Fairy Tale?

Time to go for a walk, off onto the clouds, where my reality lives and exist and the truth of who I am and what I know is revealed.
    I am not of this world, never was, never will be. I look to be in human form but in truth I am far from human. Some refer to me as Fae, some as mystical, some as just weird. I...just am. A creature that exist living a life of whim and frolic. I can't help it, my whole family is this way. But, it has not been easy (learning how to fit in with p.e.o.p.l.e.)...strange creatures that they are. Some don't even realize they are not people...but Fae. But, who am I to tell them? I can sway a person's attention with a touch, whisper dreams in their ears softly and alluring. Puckering my lips I puff a soft breath on a neck and with delight, males feel passion, females are alarmed (unless....but I prefer the opposite sex form...nicer bums) (grin). I love the nature of me.

Sometimes, I want to play and need a playmate. Mostly, we are solitary creatures...but there are those times when.............
                We seek another who is neither ours or theirs, just someone with that playful soul; a kindred. Together we can commune and tickle....bite and skip....swing and fly....walk and hear the whispers of the moor's mist. My heart lives within the mist of the moors....To some it is spooky...to me it is home.  The locs sing a song of home to me, Oh Mull!

It was there, over looking this very loc that I left my passion, my desires, and my wants. A tree promised to keep it for me...so I could return to the world of men less burdened and be free to embrace my play, my self, my nature.

Oh there's a cloud...I bet my play mate is there....I'm gonna go see.................

      Ahhh, on this very cloud I embrace my playmate....We snuggle and dig deep into welcoming softness. The earth world below...the real just between us. That is the truth of existence, for this moment, this little while. Intertwined fingers....tickled toes...laughter and jokes...soft kisses and squirmy wiggles. Wild observations and deep pondering of assumptions; words shared of dreams and possibilities; fact and fiction; just fun. To pick lint from belly buttons and softly comb hairs above one's eyes. Shall I lick your eyebrows after all?

What....bored? Want to jump? Fly?...Hike? Let's go...

                        

    We have goodies and warm companionship...time has been erased (for now), so we can truly enjoy EVERYTHING!

Hike shores..............run into interesting blokes .........

 You won't mind if I tackle you to the ground?? What? You beat me to it...you dog! You Cad!! Stop tickling me!!!!! (ok...it is making me giggle). It is nice that I can bring you to my favorite place, the home of my heart....the roots of my soul...the one place I am most me....Shh...do you hear that? Feel it??

The mist are coming to meet us, gently curling over the hills, seeking us out...meet my family....Do you hear? Whispers of longing, caresses of greeting?

 The sun is setting...want to sleep here? Or, return to the cloud?? Look, there's a cozy grassy spot!!Don't leave yet!...the world can wait..let's just breath this moment, shall we? Would you stay and sit with me a little while longer? Get caught up in my dream for a small bit more?? I will let you go soon, I promise...I will return you back to your home and reality. But for this moment, this second...be my playmate...be my dream....

(long deep kiss)....Mmmm, not so bad, eh?? (grin)

Now.....where were we?

(soft chuckle)

  

Companions

There is something about sharing that touches something deep within. To share a cookie is fun, to share an experience is amazing, to share thoughts and dreams is the most intimate of connection. I love sharing.

Humankind was created not to be alone....they crave companionship; deep and true. If one's partner can share in one way, but not in others, a person naturally yearns/seeks for others to fulfill that which is lacking. I sometimes wonder with all the millions of humans living on this planet, why is it so difficult to find those few that are compatible and almost especially, enjoyable. My ideal world would be someone to share the expenses and life's ups and downs with, a lover, and someone to giggle/laugh with. Do I expect to find all 3 aspects in one person? No, I haven't so far. But, this is my opinion and wishes.

The lovely feeling of being close, touching, tickling....to feel the warmth of another's skin against one's cheek. I don't understand how people can choose to be together yet don't touch? I wish marriage contacts had an expiration date or at least became null and void if the agreement at union was not upheld. If someone doesn't pay their rent they are evicted, should not people also be evicted if they don't pay the rent to uphold the marriage agreement? (intimacy, support, encouragement...whatever was agreed upon)...especially if certain points were brought up prior to formal union. But, some people figure, marriage means the person is yours...they are stuck...it doesn't matter if they are content or happy, they are yours...(wow, really?). ...dream on.

It would be interesting if marriage contracts could have expiration dates, why not? Then in 5 years the two could decided if they want to continue or extend without any penalties. Would sure save people money (but probably piss off the attorney's for taking away some of their income).

Sharing in some way is so deeply satisfying. No wonder people even buy another to do so. How did human begins become so isolated? Today I share a bed with a person, but I shared myself with my cyber friend. What is the difference? I think this is the difference between being around and being involved, being a roommate and being a companion.
   I don't have any expectations of people anymore, I am always happy for those who give me moments of themselves and allow me to give them moments of me. Not just anyone (for I am very picky), but those few whose words make sense to my soul, like music that describes the emotion and self so entirely, but the verbal word is limited because of a person's mental fears and stereotypes..

     So in my muse and rant, I leave everyone with this...................                 

 snails do it, bees do it...

even some type of fleas do it...

all it takes is reaching out...sharing breath,

being you, being me...

just knowing this is what is imporating...

This is what will bring the satisfying sigh deep within the soul...

Companionship

Pieces Adrift that Connect

As a tree, the leaves grown are the intimate parts of me. They are my companions, my loves, my joys, and my sorrows. A tree always wishes for company. Alas, leaves fall too soon, as do acorns, and as much as the tree tries to cling to at least one, whispering "stay..stay.."..off it oes to its own adventure. I miss my leaves and acorns. Sure, there are other trees which the tree could probably gain insight or bemusment from, but it is not the same. But what is a tree to do?

Trees stand for multiple years in the vast world extended around them; observation becomes the shared vehicle for existing.
"There's a bird"
"I saw that bird"
"Is it the same bird?"
"I don't know, could be, maybe not, oh...there's another".
       Such delight, such insight, such a bore.

But.....sometimes there is a interplay of exchange. Whether it be words, thoughts, or musings. The exchange takes on a life it its own and brings vitality to any exchange. It can't make the tree move its roots an inch, it doesn't even change the nature of the tree, but it does intertwine branches in a form that can cause beauty and create a thought-form like song.

Exchange, communicating. But now, two views of the world extended around them.
"There's a bird"
"A bird on a mission"
"Yes, a bird trying to decide which of us it should live on"
"I don't want its poop"
"I don't mind its poop, or that of its young, there would be song"
"Oh, it picked me, oh great"
"Wonderful, the better for me to watch it!!"
"But I hate the poo"
"Then you won't realize because you won't be able to see it....and I won't tell you"
"You won't tell me when it poops?"
"I will only tell you about the beauty and you will always be able to hear the twittering and song, that way the poo will be irrelevant"
"Hmmm, that might work!! At least I won't see the poop!"
"In your view, there will be no poo".

Communicating, evolving, sharing of thoughts, ideas, and dreams. There is no right, no wrong, just flowing expressions of souls...

Instead of waiting and bemoaning the fate of leaves that are temporary, the tree now shares the world with another. How wonderful, how blissful, so deliciously simple. Whether that be in silence or exchange, observational discourse or tossing of acorns; the point being that at some point there was an acknowledgment of involvment. Involvement reveals itself in many forms and never the form that is initially assumed. Once the leaf is caught and tossed back, involvment, companionship occurs.

To sit as the tree.

To let exchange flow as the wind.

To find joy in acorn or leaf tossed.

A happy sigh to exchange back.

That is all that is...matters...and is.

(sigh)

My own giggles

At the end of the rainbow lies all my dreams (awake and asleep). When looking into someone's eyes, stranger or friend, I am looking for that rainbow. That little piece of themselves that is real and holds the magic of all possibilities. I love looking for that in people. It makes me giggle if they suddenly smile back, their eyes light up, and for that moment we are sharing a secret. (Shhh, we know what is at the end of the rainbow.

With our new found secret we find ourselves rising like balloons to live in a world that nothing but the present exist. For that moment we are lovers, friends, family, enemies. We have shared a life time and we have only just met. In that brief connection is all the possibilities of all the magic that two souls can create together and experience; together and apart. (Yes, this concept makes me giggle).

Our balloons fly into the blue sky like a flock of dreams. In those dreams our present lives only exist as we wish them too. If we enjoy our present lives (with all its circumstances), we can include those aspects into our dream. The dream is that which is created beyond the brush stroke, beyond the pen line, beyond anything we begin to do...because the dream is the reality we choose to live completely in our mind. It feels like a life time, but might only last 1 minute. Then blink, blink....we are back.

Our balloons touch down and we are almost into the water of our emotions. The place where all our thoughts are ricocheted and bounced about. It can either be fun or stressful. It jiggles our hearts, wiggles our stomachs, and makes us giggle! We can splash or canon ball. We can dive head or feet first. We can doggy paddle or back stroke. We swim in our realities as we see fit. It is all up to us. So when people wonder what keeps me smiling, even in spite of the death and suffering my work surrounds me with, it is the realities I find in-between. That space between the breathing in and breathing out. That is the place where magic lives; home of my giggles.

                 Splash.....diving in, becoming the rainbow!!

Interpretations & Perception

There are so many images that provoke a wonder and unknown response within one's emotions that are normally ignored. Through these wonderful pieces of artist expression, those hiden parts of us are touched, probed, even rovoked. The faces...the faces...the FACES!!!! To see what another looks like at such profound moments is to recognize ourselves. The ourselves we hide from. Several of these pieces have done just that for me. In Tissot's painting below, it is "What the Saviour Saw". Looking down from a cross, being murdered in the most horrible of ways, to have all those who just days before honored you, laughed with you, turned to you for support. To see those same faces looking upon you in your helplessness, your disgrace, your humility. There is great Love evident...I don't think there was embarresment.

(James Jacques Tissot (French painter and illustrator, 1836-1902)

The face of obedience and trust. The agony of sacrifice. Would we be able to sacrifice that which is so dear to us for a higher love? What are we willing to sacrifice for another? And is that other worthy of such a deep sacrifice?

(Juan de Valdes Leal, 1657-59...The Sacrifice of Issacc)

On a different note, some modern art also resonats with me, the intrigue between the known and the obvious. The art that strikes a cord (again), triggers that deepest part of me that I rather ignore be it passion, love, dispair, fear, insecurity, lonliness. I AM that which is obscure, I AM that which is not the ordinary, I AM myself, with all the acceptable and non-acceptable parts. So sit back, and breath in Me who can never be wrote about, never truly be touched, but can always be felt.......

http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/alain-khadem.html

Reaching for the Dream

A dream is no different than this dragonfly just within grasp. To reach for it is the point, to go for it is the challenge, to get it is the hope. To believe that what makes one happy is the most significant thing someone can do for themselves is huge. As little red riding hood was skipping through the forest was she dreaming? Was she on her way to Grandma's house because she had to? Or, she wanted to? What if LRRH was a young lady who felt she looked really sexy and cool in her new red cloak. She was dreaming about who is chopping wood deep in the forest. She had heard this chopping several times on her way to Grandma's. Who could it be? It has to be a strong male (or so a female should hope). The blows are powerful and sure. She decides on the spot that she will finally see "who" is doing the chopping. Putting down her basket and carefully taking off her bright red cloak to tuck snug next to it on the ground, she sets off. She just wants a peek. Could it be someone handsome? Muscular? Tall? Her imagination begins to run wild with romantic possibilities. She creeps around trees being very careful not to stir the dry leaves too much. Because it had just rained she was fortunate to find damp leaves to step on that didn't make as much noise. Finally, she is behind a large tree and hears the chopping close. Carefully easing her head around the tree she sees shoulders and arms welding a hefty ax. Whoomph Whoomph...the axe goes rhythmically down and up. For a while she is mesmerized with the rhythm, watching the shoulder muscles bunch and tight, the arms intense with effort. Suddenly, she is stunned out of the melodic rhythm because the whoomphng sound has stopped. She finds herself holding her breath, waiting. He (?) is wiping his brow with his arm; he is resting his forearms on the axe that is now resting on the ground awaiting further use. As LRRH is about to take a quiet breath she hears,

"So, do you want to help or not?"

Her heart feels like it has stopped, she holds her breath tighter, is he talking to her?

Turning, he looks at her with a questioning brow. His long snout is light tan and brindled with shining soft whiskers. His eyes are velvet brown, soft and warm. And his teeth, though alarmingly pointy, somehow are displayed in a warm smile of lips that offers friendship rather than fear.


Watching his ears twitch in anticipation, realization strikes LRRH...ohhhhhhh, this is a fairy tale!

Curiouser & Curiouser

Some days are just too curious to figure out. A delightful thought, an amazing moment, a quick note form a friend. My favorite is to have an unusual thought, find a layered moment, or ponder the possibility of the impossible. To find another layer of myself I haven't explored, to dig into the perception of another (my fav). What do you think? Why?

I just re-learned about the greatest quiz to discover the deepest of truths. It is called the 5 Ys.

Why....do you feel/think that?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

The last Y is the closest to the truth you will ever get...very cool quiz, try it!

So, why do I have pen pal(s)?

Because they fill my isolated world with engagement.

Because I don't have anyone to interact with that I consider equal to my imagination and genius of thought (maybe one now).

Because it is a way for me to be involved with another male without all the drama and problems of a true relationship.

Because it is fun.

Because I have a soft spot for Brits.

See how much fun that was??? :0

And what did you find out?? ummmm??????

Watching is not the same as Looking...

Binoculars are the most amazing invention for humanity. With this simple device you can see the sweat drops on a famous singers forehead, you can watch the back-up singers scratch their arse, you can see EVERYTHING!! The fun stuff, never before realized stuff, the STUFF that makes this untouchable person human.

I love having my binoculars with me. If you think watching a bird eat from the feeder next door it it better at a concert. If you can read lips its even more entertaining. If I was on stage and knew someone had binoculars on me I would be worried. The beauty of watching the fingers stroke violin stings and complex keyboard combinations during a melodic piece. To see the members of the band grinning and gesturing (facial or other) to each other. So see the subtle clues they give each other (that might not be seen from the audience other wise). Ahh, a magic device.

As per this original creation (by me), life holds thousands and thousands of unique possibilities. However, the trick is to see them, know them, experience them with out that booger of expectation tripping up the fun or joy of discovery. Lately, I have begun a journey of daring. Daring of words and expression. Coming from a skunk it is not surprising, but who knew? Though this writing will never find itself on a library self or become a million dollar best seller, it is such a daring adventure to hit the publish key of each post and know that one's words are floating in cyber and accessible to anyone and anyone (even the aliens monitoring our cyber or the government). What insight will they gain?? My art (above) may find itself hanging in some inter-galaxy office on the outside of Mars but in-between the rings of Saturn. Booya, oh yeah. So, un-be-known to me I AM really someone famous! (please don't bow).

   

Peeking

Peeking...not the same as looking. But, can be similar to finding. But the joy when after hours of looking at those green leaves, noticing the various shades, shapes, and hues. To suddenly see a head peeking out..and in my direction!! Why does that get me thrilled? Which makes me think my life and drifted way to close to the shore.

See what could happen!!!

So I rather stay out in the middle of the river...unless there is some cool foliage in which to look for interesting critters to pop up their heads, otters, skunks, geckos. I'll take either, or.
..............to be continued.

What the fodder?

My world is defined as eclectic. How I dress, how I speak, what I do, who I associate with. I unconsciously make way too many list (but dont' tell anyone). I get excited about people who bring excitement into my life, but like skunks, are elusive and hard to find when you want a nice musky encounter. I like variety and someone to keep me on my toes. But, my dream is to know someone who consistently can give me the same giggle and awe yet I am beginning to doubt such a person exist. I have been that for another (I am told), but to know one myself..(?) Always for a little while, never for a long while (maybe they drop dead on me?). Reminds me of a cleaver Irish bloke who exchange 1-2 sentence correspondence with me for 2-3 yrs. I looked forward to his measly sentences. Like the line in a fortune cookie, I would send him my thoughts...and crack "...his reply". I would close the mail with a deep satisfying sigh and ponder his few words for days. One day he wrote "I have a brain tumor". Nothing more...and a few mails later of no further indulged information...his mails ceased.

But, like most creatures, skunks (and other elusive creations), are unique and intriguing for the very reason that they are hard to pin down (aren't they). There are times I run into someone so very interesting who causes me to actually associate with them, play, exchange thoughts, words, deeds. Someone who actually captivates my imagination and giggles my heart. But, unless they are a figment of my imagination or a character in a book or movie, they will soon develop into a regular human being who seek socialization but actually reviles in independent isolation. (...have I just given myself away??). I am a steadfast hermit who lives with another for the sake of having another human being breath in my space. It is also nice to have two to pay bills and it gives me the indulged joy of sharing. I love to share. Even if its one piece of candy. My greatest joy would be to share a poor-boy (long sandwich) with someone on one end and me on the other. Please, not the same sex..not for me, not for this fantasy (I do dare).

As my mind ponders so many things, my fingers write only those selected few that I feel like placing in permanent print. Which reminds me of an exchange once with a Civil war re-enactor from Florida who introduced me to the shared story. We developed a bubbling monk mute and a tiny elf like brat. These two character would keep interrupting our correspondence with their wit, sauciness, or rank comments. This reminds me of an annoying starfish who also interrupted a lovely exchange between myself and another by clanking us on the head any time we strayed into areas too stimulating. The star fish was enduring in its own way (sigh). Exchanges that began with a skip and ended with a "duh". So back to skunks.
     I had a pet skunk once, raised from a baby. Oddly enough, their smell doesn't bother me (must be because I don't drink beer). And between the odd ciggy I partake of after dinner, I don't think that contributes to the fact that though I enjoy the company of skunks I can't ever get near one (well, except for the one baby I save many years ago).
    So, this post is a prattle of fodder. But, poignant in the undertones it has the prospect of revealing.

 While a pair of my knickers drift mysteriously within the sewers of London, I can't help but identify with those tossed knickers. White with little blue flowers. Bought on a whim, worn with a tickle, sent with Hersey chocolate, and tossed in a rush of embarrassment. Who knew knickers could have such an adventure?! I could go away to a monastery and ponder life on the encounters of those knickers. Ad they slowly desintergrate, I wonder-will they be recycled into drinking water? Or, find their way into the ocean. One day, while watching Animal planet I might see a rescue of a penguin who has white with blue flower knickers caught around its middle! What the fodder?

My World - Book Land

My world. Open the cover and I am transported into a land where there are people who love me, challenge me, show me knew and interesting things, and where I know exactly who I am. In Book Land I have no hesitation and am not shy. In book land I am brilliant, clever, beautiful, and accepted for my amazing humor. In book land I can turn the corner and find myself challenge with a conflict of wits and skill or I am met with a puzzle to understand which will make me a better person. There are incredible stories that involved amazing characters. When embracing a series of 3 or more, these characters become my family and I miss them so much when the streets (volumes) have all been transversed and explored.
I am my own hero. Though many people who know me (in my real life) tell me how amazing I am, I don't feel quite the appreciation as I do when I am in Book Land. In real world, people become disappointed and critical. In Book Land you can tell others "go to ..."..or just walk away with a flip of a page. I only engage with the sentences that captivate me and the characters that intrigue me. Some times I read a sentence over and over, slowly then fast; for the words roll around in my mind and onto my tongue is such a juicy satisfying way.

    I am an explorer of the written word.
I am a conqueror of many lands.
   I am engaged by various characters and tempers.
My life is flavored by the attitude of who I have been exposed to by how they were presented through the writing of another.
   Character are born in my head, but never can I get them out and into their own land. My favorite character that has been born through my muse is Cleatus Jones Euphrates. A once successful business man, family man, who gave up everything (or the everything that is considered something), to live on the streets and observe life. He digs through dumpsters and finds bits of wisdom tossed into the wind and onto the ground. The dove wrapper that tells him "be strong", the ice cream stick that reads "you are the greatest". The bits of notes with names, numbers. Receipts discarded and lotto tickets tossed. He stops and looks at each bit he finds wondering if "this" is the one that will hold the answer his heart seeks. He doesn't know what his heart seeks, but he knows he is searching. According to the bible he will find. He hold God true to that or the man who wrote those words was full of hooey. One day on a most productive dumpster dive, Cleatus found a small box with just one seed in it. The box was fiber wood and its outer shell faded and cracked from a poor oriental design that once adorned it. He knew that seed within was some type of special treasure. When ever he would feel hopelessness reaching out to him, he would take the box out from within his gray dusty long faded coat and sit in a quiet place, take a deep breath, and very slowly open that box to gaze upon the wonder within. That seed was possibility, that seed was "it". One day he would learn what that "it" was, the definition of the possibility he longed for. But for now, he only had a glimpse, a taste. But it made him feel so very close!

                                     

Commitment

Merriam-Webster defines commitment as: an act of committing to a charge or trust: as (1): a consignment to a penal or mental institution. This revelations can cause one to feel very afraid!! So the bottom line is to consider who do I trust that much? Or, should I just resign myself to being naturally incline to join a mental institution? People mis-use commitment for personal gain. Commitment is not about what I want you to do, but should be what I can do for you! I can't help thinking about the commitment of God and the Hebrews. Now there was an off sided commitment if I ever heard of one! God had to bend all over the place and the Hebrews went helter-skelter doing their own thing. Then, they had the nerve to be upset when they were smoted!! I would smote too if someone took advantage of me. And yet, God still stayed within the commitment originally agreed upon no matter what. Now that is commitment. So my new definition of commitment is (or should be), I will be there for you "no matter what". But, don't think I won't smote if I have to!!

Pecuilarity or Real Self

This is what I look like to myself. Facial tattoos especially and belly button a perfect morsel. Alas, though I am told the reality is not bad in itself, I find my outside self is peculiar compared to my inside self. The sword is real, the skirt and shoes are real, even the hair (though my hairdresser daughter won't let me keep it all white). Oh and the belt. The collar is not real. So what is left? And is what left important? or, even significant?

That is why I like mask. The option to make the peculiar into the ordinary by the very nature of wearing a mask. That is acceptable. After all, one is wearing a mask so everyone is warned, this is not real.
What if people only met while wearing a mask. Then it wouldn't matter what anyone looked like, one would all be sexy because the imagination could create for each person what they really believe the other to look like. And once someone has become accustom to the beauty and uniqueness of the other, become endeared to it, then the peculiar become charming, exciting, alluring.

In fact, masked people would probably be better to post for profiles than no photo. The masked version would be so intriguing, how one's imagination will run. Werewolves and vampires would do well to add profile pictures like that. As a unique species of human, I rather think I look beautiful to those who see me and not what I look like. That is why photographs are confusing. They never seem to look like the person really looks like. What type of mask would you choose????

Unexpected

When life feels like just a string. And, I dangle wondering the point of why I am even trying to hold on. The unexpected occurs which brings a sense of wonder, joy even. I have to remember that everything is fleeting and this moment is the eterminty in which I actually live. But, as human beings, we have a difficult time living in just this moment. We instead, live in our past and future. The moment, this moment, when it is repeated begins to become a habit looked forward to. Oh no...here comes expectations!!

Oh that nasty condition of expectations that burns deep within us to want more...more...more!! More surprise, more of the same fun and joy we had in (that other) moment. But we are dangling by our toes...and bending only a string. We have to make a terrible and life changing decision: do I force "that" fun moment more into my life? But, if other's are involved they have a choice too, right? What if they don't want to "force" the fun moment too? Oh my oh my.

So for today, I will dream. Dreams are easy, safe, can always rehash the best moments. Life is the slippery curb of unexpected. And any unexpected cannot be assumed to be real. It only become real (I believe), when it becomes a regular habit. In that regular habit develops the action that takes the moment out of unexpected, out of expectation, and into reality of "mine". Mine really equals reality (at least for each one of us). Until it becomes claimed, it is not reality; therefore, it can neve become something expected.

Rabbit Hole

Going into the rabbit hole is a release. To allow one to dream the dream and make the leap; overcoming all fear. The sides are smooth and inviting. The depth seems overwhelming...but there is a light. In the days behind me I have other spirals I have swirled down. I just didn't realize I was swirling until I stopped and realized where I was. But, it doesn't look so scary now. Oh...there is a skunk just ahead of me, or did I pass this being along my way? Either way it is nice to know I am not the only one spiraling along. Not, out of control, but with confidence and truth. What might be at the end and where is the light coming from??? I have hovered too long on the edge and not allowed myself to enjoy the thrill of the jump. I have faith, I am complete, I will jump...wheeeeeeeeee (hey skunk, you there?) opossum.