Drop your weapons. Put down your swords, guns, knives, stones, shields... drop your armor, let it all fall to the ground. Step away from it. This is not how you want to do things.

Stop the fight. Even with your arm raised in the air, mid-arc, sword in hand, ready to strike... drop it, let it go, stop.

Stop fighting.

Stop fighting with yourself. Stop fighting with the idea that giving up is always bad. You don't have to fight your way through life. You shouldn't have to FIGHT or FORCE anything that's meant for you. The terms "fight for" and "fight with" have somehow become synonymous in our vocabularies. There is a vast difference between working hard for something and fighting for it. If you have to fight to keep something in your life, if it feels desperate, is that REALLY the feeling you want to associate with something you apparently love so much?

The problem with letting go is that it often brings a certain amount of pain. Humans are designed to dislike pain. When our bodies send us a pain signal, it's a sign that something is wrong and needs healing. When we are in physical pain, we seek out someone who can heal us, or medication that can ease the pain. But when we are in emotional pain (the pain of letting go, for example), there is no "doctor" or "medicine" for us to seek out. We try to avoid that pain at all costs, because there is no quick fix for that. The only thing that can heal emotional pain is time and mindfulness. We prolong the inevitable, holding off the pain for as long as we can, replacing that one large amount of pain with tiny little pin pricks and annoyances that steal our joy -- but hey, as long as we're not in pain, right??? (note the sarcasm in that question)

Everything is temporary. Pain is temporary. Happiness is temporary. Sunshine is temporary. Rain is temporary. It all goes in cycles... that is the nature of living. The pain will pass. So drop your weapons and stop fighting. Let it happen. Move on. You'll be OK.

Maybe one day when you finally get to a point where you stop fighting, you will no longer feel the need for all those defensive walls and fortress iron that you cage yourself in. I bet you'll realize then that your attempt to keep out the pain actually created a cage around you and walled you in. This is me, dropping my weapons, letting down my defenses, and walking away from it all to just live my way. You are welcome to come along, but I won't ask you twice and I won't look back. If you should choose to stay caged and walled in, then when you finally do step out... you know where to find me.

The End.

I want THAT kind of love.

I want that kind of love - the one we all dream about but never really admit out loud because we fear that we would be deemed "dramatic" or "impractical" for the sake of speaking it. But I don't care if people call me dramatic for being a dreamer. I don't care if others see it as unreal... I don't care how realistic it is. Dreams are never realistic - that's why they are called dreams. What is reality now was once somebody's dream. So, yes, I want that kind of love - the one we only dare to dream about because we think that it can never be a reality. I dare to dream. Even if I never have it, my heart will always seek it.

I want that. I want a love that feels so good it hurts. I want to be so overwhelmed and overflowing with love that it leaks out my eyes and rolls down my cheeks. I want it to be so intense that it makes my hands tremble and my knees feel weak. I want a love that is passionate beyond words or comprehension. I want to feel so overcome with fervor and rapture that it renders me speechless. I want the "run into his arms and hug him so tight and beg him to never let go" reunions after being apart. I want to stand in the storm with the wind whipping my hair about my face, totally immersed in the elements, all consuming powerful profound moments of lust and desire. I want him to kiss me in the pouring rain and to fall to the ground together and to forget that the world around us even exists because we are so consumed with each other that nothing else can ever touch us. I want that.

I want cozy evenings by the fire, saying nothing and everything. I want lazy Saturday mornings in bed, snuggled under the blankets and all night long lovemaking. I want a man who puts his arms around me and tangles his hands in my hair and holds my face in both hands when he kisses me. I want him to look at me with a tenderness and yearning in his eyes. I want someone who doesn't have to hear me speak to know what I am feeling. I want him to be my best and closest friend. I want to feel safe to tell him anything and everything. I want there to be no subject too taboo, nothing off limits because we know each other so well that we share everything. I want that.

I want long walks, hand in hand. I want inside jokes and secret looks and stolen kisses. I want a love so powerful, so extraordinary, so heightened that it cuts through all obstacles and tears down all walls. I want to feel like I fit into his arms so well that he must have been made just for me. I want to draw strength from his mere presence, to give it back so freely that it is always an exchange, never something that is taken. I want to wake up with his arm draped over me, his body heat warming me, his breath on the back of my neck. I want that love to be so concentrated, so bursting with emotion that it touches everyone else around us and they see it and feel it and can't deny it and want it for themselves and strive for it.

I want that love. I want going to him to feel like coming home, like my safe place to land, my touchstone, my confidant, my heart and soul. I want safety and security and the promise of sanctuary and comfort in his arms. I want that. I will never stop wanting that. I will never feel ashamed of wanting that. I will always yearn for it and seek it out and hope for it to be mine. Never let the restrictions of society stop you from dreaming that it exists.

Never let the failures of the past stop you from continuing to hope for that love - because those were not failures. Those were the events that have been preparing you for this love all along, so that you would be ready and willing to accept it when it came to you. That love will not arrive to you quietly. It will come rushing in and knock you off your feet so fast that you are left wondering if you ever left the ground. That love will show you what it feels like to be alive. I want THAT kind of love.

I don't give a fuck. Do you?

Note to the easily offended: Exit stage left before you increase your chances of falling through the gaping hole in the middle of the stage. It is also a rather long read, but it's worth it. You have been warned.

So, let's discuss this, shall we? First, a background. Someone said to me, "You don't give a fuck what people think." To which I replied, "Yes, that is true... but not in an 'I don't care' kinda way. I don't give a fuck in a 'I know my own truth' kinda way."

You see, it is my opinion that there are different schools of thought regarding the "I don't give a fuck" mentality. There are the people who just genuinely don't care about anything, including (usually) themselves. Then there are those who generally don't care what others think, but not because they don't care about others - they don't give a fuck because their own truth is more important than the opinions of other people. Let's unpack this.

School of thought #1: I don't give a fuck about anyone or anything.

This is the product of pain. The types of people who profess to "not give a fuck" about anyone or anything, usually said with tones of defiance or anger, often do so because they've been hurt or they suffer from an abundance of insecurity. This is the "I don't give a fuck" that REALLY means "I'm not going to let you close enough to hurt me". In actual fact, one of two things is occurring here:

1. This person really does care. They just don't want others to see that they give a fuck out of fear that they might appear weak. This person is under the false impression that showing emotion is equal to weakness. For whatever reason, they believe that they must appear emotionless in order to be strong. I suggest to this person that they look up the definition of the word "strength". Hell, I'll do it for you! You're welcome.
   
   Strength: noun¹
   
   1. mental power, force, or vigor.
   2. moral power, firmness, or courage.
   3. power by reason of influence, authority, resources, numbers, etc.
   4. effective force, potency, or cogency, as of inducements or arguments:
      the strength of his plea.
   
   If you are one of the above described people, then it is now time to give up on your false notion of what it means to be strong. The character of someone with true strength is one who faces their fear head-on, someone who is bold enough to be vulnerable and STRONG enough to admit when they are wrong, or hurt, or sad, or angry, or happy, or any other normal human emotion that passes through their mind. If you don't give a fuck because you're just too terrified to admit that you are human, it's time to re-evaluate.
   
2. This person really does NOT care. They are selfish and self-serving. This person probably used to be like person A and was never able to rise above it. They became so overcome with bitterness that they stopped caring, they are a victim of circumstance (OR) they were just born/raised to be uncaring. Parents are often heard telling their child that "words don't hurt" and are sending the message that hurtful things should be ignored rather than addressed immediately. We've all heard the saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me". I call bullshit. Words CAN and DO hurt. If words didn't have the power to wound, then our emotions wouldn't freak out when someone else spoke to us harshly. Words hurt. Offense happens. If you were taught to ignore it instead of addressing the issue, you were taught wrong. If THAT statement offends you, ask yourself why. Do you see my point yet?

School of thought #2: I don't give a fuck, in general, because my own truth matters more.

This person listens to constructive criticism and uses sound judgement skills to make a decision on said criticism. This person is able to self-evaluate effectively and is strong enough to admit when something is wrong or needs to be changed. This person cares, but not so much that they let the opinions of others warp their own perception of the truth. This person lives by their own truth. For example, one thing I'm CERTAIN of about myself is that my eyes are hazel. If someone told me that my eyes were brown, I wouldn't believe them -- because I know that my eyes are hazel. They could do everything in their power to try to convince me otherwise, but I know this about myself so I cannot be convinced. My eyes are hazel, not brown. This is a truth that I am certain of.

Similarly, if someone offered their opinion of me based on my actions/lifestyle/character/etc, it would have little impact on me because I know who I am. I know to be true the kind of person I am. Nobody else's opinion makes much of a difference, because I'm certain of who I am. It isn't that I don't care or that I'm immune to getting my feelings hurt. I just have the ability to evaluate a statement as either true or false and either act on it or throw it out as invalid. So, I don't give a fuck what others say about me. I know me, and I like me. IF I see something that I think needs to be changed, I'll change it -- for myself, not for them -- because I want to believe MY truth, not theirs.

So no, I don't give a fuck what others think...not because I don't care, but because I. Just. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. No fucks were given today. Not a single fuck crossed my path. This is me, not giving a fuck. Zero fucks were had. Do you have any fucks to give? I didn't think so.

*EDITED to add: I just came across this video on you tube that pretty much says what I'm trying to say, but with a different spin on it. Go watch this!! She says it brilliantly! Just love yourself. Don't Panic. It's Not Real.

---

^{1. [Definition obtained from dictionary.com]↩}

This is what happens when head and heart collide.

In the quiet of the early morning with the rain falling in drifts outside my window, as the motion of the rocking chair lulls me into a sense of reverie, I ponder over the mystery of the heart. I find my thoughts drifting to that sometimes near debilitating pull between what one's heart feels and what their mind knows. It is a real thing, you know - the disconnection between your conscious waking mind and your deep down gut feelings and beliefs. The part of our brain that controls emotional reasoning is located on the opposite side of the part that controls logical reasoning. We have an "emotional mind" and a "logical mind", and somewhere in the middle of that is what some may call the "wise mind". It is so difficult to find the balance between the two and to rest comfortably in the wise mind space.

Living in a wise mind space is possible. It requires the ability to recognize and be aware of both your logical thoughts and your emotional thoughts. Many people are either ruled by their emotions or rely too heavily on logic, with little room for the other in their methods and thought processes. To live in a wise mind state, one needs to be capable of not letting either one overtake their decision making. Both the logical and the emotional are necessary. One wouldn't make a decision (at least probably not a good decision) to buy a car based on emotion alone. Logic would come along and say, "Hey! That's too expensive! You don't need a vehicle that seats 7. There is only 1 of you." Similarly, one would not choose a life partner based solely on logic (I would hope). We don't choose who we fall in love with based on facts such as age, hair color, height, annual salary, location, etc. I'm sure we would like to think that we do, but we don't. Those things obviously do affect who we choose, but they are merely background noise compared to the emotional connections we share with a person.

So what happens when your logical mind is telling you that it's time to let go of an unhealthy relationship, but your heart is still begging you to hold on? Have you ever felt as if your emotions were scattered, as if you couldn't "make up your mind" regarding a "matter of the heart"? That would be your logical mind wrestling with your emotional mind and neither one really being able to push the other to the edge of the mat. This is what happens when "the head and the heart collide", so to speak. Your emotions are still tangled up in the past, all of the memories you have shared with someone, not wanting to let go of the high that you get from being in love, not wanting to give up because of what could be. Your mind, however, is trying to tell you something. Logic dictates that if the relationship does not help you grow, if you do not feel loved or safe because of the actions or repeated hurtful words of another, that it will most likely always be that way.

Things such as friends or family full of well meaning advice do not help. Half will tell you to follow your heart, logic be damned. They will try to sell you on romantic notions of happily ever after and the concept that "you only live once, so do not waste a minute of it. Tell someone you love them before it's too late". The other half will tell you something along the lines of "there is a difference between giving up and letting go". They will try to sell you on the concept of valuing yourself above all else and learning to let go of things that no longer serve you. Both have merit. Both sides of the argument have equal value. So what should you do? If you've stacked the blocks of the logical and then stacked the blocks of the emotional side by side, you have then created a tower in which to sit upon. I suppose the only thing to do now is to wait and hope that the tower remains stable, that the blocks of one side don't overpower the blocks of the other side and push you off.

It feels a bit like inaction, doesn't it, to just sit there and wait? Well, you could climb down. You could go find someone else's tower of blocks to pull apart (in most cases, it will be the blocks of your partner/significant other). You could push the whole tower over and walk away to start a new tower. You could stand at the bottom of the tower and remove blocks one by one, hoping that it doesn't all come crashing down on your head. You could encase the entire tower in ice, never allowing the tower to either grow or topple. Or you could accept that your instincts will tell you what to do when the time is right, and all you need to do is sit on top of that tower and wait to hear from them. In case you haven't caught on yet, to sit on top of the tower and wait is what your wise mind is telling you to do. Life is not stagnant. Something will happen to that tower, no matter what you do. You can take it apart yourself, driving yourself crazy and stressing yourself out in the process, or you can just wait and see who comes along to help you build or take it down.

Taking the advice to do nothing is never easy. We are creatures that need to feel as if we are being productive, but sometimes being "productive" means letting things happen in their own time without forcing them. And so I sit here in my rocking chair, listening to the clock tick and the rain fall, and I let go of my ideals of "productivity". I give up trying to keep all my blocks from falling or being damaged. I'm just going to wait and see what happens.

Blog Rename

I named this blog on a whim. At the time, it was sort of humorous and amusing, but the truth is that it isn't very specific, is it? I didn't think that I wrote about any particular subject, but now that I read over past posts (and my journal), it's pretty apparent that I lean towards self-empowerment and women's issues. I also throw in some creative writing from time to time, but I think the platform I have been focusing on is that of empowerment.

With that in mind, I have decided to rename this blog to something that better encompasses the genre and style of the topics I write about most often. When I thought about what defined me/my blog, the answer hit me -- I define me. I define who I am. I get to decide. After all, that's what it's all about, isn't it? Self-empowerment. I'm on a journey towards self-empowerment, self-respect, and self-love. My blog should reflect that. So, the new name of this blog shall be *pause for dramatic effect* .....

.....

As Defined By Me

Thanks if you've gotten this far, and I hope you choose to journey with me and perhaps chime in with your own self-empowerment stories and experiences.

I'm not hiding, I'm transforming.

All my life, I've been the type to retreat into solitude periodically. Every few years (sometimes more, sometimes less), I feel the sudden urge to cast off my old self and retreat into a safe place within. A lot of work is happening inside my soul when I do this, and I have always come out of it again as a better person. I always emerge from my solitude wiser and different, yet somehow the same. I always have felt as if I've somehow changed and transformed, and have never regretted these times of solitude. Many in my past have tried to convince me that this solitude is unhealthy and damaging. Many have told me that I'm simply being "stubborn" or words to that effect. But the truth is, there was nothing that anyone else could do to help. I had to use that time to look inward and transform myself. It's akin to the journey of a caterpillar into a butterfly. Nobody else can help the caterpillar transform - it has to do that on its own. It relies on its instinct to know what to do.

When a caterpillar is ready to transform into a butterfly, it creates a safe barrier around itself and retreats into a world all its own. When it's time for the caterpillar to transform, it takes itself off to safe place to form a chrysalis that will protect it from the outside world while it undergoes the transformation. The caterpillar forms the chrysalis by shedding its skin one final time in preparation for its upcoming metamorphosis. What few people know, however, is that a caterpillar doesn't just grow wings to turn into a butterfly -- it is a literal transformation of the entire body structure. The whole body breaks itself down into tiny cells, similar to stem cells, and then put themselves back together again forming an entirely new body.

Think about this. Think about the process involved... An instinct tells the caterpillar that it is time to become an adult, to transform. Nature tells this tiny being that its old form is no longer working for it, and it's time to transform into its new self and carry on with life. But before that can happen, the caterpillar needs to retreat from the world, shed the old, go inward, and spend some time in solitude. When the time is right, and it varies for each individual caterpillar, a butterfly breaks through and emerges, but it takes some time before it can fly. The butterfly has to strengthen its wings before it can take flight.

There is also a mythical creature that uses a similar method of transformation: the phoenix. The myth says that when a phoenix has lived its life and has gleaned all that it can from this world, it bursts into flames and turns to ash. Some time later, a new baby phoenix emerges from the ashes, reborn -- a new being formed from the ashes of its predecessor. The life cycle continues in an ever constant circle, always producing something new but also intrinsically linked to the essence of its origins.

I may be the only one who identifies with this unfailing cycle of transformation, but I doubt it. I believe that there are others out there just like me who occasionally take the time to look inward and reflect, shed the old, and eventually start new. I do not mean to say that I become a recluse by any stretch of the imagination -- only that these times of solitude are necessary for me (and those like me), and that we should not give much attention to those around us who wish to dissuade us from our transformation. It is a beautiful thing, and we should embrace it. It is OK to find your safe place, to retreat and look inward for a little while, and to not come out again until you know you are ready. Do not be afraid to follow your instinct. You will re-emerge as a better version of yourself, and that is never a bad thing.

I have a voice and I am going to use it!

7 AM - the sunlight is just streaming through the curtains of Jane's bedroom window, a slight breeze gently blowing the curtains back and forth. As she slowly wakes, she begins to be aware of the chirping of song birds outside, urging her to begin her day. It's Saturday morning and she rolls over to see that her newlywed husband is already awake, staring lovingly at her as she wakes. She snuggles deeper into the blanket, somewhat shy that he was watching her sleep, and the thought briefly crosses her mind that her hair is probably messy and she hopes she wasn't drooling. Her face turns a pale shade of crimson at the embarrassment of the thought of someone seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

He looks at her as if she's the most amazing and beautiful woman to ever walk the planet, and his eyes light up as he reaches out to brush a piece of stray hair from her eyes. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. "Good morning", he says in a low voice, pulling her into an embrace. "Morning", she replies. She doesn't want him to kiss her good morning before she's had the chance to brush her teeth, so she slips out of bed and plods off to the washroom, muttering about morning breath and adding over her shoulder, "I'll be right back!" He shakes his head and lays back down to doze, wondering why women seem to be so self-conscious about silly things like that.

Later that day, Jane meets up with her best friend, whom she's known since high school. Jane just turned 21, and her best friend, Mary, is also a newlywed. They both got married around the same time, helped each other plan their weddings, and their respective husbands get along well. They have agreed to meet for coffee and then spend the afternoon doing some leisurely shopping. As Jane approaches, she notices how Mary always appears so put together. Her hair and make-up are flawless, her clothes stylish but simple, and she always appears to be so confident. It's one of the many things that Jane admires so much about her best friend.

Mary pulls Jane into a hug, both of them squealing with delight at seeing each other. "I love your outfit!, says Jane. Is it new?" Mary replies flippantly about finding it in the back of her closet and the women carry on chatting casually. Later, in the clothing store, the two women try on various outfits. They do this often, using the other as a sounding board, judge, and jury about their fashion choices. The dynamic is always one of modest appreciation. The conversation goes a little something like this - pay close attention:

Mary: Oh, you are so pretty!
Jane: No, I'm not. You are! (said with mock flair)
Mary: Don't lie to me! You know you are! (equally as flamboyant, batting eyelashes)
Jane: I'm not as pretty as you. I wish you could give me some of YOUR good looks!
Mary: You know you're pretty. I wish I looked like you! Don't be silly. (insert sickeningly sweet crooning here)
Jane: Trust me. You are.
Mary: Aww, you're so sweet! (hugs and kisses, cue my gag reflex at such over the top antics!)

At that, the conversation is over and the two women continue their shopping. Neither woman has been anything but modest and kind to the other. Their friendship is solid and there is no major undertone of jealousy, as such. They are both respectively confident women, but did you notice that there seems to be a lack of positive self-talk or of positive relational talk between them? Why is this? Why do women compete, even when there is no need? Why do we feel the urge to go to extremes? We are either bitchy and catty with other women, OR we're overly sweet and undercut our own positive attributes in an attempt to flatter someone else. What is it about our society that has conditioned us against positive self-talk and healthy interactions with those of the same sex?

These interactions form the beginnings of a slow decline of the incredible amount of work and effort that women prior to our generation have done in order to gain us equality and women's rights! We're slowly moving backwards. There is a lot to be said for the "feminists" who valiantly went forth into the world and declared their empowering messages of self-confidence to women everywhere!! We are women! We are strong, confident, beautiful, intelligent, sexy, humorous, loving, compassionate, extraordinary women!! We should treat ourselves and other women as such!! We should NOT feel the need to put ourselves down in the name of being "humble" or "modest". We should NOT feel it necessary to covet and/or be jealous of the attributes of other women. Instead, we should be celebrating our uniqueness! We should be joyous that we can share comradeship with our female counterparts!

STOP!!!

Stop this now. Stop the madness. Stop the cycle of negative self-talk. Stop the self-consciousness that won't allow you to kiss your husband good morning before you've brushed your teeth or combed your hair. Chances are, he doesn't care! He just wants to kiss his wife good morning, and hold her close and enjoy his time with her before the day-to-day happenings of life steal that moment away. Stop... and see yourself for the beautiful person that you are. Love YOU. Before you love anyone else, LOVE YOU!

Be empowered! Take back what is rightfully yours - your self-confidence! Take it back from whom? From society, who has conditioned you to believe that loving yourself is "selfish" and "arrogant". Take it back from the religious organization who has conditioned you to believe that you should put others before yourself. Take it back from your sub-conscious self, which has conditioned you to believe that you only can see the ugly parts of you, the parts that need improvement. Take back your power!!!

I say, "I have a voice, and I am going to use it! I am beautiful, and I am going to show it! I am me, and I love ME!"

If you think you're sexy...

So, I was browsing You Tube and came across this video: He Doesn't Love You by one Sarah Rae Vargas, an apparently popular you tube personality who promotes body confidence and other such things on her channel. If you haven't watched her videos and you are all about some self-lovin', take no bullshit, tell it like it is, strong woman empowerment -- then I highly suggest you take the time to check out her videos. If you REALLY insist that you just do not have the time or inclination to watch, the gist of the video is this: "One cannot truly have someone else love them unless they love themselves first."

I listened to her message in this video, and I was honestly kind of moved by her candid approach to an issue that a lot of women around the world struggle with. I myself have been going through some serious transformation (as in, discovering who I am and actively working to change myself for the better) lately, so this message seems rather timely in my opinion. The message made me think: am I red or am I blue (watch the video)? Am I something else altogether? Do I love me? IF I don't love all of me, does that make me "insecure"?

I've never thought of myself as an insecure person. Quite the contrary, I've always seen myself as someone who is confident and has a healthy amount of self-respect. I find it easy to list off the positive traits about myself with no reserve. I truly believe that I'm beautiful, intelligent, honest, kind, compassionate, driven, responsible, etc. Having said that, I've always had very high standards for myself. I also readily admit that I've never been able to live up to my own standards AND I find it difficult to accept a compliment as genuine, even if I believe the message to be true. I think I'm beautiful, but I don't always believe it when others tell me that I am. How messed up is that???

So, I had to dig deeper. I had to pull this apart and examine it and find out what makes this dichotomy possible. I went back... wayyyyyy back! I'm talkin' about a lay down on the sofa regression therapy, lets do some hypnosis inside my head about all of your childhood events, how does that make you feel kinda thing. Yep. Wayyyyy back.

After some time, I came to a conclusion (or three) about some things:

• Like it or not, your childhood really does shape your worldview (and your beliefs about yourself) in many ways.
• It IS possible to reprogram your brain to think differently.
• If you want to change the way you think, it takes an honest awareness of your current beliefs, and the willingness to work towards the goal of being mindful and open about your thoughts and feelings.
• I have some work to do!

I know I'm not alone in this. I know there are other people (I say people, not just women, for a reason) who find this struggle to be real and true and somewhat daunting to overcome. I'm certain that this is a topic that people don't talk about openly, but should! The only way to overcome an issue is to face it head on and put it out there, regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you feel.

This leads me to my final conclusion: The main reason why people are so stuck in negative thought patterns is because they internalize their emotions and never truly DEAL with them. We have become conditioned to ignore the things that make us uncomfortable, rather than expressing them and arriving at a solution. We live in a society where cowardice is the norm in regards to our own personal struggles. It's no wonder divorce rates and crime are at an all time high -- because communication and being honest with ourselves is at an all time low! Let's not be blue. Let's choose to be red (watch the video, dammit!).

I salute you, Sarah Rae Vargas, for opening the communication back up. There may be many that don't agree with your sentiments, but I'll give you this: You got them talking.

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Her story so far

She picked up her piece of paper and pen, and began to write.
She wrote to express her flamboyant emotional state in outward
form. She wrote to get out what she could not keep in. This
was her overture, her symphony, her creative ramblings turned
poignant expression, a masterpiece never to be shared. This
was her story.

------------------------------------------------------------------

She was never a dull child, a trait which followed her into
adulthood with wild emotion and reckless abandon. Rules never
applied to her, and her streak of rebellion was always the
bane of her parents' existence. Her mother tried her best to raise
a lady, but her father raised a woman who drove too fast
and drank her whiskey straight, no chaser. She wielded her
intelligence like a weapon, always at the ready. No stranger to pain
and adversity, she was quick on the draw and unapologetic about it. Love was
something to be admired, but from afar and with great armor.

It happened one day, however, that she fell victim to love's
curse. It also happened that she dragged herself from the edge
of insanity caused by extreme heartbreak after a failed marriage,
13 years and 3 children later. At that moment, she vowed that she
would never be deceived again by the snare of the emotional mind.
A heart, after all, was merely an organ to pump blood to the body.
At least, that's what she told herself after hers had been
shattered to smithereens.

She had given him everything that she had: heart, mind, body, soul,
her future, her presence, her hopes and dreams... She surrendered
to that love with every single piece of herself. She devoted
herself to making him happy. Even when they quarelled, she still
kept his best interests at the forefront of her mind. He abused
and exploited her giving and trusting nature time and again, and
yet still she hung on with everything she had. She fought to the
bitter end and eventually walked away knowing that she had done
all that she could. It wasn't until many months later, after sowing
wild oats and finding that he preferred the pastures that had
already belonged to him, that he came rushing back, begging
forgiveness. It was too late for her. She had already said her
goodbye, and so she left him standing at her doorstep with
pleading eyes, and closed the door on him forever. After that, she
resigned herself to knowing that she'd had her shot at true love
and would never love like that again, for she had no more of
herself to give.

She decided that she was not going to let wrath and scorn overtake
her, so she dedicated herself to her children and to work. She
never gave in to the calling of other men, enticing
her to use them as a rebound affair. Her friends said, "The only
way to get over a man is to get under a new one.", but she scoffed
at them, shaking her head in absurd disbelief. Didn't they
understand the depth of the love she had shared with her husband?
Did they not grasp that her heart had been shattered into
thousands of tiny fragments and left all over her living room
floor the night that she had found him in all of his
unfaithfulness? They did not understand that she could never love
another, and that she could never give her body to one whom she
did not love. No matter, she thought. Some are unable to ever love
that deeply and so she could not expect them to make sense of it.

Her days carried on, each one bringing more healing until time
finally worked its magic. Eventually, he stopped taking up
every thought in her waking mind. Soon after that, she realized
that she had gone through the stages of grief triumphantly and
declared to herself that she had finally reached the stage of
blessed acceptance! She smiled to herself, sighed a deep breath of
relief, picked up the dirty dishes from the table, and moved
forward with her life.

Now, imagine her shock when she was once again caught up in the
emotional disarray of the magnetic pull of a man who was all
kinds of wrong for her, but in all the right ways. He was not
someone who would normally catch her eye. His manner was
respectful in a southern gentleman kind of way, but he had the
southern knack for saying something in such a way that might
leave you wondering if you've just been complimented or insulted.
He was just as opinionated as she, but with far less concern for
the social impact of speaking without reserve. He was not afraid
of her honest and bold manner, and that fact was both infuriating
and intriguing at the same time. She often caught herself
thinking that he was like looking into a mirror and seeing the
other half of oneself in a whole form. All signs pointed to this
being a tragic love story, for there could be no other kind. She
secretly hoped that the other kind existed, but with a lot of
skepticism.

He called her beautiful and said all the right things, but she
was not at all drawn in by such words. Compliments from men were
a dime a dozen and they had little impact on her. In fact, she was
unable to put into words exactly what it was about this man that
got her attention. He was the fresh ocean breeze that whipped her
hair about her face and left her flushed but energized. He was
delicious succulent red wine and the scent of leather and cherry
wood. He held her just close enough to keep her near but not so
close that she lost her sense of freedom. He was the promise that
this was her happily ever after, her once in a lifetime soul level
connection. She was terrified by his hold on her, and that left her
with an overwhelming feeling that she should run away more often than not.

This went far deeper than anything she had experienced before,
including her marriage to the man that she once thought was her soul mate.
This was something else altogether. There was an invisible cord of
connection to this man. He knew her intimately, in the sense of
seemingly being able to see right to the depths of her soul. He
sensed from afar what she was feeling and thinking, and he knew
things about her that she had never spoken out loud. She was
beginning to suspect that perhaps her marriage had only been a
means of preparing her for what this love was about to bring. In
fact, she was certain that all the events of her past were merely
training tools for this event, this love, this...there are no words
to accurately describe what 'this' was.

And so it began, the chase and the catch. It was akin to watching
a fisherman trying to reel in the catch of a lifetime.
It was a slow process, as a good fisherman knows that patience is
the key to a good day of fishing. You have me hooked, she thought,
so either reel me in or cut me loose. What she couldn't seem to
understand, however, was that if she just waited patiently and let
herself be pulled to shore, the struggle would be over. Of course,
for her to give in and let herself be pulled to shore would be
like taking a fish out of water. It felt unnatural and scary, no
matter how imagined the fear. Eventually either the fish would get
loose or the fisherman would get his ultimate catch. That remains
to be seen...

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There is a word that has been used by many that refers to the
almost uncanny coincidences that occur sometimes (I propose
that they happen more often than we pay attention to), seemingly
against the odds of probability. I know you've heard
it spoken before. People say it often: "what are the odds", they
say, a bewildered far away look on their face, as if seemingly
contemplating the actual odds for or against an occurrence. People
are forever searching for scientific evidence to help them make
sense of life's unexplainable.

The word that describes these against the odds "coincidences" is
'synchronicities'. The truth is that if you pay attention and
listen to your instincts, synchronicity is everywhere. The
universe is constantly sending us signals and signs to pay
attention to, but humans in their unbelieving state dismiss these
signs as coincidence. Our minds would have to be willing to think
outside of what we can explain in order to broaden
our own awareness of the energy we share with the universe, with
each other.

It is these very occurrences, these synchronocities, that put the
man and the woman in the same place at the same time; urging them
to interact, orchestrating their meeting, aligning their futures.
Some would call it fate. Others would deem it an act of God. Others
still would say that it was merely happenstance, a fluke.
Regardless of the term given to the events, their worlds had
collided and something had been put in motion that would forever
change them both...

...to be continued...