Grieving, Flipping Nickels and a Trip to the Clouds

Whelp… should I talk about my current incarnation of heart ache in relation to Mykael… or the clouds?  The age old question…  I suppose I’ll put off that weighty choice for a few moments by telling you that I usually can’t tolerate any music while I’m writing and opt for sssssilence, but today I fancy the Frederick Chopin station on Pandora.  It’s all classical piano music.  It fits like a sexy, satin, over the elbow glove with the rain soaked dusk.  I am sitting at my modest little nun’s desk in my bedroom, facing the window, witnessing the darkness suck the light out of this  day as rapid and unapologetically as I have been known to suck the life affirming waters from the center of fresh, heavy, green coconuts.  As the light and form soften and dissolve into vague gray scales, the piano keys strike inside me with increasing vividness.  Oh, and let me not forget the perfect harmony of dog voices.  That was sarcastic.  The dogs who live just over the fence still make my nervous system clench and shudder.

Okay, we’re gonna flip a worn out nickle, you and me… to see whether I go light or heavy tonight.  Heads is Mykael, because he HAS a head.  And tales is the clouds, because that monument on the back resembles a cloud that has been smashed into an open rectangular box.  Ready?  Here goes!…

Yahoo!!!!  It’s heads!  I’m so glad, because I need to talk this over with SOMEbody… it might as well be you, since you are the best listener in the whole entire galaxy.  You never interrupt me or act like a know-it-all-buffoon or zone out.  (The outside world is almost completely dissolved into darkness now.  There is only a cottony, silvering strip of diehard white clouds.) (And just for the record, my new buddy Jack invited me to the movies tonight at the last minute to see this movie about dolphins.  I wanted to go, but not at the expense of neglecting my beloved blog.  When I returned to Athena GraceLand yesterday after missing two days, I flooded with a renewed sense of meaning and the weight of a defending champion.  On facebook today, Shane asked his plethora of friends how they would like to die.  I don’t often dick around on facebook… because honestly, that can easily become a full time occupation… but I think this question was one of my all time favies.  I said some’m dumb… I was way too deep and “spiritual” and literal.  If I had it to do all over again, I’d’ve written that I want to die blogging!  I certainly don’t want to die at the movies… even if it IS a movie about dolphins…)

So today I finally changed my relationship status on facebook from “in a relationship with Mykael Lazzeri” to single.  I have been wanting to do it for a while… but hesitant, because it feels tender.  So though I have been officially single for three honkin’ weeks now, I finally cut another chord with him today.  I felt guilty, like I was stealing the crown jewels from the museum at night or something.  My heart twisted and trembled.  I wondered if Mykael would know… and how he would feel.

But I didn’t have to wonder for more than a few hours, because he texted me tonight and expressed hurt feelings.  He said he wished I would have consulted him first, so we could have done it together.  Honestly, I was surprised to hear that he was interested in having that much communication with me, since mostly my experience is that when I reach out, he doesn’t give much back and seems energetically insulated these days.  I felt defensive.  Which is a perfect holographic slice of our relationship dynamic.  When either one of us expressed hurt, it was pretty common for the other to hop on the defense in the lickety splitting of a wink of Michael Jackson’s deceased pop star eye.  I suppose that’s a pretty human way to play, but I think the two of us had (have) a knack for pumping up the volume on this particular game.  Which can be exhausting, you see.  But tonight, I am the one at “fault”.  I am the one who instead of softening, opening, merely listening to his vulnerable truth… I am the one who chose to feel attacked.

But thankfully this is my blog, so I can glutinously defend myself and nobody can object.  I just want it to be written that since he hasn’t been very keen on returning my texts or sharing too much at all these days, it seemed out of context that I would go to him right now to consult an inevitable choice.  In his text he told me that I “mean that much to him at least”…???  How much is that?  A flipping nickel’s worth?

All I know is that our relationship frustrates my pants down… and in my heart ache and his perceived heart ache today, for some insane reason, I just want to run back to him and merge in the demented ecstasy of our aching communion.  Tonight I find myself wishing I could have done things differently and made the relationship only beautiful and nourishing.  Tonight I wish I was in his arms, deeply inhaling the sexy musk of his armpits, stroking the fiery copper hair sprouted from his perfectly masculine chest, feeling his strong arms pulling me close.  I know, this is indulgent.  I’m sure it is stupid to look backwards for too long, become too gratuitously lost in fantasy… But welcome to the grieving process, Miss Athena.  It is as unpredictable and powerful as the ocean.  Some days my heart is placid and calm, a perfect reflection of the sky rolling by.  Other days, it thrashes and froths upon its self, threatening death and destruction every few heartbeats.

Strange how I am missing him as a result of feeling blamed by him and hurting.  I s’pose it’s the fresh pulling apart and flailing in new space.  Fuck space, fill me up!  Even if it means jamming me into a relationship that didn’t quite fit.  Life is a fucking barrel of plastic wizards, ain’t it?  Yeah, it’s a fuck kinda night tonight.  I’m drunk on heart ache, chain smoking regrets.  Just call me Athena Bukowski.

Mykael… I miss you.

And by the way, while I was squatting on the pavement at the farmer’s market this afternoon, waiting for my ride, Shane to finish his conversation with the slippery, Piscean hottie at the veggie stand, I swear to God, I climbed the sky and wandered through the bulging contours of heaven.  I marveled at how profoundly empty I felt as my earthly eyes folded into the epic yet subtle depths of the kingdom of gargantuan clouds.  I might have dissolved for a stack of split seconds… or even an entire holy intermission’s worth.  Imagine the whitest white and the most foreboding, steely purple… and every subtle shade in between.  Imagine feeling an inexplicable peace and relief somehow as you dissolve into the soft, continuous merging therein, strangely touching a home inside that you didn’t even realize was there.  Souldipper told me that my guides were still trying to pound it into me that I am never alone… and that it is entirely unnecessary at this point for me to even entertain that notion.  As I became these immense clouds, I knew without a shred of doubt that this is true.  And then they opened and drenched the earth with liquid poetry and wet songs of fertility and purification.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. spirit2go
    Oct 01, 2010 @ 03:36:12

    Naturally you will be grieving your time with M. Just know that something lasting and beautiful is coming to you, and it will not be that hard just to have it. It will be as easy as those clouds floating across the horizon


  2. souldipper
    Oct 01, 2010 @ 18:10:32

    Oh boy, the Guides are probably drinking champagne of Almond Nectarines and saying, “See? We do love ya!”


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