Journal 20th Sept

20th Sept

I find I'm pondering should I email my new buddy or not? Should I send the book I said I would or should I not? Do I need another foray into big weekend connections that fizzle out when normal life takes over again? I don't want to get burned again. That soul dissolving disappointment.
I'm swithering.
Instead of just being myself and doing what my instincts tell me, and just to do it. Not for anything in return.
Have I learned nothing about what love is? That it's something you do not get.

While I'm wasting time in little faith, my new buddy sends me an email. He's not afraid to break the ice. He's not waiting for me to make the first move. He's full of love and sweetness. He wants to connect, not self protect. He will never end his emails 'C'est la vie baby.'
Like green eyes did.

Although I know it was awkwardness and lack of thought that led him to do that, it hurt like hell.
And I know that's not all he said. He said I was special and open and honest, but he's in a long term relationship.
'C'est la vie baby.'

But that's all I fell to my knees over. C'est la fucking vie.
You don't have to tell me green eyes, I already know.
"Don't call me baby. The Bangles

New love buddy (LB).
No ego.
No fear.
Just a sweet connecting man.
At last.

He's so happy I'm his buddy. I'm equally pleased and reply immediately. Strange, it was only a few hours into the weekend when I stopped seeing him as gardener lookalike and really saw him instead. He's nothing like him really.

Though he has my mother's chin.

I go to 5 rhythms and I'm dancing on a sea of love and connection. I go mad in Staccato and spin like a top in Chaos, hitting myself in the teeth with my new Mayan chime heart.
Sometimes, life is a chaotic kick in the teeth.
C'est la vie baby.
But then there are still chimes.
And Stillness.
Blissed out.
The spirit in me and all around me, floating up to the ceiling, out the building, hovering over Exeter and Findhorn and Hackney, a warm embrace to all my lovely blue, brown and green-eyed boys.
Thank you.

Jingle jingle.

I tell my LB to expect a parcel. For his inner demons; The Fear Book, the one I read to help me speak to gardener - well it did help me stop shaking if nothing else. Plus a Roobarb and Custard video for his inner child.

Balance is everything.

I also suggest he dances, clothing optionally, around his living room using the lyrics 'na na na na' to the R&C theme tune.
Works for me.
Happiest them tune in the world, and is my mobile phone tone.
People of a certain age love it when my phone rings, they join in nodding their head from side to side, laughing.
The ring tone that builds bridges.
Roobarb and Custard.
Na na na na¦

LB is the sweetest man I've ever met and I see myself in him. We started our weekend shares by being truthful with each other. We'll carry on that way. I feel like I've known him for years and I can tell him anything.
And I do.
He's the first man I've ever told, in person, 'I love you' and meant it.
He tells me too.

Love.
What is it afterall?

It has action in it. It's something you do, not sit and wait for. It's seeing someone, not just how they look. It's being brave and reflecting back what you see with gentleness, kindness, joy and humility. It's being honest. It's being sensitive to their hurts and ancient wounds and asking would they like a hug, not invading them with your need to care. It's sitting in silence. It's laughing like children. It's not judging or confronting their faults and habits even if you do see them so clearly. It's realising you are recognising yourself in that human being and that God is here in this connection.
It's opening your heart, not your big mouth, but at the same time speaking your truth.
It's acceptance not judgement.
It's embracing and rich.
It's sweet and warm and nurturing.
It's exciting and stimulating.
It's full of laughter.
It's easy to cry.
It's as easy to stay as to walk away.
It will always be there.
It's calm and easy.
It's the opposite of fear.

It's beautiful.
It's here.

My German friend says "He's gay.
He isn't.

I asked him.
It was that kind of weekend.

She's such a cynic.