ramblin.

Love ebbs and flows like the tides like the moon.

waxing and waning. lit brightly by the sun in alignment with earth.. then hidden in shadows by the same sun’s synchronized, yet opposing, juxtaposition.

i lean in. i do not want to be caught off-guard, although i frequently am. by the pulls + pushes of things higher and mightier than Me.

i cherish the unpredictability that terrifies me so.

Adventure is my dear Friend.

i strum the strings of my new pink ukulele gifted to be by the Manchild for Christmas as i sit by the sea. my gull friend, excited for a front row seat to soundcheck. i am pulled back into my favorite tune i was learning on the last ukulele i played. a ukulele that i was trying desperately to Love.. but i just couldn’t. that ukulele has been gone now for long enough. i do not even wonder about it anymore.

also. did i mention that the new ukulele is p i n k ?!!

the sea brings new depths and heights to my brainwaves. i think of all of the things that bring me Hope and pain. i remember old things. i get excited about new things. the waves delivering brilliantly effervescent dreams that i linger in for as long as i can stay. i would like to think that the sea brings out the very best in me. here at Home in the sun and sand.

yet there is Life back there where the family and the house and the job all live. and maybe even a Man i think i may be able to Love. may even be Loved by.

i’ve spent too much time wondering if i could ever Love or be Loved the likes of Bill Sr. and Suzy— Jack and Trudy— Bill and Ruth. i come from a powerful lineage of Lovers. and i have feared for many years that i, somehow, carry the curse that will break the generational continuance of Eros. i still fear.

but i believe The Best far more than i fear the worst.

or else i’ll die. i’ll shrivel up into a horribly cruel, bitter sack of epidermis and sludge and let the pain of Adventure destroy me.

there has been a shift in the cosmos. i can feel it in the deepest, truest parts of My Be. like all of the years of planting Hope seeds and Love seeds and Kindness seeds and Generous seeds and Beauty seeds and Truth seeds— all of the years of watering my Heart seeds with tears of desperation and conviction and surrender— like all of years of Soul gardening are finally beginning to produce little tiny sprouts of Amazingness in the physical world around me.

i propose inwardly to the child in me, who craves validation and affirmation: perhaps i am not too dirty for The Promise after all. not too far gone a prodigal. not too good at sinning and enjoying it. perhaps there is more to the story than meets the i.

“i wish you were here.” — my Heart whispers over + over + over to the Man who has invaded my mind. but he is not here. nor am i certain that he wants to be. although i wish.. i Hope.. he does.

but my! how staggering— how exciting— how terrifying— how mystifying!— that i am even having such thoughts about any one Man. when i thought, for sure, such things had died when i packed up that old ukulele and dropped it off on a doorstep.

like nothing had ever meant anything nor ever would.

ramble on.

i may have found the King of all my dreams.

Love you. mean it.