Monday, December 6, 2010

swallowing swords


I came to Paris to heal.  I recently lost my heart to someone I fell madly, deeply for.  I hadn't opened my heart to anyone since my previous boyfriend, which ended last winter.  And as if some psychic sense had come over me, I thought this person was "the one".  It's strange I let my heart run me in such directions that I get lost.   Physically, I'm an excellent driver, metaphorically I'm Mr. Magoo.  (of which Wikipedia quotes he "gets into a series of sticky situations as a result of his nearsightedness, compounded by his stubborn refusal to admit the problem.")  Yes, that's how I've been driving my heart.

So by confronting my pained heart, admitting how I arrived at such unrest, and being willing to adapt to new ways of handling SUCH emotion, (because I cannot suppress it), I remain open to change.  I took a hard fall here, and I do feel bruised.  If I don't want my emotions to rule my life and I desire to gain more control of my well-being, I must change my patterns.  Easier said than done.

Let's look at it without detail.  I was not attracted to him at first sight.  This is common for me.  On our second meeting, I warmed up, and in subsequent days everything seemed even.  As I met him in California on a 2 week stay at Esalen Institute, my return back to NY felt normal and I was completely in control of my heart.  Then suddenly something happened.  I missed him.  I found myself standing in the dark of my kitchen at late night thinking of him.  And I said "oh no".  I made the decision to see him again to see if this is a person I should know better.  I had to get myself back to Easlen, not because of the magic of the grounds or its sacredness, but because of the magic and sacredness I saw in this person.  I'll always remember our time.  It was beautiful, a landing, a safe place to fall, to fail, to bare, to give myself to, and meet myself in others all day long.  I saw truth.

But what I saw was not lasting truth.  It was momentary truth.  All that he told me and all we experienced was simply what he was feeling at that moment.  That is not who he is, it was simply who he represented himself to be in that moment.  I came along at a key time when he was finishing up his 4 or 5 month stint at Esalen- that alone should have raised a flag, the flag of recognizing he is a lost soul (and we all are lost to some extent) to place himself in purgatory for 5 months.  Esalen is not real.  It is a pocket of paradise that can turn your life to hell if you believe it to be real.  It is just so damn beautiful- there is no other place on earth like it.  But you can't stay forever- you just can't.  And perhaps the longer he spent there, the more detached from reality he'd become.  Or detached from responsibility.

In any case, after this delicious 2nd week with him, my return to NY was nothing like the first time- there was "no communication, no love".  He went to Sweden with an ex on a platonic venture and that's where he stopped communicating with me altogether.  I was crushed.  He literally fell off the map for 10 days.  My range of emotions was astounding.  Just re-telling this story from a month ago is making me ill.  So I stop here and continue to look at this objectively- later.  I did gain insight and it warrants bringing up the past- but in the future....

Synopsis: I give too much of myself away to others.

                                          white skies from the kitchen window

Since we are on sore subjects, and my dear friend Faridj brought over fois gras the other night, I wanted to share a 2 minute video on how fois gras is made.  I know you know, but do you really know?  It is not only torture but a diseased liver, from a diseased body, after all.  I haven't eaten fois gras since I ate it with "the lord" in Toulouse in 1999 and I vow to never eat it again.


But at least I'll part with some sweet photos of the past days...

                                the yummiest strangest cauliflower


  1. I can hear your voice through your writing, a pleasure so many others are robbed of. Excellent writing, and wonderful sharing of yourself. I'm not sure if you give too much of yourself, or just give it to the wrong people. After all: "Don't cast your pearls before swine."


  2. Thank you, Franc. I appreciate your quote, which I never heard before- and it is so true to never waste your pearls on those who are incapable of appreciating. "Lest they trample them under their feet...", as the quote/passage continues, is exactly what to avoid: being trampled.


Comments and feedback are always welcome.