The Universe Responds

earth_space[1]Perhaps you will remember the recent post  about attending my garden (of women). I did make a valiant effort at pruning, and I thought I’d catch you up on what has transpired.

My first candidate for the shears was Ronnie. I haven’t written very much of her, and with good reason. Frankly, not much has happened. Her inability to arrange suitable get together times has frustrated me for long past the patience of mere mortal males. She has been a major disappointment, and here was the opportune time for me to cut my (time) losses. Then, miracle of miracles, as I slowed the pace of communication and showcased some of my frustrations, she became more responsive. Move her from the definite to go to the maybe can stay pile. Grrrr!

Next for the pruning snips was all communication with Cassandra. Our lives were definitely headed in different directions, and although the fondness and tenderness would always be there (and her for me, I knew), practically speaking there was not going to be any immediate payoff registering on my emotional grid. I had already mentally said goodbye. What remained was just perfunctory closure.

As I transmitted that message to the galaxy, it was received throughout the universe. And  the universe decided to respond. A minor action somewhere distant to her world caused a barely noticeable tremor near to her, which led to slow but steady, like a dripping faucet, deterioration elsewhere. This caused mon beau papillon to flutter her wings anew, to explore, and send her own signals out to the galaxy.

When the waltz began, the music, the touching, the renewed closeness lifted her spirits, which in turn, brightened my days.. As a result she has asked to visit. These days we live far, far apart.

But I believe it will happen.

As We Begin to Waltz

slowwaltz[1]And so for two days we’ve begun to dance once more.  Not exactly like old times, and the tempo is slow. But we do both know the connection is alive. We know how, but we’re wary.  First stiff then compliant. Eagerness held in check. The steps and the cadence are familiar.

It won’t be a torrid tango of old from the Argentine, and we will never showcase our moves again in prime time. That will remain the property of the archives. But there is little hesitation. Only minor awkwardness.

We’ve begun with the waltz, but it feels comfortable doesn’t it? I have missed holding you like this. An observer would see we move well together. Our movements as one. Your follow to my lead. My pledge to grasp you tight. Not let you fall. Why there might even be a double reverse spin coming up.

Today we saw our reality.  We are joined somehow, beyond all reason, above every contradiction.

No manual can explain the intricacies of connection. No logic will solve the mystery. No book able to chart the magic.

There is no how. There is no why. There is what we are.