|Original art created JUST for this blog!|
How one loves is interesting. I was raised to fall passionately in love with someone and get married. End of story. That was a long time ago.
I rode my bike built for two over sharp objects and ruined the tires to all hell and back. End of marriage.
Now, with the technology of instant connecting available we can connect to all sorts of fabulous folks. And we can connect to old friends that we might have lost touch with. It is a glorious world of connecting and reconnecting.
I love writing, I love art, and I love connecting to people who are philosophical poets. I have fallen in love with many people here, in these halls of Facebook.
Poets who all weave their vulnerable heart stories.
I have learned to hold my cards close to my heart now. At first I didn’t. At first I promised the world to a few loves, then realized I had rushed in like a tsunami wave, only leaving debris and trash behind. I apologize if I did that to you. If I gave you false hope.
As an artist, Love is a fabric that is rubbery. It has to be flexible and repairable. It is constantly transforming from its testing and evaluation. The love is stretched beyond its maximum strength and it tears. Or one rides over very sharp pointy objects and well, holes happen.
It takes time to repair, it takes skilled hands to mend it. Remember the rubber inner-tube tire kit we used to use to fix holes in our bike tires? Well, there you have it.
The deal was simple, you kept repairing the bike tire- until nothing was left. Eventually one had to purchase another inner-tube.
I have friends who try very hard to Love me. They hold up the mirror of me, letting me see me. I try and hold up the mirror of love for them. And I am very thankful for the holding up of the mirror. I can not promise anyone Love anymore.
The inner-tube has a million holes in it. And it can not take anymore holes. I rather like it- with all its patches. And I am perfectly content, learning to love my self and my art. A friendship, yes, I can give that. We can ride around on our bikes and laugh and be silly. You can keep loving me in whatever capacity I can muster. I know now, it won’t ever be enough for you. You will always want more, and I will not be able to give it.
I will place the bike on the wall, weave colored threads through it and glance at it and smile. The tires are flat and that is okay. I like walking.