When I turned 35- I was a mess emotionally ... Still going through that love-sick plague and that whole disaster I allowed to take over my life. I was very
angry ... If people think I'm angry now when I write, they obviously have never read my writing when I truly was. So I dismiss them. I can write seemingly angry posts- while being perfectly happy and well amused. You don't always need anger or bitterness to be passionate on topics that are emotional and disturbing. People who think so - are limited in emotional growth/intelligence. We aren't one dimensional - and people who promote being so, are people who retard growth.
Forty has been rough. I've been doing a lot of deep thinking- my usual.. I've been very down and harsh on myself on the changes I'm experiencing - which was blocking me from realizing other changes. It's been a not so pleasant awakening to the new older me... Well at least up until very early this morning. First glimmer into the change, was this morning when I woke up to Taylor stroking my cheek. I teared up ... It was just a sweet moment between my lil man and I ... I thought on how much fascination lay inside his small- but huge, blue eyes. Even his dragon breath as he said, "mommy morning get up, love you." smelled sweet to me ... We stayed there though, stroking each others cheeks and eye locked. When he had enough of the Hallmark moment he rolled over onto me, leaned over and kissed Mia. She woke up and the playtime was on... my bed was destroyed with giggles, blankets and pillows.
For those 30 or so minutes - I was a child with them. It was great therapy for me ... It was more than just playtime. It was a festival of light emotions, of innocence. What made them so vibrant was the all the bad ones I've had lately, they stood out like fireflies in the pitch of black. I couldn't breathe them in deep enough, hug them tight enough ...
The second came in an email from Aidai, a video of herself and her village she moved back to in 2010. We share a kindred nature - we both love simplicity and outdoors, both deprived, or at least we both were. She is now very happy and connected with nature. I crave and miss it so much - sometimes I feel totally disconnected from myself as a result. Well - actually I
FEEL disconnected all the time. The feel of the soft mud and grass, the smell of decaying leaves with the mixture of animal scents ... I miss it all. However, I don't miss the people, they annoyed me because they weren't playing banjo's:) They aren't my kind of country - I prefer open minds and less bias and a lot of love around fires.
The video .
..
The screen blacked in and out ... flickered...
When it cleared, she was looking in a mirror ... She wash washing in a ceramic basin, cracked and stained. She traced her lines as she washed - in silence. Her hair is turning gray. Dye is hard to get in the village, very distant from modern stores- though it does have two rivaling pubs and eating places. She explained she uses natural dyes that she finds here by gathering locally. It's her one vanity addiction, just as with myself ... We will be 100 with pitch black hair. She makes sure to stroke the sides - next to her ear to show me the creeping of old age, and laughs. She recalls how tight her cheeks once were and makes the quip,
"I can hold more bullshit to tell willing ears now."
The video goes on to show her meager abode, purposefully meager. Then she goes to the door ... and out we went. I was surprised on her next line of stories... She took me to her "honey" spots... These are places where she has had trysts- and she recounted them very boldly and in great detail. I might have even blushed. My cheeks certainly felt warm. Sex is also a kindred nature of ours- we embrace and accept sexual natures as one of the glorious of things to spend as frequently as possible. This is why I love people from other countries - their sexuality is much more open. Aidai is married - but they have been open for the last 20 years, and happily so. They are best of friends and it shows in the video him teasing her about creeping on young men and a time when she scraped her knees up on the stones behind the pub they like to go to... He commented she was much too old to be groveling on rocks, to which she said,
"I use my jacket now to pad my adventures." ... They both laugh.
She paused along a trail, a very well traveled one, to sit on a wood bench that someone was kind enough to place for the older people to rest on, she had a recount there of a tryst ... She was silent for moment - then said, "You don't cry enough." She turns the camera on herself and says it again,
"You don't cry, do you?"...
"Why is it so hard for you to release? You think it's weakness? Men cry. They may not let us see, but they do. Did the men in your family tell you it was weak? A woman's petty lament? My father would set out with me and have a good cry. We cried over our spilled drink. We we're cryin' people." She laughed.
The camera flickers and she say's,
"the rest I'll write, the batteries are dim," with her usual expletives.
The rest of email.
"It cleanses your soul. It helps you come to terms with the weakness you feel on the things going on in your life. Have you never set with friends, drunk and cried? Your spirit, or whatever you call your inner self, is hurt my sweet girl. It's broken. Somewhere, someone broke you. You've pieced yourself together with a fierceness that's isolating you from the better parts of yourself. An island within an island. You're on this island, and you won't even take a dingy to get off it and explore the waters around you. You've locked yourself up in that gilded cage to make up for things you can't change. Your cubs survived my lady friend, they survived, a little broken too. .But you made it, and you can't change the journey you've traveled, so why stop the journey? I love how passionate you are- apologetic on it too! But I hate how you never cry, I know you don't. I can see it in your writing. You get loud, angry and on the verge - but then you rationalize not getting too emotional and losing control. No one can be in control at all times. Sometimes you have you to drop the reins and say fuck it, have a good gurnin' (cry.) If no one likes the sound of your wailin' - put up your finger, the destined one, and tell them to lick both sides and ride it high.
Forty will be great for you - it's a turning from things that young women get bothered on ... I highly doubt you'll cringe at your breast or sagging ass (though I've read you have no ass at all.) Enjoy not worrying anymore that your body isn't perfect, no man screwing a woman 40 or above expects that - I doubt they have a spectacular body themselves... You'll just be enjoying each-other without the baggage and laughing at the aches and pain afterwards. You can have a great night of pissin' off and feel none the anxiety on being a proper lady, we passed that by years ago. You'll be wise now instead of an asshole, that's my favorite. Older women are great in bed, we aren't shy about that spot in the least. For me, after I accepted, it was a huge release of pressure. I had my a few gurn' and then lifted my black veil and tore off the town and my panties. Time to get in the dingy girl. Time to love your friends who've loved you through your spells of isolation. Find wise women to sit and talk about the young bulls with. For sake of all that's wonderful - get some cock, will ya? Women like us need a good cock every now and then to keep us strumming pretty words."
I'm smiling, deeply.
But where is the dingy?
Laugh.
