Beloved Ordinary-ness

"You looked like an Angel, standing there, in your white. Lovely. I've always wanted to tell you how I feel, but..." she wafted the words softly into my ear.

Sweet words. What could I say? Sitting there in that room. As such a young man then, I thought much of mySelf, but, an Angel?

Nooo.. I am no such a thing. I Am ordinary. So ordinary. As ordinary as they come. By choice. And that is a Good and bless'ed existence. Make me not something I would not be under my own Will. Draft no hopes for me, I cannot conform to the schematic of a home, which greets me not with simple warmth and organic tastes. Yes, a home, that is it! I suppose I would be a cottage, rather than a mansion; a greenhouse, rather than a garage. Accent my path with wood or bamboo, plants, curves and open spaces, rather than plastic tiling, squared walls, and electronic tools of distraction. I am no floating, winged being. Lest I float on dreams, and winged because of Love alone. I cannot fly, nor disappear at will, except that I would fly in the face of conventional wisdom; disappearing in the obscurity of One man's mind who subverts every "truth" society has to teach, save that God IS Love. I cling to my ordinariness. I am not an angel, except that by Angel you meant a servant; a manifested flare of consciousness, expressed of the Divine. I AM a child with unique spirit, but, I am no different from anyone else. I do not promise to make you happy; only You can accomplish that. I will get it wrong. Human-ness and Divinity will blind me, at times; as will masculinity. I will fail and disappoint you. Except that you approach me like a natural thing; as a flowing fall, whose waters cannot be contained, nor caught by the hand. You may hold me, but I will slip through your fingers. You may caress me, but my tide is not always high. I am everything you say I am, yet, none of those things. I can fulfill all of your requirements, but, only if you are sufficient for them all, first and foremost. Expectations, in this world, are fetters for the mind. Ah, you remember that poem? You know, why does the caged bird sing? It is because its Soul, and not its Body is trapped. For this union to be based on it-Self, is truly angelic. And, that exists Only where the serpent stands on its lost legs and speaks with the ferver of an inferno, raging on in the pits of the stomach, aimed between the brows; where a man is able to see his or her own eye; where oceans flow towards rivers; where heavens and hells are the same places; therein lies what I am attempting to de-scribe. That place where Relation is not a Ship, though a vessel nonetheless, elevating pon enlight-in-ed, trails, trodded on. Simply said, I am a Man only, have mercy, beautiful Woman. Do not project your tenderness and nurturing on Me. I am cold and hard of understanding. I speak before thinking. I seek solutions and explanations, forgetting about feelings and intuition. I am a constant work in progress. I am that temple, built without mortar, nor the sound of hammers swung. In fact, lesser; I am the stone rejected from its constructing, though, vital to its foundation. I am many things. Extraordinary? Angelic? I would say, I'm ME. And happy that way. If you are happy as YOU, then WE, would be a beautiful thing to BE.... had. THAT would represent my Love. A union, both sacred and mundane. Not neat, nor perfect. But, interested, adventurous, perfect-ing, void of fear and compulsion. Open and Distant. Free.

Unfortunately, explorers of Spirit must make terrible Archers, because, where the word "Love" was spoken, this point was totally missed. Perhaps, this lifetime, we'll get it right... wherever she may BE."


(c)(r)2008