An interesting crossover with a Tai Chi workshop I went to today. Fear and softness are opposites. By being soft and 'listening', we start to understand what our 'partner/opponent' is expressing and then we can react appropriately. As the classics say... Yield and overcome.
Yield! Surrender! 100%! It saved my marriage. My husband finally softened and was actually able to HEAR me for once (damn Alaskan macho culture had made him so hard, talk about a disadvantage for him, really, not being able to truly connect...) Which is a long way of saying I totally agree with you.
I think it's fascinating that Valentine's day is named after a Christian martyr - a doctor or priest or both - maybe. But he's no longer on the official list of martyr's and there doesn't seem to be any definitive proof that he was one person or even a person, yet there's a story about him/them and his/their life. It's kind of like Brigid/St. Brigid - Irish patron saint (or patron goddess) of our most recent pagan holiday.
Since finding you on Substack I am so glad I have gone to the beginning and started reading your messages on life. Each one is amazing and gives a glimpse of who you are. Wonderful, with a dash of spicy, and a hint of strange :) Glad to have found you.
Summer: I never use another writer's Substack posts to promote my work in any way, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity to post my prose poem, "The Worst Love Poem Ever Written", which appears in my Collected Poems. It's a hyperbolic poem I wrote for my wife one Valentine's Day to make her laugh, and I'll take laughter-as-foreplay any day over the oh-so-serious Kama Sutra.
“The Worst Love Poem Ever Written”
I come to you like a coyote with one leg, wound tighter than Lady Gaga’s thong, while in the sky a hot-air balloon hisses: "The language of love is the language of love."
And if I say, “Meet me at the golf simulator on Deck 13,” don’t affect ignorance, though love is like that, as I, like a rubber-soled elephant trainer, weep to see the dinghy of your love disappear.
Where?
Behind that cloud, that wave.
An argument would help, or a blind date with oneself.
Dave, stop. Stop, will you? Will you stop, Dave? I’m afraid.
That movie was great and always makes me think of you, which raises the question: “Who sunk the male boat?”
Yes, I said that, in spite of the condom stuck to the floor like a deflated raft.
In spite of our labial exercises, mostly arriving during sleep, like a posse of reporters awaiting a drive-by beheading.
Bestir! my love-brain cools in the wine cellar of your tornadic frown.
I’m talking about Valentine’s Day when you gave me morning glories that overtook the house.
You said you had a craving for glassware, for ebony canes, and flat screen TVs, while the frigid lovebirds sang all day in falsetto.
In return, I gave you the square root of possibility and a noun which could save the world if only I knew how to pronounce it.
A word that would replace the one called Love.
Love: an old man with a broken wrist, his white beard glimmering in the moonlight.
This is the first thing I read this morning after waking up from a 12 hr rainy drive moving myself from L.A. to Utah. I ran with the beautiful, creative wolves there, and will run with a differently beautiful cousin wolf here. And bathe in love and admiration for variety every evening after. Thx for an excellent post!
Wow, that's exciting, Micalanne! I love that you found your pack in LA and are going to run with another wonderful one in Utah, your cousin! Much luck to you! And thank you! Xo
Being part of the kink community myself (I also write about it as part of my background in Gender Studies), I was really, REALLY disappointed in myself that I wasn't aware of the Lupercalia origins. I think the kinky folx tend to lean heavily into Halloween, mostly out of convenience; you can wear your leather/latex/etc. on Halloween with few repercussions.
Yeah, true love is a tough one. Feels like a lifetime ago, but reminds me of when my wife and I lived in / travelled around Spain with our two kids for a year, and - having run out of money - eventually had to sell our wedding rings to pay for the flights back to the UK.
Ha! Smiley face/sad face! Well, if you ask me, it was worth it! J/k, easy for me to say! No but really, I'd have done the same thing. That sounds like an amazing experience, I'm jelly. I hope you're writing about it...?
Sideways affirmation of your essay/song:
WHAT YOU FEED WILL GROW.
And...a James Baldwin quote:
"Love takes away the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
Beautiful. Thank you! ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
“Love is being in a play.” Yes, I did that .. many years ago. It was children’s theater. I played a magpie. It was delightful.
Awesome! 🐦
I'm changing my voicemail message to say that I'm busy running with the wolves and cannot come to the phone right now.
"If you pay your Squirrel Tax, the auditors will not visit you." - Squirrel Folklore
Bwahahahah me tooooo
summer, your "stack" is one of my favs. once or twice a week...i'll take what you offer.
if you ever venture to oregon, let me know! coffees on me.
Ah girl, THANK YOU! 💕
I second the Oregonian welcome! (Only switching out weed for caffeine!)
Haha! Ok now I REALLY need to go to Oregon!
An interesting crossover with a Tai Chi workshop I went to today. Fear and softness are opposites. By being soft and 'listening', we start to understand what our 'partner/opponent' is expressing and then we can react appropriately. As the classics say... Yield and overcome.
Yield! Surrender! 100%! It saved my marriage. My husband finally softened and was actually able to HEAR me for once (damn Alaskan macho culture had made him so hard, talk about a disadvantage for him, really, not being able to truly connect...) Which is a long way of saying I totally agree with you.
I think it's fascinating that Valentine's day is named after a Christian martyr - a doctor or priest or both - maybe. But he's no longer on the official list of martyr's and there doesn't seem to be any definitive proof that he was one person or even a person, yet there's a story about him/them and his/their life. It's kind of like Brigid/St. Brigid - Irish patron saint (or patron goddess) of our most recent pagan holiday.
PS I love your writing.
Thank you, Camille! Are you in Ireland?
No... I'm in Seattle 😁. But I have family there and my parents are/were Irish and Scottish. I'm a Celtic mutt.
Nice!
haha!
Dear Summer -- You have ALLLLLLLL the valid feelings! And I love YOU more, in all your multitudination, with every single column! WOOOOOOOOO!!!
Awww blushing! 😊 thank you 🙏 for realz 💗
Since finding you on Substack I am so glad I have gone to the beginning and started reading your messages on life. Each one is amazing and gives a glimpse of who you are. Wonderful, with a dash of spicy, and a hint of strange :) Glad to have found you.
Summer: I never use another writer's Substack posts to promote my work in any way, but I couldn't pass up this opportunity to post my prose poem, "The Worst Love Poem Ever Written", which appears in my Collected Poems. It's a hyperbolic poem I wrote for my wife one Valentine's Day to make her laugh, and I'll take laughter-as-foreplay any day over the oh-so-serious Kama Sutra.
“The Worst Love Poem Ever Written”
I come to you like a coyote with one leg, wound tighter than Lady Gaga’s thong, while in the sky a hot-air balloon hisses: "The language of love is the language of love."
And if I say, “Meet me at the golf simulator on Deck 13,” don’t affect ignorance, though love is like that, as I, like a rubber-soled elephant trainer, weep to see the dinghy of your love disappear.
Where?
Behind that cloud, that wave.
An argument would help, or a blind date with oneself.
Dave, stop. Stop, will you? Will you stop, Dave? I’m afraid.
That movie was great and always makes me think of you, which raises the question: “Who sunk the male boat?”
Yes, I said that, in spite of the condom stuck to the floor like a deflated raft.
In spite of our labial exercises, mostly arriving during sleep, like a posse of reporters awaiting a drive-by beheading.
Bestir! my love-brain cools in the wine cellar of your tornadic frown.
I’m talking about Valentine’s Day when you gave me morning glories that overtook the house.
You said you had a craving for glassware, for ebony canes, and flat screen TVs, while the frigid lovebirds sang all day in falsetto.
In return, I gave you the square root of possibility and a noun which could save the world if only I knew how to pronounce it.
A word that would replace the one called Love.
Love: an old man with a broken wrist, his white beard glimmering in the moonlight.
Oh, yeah.
This is amazing. Lucky wife!
This is the first thing I read this morning after waking up from a 12 hr rainy drive moving myself from L.A. to Utah. I ran with the beautiful, creative wolves there, and will run with a differently beautiful cousin wolf here. And bathe in love and admiration for variety every evening after. Thx for an excellent post!
Wow, that's exciting, Micalanne! I love that you found your pack in LA and are going to run with another wonderful one in Utah, your cousin! Much luck to you! And thank you! Xo
Being part of the kink community myself (I also write about it as part of my background in Gender Studies), I was really, REALLY disappointed in myself that I wasn't aware of the Lupercalia origins. I think the kinky folx tend to lean heavily into Halloween, mostly out of convenience; you can wear your leather/latex/etc. on Halloween with few repercussions.
I think it's time to take back this holiday! 🖤
Thanks for this great post!
Haha! I think we should, too! Romans had
So much more fun.
TIL all of this
Get better soon :)
Thank you, Charles!
You're welcome!
Yeah, true love is a tough one. Feels like a lifetime ago, but reminds me of when my wife and I lived in / travelled around Spain with our two kids for a year, and - having run out of money - eventually had to sell our wedding rings to pay for the flights back to the UK.
Ha! Smiley face/sad face! Well, if you ask me, it was worth it! J/k, easy for me to say! No but really, I'd have done the same thing. That sounds like an amazing experience, I'm jelly. I hope you're writing about it...?
You’re right - I should write about it! Crazy times. 🙃
Check out the Grandmother Anna books
Ok!