If I leave for eight months, will I come back reborn in the ninth? I'd imagine I'll be new in some ways, older in others. My Russian will be flawless again though. And, I'll be fitter. I think, too, that upon my return, I would no longer tolerate abuse or disrespect of any kind. A very good thing....
Regardless of how many degrees I have or how how many books I write or edit, or even the number of celebrities I've worked with, I'm still a woman. It's not just that certain people see me as dispensable--or, highly replaceable. No, it is also me. Or rather, my oxytocin. The bonding chemical. Female brains have it in abundance. In very general terms, we lack emotional containment as a result. That doesn't mean we can't hold our emotions, by the way--it just means that we can't box them up and put them away on some random mental shelf.
No one can connect the dots quite as well as a woman can. It's what makes us rather good at target practice, and ironically, helps to bolster family ties, too. We're also terribly resourceful. That translates to talented diagnosticians and excellent strategists. Which all contributes to women's overall longevity. We usually outlive the average man by a good decade. Dealing with our emotions as they come is at least part of why. Men don't have that option, inside, or out...speaking of which:
If I leave, will love wait for me? I'll come home in late spring. Apropos of something, I'm sure. I just don't know what yet....
Will I get better at chess...if I go? Will I write every day? Maybe a new book? Perhaps two??? Or, will it be more like 10? And, what new poems will my soul have spoken into the Universe? What new songs will peer out of the watery edges of mine eye?
When I come back, will there be someone special waiting for me? Someone who can hand me a tissue should emotions leak a watery trail down my cheek? Or, will I be doing what I do now--keeping a few in my bra, just in case.
Vodka will have replaced my fondness for Irish whiskey upon my return. Childhood visions of sitting around a big table with bearded men laughing heartily as a bottle of Smirnoff slowly empties runs like a movie on a reel. Though today, Anestasia Vodka is my preference. My talented friend, Yulia, created it...like me, she has Russian blood. Our families settled in Ukraine at some point, but mine always spoke Russian, as well as a few other languages. A new niece married into my family this year; she is also Russian. We find each other--orphans of the motherland. Even those of us whose DNA represents the world.
Yulia and I met when I drove to her art studio near New York City to pick up one of her paintings. I saw the Ural Mountains in in her work, and the Malachite that can be found there. Across time and space, and hundreds of miles, our common ancestry connected us. Oh yes, Mother Russia is alive in my heart, and apparently, my soul, too. Her snowy days and nights reminding me of other lives under different names, but always with the same face.The thought of going "home" is a happy one.
Funny how well I can imagine (and relate to) cold conditions and deep isolation, but something like winning the lottery??? Terrifying.
Besides the obvious financial freedom and independence, money doesn't change the silence that hangs in the air as you await a lover's call. If you have money, you can't tell anyone--not really. You'll be hated, envied. People's jealousies would manifest in a myriad of ways. Every friend you know with even a modicum of debt would be knocking on your door. And, forget about ever finding true love again. Once you have public wealth, you'll never be loved for any other reason--even the best people will see you as a means to an end.
Wealth isn't the only thing people use against you though...talent is also taken, and, taken for granted. Meanwhile, no matter how rich and/or talented, you're still a human being (even if also a god). We all deserve love. We all deserve to have someone who will think of us each morning and smile. We deserve orange roses, too...simply for existing. I just bought myself three arrangements. Why? No, no...why is never the right question. Better to ask, "Why not?"
Nature is something I'd miss for those 7 months and 31 days. Where I'm going, life (and how it's maintained) is relatively artificial. I wouldn't just miss the feeling of the sun on my skin, I'd miss listening to the wind use the leaves on the trees as its voice to tell me secrets. I'd miss protecting a caterpillar as it painstakingly crosses the gravel path. I'd miss watching honey bees collect pollen from a flower. Or, seeing a bird take an interest in me and half-hop, half-fly from branch to branch as my soul softly sings it a rhythmic song. I'd miss hearing a dragonfly buzz over my head. And, likening the sound from a flock of birds' wings to that of an angel landing next to me. I'd miss seeing a golden eagle emerge from the field. Or watching a wolf pad up the deer path while I stand upwind. Butterflies, beetles, spiders, bats, snakes, and yes...the stars in the night sky. I'd miss it all. Very much.
I'd miss a few people, too. Of the souls who awaken mine--one in particular comes to mind. Maybe I come to his, too. Will I become but a memory on one of his mental shelves if I go? That black lace number I bought (and wore) just for him, swept into some dusty corner of his mind??? Will the feeling of being inside me be lost over time? Will the colors of my eyes blur into brown and not the shades of forest green and gold that reflect the meadow and the trees I know and love so well?
Adversity is my milk-and-honey...maybe one day in the not-so-distant future, love will be, too. Haters always underestimate the fact that energy is just energy, so may be used any way I wish. Whatever energy is spent on me evolves into fuel for a cosmic springboard that launches me ever-further toward universal success.
We should never reward negative behaviors, but we can always embrace silver linings!
If I leave, I hope he stays. And, I hope Nature doesn't change her face too much. I hope mine doesn't change too much either....
Life doesn't sit still. It doesn't wait around for people to do something, or not do something. It keeps moving forward.
So will I.
#TheReturn
Regardless of how many degrees I have or how how many books I write or edit, or even the number of celebrities I've worked with, I'm still a woman. It's not just that certain people see me as dispensable--or, highly replaceable. No, it is also me. Or rather, my oxytocin. The bonding chemical. Female brains have it in abundance. In very general terms, we lack emotional containment as a result. That doesn't mean we can't hold our emotions, by the way--it just means that we can't box them up and put them away on some random mental shelf.
No one can connect the dots quite as well as a woman can. It's what makes us rather good at target practice, and ironically, helps to bolster family ties, too. We're also terribly resourceful. That translates to talented diagnosticians and excellent strategists. Which all contributes to women's overall longevity. We usually outlive the average man by a good decade. Dealing with our emotions as they come is at least part of why. Men don't have that option, inside, or out...speaking of which:
If I leave, will love wait for me? I'll come home in late spring. Apropos of something, I'm sure. I just don't know what yet....
Will I get better at chess...if I go? Will I write every day? Maybe a new book? Perhaps two??? Or, will it be more like 10? And, what new poems will my soul have spoken into the Universe? What new songs will peer out of the watery edges of mine eye?
When I come back, will there be someone special waiting for me? Someone who can hand me a tissue should emotions leak a watery trail down my cheek? Or, will I be doing what I do now--keeping a few in my bra, just in case.
Vodka will have replaced my fondness for Irish whiskey upon my return. Childhood visions of sitting around a big table with bearded men laughing heartily as a bottle of Smirnoff slowly empties runs like a movie on a reel. Though today, Anestasia Vodka is my preference. My talented friend, Yulia, created it...like me, she has Russian blood. Our families settled in Ukraine at some point, but mine always spoke Russian, as well as a few other languages. A new niece married into my family this year; she is also Russian. We find each other--orphans of the motherland. Even those of us whose DNA represents the world.
Yulia and I met when I drove to her art studio near New York City to pick up one of her paintings. I saw the Ural Mountains in in her work, and the Malachite that can be found there. Across time and space, and hundreds of miles, our common ancestry connected us. Oh yes, Mother Russia is alive in my heart, and apparently, my soul, too. Her snowy days and nights reminding me of other lives under different names, but always with the same face.The thought of going "home" is a happy one.
Funny how well I can imagine (and relate to) cold conditions and deep isolation, but something like winning the lottery??? Terrifying.
Besides the obvious financial freedom and independence, money doesn't change the silence that hangs in the air as you await a lover's call. If you have money, you can't tell anyone--not really. You'll be hated, envied. People's jealousies would manifest in a myriad of ways. Every friend you know with even a modicum of debt would be knocking on your door. And, forget about ever finding true love again. Once you have public wealth, you'll never be loved for any other reason--even the best people will see you as a means to an end.
Wealth isn't the only thing people use against you though...talent is also taken, and, taken for granted. Meanwhile, no matter how rich and/or talented, you're still a human being (even if also a god). We all deserve love. We all deserve to have someone who will think of us each morning and smile. We deserve orange roses, too...simply for existing. I just bought myself three arrangements. Why? No, no...why is never the right question. Better to ask, "Why not?"
Nature is something I'd miss for those 7 months and 31 days. Where I'm going, life (and how it's maintained) is relatively artificial. I wouldn't just miss the feeling of the sun on my skin, I'd miss listening to the wind use the leaves on the trees as its voice to tell me secrets. I'd miss protecting a caterpillar as it painstakingly crosses the gravel path. I'd miss watching honey bees collect pollen from a flower. Or, seeing a bird take an interest in me and half-hop, half-fly from branch to branch as my soul softly sings it a rhythmic song. I'd miss hearing a dragonfly buzz over my head. And, likening the sound from a flock of birds' wings to that of an angel landing next to me. I'd miss seeing a golden eagle emerge from the field. Or watching a wolf pad up the deer path while I stand upwind. Butterflies, beetles, spiders, bats, snakes, and yes...the stars in the night sky. I'd miss it all. Very much.
I'd miss a few people, too. Of the souls who awaken mine--one in particular comes to mind. Maybe I come to his, too. Will I become but a memory on one of his mental shelves if I go? That black lace number I bought (and wore) just for him, swept into some dusty corner of his mind??? Will the feeling of being inside me be lost over time? Will the colors of my eyes blur into brown and not the shades of forest green and gold that reflect the meadow and the trees I know and love so well?
Adversity is my milk-and-honey...maybe one day in the not-so-distant future, love will be, too. Haters always underestimate the fact that energy is just energy, so may be used any way I wish. Whatever energy is spent on me evolves into fuel for a cosmic springboard that launches me ever-further toward universal success.
We should never reward negative behaviors, but we can always embrace silver linings!
If I leave, I hope he stays. And, I hope Nature doesn't change her face too much. I hope mine doesn't change too much either....
Life doesn't sit still. It doesn't wait around for people to do something, or not do something. It keeps moving forward.
So will I.
#TheReturn
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