robert is obsessed with candy. i think that’s what keeps us friends, that and his screen plays… he’s as old as my dad and gets excited about pez. i think that’s wonderful. his wife studies heiroglyphics and egyptology. i think that’s also wonderful. he’s also quite morbid. he likes to tell the story of how he had to make the decision to remove his mother’s feeding tube 5 years ago and how it took her 2 weeks to die. and he tells this story giggling fiendishly. he wears circular glasses like john lennon and looks like an overgrown harry potter. he bought a skull today that sings ‘soul man’ and a marge simpson pez dispenser that he tore from the package and filled up with candy as i browzed through butterfly necklaces at citywalk. we sat in the sun and talked about when we flew from nyc to los angeles 10 years ago when i was pretending to be his agent and what rockstars we were, walking into warner bros studios lot meeting with producers… and now i’m working for warner bros! and he relocated here based on that trip, where he said he came up with the idea. “i give you two years til you’re running WB,” he said over lunch and we laughed…
at universal studios with punk music blaring at me in all directions, back against a marble column, sun in my hair, enjoying my new sunglasses. someone asks me if i’m waiting for prince tickets. i tell him no. i am waiting for robert, the script writer that i used to work for in nyc ten years ago.
last night, denice, a co-worker invited me to her dance teacher’s birthday party at a cafe. denice is a quiet, careful human resources assistant by day and a wild bellydancer by night. it was wonderful to see her in her natural element. it was inspiring being in a dimly lit cafe with men playing arabic drums and a dozen women bellydancing their joy….
i grabbed a napkin and a purple pen….
long grey hair falling like feathers,
cascading over the backs of chairs,
a dozen women spinning,
whirling dervishes with gold coins
around low bulbous hips,
hedonistic beacon goddesses,
in this dance they are all sacred,
and in this dance we are all realigned,
female forms in all its vast unhinged freedom
bringing goddess hips to the core,
of all that i peacock shimmering
and feline screeching,
in this dance, we are all released…
“i have faith in longing. it is the voice of the parts of myself i have left behind in the deals i have tried to make with life, trying to trade peices of my dreams for promises of safety.”
“….a mate that does not turn my face away from my own life, inner and outer.”
“i want to be courted by truth.”
“i was revealed to the world as a woman of deep, untidy passions that could override my usual ability to be an astute judge of character and to make carefully thought-out decisions. i was the fool… but being the fool will not kill me.”
an autumn leaf flows towards me. it twists under current and it is in the shape of a ghost. it rounds my rock and speeds away turning over and over. red spine orange splinters. i fall closer towards the water as if it will whisper secrets, and in fact it does. my knees bend with the sound. fierce endless cascades and no doubt in sight. there is a gazebo behind me in a house that i wish i owned. mountain bikers walk their bicycles over a small bridge and a dog runs through the current excitedly shaking and spraying the water all over me. i just close my eyes and smile unmoving. the entire weekend here in sedona, i am just a short breath away from uncontrollable sobbing. my marraige is over after only one year… it’s heartbreaking… so i breathe long slow purging breaths.
last night mid-dream i awoke to a wet pillow and my hand was rubbing my head, twisting my hair. at night, my angels care for me. they infuse me with dreams and calm me when i understand… as numourous as my emotions are, i do not feel lost or hopeless. only my love was…for a time. and i forgive myself for it. in time, i will forgive tsafi as well.
the sun warms my back, a stray pink hair moves in front of me with the wind. i am at oak creek park, agitated beyond consolation. my in-laws want to speak with me. i also know i need to put something legally in place..but what? and where to begin? as of today, we are still married…. and i don’t know what he’s capable of, especially financially. so my agitation comes from the place before action. once done, i can continue to heal. i am almost tempted to lament my age, but no… i am at the right time and am doing exactly as i should be doing right now. my life has no dead endings.
i came to sedona for healing and i leave with strange dreams and trainwreck pms. solitude is scary when i’m in mourning but i am doing alright. i am sitting on a cold red rock with the bottom of my jeans folded up, revealing white skinny legs in desparate need of moisturizer. before me are burnt ripples with sandy sticks and moss a foot below the creek’s surface. small rapids stretched out in front of me and a sense of a kink in my life’s plan in the same way this creek flows. after a big rock in mid-stream is a deep swell where the water seems to fight back… it doesn’t ever really go back. the flow of its life is too strong and whether the creek knows it or not, it is good for it. it creates white neon temporarily as if in celebration, white the color of innocence, and not of regret. i must flow like this creek… and i must own my stones and swells, my mossy currents and my rainbow ripples. my tendril creek will flow to the ocean and i will become a part of the salt of the earth. my individual story lost in a sea of stories and my white rapids running wild on the backs of dolphins.
i was walking home from work one night and in a dark alleyway i saw two stray dogs. one of them approached me, and when i extended both of my arms welcoming him, he jumped into me and i held him all the way home. i put him in the backyard with other animals. it was fenced off with a pool in the middle. i went inside the house. my mother was there. the television was on. there were a lot of people there and a lot of noise. then the doorbell rang. someone answered the door and in walked a haggard tsafi with unshaven face, wild eyes and unbrushed hair. he told me that someone wrote a letter to immigration exaggerating his abuse and they are deporting him back to israel. i stared at my mother. she ignored me, worried. i attacked her verbally and frustrated feeling betrayed but expectant of this “how could you have done this?!” i flared at her. sending him back to israel was not my intention. my mother continued to ignore me as if she was doing the best thing fo rme and i was enraged in betrayal. tsafi socialized with some people.
then it was daytime and i went out in the backyard to get a better look at this loveable dog i had found. he was actually a puppy and was very hyper. everything changed when i saw his profile in the sunlight. it was a puppy, but it was a dangerous breed. i went inside and asked about this breed to some strangers inside. “yes,” they confirmed, “it is dangerous… a killer in fact!” and i went back outside and surveyed the animals in the common fenced off areas. there were sheep, goats and other loveable dogs, ones that wouldn’t hurt a soul. and i took a look at my playful and detrimental puppy and my heart hurt. like tsafi, i loved and cared for him for his current exterior, the love overshadowing his programmed nature, to whatever extent that may be. even in my dream i had the awareness of the scorpion and the turtle story where the turtle (or was it a frog?) offers to help the scorpion across the river. when the scorpion stings the turtle and they are both heading towards their death, the scorpion says that he can’t help it. it is simply a scorpion’s nature to sting, much in the same way tsafi cannot help his violence, inconsideration and arrogance. even in the dream i had this awareness…
so it was morning and i asked someone to take my puppy away, to put him in a no-kill shelter and i resolved to call every couple of days to check up on him that he found a safe loving place that accepted his behavior and was properly cared for alone without any other animals where his nature couldn’t hurt anyone as he got older. just then i noticed tsafi talking to a girl, no older than 21 years old, young pretty, impressionable, dim-witted and i thought in the dream (and at this point i knew i was dreaming), i thought again of the scorpion and it’s initial charm and coersion. i awoke feeling pains of jealousy, as i know acquiring lovers is the easiest and most predictable way for him to feel better. i twisted out of all this dreaming witht he conclusion that he may take lovers and may even have sex-based longer-than-one-night-stand relationships, but i, however, will feel more fulfilled in my next relationship because i will be going forward and not backwards, like him repeating old self-gratifying behaviors. i will find someone less primitive. someone more like me… someone who reads books and feels life like me… someone creative and complete already, someone who’s been hurt before and learned about love, someone happy, someone ready for a family, someone with a sense of freedom, of travel, but grounded, successful in his mind and in his chosen profession. someone capable of turning his life’s lessons into a story… someone searching for someone like me to love… someone just selfish enough to preserve his core and just selfless enough to share his spirit and what makes him alive… AWAKE, HOPEFUL, CAREFUL, GENTILE, KIND, PASSIONATE, CARING, FOCUSED. someone who i can sit in silence with… and still be sharing energy. this is my heart’s wish… this will be the one i will create a family with, build up traditions with, honor each day with. this is not tsafi, the qualities are not within him. but i learned many things and therefore it was all worthwhile. again, i fell into the pattern of teaching more than being taught. this relationship was more a part of his life lesson than of mine. this pain i deal with every day just serves to refine my search for the one deserving of decades, mutuaul growth and respect, an ascending union, a deeper connection…
sunset across a highway. heavy mood. all about tsafi. i want to cry but i can’t let it go. a car alarm goes off and it mirrors how i feel. sirens going off in mourning and change. it is hard for the heart to understand. the mind worked fast and furious, absolutely justified and headed in a healthier direction but the heart trails behind like a clumsy child holding a worn ragdoll leaning backwards, looking behind her lost and confused. “weren’t we going to be a mother this year?” it tearfully mourns. “no, not this year…” the mind soothes, “perhaps in 2 years…it is not time.” and still the heart looks back “was he THAT bad for us?” the heart asks. “yes.” the mind says swiftly… “and if you doubt….” the mind trails off and the heart turns cold in sadness. i loved him. he hurt me. he was not the one… and i am very sad… it’s a blanket sadness… no one spire shines out of the muck that i feel.
in a hotel room in sedona. i have a love/hate relationship with starchy hotel sheets. love, because they are unfamiliar and hate, because they are hard. my new roommates and i drove close to 8 hours from los angeles. donovan kept us company as we drove thru early morning colors. everyone in the car took turns sleeping. i was static in my seat absorbing sights as distraction… until diana called me. she was awaiting our arrival and although i was sad to inform her of our late arrival, it was better than no arrival at all, as was a possibility the night before, as my housemate diane listed all the ‘real’ world things she felt compelled to do instead of this weekend getaway that we’d planned a week ago as sustanence. it was midnight and i’d just arrived home from jenna’s 30th bday party in santa monica and i simply held up a photo of sunset in sedona on the cover of a vhs tape that she’d had out on the coffee table for the whole week. “it can wait…” i told her plainly and she relented with a releived smile. we made plans for a 6am wake-up, instead of 3:30am. i awoke just before dawn and laid excited in bed waiting for an appropriate time to be the house alarm clock. 5:50am and i couldn’t stands no more. i walked boldly down the wood-floored hallway in loud shoes calling out “GOOOOOOD MMMMMMORNING CAMPERS!!” and ensueing moans greeted me. for the next hour i felt like this state-hopping odessy was my coersion and means of self-gratifying escape of heart pain until dawn passed successfully into morning, as dawn is often known to do, and diane was smiling broadly and rich, well-rested in the backseat let go of his to-do list and we all simply enjoyed the ride. one tank of gas later, we arrived at la quinta inn. it was 4pm and i changed into my hiking boots, swung my camera over my shoulder and waited like a puppy for my sister’s hug. she and bryce arrived 20 minutes later and di and i hugged for three straight minutes humming our happiness and reconnection, swaying in circles until we were properly reaquainted. over a late lunch, we caught up like monkeys, as i inspected her for changes and moods. she had four new beautiful freckles and seemed very happy. i dared her to eat a jalapeno pepper and she did dramatically and effortlessly. in disbeleif, i took a nibble of said ‘hot’ pepper and boy, was it hot! we grappled over whether to get chocolate pie, opting negatively and instead headed up route 179 to 89a to airport mesa to see sunset. she and bryce were following behind us and over-drove the parking lot. she called me on my cell that there was a scenic overlook just a quarter mile up the road and i agreed to meet her there. but upon hanging up and scanning up the glowing red vortex in front of me and diane adjusting her film camera excited about THIS observation point, i let my feet do the walking. red magic dust covered my boots and my palms ached for red ochre stones jutting out like step stools lifting me higher to the halfway point where the sunset reached and was scanning upwards at a steadily disappointing rate as its glow recinded despite the wishes and wonder of onlookers, gathered on top for its demise. i arrived to the top with meditating people on ledges and a swarming whipping wind. in the distance was a reclining content man with a loyal dog at his feet. diane and rich soon joined me and we all took photos of each other. i even got in a cartwheel. diane finished filming and before i would all her to feel ‘finished’ with this spot, i called her down quietly. “there are moments to capture… and then there are moments to simply BE…” and i pulled her down to the rock’s ledge beside me and we both stared in silence as the sun retracted its warmth and its magick hour retreated anciently before our eyes. when she was living in her content patient smile, i moved away to photograph it in sillouette against dusk. i exited the scene so she might enjoy it… i descended airport mesa gripping rocks and manuevering down water-worn paths… missing my sister just up the road at that scenic overlook. on the road to meet her, she met us… we did a mutual headlight flash and met up at the scenic overlook. we made plans for dinner at a cabin in 3 hours and i thought we parted ways. diane wanted to see the other side of sunset where the sun goes down in a fight, choosing base colors of rainbows and turning the sky shades of berries before finally claiming defeat. the deciding factor i beleive was a crazy jamaican witha triangle-shaped hat playing the drums hedonistically and expertly. so we parked the car and although i enjoyed the spectrum display in the clouds, something was missing. i found it in the form of my sister among the crowd. she’d decided to stay… we swayed again, this time not in realignment, but in warmth.
I can’t push it away sometimes… the disappointment, the sadness… and when I begin to cry and the seams threaten to fray, the phone rings and it’s shaunte making me laugh. Or it’s a card from maxene with encouragement, or a healing package from jen with a card that says she loves me 14 times, or it’s Diana making plans to meet me halfway in Sedona, and tonight the package I look forward to all year, the Russell stover’s heart filled with chocolates that dad always sends for valentines day.
I fall back on the bed with a fist full of sugar and read his card that says “just curious daughter…how do you do it? You land on your feet every time – nothing to it! You make me feel proud with your ways that are lovable – caring, accomplished, helpful and huggable…” and I call him and he’s driving home from work and I thank him for being my valentine. He tells me that he’ll always be my valentine… I am a lucky girl.