Six Short Words 8 April 2008

While too woo-woo (?) for official inspection, I spied these winning words on a resume today:

“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.” – Emily Dickinson

I’m a big fan of hope & calling a crumb a crumb so couldn’t resist its charms. In an ironic twist, I’m posting a poem rather than heading off to workshop my own stuff tonight. I feel called, instead, to mind my memoir again.

On this, the eve of my 4-year-cancer-diagnosis-day anniversary, I feel closer to knowing what I want to say. Here are six words I sent to SMITH to start me on my way:

“Here to wake up the world.”

For Reals 29 February 2008

Imagine my joy when a dear boy I know called late last night with a report. He’s been pining away for the “woman of his dreams” for years; lately he’d become bedraggled & beaten down by her suddenly-single status. Over analyzing his smooth moves, he was making himself sick in the process.

Sensing it might help, I sent him the Crumbs piece I penned & several coming clean tips from the true-feelings trade. I told him how I’d recently taken a similar bull by the horns myself & have never been better. Since hitting send, I’ve been struck with this overwhelming “Why didn’t I just say that in the first place?” free-at-last feeling. The peace I know now comes not from the reader’s response but from telling my own truth. Any outcome, while intriguing to ponder perhaps, has little, if anything, to do with it.

The lightness in G’s voice spoke volumes as he told me his tale. While his “it” girl might not return the feelings he expressed so openly to her, he said his heart had stopped racing for the first time in weeks. He was ready to lie down & cry. We agreed the grieving would not be easy but that the raw relief was a gift in itself. & one he’d given his heart simply by being so brave.

So, whatever happens in my own life, I know this: I’m on the right Pixie path.

Love on, G, & keep keeping it real.

“Honesty is hardly ever heard. And mostly what I need from you.” – Billy Joel

No Grumbling nor Crumbling 14 February 2008

While I remember today that my match is on his way, it’s really, really difficult not to think, too, about the one who always held my heart. But, he’s got his own Valentine in the city so I’ll be impeccable in my integrity over here. I’ll feel the glow I know so well from my memories & hold it as a strong, shiny example of what can be again. Knowing now, more than ever, I shall settle for nothing less.

In that spirit, I give you my own article on the subject:

A Woman Cannot Live on Crumbs Alone

“I like you but you’re not my dream man,” I said, smiling at the beautiful hot prospect next to me in a jumping little joint last Saturday night. I liked flirting with him and having his undivided, broad-chested attention. Talented, successful, (did I mention beautiful?), studly-smelling and well-mannered, this guy was a catch and a half. Just not mine and I knew it. Sure, we could have fun for an evening; maybe make it a few months but then what? Why not save us both some time and pass him along to someone who might just be his Mrs. Right?

I look at it like this: Bar-Man was a crumb, an incredibly tasty, tempting crumb. But, at this point in my life, I’m looking for a full-baked cake. My cake, to be exact. No, my clock’s not ticking so I’m in no rush for that reason. I just know I can’t have my hands free to catch a cake when clutching a crumb, even a really, really good one.

That said, who knows when my cake shall come, and a girl’s got short-term needs too. So, I don’t always walk away like I did last week. To deal with the crumbs until the cake arrives, here’s my recipe for success:

Dream Cake:

· Design your dream cake then cook up a clear vision of it in your mind. You want ten tiers of coconut cream, frosted in fuscia and powered with pink petunia petals? Then hold that picture in your mind, honey, and imagine how yummy it tastes.

· There’s a cake out there just for you. Just because someone else has found hers, doesn’t mean there’s a shortage of cakes or good cakes are hard to find. That jaded juju’s so not hot.

· If you’re feeling crumby, that’s ok too. Be honest with yourself, and any would-be-cake cravers, that you’re not all baked. Then get to work on being the best cake you can be. He’s looking for his dream cake too!

· As you make your way through life, keep your eye on your cake prize. What’s it taste like and feel like as it melts in your mouth? Repeat as necessary to keep clear about what you want. What you really, really want.

Crumb Rules of Thumb:

· Because a girl gets hungry along the way, it’s ok to sample the crumbs. Hell, enjoy the crumb for what it is: A tasty little morsel to tide you over until the cake comes. Then booty it up, baby! Lucky for us, there’s always plenty of takers for a girl’s goodies.

· One woman’s crumb is another one’s cake. If you know he’s not right for you, pass him along. Pay it forward and your friends shall too? Let us eat cake!

· Crumbs aren’t inherently bad. In fact, some are too tempting to pass up. Go ahead, sample away. Don’t hint, urge, wish, and “help” a crumb bake into a cake. It’s never worked and it won’t work now. Call a crumb a crumb and be honest with yourself if you want more. It’s just the way the crumb well, crumbles.

· Never, ever borrow someone else’s cake for your crumb. It’s bad manners and always ends with frosting all over your face.

· Be careful of crumbs in cake clothing. Some crumbs really do want to be cakes, maybe even your cake–but if they can’t, they can’t. There’s plenty of cakes in the sea!

· Unlike me, you need not announce that someone’s not your dream cake and in fact, I’d recommend not. It’s kinder to their ego and you’ll remain more of a mystery if you don’t reveal your ways.

Celebrate Good Cake, Come On!:

· Since you mastered the art of catching and releasing crumbs, you’ve finally taken the cake! Congrats, my dear, on landing the one that didn’t get away. (This does not insure that said cake will never act crumby, just so you know. But that’s a separate article to be authored by someone with cake.)

· Go on, celebrate your cake when it comes. You deserve it after all that dating! But don’t get too smug about your success. After all, your friends may still be sifting crumbs.

So until my cake comes along, that’s my plan. Sure, I’ve thought about that manly chest back at the bar once or twice but I know he’ll give another girl her happily ever-after. Me, I’m gonna hold out for my close encounter of the cake kind.

 

Hope you had a fab, love-filled day come your way!

Your sexpert, the Urban Pixie

Messenger Man 20 December 2007

This week, I stand in awe of our Universe. Several sliding doors & trains-not-taken brought me a magical message that moved me miles ahead. Removing some mystery from my history, this communique came to me in a way more ingenious than I could have ever imagined. I’ll tell you what, as they say down south, I know now there’s no such thing as “an accident.”

I’ve got an acquaintance here in New York who’s come in & out of my life. While we’re practically neighbors, we don’t talk or hang-out anymore which is the way I’ve wanted it. We lost contact when something he did drove me away; We renewed it recently as an elevator opened at just the right time. Full of ebullient energy inside a subway station, I greeted him with open heart & arms, much to his surprise. He asked me to meet him for coffee which I did last weekend & I officially accepted his amended apology.

In the course of the conversation, we swapped stories of lessons learned. We agreed that the central spiritual take-away of all programs, seminars, workshops & writings is essentially the same one of self-love & impeccability in actions towards others. He went on to tell me how what happened to him at 15 with his first love-lost has dictated his behavior in all subsequent sexual relationships. For whatever reason, he’d been encouraged to end it abruptly, deciding by default then & there that he didn’t deserve that kind of love. He’s been “an asshole,” lying & cheating his way through women (present company included) ever since.

Listening to this, something stirred inside. I had to hear him say it just that way to comprehend that I’d done something very similar. Losing my own young love at 16, I pretended it hardly hurt & went on to ensure it never happened again. I spent 20 years of my love-life crumb collecting & enjoying unavailable men of all shapes & sizes.

I came home from coffee on Saturday sick to my stomach & feeling the deep-seated sorrow of the me I used to be. Cried out again for now, sure of what I both deserve & desire, I’m ready to rock the real deal again. I’m amazed at my increased enlightenment in this area & feel blessed that I didn’t shoot my unlikely messenger.

The boy I loved so long ago lives on this same small island now. Perhaps he’ll read this & smile for while. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll tell him in person all those things I’ve wanted to say. We can’t predict the wonderfully wacky ways of this world. & I, for one, wouldn’t have it any other way.

“When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” – Khalil Gibran