…she put on a pair of yoga pants, dressier yoga pants than what she would normally wear on a day off. but yoga pants none the less. the sweater was green and a little sexy. and she wore her favorite lipgloss….

she couldn’t be bothered anymore to put on jeans to go on first dates. anyways it was the middle of the day and she was in her 30’s- weed them out now if yoga pants were a dealbreaker.

she really was that comfortable in her skin. it took awhile, and every so often she still stares at her clothes guessing what a stranger might prefer rather than considering her own comfort. but for the most part an ease had made its way into her talking, her breathing, her walking, her working, her living. it’s ok if her hair is dirty and if there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her skin. nothing her favorite lipgloss and perfume couldn’t remedy in the span of 10 seconds. there just wasn’t time to pretend anymore. to be something she was not. the fantasy of having a person was still there and pressing hard. but there was also a residue of jadedness snaking it’s way around her heart. but mostly fantasy. the wanting to be seen. the wanting to be heard. the wanting to be admired and adored…….and most of all, the wanting to give, she had so much to give…..

and although her inner world was equal parts indifference and hope, when she rounded the corner and saw him she smiled….



it’s a Sunday afternoon 4 months later and she’s gazing out the window towards the mountains in his city apartment.

what is it in us that pulls us toward a person?

how is it even that two people make their way to one another? and what determines the connections longevity?

she couldn’t help but ponder this question. looking around the apartment at the previous evenings shenanigans, she felt so deeply and intuitively like she was in the exact right place at the exact right time. there was no where else she wanted to be…

you meet a person. and sometimes. there’s a something. it doesn’t come from a thought. or from what someone is wearing. or from what someone says even. it’s like there’s a very subtle cloud of sparkling smoke that invades the negative space between the two of you. there’s space between sentences of completely tranquil silence, ┬ástillness between two sets of eyes that don’t feel the need to look away. a comfort standing next to them that makes it perfectly reasonable for you to just curl into them or jump into their lap. a mutual recognition of sorts. but on a soul level, with no logical, cognitive explanation. you see yourself in them, sometimes even in the tangible details of their lives that they are slowly revealing to you during the first few encounters. and then you SEE yourself in them… like the most elusive clue in the New York Times crossword that begs for an answer and won’t let go until the unspoken contract has been absolved….

there was a period of time where the lust of it all would breathe one massive whoosh of pixie dust and her feet would relieve themselves of their lawful connection to the earth. no more. or at least not without some sense that she’d lost her footing. lots of experiences to verify the futility of fantasy…

for everything…

at some point…

deteriorates to ordinary.

too many extremes. exuberant highs followed by painstaking lows. promises followed by inaction. yes’s followed by no’s. fickle and constantly moving parts in the inner world craftily searching for something to fill them up. too much identification with the fantasy. this cycle was becoming exhausting. and something inside of her finally surrendered to its obvious shortcomings and she gave up.

a month ago, she sat for a hypnosis /regression session with her favorite wise one. she was into all that woo woo shit that most people write off as hokey. there was a witchy, earthy, intuitive part of her that she was only recently beginning to trust. her logical mind had failed her time and time again. incessantly changing its mind, getting lost in obsessive analysis, guessing and missing and guessing and missing. by not involving her deeper emotional life in the complex question of dating and relationships, she found herself stuck, mentally masturbating, a literal headache in her frontal cortex.

(and let’s face it, do we even know anything about our divine emotional intelligence? that direct knowing that comes in a conscious moment? or how to access it? the moment you think that you know and then try to speak it, you’ve lost it….you see?… the ever elusive catch 22.)…

she had given the mind a fair shake at understanding. must try something else. must access a different intelligence. there was something profound about the deeply quiet state that can be accessed when we are open to it. when our surface level thinking ceases and something deeper can speak to us. she had always known, even as a child, that she had some of her own psychic and clairvoyant tendencies, but life beats that magic right outta ya. of course its never about answers, just about more questions, as she uses her findings to place one more piece of the puzzle in place in understanding why she is the way she is.

findings? it’s SO big. too big to ever try and rationalize… this existence in which we find ourselves. bigger than we can understand with the mind alone. she felt smaller than she ever had and also freer than she ever had. this smallness called into question her view of her world and how important she thought it was and how big her feelings always felt- this tunneled vision of herself felt limiting and futile. and then…..

she saw an underrepresented corner of her heart, the corner that rejoices at the wonder of it all, the possibility of “something” higher, the satisfaction of trusting that “something” is guiding what becomes. that opening in her heart relaxed her mind. there was no need to know, the unfolding was happening in just the right timing

take the gun away from your head…

laugh for a minute…


open your eyes…

and begin again.

it was enough to listen to his stories, laugh at his laughing, miss him a little when he got busy at work, watch herself get a little needy, relax when she felt a slight poke at her self-protection, slowly reveal truths about herself, enjoy him and better yet…enjoy herself around him…..the rest would reveal itself in time, if there was ever a day when she didn’t want to see him again, she would know. and no thought beyond that was required.

she didn’t know how she had come to be sitting on the bed drinking coffee in his t-shirt on this quiet Sunday morning. she didn’t know why she recognized him immediately that day a few months ago. she didn’t know why his eyes spoke to her or why his touch energized her. but she was sure as fuck gonna find out, fora little while or a long while, it didn’t matter.

so what is it that creates a magnetism with one but not another? she wondered….












and then they laughed when he picked up her panties off the middle of the living room floor….