my love may be invisible
[readings]
It has been an odd week, where so many paths converged. They're imaginary paths, tangible paths, paths planned and dreamt. They have been swirling in my head, pushing at the edges of my thoughts, revealing old paths etched in dreams and vividly reanimating faint memories buried in sleep. I can taste them, touch them, and some make me cry while I sleep.
I've been on vacation since Thanksgiving. Coach(e)girl and 7-11 from work came over last weekend for pre-Thanksgiving dinner with Y, K-chan and I. For many months, I've been jokingly prodding 7-11 to take Coach(e)girl out to dinner, and then suddenly, without anyone knowing, they are together. At work, I never see them any more close than they are with me or other colleagues. But that evening, seeing them together on our couch, I saw two futures come together, maybe not forever, but together happily and it made me smile, touching off a week of oddness.
-s- is back, threateningly for a short time, to attend to family. (see past post here and here, about -s- who stole my heart for just one small, temporary moment.) He is so exuberant, just as I remembered him 3 years ago, but looks better, a bit of that sadness has faded from his eyes.
We had coffee at Moonbean and he talked about his friends in remote countries, meeting his friends in Cairo, London, Seoul, Nepal, Kyrgyzstan, and many more... There was a story about bundles of new crisp $50 bills, sequentially numbered, stuffed down his underwear, bribes to a 12 year old looking border guard with a giant Russian fur hat and machine gun bigger than him, a gay bar in some remote part of Asia where patrons danced with themselves in the mirrors that lined the walls. “Gay men are narcissists everywhere,” he says.
He is still running and will leave again and I am reminded how much I wish it were I who could run, fly across the ocean, across mountains, chasing a dream, running away from phantoms. It seems like my spirit has been asleep these years since I last saw -s-.
Last Tuesday, I had my Tarot cards read or attempted to be read by a new found friend, Phael. I had them read before years ago, but avoided Tarot cards for many years after, for fear of knowing too much, for fear of asking for too much from spirits that wanted something in return. He made me ask him for a reading, he never reads without being specifically asked. I read his palm and in return I asked for my cards read.
I don't normally like people asking me to read their palms. Once people know, inevitably, it spreads, and people ask to have their palms read. When I offer, it's because there is something I want to know about their lives, something about them that strikes my curiosity, and if I can share something with them I would. (Or he is incredibly hot, and I want to touch his hands.) I don't know if Tarot cards evoke the same response.
As the cards were revealed, I felt them telling me something, almost like mad images screaming to me from the table. Phael said he felt these cards were not meant for him to read, and a part of me realized that, half way through. I don't really believe enough of this stuff, my rational side explaining away the symbols, the story wove together to tell of a future, unrealized. And yet these stories seem so true, that I awoke the next morning with an epiphany that helped me piece together the images, the symbols, to bring some meaning to me, about myself that I had consciously ignored. Perhaps the cards were for me to read.
It's all intertwined, my love, my spirit, my writing, my future, and I saw that I have to disentangle these separate things, in order to move forward and to let go. There are other things, other paths, other happenings, I've not mentioned here. I am not who I was, and now, I feel that I can become me again. This week all these things converged, my senses afire, I am not sure which paths to take, but I do wish that now my spirit awakes again from the deep slumber where I left it.
-s- will fly again and I want to follow him. But it could mean to chase phantoms and run away from dreams.
When he smiles, I will remember him telling me about leaving New Zealand and watching the mountains recede in the rear window of the car. He never looks back, always running forward, but that day he cried at the beauty, the ethereal serenity he was leaving behind.
It has been an odd week, where so many paths converged. They're imaginary paths, tangible paths, paths planned and dreamt. They have been swirling in my head, pushing at the edges of my thoughts, revealing old paths etched in dreams and vividly reanimating faint memories buried in sleep. I can taste them, touch them, and some make me cry while I sleep.
I've been on vacation since Thanksgiving. Coach(e)girl and 7-11 from work came over last weekend for pre-Thanksgiving dinner with Y, K-chan and I. For many months, I've been jokingly prodding 7-11 to take Coach(e)girl out to dinner, and then suddenly, without anyone knowing, they are together. At work, I never see them any more close than they are with me or other colleagues. But that evening, seeing them together on our couch, I saw two futures come together, maybe not forever, but together happily and it made me smile, touching off a week of oddness.
-s- is back, threateningly for a short time, to attend to family. (see past post here and here, about -s- who stole my heart for just one small, temporary moment.) He is so exuberant, just as I remembered him 3 years ago, but looks better, a bit of that sadness has faded from his eyes.
We had coffee at Moonbean and he talked about his friends in remote countries, meeting his friends in Cairo, London, Seoul, Nepal, Kyrgyzstan, and many more... There was a story about bundles of new crisp $50 bills, sequentially numbered, stuffed down his underwear, bribes to a 12 year old looking border guard with a giant Russian fur hat and machine gun bigger than him, a gay bar in some remote part of Asia where patrons danced with themselves in the mirrors that lined the walls. “Gay men are narcissists everywhere,” he says.
He is still running and will leave again and I am reminded how much I wish it were I who could run, fly across the ocean, across mountains, chasing a dream, running away from phantoms. It seems like my spirit has been asleep these years since I last saw -s-.
Last Tuesday, I had my Tarot cards read or attempted to be read by a new found friend, Phael. I had them read before years ago, but avoided Tarot cards for many years after, for fear of knowing too much, for fear of asking for too much from spirits that wanted something in return. He made me ask him for a reading, he never reads without being specifically asked. I read his palm and in return I asked for my cards read.
I don't normally like people asking me to read their palms. Once people know, inevitably, it spreads, and people ask to have their palms read. When I offer, it's because there is something I want to know about their lives, something about them that strikes my curiosity, and if I can share something with them I would. (Or he is incredibly hot, and I want to touch his hands.) I don't know if Tarot cards evoke the same response.
As the cards were revealed, I felt them telling me something, almost like mad images screaming to me from the table. Phael said he felt these cards were not meant for him to read, and a part of me realized that, half way through. I don't really believe enough of this stuff, my rational side explaining away the symbols, the story wove together to tell of a future, unrealized. And yet these stories seem so true, that I awoke the next morning with an epiphany that helped me piece together the images, the symbols, to bring some meaning to me, about myself that I had consciously ignored. Perhaps the cards were for me to read.
It's all intertwined, my love, my spirit, my writing, my future, and I saw that I have to disentangle these separate things, in order to move forward and to let go. There are other things, other paths, other happenings, I've not mentioned here. I am not who I was, and now, I feel that I can become me again. This week all these things converged, my senses afire, I am not sure which paths to take, but I do wish that now my spirit awakes again from the deep slumber where I left it.
-s- will fly again and I want to follow him. But it could mean to chase phantoms and run away from dreams.
When he smiles, I will remember him telling me about leaving New Zealand and watching the mountains recede in the rear window of the car. He never looks back, always running forward, but that day he cried at the beauty, the ethereal serenity he was leaving behind.
posted by joe at 10:45 PM
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