Showing posts from September, 2003

The Only Way of Loving

The only way of loving is loving utterly. The fashionable concept is to give so much for a relationship and leave something for yourself. Too much emphasis has been given on giving that its complement is overshadowed: acceptance.

We must accept the other utterly. We cannot just simply mince a person and just love what we like. A human being is not a chicken--we cannot take our choice cuts.

Giving is attention, is care. But too much giving without really knowing what the other needs is arrogance and distrust. Acceptance is a form of generosity. When you accept the other, you give him the affirmation that he is complete in himself. Complete in beauty and capabilities.

Relationship then is a matter of enforcing each other. You and the other are vessels of energy, not incomplete, but always evolving, the way every moment, our skin is new.

The woman in me is the woman who sings "You've got the best of me, now come back and take the rest of me."

If he is going to change, l…


There is a certain comfort found in cyberspace. It has something to do with the anonymity and privacy that serves the dweller.

It is so much easier to disclose facts, or on the other hand, fictionalize matters when your face is not seen and your identity, concealed.

The human eye--the human glance, squint, hard look and looking away, serve a thousand words. One kind of look can say it all, that you may just want to run and hide, turn your back. A look can make you small, even invisible if the beholder wishes to. The cyberspace does not have this sensual trigger.

And so the cyberspace is really a melancholy place. I've been trading emails, engaging actively in stimulating fora, and while it keeps me in touch with other human beings and souls, I still feel a cut in my heart, for there is nothing more pleasurable than being with a person upfront--the sense and sensuality of company. Not just hearing voice and breath, but feeling the weight of a gasp. Nothing beats holding hands…

Number 2

In that place where you want to start anew, someone will always be better than you.


You are a word. I build a whole sentence, paragraph and a world so as to use you.

You are sound that I can taste and throw from the tip of my tongue.

I keep you safe in my memory and make you grow in my imagination.

I create and recreate you faster than I do myself. Or is it I I recreate when when I build and rebuild you? Is it you who had me all along?