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I am a fictionist and feature writer; mother to six kids-- two are in college, two are in high school, two in the grades. My second to the youngest child, Carlo, is a special boy, diagnosed to be in the autistic spectrum of development... yes, it's very hard, but we dare to love him in the way we have chosen-- unconditionally, with all our (his Dad's and mine) strength. Because of this, my husband has become a stay-at-home-father, completely giving up his career (he used to be with a city police force). I guess this is a wiser choice. He takes care of all of us and I'm his favorite baby, next to Carlo.
I am private person, woman, me, an individual, unique, creative. I create and love with all of me, different me for different beloved-lover, thus assuming many names (in my mind) and living many lives (in my mind, in the cyber world).
There are slices of my many lives I cannot bear not to tell and so I write about them. One of friends I dearly love always tells me, in his most subtle way-- "... just for the two of us, not for publication" maybe because he knows so much about this streak in me. And so I restrain myself for telling the world about our story. But I can never forget him and I feel my soul being pulled to where he lives and in my dreams as well as wakeful hours, I see myself walking the cherry blossomed street that will bring me to his house.
I guess many of my loved ones have not read what I wrote and this is fine, so they have peace. I guess I write for the future readers. So they will say-- "so, this is how people love long ago... so this is how they make love..." And they will have an understanding of how it was to be a mother, wife; how it was to be lonely and feel trapped; to feel unloved and bored; to be redeemed by love and technology like the Internet with all the email and online chat capabilities, but not without risks.
You embark on journeys and relationships in the cyber world at your own risks. You learn when you are being loved or being used. Later your tears will only be your own. You live on "real time" for the ephemeral bliss it brings. Any "real time" moment in your mind, your soul may writhe in pain; or dance in bliss like mine did when a beloved friend (the first and only man I know who calls a woman's most intimate part "YONI", a Sanskrit word meaning "sacred place"; and who, incidentally, is also the one who shared with this background music entitled "Intizar" or "The Waiting") shared with me this morning prayer--
"Lord make today another day of sustenance for us. Let us not venture too far for food or water. Let us drink from the sweetest water holes and let us eat of the tastiest morsels. Let us not be killed or wounded as we soar across Your skies. Let us be shadowed by Your clouds when it gets too hot, and let out Your sunshine when we shiver with cold. Let our children be happy and safe in Your custody as we leave them behind. Let there be no disease to sicken or disable us. Let not a storm nor lightning or thunder frighten our hearts. Let no hunter near us today. Let our nests and eggs be safe from attacks or natural disasters under the wings of Your angels. Let there be no fights between us, no quarrels of any sort, no murder. This day let us roam free, feel free, live free as we have everyday. And let there be no fear of Thee or each other in our hearts today, only love, love, love." |
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