sǝuoſ ǝuıɥsunS | notebook, journal, inter-web log

I’ve been thinking some things over seriously lately, after sunday night’s edition of sunday soul (where Sunshine played the music from the last month or so with joy and pleasure for himself in the manner which makes him most happy) and a trio of interesting conversations I had today with the three people I love most in this world (in which Sunshine asked brave questions, was completely honest, and listened carefully with love and friendship) I’ve come to a conclusion.

Yes. I have actually made a decision. Well not just one, although they are looking more and more like a single decision as opposed to the pleasant set of peace emitting pleasantries they initially appeared to be to me at first glance.

When asked if he missed his wife (who was thousands of miles away at the time,) Adyashanti smiled and said simply, “no.”

I believe in love, and so I am going to love.
I believe in house music, beautiful electronic soul, space disco, and so I am going to make house music, mix house music, sing and dance with you.
I love my friends, and I am going to be a friend.
I want to travel, and play music to everyone who is even vaguely interested in getting down to my sound.
I love my son more than anything else in this world, and so I am going to be a father for him. A man who participates in his life, and development, with all my heart.

You may be reading this thinking “Duh… dude, that’s what you were doing before. What’s the big whup?” And I suppose that’s exactly my point.

I’m not stupid, and while I believe that Fleetwood Mac are far more wise than anyone has ever really given them credit for, in this world, maybe it’s not what you get… Maybe it’s what you give. And in order to give, you must first be in possession of yourself. Without a role in this moment, then we are merely thieves, stealing little lies from the cosmos, making promises we would love to keep, but can’t.

I’m not cold or cruel. I believe in romantic love more elaborate and beautiful than I could ever hope to find a home for. I would stand beside you and honor you every day with every last drop of love within me as you spread your beautiful wings. If there was cause, or even invitation, I would be completely down for you. But this is academic. I am already completely down for you. Hardly a reward… to receive what you already possess? Silly of me really. I may always be sad because of my unrequited heart’s aching, but I’m not sure that when I sing, or write, or even challenge you to seek within yourself and locate these longings and “let them go” that I am even talking about love as I understand love. I am talking about passion, pleasure, desire, possession. The closest thing to present, or happy that I have ever been in my life is when I have simply forgotten these hallmarks of the sensual world, and gone about my business.

Astrologically speaking, as a Cancer, It’s highly likely that I have no match. There may be no mate in this world who could meet me, welcome me, or honor me in a way which might truly reach me, or even get my attention for more than a few moments. We of the shell and pinchers are wildly creative, we love with a psychosis that is only rivaled by the Libra when she is temporarily swung off to one side. It’s a ruse, a cruel trick. The scales always return to the opposing extreme and the poor cancer is sent scuttling off under the nearest rock to wonder what the fuck just happened. It’s the curse of the shell: So hard to break out of, and impossible to penetrate.

I’ve longed all my life, literally as far back as I can remember, for someone, anyone, to reach into my heart where this vulnerable light lives and simply touch me. That’s a little dramatic. I am touched every day. What I mean is to touch me, and bear your beautiful soul to me, and stay. People say all kinds of things…. lower your standards, lighten up, don’t take yourself so seriously, and even sighs of agreement… But I tell you, in a world where asking for clarification is grounds for a fist fight, I suppose it’s probably not going to happen.

And so I am going to mix, produce, write, photograph, sing, dance, and love with all of my smoldering heart. While I’d like to be kissed, touched, made love to, whispered to in the wee hours of the morning, be the stars in the sky to someone who can look into my eyes and say everything they feel for me, right to me. It’s agreed (at least between Sonia and I) that men can go quite a bit longer without sex than women can (and I laugh at the thought.) It is a social misappraisal that men cannot live without sex, and women are chaste and virtuous for decades if need be. Everyone is different, but in my experience this has proven to be true. But I don’t care about that now… I’m not even remotely interested in casual innuendo, or sport fucking. While I’m human indeed, and certainly get moody, I love myself far more than that. My soul mate will never betray me, it’s impossible. One day…

Until then…

I believe in love, and love believes in me, and I welcome the abundant universe’s blessings of hope, delight, pleasure and prosperity as they fall, like the blurry petals of sweet blossoms from the sky, decorating my hair.