ANOTHER WOMAN'S HANDS

I dreamed again tonight, and woke up with tears in my eyes,

as I have hundreds of nights before.  I dreamed of you, sleeping,

your cheek pressed hard against your pillow.

Another Woman's hands tend your wounds, 

soften your scars, do all the tiny little tasks that make your life more complete.

Another Woman's Hands toil at the stove, make your favorite meals, pick out

the gifts that make you smile.  Another Woman's Hands brush back your hair, 

wash your clothes, sort your socks.

Another Woman's Hands have taken from mine all those things that were my privilege.

Another Woman's Hands sign the papers that allow another to take care of you, feel your

forehead for a fever, place an ice pack on your swollen joints, Another Woman's Hands

hold yours as you conquer fears and take great leaps.  Another Woman's Hands plumped 

that pillow on which your sweet face lies, turn the pages of the book her voice is reading to you.

Another Woman's Hands lift that blanket and tuck it beneath your chin, pat your shoulder, 

turn off the lights.  Another Woman's Hands are your sanctuary, your safe place.

Another Woman's Hands are your home.  And I miss you.

For My Children, Who are not Mine Anymore, 

I love you.

Sara,

Age 43

Unashamed Territorial Alpha Bitch From Hell

You know, it always surprises me, I am going along, living my quiet little life, and I look up and it has been nearly a year since I last posted...guess what....WE GOT MARRIED!
Back in March, actually, 19 years and change since we had met.  It's funny, you have a quiet little personal 'anniversary' and everyone is suddenly trying to guess why we HAD to get married on that date...well, that part is for me to know and others to try to get it out of me (yeah, good luck with that) but it was not because it was a pagan or heathen or wiccan or native american or any other kind of holy day, except to us, in our development of love and respect and admiration for one another, so THERE.

I have had the privilege in the past few months of re-connecting with some dear old friends, and like a lot of gamer chicks or fan girls or whatever you want to label some of us as this week, most of my old friends (and current, save a select few) are male.  Now, the PTB have seen fit to supply me with a husband that trusts me implicitly and has a danger sense for people that can detect a closet, not-quite-yet pedophile six houses down (although he deems me safe...HA!) and understands that with someone like me, who loses connections so easily, those connections that have stood the test of time are precious.  Some of you might not know this, but, well, the truth is, uh, well, I used to kind of like to flirt. (No, really, Briny, you, flirt...oh, you mean that clocking people upside the head and exchanging obscurely worded compliments in different language was FLIRTING? SHOCKING!) Well, I don't flirt so much anymore except for the occasional exchange to dip my toes in, and really, my bear thinks it is funny, but, well, there it is.  Thing is, unless I KNOW YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER AND I HAVE DISCUSSED IT WITH HER/HIM, I am not likely to flirt with anyone.  This is because I have been there.  I have been that not as alternatively-life-styled woman at the parties with all the braver (or crazier, not quite sure I can choose) and the fact that if you are possessive, this is considered a bad thing drives me nuts.  Human beings are territorial critters, folks, and to be frank, I don't care how long you've been in this historical group or how open your marriage is, if I walk up to my husband, tuck my arm under his and give you the MINE glare, you will hopefully understand that, once my claim is staked and you publicly transgress there, oh honey, I hope you have a good doctor.  And I mean a psychiatrist..I mean, I am not going to feed the rumor mill by challenging you to a duel in the mud, or the jello, or even the latest MMO, but, you are going to know I am unhappy, and unless their communication skills have disappeared, so will most people in shouting distance.  The funny part, if I am not vehement enough in my complaint, my husband will encourage me.  Why?  Because there is nothing wrong with being possessive of your mate.  Now, I don't mean that the vivacious redhead that you both secretly fantasize about that flirts with everyone, you have known forever, and even a noob can tell is harmless, but the chick that walks into the room, and every coupled woman's hackles raise...that one....and I  am not going to hurt you if it is an honest mistake, but, case in point...I go somewhere with my husband, and someone who has known us for years and knows how territorial both of us are actually forgets and lays a hand on my husband's person (please, understand, he is not a guy that likes people touching him) after the momentary surprise when the normally quiet and retiring salt-meister is stretching her five foot two frame to hiss in your six foot four ear, and the person quietly backs away, because they know it.
Now, I have been paired with people who think that a bit of jealousy is wrong, that you are un-evolved or insecure when you express your territorial leanings...and that was fine, for him, and you know, maybe if a little more of their natural territorialness had shown they would be happier, but my husband sees my possessiveness as a sign of how much I value him.

So, this is my rant for the day...for those of you who have no jealous twinges, great, and some of you can do that and stay sane and happy, but, well, my inner territorial alpha bitch gets triggered easily, so hopefully, we can stay friends.  I really do love all of you, but well, nature is nature.

And keeps passing....

Well, one goal was accomplished...only six months since the last post instead of eight.  I would be tempted to question whether I even still need this blog, but I know myself well enough to know that if I get rid of it, I will desperately need it in the next few months.

So, how are you?  I hope that this new turning of the wheel (Halloween, or Samhain, is the ancient Celtic New Year's Festival) finds you and yours loving, laughing, and living with true abandon.

Another birthday has passed for me, and today marks the 40th of my mate.  Let me tell you about this man of mine...he chooses not to follow a specific god, choosing instead to honor the idea of faith and the truth of each person's heart.  It isn't that he doesn't care, or isn't concerned with his own soul, but that instead, he is so open minded in this matter that closing any possible positive pathways just doesn't occur to him.  His papa is Christian, and I know he is concerned.  I hope someday that they come to an understanding with one another that their paths are much closer than either imagines.  I hope that Senior understands some day that his son has chosen a path that is nothing but positive, and that he has spent his life helping others understand that the journey is most of the fun.  If his dad hadn't been the open-minded, open-hearted person that he is, then the circumstances of my Bear's life could have created a bitter, closed-souled little man instead of the joyful giant that I love.

And then there is the fact that it is impossible, literally impossible, for me to feel bad or negatively toward myself with this man around.  Every flaw I mention is taken,, analyzed, and handed back to me with a bit of wisdom about what this flaw teaches me, or, taught others, in my life.  A nugget of truth about the nature of imperfection, and about how our creator created perfection by inviting, encouraging, and nurturing those things that make us different from one another.  And he values me more than I ever imagined was possible.  The old adage "one man's trash is another man's treasure" is so true, and I never realized it applied to relationships too.  I never realized that my problem with people wanting me to enter 'open' relationships was that I didn't feel treasured and valued when people were offering to share me with other people.

But that isn't the best part...how was it possible for me to find a man who would fit my intellect, tastes, and interests so perfectly?  A man that actually doesn't get annoyed when I got on a three hour etymological search for the source of a word, and is more than willing to discuss the psychological reasons behind word choices that really don't matter to the content of the message I am reading?  Not only does he not get annoyed, he proposes possible sources and then enjoys seeing and hearing how close he got to guessing where a word came from.  And he understands when I watch a commercial and rant for a week about how they really failed in getting their message across because a phrase or an image they used calls to mind the wrong associations for a random member of their target demographic.

Not that he is perfect...no, try getting him to eat something he doesn't already KNOW he likes, and you will see more stubborn mulish toddler-like refusal to try something new than I got with any of my three children.  Hurt him deeply, and he is done with you.  He carries a grudge longer than any woman I have ever known, and he sometimes seems to forget the idea that people may have grown in the decades since he saw them last.  But he doesn't deny his faults.  He accepts that they are there, and tries really hard to talk himself into trying to lessen them....I even got him to try a bite of a new food the other day!

But like the other things he has shown me, his imperfections just prove how perfectly matched we truly are.  He challenges my intellect, but not my self-confidence, and makes me know that there really is a haven at the end of the long, difficult day (or life) and that it is possible, even when you feel you have completely failed in finding that life-mate, to turn and realize he was right behind you, carrying your luggage, the entire time.

So, Happy Birthday to my bear.  I love you.  I appreciate you, for your faults as much as for your favors.  I am so glad I chose to tie myself to you, and Thank You.  Thank you for being who you are.  So, Senior and Mom, Thank you for getting together and walking a path together long enough to create this true jewel that has stormed my fortress walls and stolen the whole throne room.  I love you both too!


'
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to MY TREE!

Sara, age 41, and very happy.

Time Passes

Wow, does it ever.  Eight months since I wrote, and what a busy eight months it has been.  I have been working hard on re-cementing old friendships and such in the Louisville area, as well as separating myself (legally and figuratively) from my felonious soon-to-be-ex-husband.  In the process, I have redetermined the goal of regaining custody of my two younger children, my Tier-bear and Eri-Berry.  I have serious concerns about some of their emotional care in recent months.  All I can do is hope that can regain custody of them before the taks of helping them recover gets too much harder.
I have had the unfortunate experience of being forced to realize that when you take the high road of not talking badly about an ex, you run the risk of them being the only one informing your friends about what happened.  I have realized that I have lost a couple of really close friends because I chose to keep my mouth shut rather than disillusion them regarding people they thought they knew well.  I suppose my attitude has to be that if they had really cared to know the truth, they would have worked until they got the information out of me.  Those that did know the other side of the story now, and are at least able to better discern what they want out of a future relationship with me.
Anyway, some of the best news is that after 17 years of dancing around the bush, a long time love of mine and I are finally truly united.  We will be married as soon as it is legal, and I hope that those who love us will rejoice with us at our union.  I struggled with the decision to join myself to anyone again, but this joining is one that I am walking into with eyes wide open, having experienced friendship and love both with this man, and being able to really trust for the first time in a long time that any hurts will be unintentional.
So, that is what is going on in the world of SaraSometimes...hopefully I will make the length of time between posts a lot shorter next time.
Love, Sara

The Chosen Chain

Many souls along my journey have thought to chain me, and for a long time I allowed it to happen.

I chose first iron shackles which hampered my movement and activity for far too long before I shattered them at last and stretched my arms for the first time since my youth.

Then I chose a tar-soaked rope around my neck, keeping me from moving my head and my thought in any direction except the one allowed by the handler, until I chose to rip the rope from my neck and toss my head in anger and frustration.

But I cannot deny that I desire a chain, a tether, a fetter to keep me in this world and attached to it in such a way that I can be pulled back from the dangerous cliffs that I am drawn toward.

So I choose a chain of my own making, golden and delicate with large adjustable links, and I ask you to hold the end not attached. I wrap it around my heart in the hopes that it will contain the explosion of joy that looking into your eyes and seeing love causes, and that it will harness us together so that the energy our joy and respect and love creates can be turned toward bettering the world around us.

Friends

I just wanted to post and say that I am possibly the luckiest chickadee in the world. I probably have the greatest most supportive set of friends in the world.

They have gotten into the habit of picking up the pieces when I fly apart (which I do far too often for my taste) and of dropping ice water on my rage when it starts to go a little too far.

The thing is, none of these people knows how special they really are. There is the quiet lioness in the other room who simply swats my objections to being taken care of out of the way, the little lemur who snuck her way into my heart and my head without even trying, the newfound friendly little furball of indeterminate origin who has some teeth on her. Then the male friends...the puppy with really big eyes who can't see what the world has to offer, the wolf still licking his wounds but determined to step back out into the sunlight and face the world, and probably most insistently shoving his nose into my hand and demanding to be petted is the big brown bear.

So, for being here even when I wasn't sure I wanted you to be, for telling me like it is (or in tonight's case, isn't) and shoving me out onto the stage that is this world and making me remember that I am a star performer, thank you, my friends.

Sara, 39 and counting

Faith, the lack thereof, and Searching....

Hey all, Roni again.

Writing today on the subject of faith. When you have so many different people in one place, it is impossible for just one faith to be explored.

We, as a system, spent a long time searching. It didn't take long to come to an agreement about some of the things we know we DON'T want. Satan worship, demonology, necromancy, any religion or spiritual path that takes it upon themselves to declare any group of people unworthy of life.

That was the easy part.

The harder part was when we realized that what we have in common are the things that most of the positive western religions at least pay lip service to...there are certain things that are just wrong.

So what we have wound up doing is finding our own balance. I won't declare for anyone but myself, but for me, I have decided that as long as I hold to the tenets I DO believe in, then I am probably okay. For me, the whole "And It Harm None, do what thou wilt" makes perfect sense, as does the golden rule. Not killing anyone just makes moral and legal sense.

But all of those things bring up other questions. If I am not supposed to harm anyone, is it still okay to protect myself? If I treat others the way I want to be treated and they turn around and still trample on me, what then? If I forgive someone 77 times and they still do it, what, then, is my responsibility? And what if I accidentally turn some bad juju out into the world? Does that, too come back to me three fold?

Anyway, what I have figured out is that even once you have declared, you don't stop searching. There are always more questions to try to find for yourself.

So, weigh in here people. How goes your searching? And if you have truly found what you were looking for, then how did you know you had found the answer? Comment. Discuss. Run screaming from the room.

Good Day and may the God/s/dess of your heart lead you to truth and peace.

Roni (who feels very old today)