Wednesday, April 20, 2011

This is how I must be loved

This is how I must be loved.
Bring me mangoes out of season.
Order an orange from China
Or one ancient painted egg.

You cannot be too exotic.

Find me a perfect magenta orchid.
It is the extravagant gesture
I long for.

Make me wear a veil and shawl.
Call me a Spanish whore.
Have me kneel at your feet.
Take me, hard, on the floor.

It is the opulence of love
I crave.

I want a full moon every night,
The wild bath of silver.
Touch me in another language.
Dare invent it,
A geography of the naked.

Surround me with candles.
Bathe me in oil.
Carry me to bed.
Tell me you’re my slave.
Brush my hair.
Beg to kiss my neck.

Whisper my name ten thousand times
Like a mantra, like chimes.
Build me a garden, an arbor.
Love me like I was the woman
Of all your tomorrows.

And no more pulling punches.
No more dress rehearsals.
Love me like I was the final
Princess in the last tower
At the end of the map.

-Kate Braverman

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Soul Mate

A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, and make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.
A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you
everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own
attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most
important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and
smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever. Nah. Too painful.
Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself
to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it."--
- E. Gilbert

Monday, April 18, 2011

A letter to the love of my life

dear love of my life,

i've been thinking of you of late.

and been unable to bring myself to write you.

i became self-conscious.

i think around the age of eighteen someone told me of a friend who had written letters at all the major events in her life and on the day of her wedding, presented it to her husband as her gift to him.

and i thought, perfection.

and i decided, i too, will do this. and thus began my own silent letter-writing-campaign.

i keep thinking of john ashberry's at north farm:

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you,
At incredible speed, traveling day and night,
Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents,
through narrow passes.
But he will know where to find you,
Recognize you when he sees you

i read it and think, of course, has a more perfect idea ever existed? it's such a beautiful and comforting idea--all our lives we are moving rapidly toward this person.

and then we find them.

and then we find them. ay, there's the rub. i think about that moment--that moment of finding them--and all i can think of is junior year of physics and newton's first law of motion:

every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.

euf, of course.

hidden in that first law is the fact that the impact of that outside force can be brutal.

so you've been traveling all your life in search of this person and then you find them and it's halting--that metaphorical slamming of the brakes. halting? no, not the right word. i mean the force of that stop--traumatic at best. and yes, it's thrilling and yes it's the beginning of everything, but in that moment and the immediate aftermath, i imagine it's nothing short of utterly terrifying

me too.

i'm scared too.

i mean, really scared.

it's a long time, this "till death do us part," no?

i know. me too.

but i'm asking you to be really courageous.

take the leap. okay?

i'll jump with you.
love, love, love, love,


Wednesday, April 6, 2011


"Too often we are so preoccupied with the destination, we forget the journey." 
 Here are some pieces of my 25th journey.

Peace. Love. Music.