is vast and yet if I close my eyes, I am stepping ashore. In some dreams I am embraced as I enter the other land. In some dreams I am greeted by hostility or indifference. This makes the journey confusing. The coastline changes quickly. The sand bars shift. I see the wreckage of the crossings that came before. Stranded, bewildered. I try to avoid the reefs and find safe passage.

I am reminded by the songs in the wind that safety is not guaranteed, that disembarking in a strange land can hold danger. Like the songs on the wind, your siren song carries to my ears. Urging me forward with little heart gifts, kindnesses, passion, kisses, and desire. I disregarded the warning signs and ventured forward.

The kind, strong wind has now ceased. I am floating aimlessly. The shore, like a mirage, torments me, telling of love and laughter and of being sated and content. Yet in this tranquility, I am neither satisfied or content. So I pause, and wait for the return of the prevailing wind and trust that it will steer me in the direction I am intended to go. I do not know the outcome, only that I can not push the ocean. I can trust that all is and will be exactly as it is intended to be.

This thought brings me solace- that a spark has ignited a long dead torch. That torch was once used to light the sacred temple of love. And while the torch is lit and I see differently, the landscape is new. The priest of this realm is striking and short on years. He speaks a familiar language, and yet some words have seemingly lost their meaning in time. The temple is far off and overgrown. I hear of it's existence and feel the tug of distant memories. The priest plays his songs, picking at strings and pulling chords that sear my scared soul. Those scars are where the light enters I remember reading.

The ritual is underway. Silence prevails. No words are spoken and I grasp to decipher the meaning. My alms are accepted. My adoration seen. Passions ignited. And still there is a longing for meaning.

That longing brings me back to my ship. Sitting in calm water. Sunlight and supplies abound. I am in great abundance, even when my desire tells me otherwise.

It is Sunday again. I reach out to James. He agrees to meet- he has a show at 2:30. We share coffee and strained conversation. He is preoccupied - 

He asks me to go with him to the show. I desire to see him play so I go. It is a ManKind ceremony to welcome initiates. James and Kris don't end up playing. I again am left to fend for myself in an unfamiliar place. The ceremony progresses. We eat. James and Kris play with the equipment, he looks and acts like a child. It is joyful to watch and hear. My desire is strong. The antibiotics are wrecking my belly. My GI track is a mess. I stopped the antibiotics yesterday after the GI issues arrived on Wednesday night.

They wrap up and James and I return in my car to Sbux. He is playful and flirty. He has obligated himself to busk with Kris. He is torn to come home with me. He is obligated to busk. He goes inside Sbux to change clothes. I am miserable, about to explode. I head home. 

In retrospect, this was the last time I saw him for a few weeks. The last time he stirred passion as he played with my chest. I miss him. I miss our conversations, our embracing, our lovemaking, our kissing for hours. He is a wonderful lover. 

On this date in 1986 I moved to Asheville, moved in with a man whom I loved, began a life with him.

His name was Hayes. He was ten years my senior, and he loved me. I was 18 ( he thought I was 19 until this day 28 years ago...) I remember bursting into tears as I confessed my true age. He just hugged me and told me we would work it out.

He maintained that outlook and helped me adopt it over the next eighteen years. His passing a decade ago, just shy of our 18th anniversary devastated me. My life unraveled and I drowned my feelings in every available bottle.

I ventured numbly into another relationship unfairly. And while I loved him, my grief welled up and exploded especially while drinking. The toxicity was complete and I grew spiritually dead. I had a drinking problem and we opened a bar. He hated people and worked as the bartender. It was fun and then it sucked. I grew clingy, suspicious and very jealous. He grew weary and distant. We collided in anger doused in booze and cocaine. It wasn't pretty.

Nearly seven years ago I woke up. I saw my reflection in a stainless steel toilet bowl and prayed for help.

Help arrived via 12 step programs. The events leading to my sobering up where horribly painful. The relationship ended abruptly. I wanted to die. I was afraid. I hated what I had become.

So I got sober. I got a new life. I grew to love myself and to love others sans inebriated states. A novel idea.

Fast forward to August 22, 2014- I remain sober and somewhat involved. I have a new home, friends that love me and whom I adore.

I am sitting on my porch at the close of the day listening to cadydids and crickets sing. Occasionally an owl or coyote will chime in adding the chorus.

I find myself in an unusual place. I have been actively pursued by a man 26 years my junior. I have taken a lover who is 20, and I rather enjoy it. He is proving to be a wonderful teacher- the lessons of no attachment seems to be his specialty. I am not the best student, but I trust the universe knows best. The more I struggle the deeper I sink. Relax and it all works. Tense up and fight and I am devoured.

So I light a candle and try to avoid feeling sorry for myself. Yes, it marks what would have been my 28th anniversary. It marks a time long past. I remember Hayes fondly and say thank you for the beautiful life we shared. I am reminded of Michael and the dysfunction we shared in the midst of love. I loved him greatly, still do in fact. While we've not spoken since September 16, 2007, there is not a day that passes that I do not pray for his health, safety and happiness. And then there is Jamez...

I sip my coffee from my porch in Candler, at the base of Mt Pisgah. The magical blue eyed beings are all in my thoughts. Jamez is the latest addition to this club, and he is completely unaware.

I am thankful to be here, to experience this life. That blue heron at Beaver Lake...thank you.

The abcessed  tooth has led to what feels like shingles... it has been 15 years. The tooth is still bothering me after my 10 day run of antibiotics after the urgent care visit and dentist. The dentist sent me to a specialist, which I will see on the 28th. The nerves are angry on the upper left part of my face. I miss work and go to the doctor. He thinks shingles returning. He gave me the meds for arresting shingles and gave me another antibiotic for the tooth. I am so uncomfortable. The doctor gave me a note for work- I wouldn't be returning until Friday.

I met James afterwards. We got him some used tires as his threadbare ones had wire sticking out of them. He stopped by the bird sanctuary. I took some photos of him on the tree. He lost his lighter on the big tree. He whisked me away to Earth-haven as a way to get me into a stress-free environment, promising a soak in a stream, quiet time alone.

The sentiment and thought behind going were lovely. I tried to decline, he seemed hurt by my hesitation, so I acquiesced. We went in his car. We drove to Old Fort and went through Crooked Creek on our way. Earthhaven is located near the old Camp Elliott where I retreated as a runaway to stay with Barry and Linda.

We arrived in time for the Tuesday evening potluck. Food was low, James retreated repeatedly and left me feeling very alone. It was crowded, I was surrounded by people I did not know. After dinner we walked with Prince Otter through the compound. James wanted to swim and Keith wanted to keep going. I felt lost. We did end up skinny dipping which was nice. My discomfort was grating and still I tried to be present and engaged. I really just wanted to sleep.

We ended up at Keith's place. James and I were to share a bed downstairs. It was chaotic, as Keith played on his computer situated on a desk at the head of the bed. James got lost in a game. Again I felt lost and uncomfortable.  I was edgy, out of my normal comfort place.  The evening drug on until midnight. Retreating to the porch to smoke, I was in awe of the sky above. The Milky Way was magnificent.  I wanted to share it with him, but the game had his attention. At bedtime James and I spoke and I tried to relay my situation; he was hurt by my words and did not understand my conveyances of discomfort on every level made worse by my face. Sleep was not peaceful. We were each restless. It felt good being with him, the air was thick with angst, which killed any peaceful or tranquil feelings.

Morning held an obligation for working on the Sanctuary- a former cob structure that was being repurposed by being wrapped in wire and concreted. I helped as I was able by mixing concrete. We had agreed to be heading back into town by 2. It was fascinating to see the place, to see how structures could be built and reused. It distracted me from my dis-ease. James and Keith worked, we finished up and Keith made some yummy food. I assisted Kris cut up tomatoes while Keith got cleaned up. James vanished and again left me alone. I was hurt- here I was in a very strange place, left to fend for myself. The man whom I followed here seemed clueless and unconcerned. He grew more and more distant. The ride back to town was strained- cramped as four men, luggage and several guitars were all crammed into a car. Looking at my wallet I realized that I had $26 left out of the $200 I had made at Packs. I swear I don't know how I managed to spend that much. I felt defeated, abandoned and broke.

We parted ways on that Wednesday late afternoon at Starbucks. We got back around 5:30. I tried the best I could to apologize for being so  uncomfortable, but I swear he didn't get it. He hasn't had shingles- he doesn't understand that I wanted to peel my face off, to claw my eyes out of their sockets. 

I came home and laid low Thursday. No word from him unless I initiated it. No queries as to my well being. I was left to contemplate our time together. My concern for his safety, well being and being in general are still here- but I am left feeling like it is extremely one sided.  Red flags are waving and still I care, still I find myself loving this young man. I feel him walking away. I do not wish to see him go. What do I do? 

Waking on a Sunday morning to smiling me. James was here. The night was fun. 

My mouth is not happy, an abscess has developed. Late afternoon found me at Urgent Care. Lanced and given antibiotics. Feeling yucky. 

Smoking has been a strange and constant companion of mine throughout my life. We were introduced at Mark Whalens house when I was about 8 years old...Marlboro reds. Mark had stolen a pack from his dad Jackie. We snuck off into the midsummer day to begin our ritual.

Those same rituals are alive and well today. While I've initiated separations on many occasions, we seem to find our way back in short order.

Hanging out and living with other smokers has not helped. I am ready for us to see other people. I am ready to acknowledge that our relationship is toxic and detrimental. It serves not my greater good. It separates me from others.

So I have been praying for a meaningful connection for quite some time, going over in my mind the traits, character and type of man I'd like to get to know.

As part of this process I have also had the opportunity to see what traits I possess that can be improved, discarded or honed in an effort to be a better connection.

And while I have been dating, searching, hoping for a connection, it has been elusive at best.

About a year ago a friend gave me a sparkley bag with some dried leaves in it. His instructions for me were to burn the leaves when I was ready to fall in love. I accepted his thoughtful gift and really thought nothing more of it.

A recent cold and rainy weekend brought the bag out of hiding as I cleared away some leftovers from the move. I had built a fire on this particular July day and decided what the hell. I untied the bag and gazed into the flames. I spoke out loud that I was ready to fall in love as I threw the leaves into the flames.

The next day I started interacting with a young man via social media. I had gone out for a solitary hike above Graveyard Fields. The day was lovely, serene and allowed me to strip down and bask in the sunlight next to a small stream.

I came back to my car to find some flirty words from a stranger. We chatted for a few days. We agreed to meet for coffee, he'd prefer tea. We met at Dobra Tea on Lexington Avenue.

I had a photo and some words we had exchanged, but really wasn't sure what to expect.

In walked a handsome young man, a little unkempt, hair mused, with a guitar case.

We sat on Persian carpets and slowly got to know each other. That was July 10.

He has grown on me. Tremendously.

A lovely day of driving- headed to Skinny Dip Falls. Rain turned us back but allowed us to wander through Carolina Lilies in full bloom. 

Another weekend spent with James, hanging out, eating a lot of Chinese food. We hung out with Artemis. I like this feeling. The house lost water...the plumber came. That didn't work, so the electrician came Monday morning.... Homeowner angst.... Water returned....all is well. I am loving this man...His kindness and generosity amaze me. He will break my heart...I can feel it, and yet the joy seems worth it...today.