Nothing to see here...

I'm finally managing to catch up on my sleep. It's got sunny and I've been napping on and off since about noon. It's wonderful stuff, this 'sleep'.

So here's a question. What is it about penetrative sex/intercourse that is so damn relaxing? If I weren't so relaxed I'd wander off and do research on it but I'm not in the mood to now. Y'know, last three weeks I've been edge-of-my-seat energetic, insomniac, whichever, and I don't think that the cessation of that and my couple of rounds with the Juggler last night are completely coincidental.

Something about a 'sleep' button on my cervix?

Okay, enough silliness. Well, not enough silliness but we'll down it a notch to get through a Record of Events.

I've been playing in the garden again, working the big bed into two parts. Got a while bunch of seeds last night at the hardware store with the Juggler (wandering for over an hour in the hardware store was entertaining. Every minute that passed made me want to put more things in the cart) and while most of them are the Juggler's (sunflowers, marigolds, peas(??) and such) I've picked up some chinese stir-fry greens and some yellow alyssum. The former is purely for myself to abuse any extra garden space they've got left, the latter is for a groundcover under the purple roses.

Hmm. Mind seems to keep drifting back to sex. Might as well let it run for awhile.

So yesterday the Juggler went back to work. At the same time in the morning the Exotic sent me a mail saying that it really truly was okay to start fucking with the Juggler.

I had one of those nice semi-productive days where you don't really do anything in particular until the Juggler got home and we all four went out to pick up some pots for the mint and to see the Juggler's game that got released and is splashed all over ten million stores. There was definitely some interesting stuff going on at that point. I definitely have some sort of fame/achievement thing in me... I really liked trailing him around through the store that was selling his game and ended up grinning like an idiot the whole time. It's funny to be a groupie when I don't actually play video games, but there you go.

So after about ten minutes I was starting to eye semi-private nooks meaningfully, and I stayed in that state all through the hardware store and whatever the rest of the trip out was. I think my enthusiasm might have been catching given what happened when we came home... but no more details here, I suppose. Suffice it to say that I've picked up a fondness for prawn vindaloo and a smug sort of serenity.

Um, hm. So aside from that I've been talking with the Exotic lately and things have been getting better. I think that without the heavy expectations on stuff, with the way things are pretty much on hold right now, I'm a lot more comfortable. There's a lot to develop there, I guess.

I need to do some research on types of blueberries that do well in our area and stick a couple in the back of the garden with some clematis. Blueberries, whee!

And, I need to coerce one of The Resident Couple to speak to the landlady about removing the big ugly shrubs that are devouring a ton of space in the front of the house so I can start on the front garden. That's after we get the side garden amended and planted, of course, but things seem to be going quickly in that department.

I'm finally spending just a smidge of time back on otherspace again. I've got yet another character idea in mind and I'm starting to think about her seriously enough to create the character object. I have some building and such to do over there that I've been putting off but I do want to get into roleplay again first. Somehow I think she'll be able to juggle, and more than that have a bunch of hobbies. Why do I always immortilize my lovers in my characters? ;)

Ahwell. I'm sure I've forgotten a ton of things but they can wait. Of to wander the garden before it gets too cold.

Homecoming

Homecoming is an interesting word. It's loaded with so, so many associations for me that the sound of it, the meaning of it, the headfeel of it, those are almost all completely opaque. It's like a big hit of significance without the signified concept.

I'm in a rambly sort of mood so let's see where something of an interrupted free-write takes me.

I came home to Abraham Darby right out the sliding doors with the most amazingly glorious poof of blooms ever. I think he misses me, trying to entice me back and trying to entice me to stay with all that lavish display. It almost smacks of desperation somehow, the neglected child standing up to say 'look at me!' as loudly as possible when he guns himself down in the halls of the school. Am I projecting?

Loneliness is obviously not something that's new to me and I'm wondering which parts of me might spring from some sort of need to be different and thus be noticed. The gardening at least I know is a part of me, it's a thing I do to me and for me, and when I think about it I really am very bad at doing things for other people only because I do them for other people. That's why my relationship with the Exotic has got so weird lately -- I feel I'm being presumed upon to do things simply for another person, not for a shared relationship or an increase in beauty or happiness but just because someone says they want it.

(The SO interrupts)

And now I'm thinking two things at once because his interruption spurred some worry and some thought on just how permanent this weekends-over-there thing is. I like things solidified, permanent -- I spend so much time with something or another shifting that I tend to try and harden things as quickly as I can to cut down on the number of uncertainties. Alas, tis so early...

And also I'm thinking of how I felt driving away and looking back and there was the Juggler sitting there, watching me and watching his newly planted vegetable garden. There are some things that are perfect in and of themselves and then there are some things that, when their setting is applied around them, just click into a sense of completeness, wholeness, of belonging. I don't know that any of this happened then, but it does make me think about it. I wonder if what I felt wasn't a half-measure of future deja-vu, of thinking that this will happen again and again, driving away like that with him waving...

The thing about having a lot of things in your life is that you're always leaving some of them for others, always juggling them and there's the ball leaving your hand while another impacts it. Leaving, passage, change; all these are necessary to be able to have more and yet sometimes I can't help thinking that change and leaving, loss, are inherently wrong. Even impermanently who would ever want to leave something good? And yet I'm coming to accept this, I know that I will come in time to the ability to glide gracefully between people's lives, my own and shared with others, to slip between them like a dancer or a minnow from one current to the other.

That is life, somehow: an increasing sense of grace and surety under whatever it can throw at you. I will never impress my bamboo with the aching flow of my transitions as it can impress me by the arch it makes silhouetted against the sky when the car pulls into the parkinglot and I first see it after the weekend. I wonder if that's not why it's so important to me in the end, something that is never impressed or awed but simply needs, simply, predictably, something that responds to set cues but does not respond to over and above with some sort of spiritual awe.

I am nothing to be placed on a pedestal, I am nothing to be held up as if I am a polished finished object. The clay is wet, the fingerprints still strong.

And now the SO has gone to work and I am alone with my plants and my own thoughts, with the parts of my life that are only myself and no one else's. Even if I wanted to give these parts of me away to some kind of commitment where they could be removed I could not. I have an identity now, a self which demands, commitment, which demands care, and I haven't the will right now or the desire to change that.

And so I wonder to myself, what is care? How do I care for myself? How do I walk gentle where need be and pound strength in where that may be necessary as well?

I am a sun-brown husk burnt dry and ready to be blown away. So much time in the garden and my hair is lighter in colour than it has been in years. I am a walnut without a meat, a husk that might blow away in the wind were it not so tough and shriveled. This is not loss. This is distillation to the essence. Loss of extraneous complications, perhaps?

It takes me many times to say goodbye, goodnight, on the phone before I end up going. This, then, is my first good night. It's a well-wish, you see, the way I part- unvoiced it's a request, spoken it's an imperative. Have a good night, you. Velvet darkness sing through your senses when the bed rushes up under you to take your weight and leave you floating, that's a well-wish. Joy and companionship, that too. Have joy and companionship. Have velvet darkness. Have a good night.

Love to you.

One More Thing...

Note to self: put perogies in The Other House's freezer so I can eat more often there.

Note to others: www.missionfolkmusicfestival.ca . My yearly spiritual event.