Kali's Tipping Point

I’m a bad parent.  Since this move and new job, I work too much. I leave Sweet Georgia Brown alone all day.  When I come home, whether it’s been 12 minutes or 12 hours, she is barking before I can unlock the door; she runs around the coffee table and the couch; she squeals for me to recognize her. 

She loves me even though I’ve got too much shizzizzle on my shoulders to be a good parent.

It would be cruel­­­­ if I didn’t recognize her anx when I let her inside, or when I’m making my dinner, or while I’m working at my laptop a bit more.  It would be cruel if I didn’t stop and inhale this much love.  She has so much to give.  Why don’t I just take it? 

Sometimes I am that ignorant because I’m just too tired to stop.  Still, she believes in me. I’m her imprint. I’m the only one who loves her, and that fact makes me her primary concern from the minute I let her out to the minute I let her inside our home.

Love makes its imprint.  I know.  I’ve been in Georgia’s shoes for over a year—in love with someone who barely recognizes me.  Sure, I get that call one or two times a week; “What are you doing? Why don’t you come over?” And, I go even though I’ve been resenting that she is always late with her love.  I go because she’s my imprint.  She’s my only known hope for a love outlet, right?

I've got to step back and acknowledge that there’s a difference between me and Sweet Georgia Brown. She is fiscally dependent on me; she doesn’t have opposable thumbs which lends to better salaries; and, she doesn’t have that extra consciousness.  She just goes and goes and goes around with crazed excitement, barking her professions of love even after examples of my negligences.  That's what I've been doing with my lover, ignoring all of her ignoring because I was crazed to see her.

But what I got is that, as a human, I’m supposed to be able to watch my thoughts. SGB doesn't have that.  I’m supposed to think about the thoughts that don’t work for my benefit and change my behavior.  If SGB was able to do that, she'd probably shrug at my presence and go play on a computer or something.  I'm supposed to stop letting thoughts put unhealthy activities in motion.  I know can demonstrate that ability during random mundane tasks.  I just have a bit of trouble where imprints and other subliminal drivers are …driving. 

You can see that I’ve been grappling with two very strong inklings.  There's the imprint that’s driving my primeval activities and the consciousness that’s babysitting all of it.  On the one hand, I have a tailored self-expression through energy exchanges; on the other, I have developed a reflexive disgust for my lover’s usury. What helped me to my tipping point? Anger.  It was the reflexive manifestation of this third contributor that freed me.  Have you ever met 'anger'?  She's also a primeval urge that rescues with destruction...like the goddess Kali.

Over these months, I've been making observations and adding them like coins on imaginary scales. One side has been getting heavier for too many months. Finally, I had this ridiculous but very effective outburst, crying for some kind recognition.  "HEY! My imprint is working really hard to work things out."  It was the drama-queen  and not the logical observer in me that changed my future and freed me from that love outlet. I wish it had been different but let’s face it--, the logical one is lazy and is always procrastinating.

It’s clear, now.  Each imprint was born in its body to benefit its bearer. Its value is in the love that it originates, generates and propagates.

That's probably good. I gotta run.  Georgia wants me to put away this laptop, so we can have a long talk about what love feels like.  Who'd have thought that a dog could say so much?

Burnings, Yearnings and Bonfires

I am alone before I meet a lover, and I am alone after it's over.  You might assume these states would feel the same, bringing me a respite in equilibrium.  But, I happen to know that life feels lighter before love than after.  Love forever changes the soul and its psyche, weighing it with experiences that seem impossible to release for the great bonfire. 

With love comes desires.  They rush forward, seducing my mind so that it might cooperate with my heart and start gathering stuff.  I open to possibilities. Enticements pile up.  I take a breath to inventory all of my new treasures.  I sort, categorize and prioritize. Love must be honored because it offers hope to old cravings.  Breathing, Sweating, Dancing-, I deserve these antics and more. 

I let love simmer, bringing warmth to my belly.  These longings are mine and I am full with power from love's promises.  My lonely wanderer, who has been snoring, wakes.  She offers a list, pleading, "Satiate me."  I couldn't have known how much love would demand.  I must experience all of its elixirs. 

Like Rip Van Winkle, I need to get my orientation. The world has changed and I have this power, love's force.  But, I'm confused and without a reliable compass.  This love didn't come with my former life or one of my lovers.  Adjustments are necessary. 

It's so very difficult to know the unknown.  Too much to manage, keeping love happy.  She's a bastard sometimes.  I reason that it's really not fair to drop all of my needs in my lover's lap; and, she feels foreign; and, she's not doing what love suggested she might.  I'm lost in this new space. It's not very pleasant.  

My longing drenched-, I turn from charred smolderings that have been spread out, suffocating across the pit where the fire was.  I must rescind to my cave and sleep a bit longer.  In my dreams, I won't feel the weight of love lost.