Peace of Mind

Scott, Scott the teacher, formerly known as "hot for teacher," asked me to dinner the other night via text message technology. Dylan emailed and then called me with high hopes I'd be provide momentary distraction to his much needed packing schedule and join him for a glass of wine. Then on Wednesday, Ryan gifted me with two CDs, one a computer friendly version, the other minorly edited for immediate car or stereo appreciation. And yet, it's the boy who bought a light and lock for my bike who I envision as the safest bet. Why, I wonder, are cliches often too true? Love/intense like finds us when we least expect or imagine it to, and when it rains (men), it pours? Argh, true story, confusions abound. And while I'm at it, with these questions I pose to us all - why is it, that once we think we may have found our match, the other, more unstable yet hopeful mirages of former truths surface? Hmmmmm, I simply do not know. Yes, big old sigh. I know only this, I am one girl who does indeed appreciate the attention, but am also a gal learning the importance and relevance of timing - it seems to be everything, at least at this hour. Timing, with the stars and moon and planetary alignment is imperative, nevertheless, many of us, myself included, often feel as though timing is a mere coincidence. I think now, right now, that it is no coincidence, but rather divine intervention that leads us to the longitudes and latitudes of where we should be and with whom.

My new rendezvous are not squeaky clean, they too are muddled with humanity and baggage and fraught with emotions in need of much fragile unraveling. Nevertheless, it seems as though where I am, where he is, is exactly where we are supposed to be. But in finding this out, apparently the universe must test our collective will and discern whether or not we fit, in the here and now. I sure hope we do. But why then, is it that once we are fastening the safety belts of lust and love and trust, is it that we are presented with such dubious inducing obstacles? I wonder still and will continue to until the day I can peer and gaze into my own kin's eyes with certainty that I chose the right one, and he me. Until then, I suppose it's a gamble, and we are all living in a state that shares no concrete truths, Vegas style.

So, with this vague information, I seek only to inform and remind myself and perhaps my few readers that we have guts for a reason and our intuition is no joke. So listen to that little internal voice but don't let it forcefully become the soundtrack to the days you're living in, marked and made memorable with sounds all their own. Ryan has provided me with a beautifully streamlined soliloquy to our courtship, brief union and drawn out days. And while I read far too into the lyrics coming from other people's mouths and lips and diaphragms that he choreographed, I must not abandon the idea that maybe he did mean to tell me that he missed the boat? And if he did intend such a message, where does that put me now? But, as I continue to sail on . . . and while it often takes another encounter to mend the wounds of those previous, sometimes time doesn't heal, nor studio produced rhymes. Sometimes time simply becomes the past. And yes, there's so very much past inside our presents, but don't we owe it to our presents to be present? I think yes.

Happiest of days to you, give them thanks for me.