The Idea-smithy

I like to make a grand entry and a quiet exit.
At events, in situations and other people’s lives.

There’s nothing quite like making a splash since most people believe in first impressions.

On the other hand, goodbyes for me, need to be quiet,
Like they almost never happened..so perhaps it will be the same again if we meet
It could be that goodbye just isn’t a word I like
Or maybe I just like leaving behind a lingering question mark - as a final gift.

Leaving was a hard lesson to learn but one well-learnt.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Update:

Within ten minutes of writing this post, my phone buzzes with the following note:

From what I remember, you went out as quietly as you came in.
But you hover in ways I cannot describe.

With that last line, you just made my day!

You’re beautiful.

For reasons I can’t explain
I find my gaze pulled in the direction of you
Quite incomprehensibly,
I can’t think of a single intelligent thing to say
When you turn and smile at me
And wait for me to behave like a normal human and respond
But I can’t.

I’m lost in the wonder of your presence
Wondering what I find myself in
Wondering what my self is
Wondering why I’m light-headed
And remembering just in time,
Something I never had to learn
…how to breathe.

What an idiot I am!
I tell myself and give myself a little shake,
Resolving not to look at you more than I look at others
But exactly 47 seconds later, I find my gaze shifting
Just like that needle on my table did last week
Ah, so that’s what they mean by ‘magnetic personality’
Feeling momentarily brilliant and then stupid
For realising belatedly something every wordsmith should know.

I’m hot and bothered
And flustered and nervous
All words that flood my mind after you’ve passed from my sight
Reproaching me for forgetting them
And I protest, “I couldn’t remember a thing!”
While the words mock back, “We’re part of you, stupid!”
And all I have to say is,
I forgot who I was for a minute.

You’re that beautiful.

Silhouette of Male Ballet Dancer

He said,

To the people we love the most, we are a little bit crueler.

I thought about all the people I’ve adored and how they’d agree. Secretly so as to not hurt me. And openly just so they could.

He said it was because of a streak of sadism.
But I think it is precisely because we love so much that we’re cruel.

We fear being hurt and those closest to us are in the position to hurt us the most. So we play our little games and ration our love or at the very least, withdraw it every once in a way, just to ensure that it’s not taken for granted.

That’s cruelty, akin to pulling a fish in and out of water. But that’s how we survive.
With and without love.

You are mine.

You are right.

But it doesn’t feel like it.

Because you only have possession, not control.

Do you not want me?

I do. But not as much as I should. Not as much as I could. Not yet.

Does that matter?

You can own my body, my mind and even my emotions.
But until my will is you, you will never truly own me.

I don’t wish to force you or bend you to my will.

Well-spoken, dear one. You are as wise as I have hoped.

And yet, I don’t have you.

This is true as well.
Possession without control is but a cage.
And cages can be broken.

So can control. What I want is mastery.

They are not different.

Yes, they are, my sweet. You aspire to give me surrender, oh yes, you do. And it might a sweet reward, especially to one starved for so long. But what I want is mastery. An abdication of the hunger for any more such delights.

You lie. Or perhaps not.
If you lie, this beginning is over. Rather, you misphrase.
You desire surrender as much as I do. But what we both need is release.

And you think the answer lies in postponement?

Well, indulgence hasn’t worked, has it?

You’ve had others, then?

So I have. Did you think I would come to you unpracticed?

I suppose not. Even the beginning wouldn’t have happened, then.

Right, I don’t believe in spontaneous miracles.

And I am skeptical about love at first sight.

Cynical, chere! Give the mortals their flash miracles, it keeps them occupied. You and I have forever and beyond to negotiate.

It’s just an illusion.

So am I. And you. A figment of the other’s imagination.

That’s not logical. You can’t be illogical in this game.

But I’m not. When we cease to be our illusions, we cease to be. And what if we swap illusions, every now and then?

And what if we just ended this here?

If we do, we’ll just be two people who killed the conversation and had great sex.
But if we don’t, we continue to be you and me,
mutual enigmas, perpetual unquenched desire, the eternal emptiness.

Touche, my love and adieu.

I thought you didn’t believe in love.

Not at first sight. Nor first conversation. But this is the end of our beginning. The first of whatever comes next.

I would have left you eventually
Perhaps it was a good thing that you left before, instead
Thus ensuring that I’d remember you
With loathing, if nothing else

And that means you needed
To be someone or something to me
A memory at the very least, even if a horrible one
That I’d erase in a breath, if I could

Unforgettable experiences are all we’re all after
Having them and being them

Happy remembering, memory!

Forgiveness, that elusive quality, is so not like forgetfulness.

To truly forgive would mean being able to face the truth of what has been done to you and accept it for the rightest thing that could have happened and move on.

Barring that of course, for us less worthy mortals, (more…)

This occurred to me when I was talking to a friend this week about breaking up. There is so much of literature available on love - how to find it, how to handle it, how to make it happen, how to make it last. But what about the sometimes inevitable - loss of love? There must be a reason that this post remains one of my most popular ones to date.

We are born with a capacity to love. But breaking up and letting go is a learned act…a lesson that comes with a lot of pain. While I can’t find a way to make that experience any less painful, for those of you who face it, maybe this will make it easier to deal with.
(more…)

I asked the Dreamcatcher if she had met Dream and she laughed and told me,

you shall be addicted
you shall not want to go out and meet people
you shall only want to sit and read sandman
my god if i could afford them, i would dance the dance of joy!

So if my words sound a little odd, don’t think them so. I am just talking in my sleep.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Orpheus, son of Morpheus loved like few others
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