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cricket speaks.

  • 16…conscious.

    August 13th, 2023

    An hour passed. I was, of course, awake. I checked my phone again, after having given Sammy space to write me the letter which was destined to be. According to those dots, she was still typing. I sent a supportive emoji…the smiley face encircled by hearts…feeling all the love. It was a good choice.

    Immediately came her response, which I have copied here in its entirety because it is remarkable………

    Your slender fingers
    curl and tug around the edges
    of my periphery. Yellow and white
    light gapes in around the shadow
    of your curious eye, and I
    suddenly realize Myself,
    perfectly naked and diffident
    in a field of emptiness.

    Sammy, a poem written for me

    “You may have noticed that I was a little tongue tied when you were asking me about my creative endeavors the first time we met. I was stuck with talking material that was 2 yrs + old at this point, and I was having a hard time accounting for what I’ve been up to. While I immediately trusted you and felt like I wanted to unfold before you, there are extra large parts of my story that are intertwined with Superbloom, and to tell it puts us both in a vulnerable position, and so I don’t feel I can make that decision to share all the things without her consent.

    “Superbloom has said she trusts me but thinks that maybe I am jumping the gun. I feel like, given the fast feeling of significance, I need to be transparent with you so you have a chance to consider and consent, should that be right for you. This will ultimately allow me to set my compass in a way that best serves you and your family.

    “For the past 2 yrs, Superbloom and I have chosen to apply our capacities for creativity and growth and deep love in our dynamic relationship(s) with ourselves, each other, and others. Some labels people might put on what we’ve been engaged in…ethical non-monogamy, relationship anarchy, polyamory, conscious relationships. Whatever the label you want to put on it, it is really about designing and building mutual and deeply satisfying relationships that allow for our most bodacious soul’s expression. What this looks like depends entirely on each individual.

    “This brings me to my experience of you. For some reason, I want to know and be known by you. I notice in me a spark, a desire that attunes me to my vital center. I feel more alive somehow. My stomach does involuntary flips with certain responses that I receive from you. My body floods with tingling heat. I recently read something that felt really right to me: ‘Desire is perfectly pure the way that fire is. Blazing energy. Destructive only when we handle it wrongly.’ It describes my experience so well.

    “When I heard the framing that Wellwood mentioned about a soul connection being two people who are instrumental in each other’s development, my hairs went on end. He went further to say it would be ‘someone who doesn’t just make us feel good, but someone who will make us live and die most intensely.’ I have NO idea how I sense that about you, but there it is. We can take it or leave it.

    “Meeting you has cracked something open in me, and I am endlessly grateful. I have often said that Superbloom makes it easy for me to access my capacity for infinite Love. Indeed, ‘the gate of heaven is everywhere,’ and it seems there are some that just make it easier to see it.

    “Please, if you can, lay your people pleaser aside (assuming you have one like the rest of us). I am not under any delusion that you feel the same way or are in a place in your life to engage with such adventures. We can celebrate and move forward with enthusiastic yeses..and we can be guided by our nos. I promise to be sensitive and utterly respectful of where you’re at.

    “Clumsy and incomplete but from my heart in this moment.”

    [Mic drop.]

    Ladies and Gentlemen…I present to you: Sammy.

    Previous –> 15…bless us. Next –> 17…it’s on.

    Image by Hulki Okan Tabak from Pixabay
  • 15…bless us.

    August 13th, 2023

    I held my breath. I didn’t know what exactly was coming to fruition, but now I knew that something was.

    My stunned face and kissy face emojis, profound as they were, elicited another poem from Sammy:

    I did think, let’s go about this slowly.
    This is important. This should take
    some really deep thought.
    We should take
    small thoughtful steps.

    But, bless us, we didn’t.

    Mary Oliver

    Oh my God. She knows what we’re doing.

    “More!” I replied, too excited.

    “I can’t believe you’re actually down for all of this!”

    I was sort of one poem past a “duh” but here it was. Proof. It was no longer unclear whether or not Sammy felt the same way I did about our connection. I was now living in another dimension, a new person, still holding the breath of the other one.

    I needed clarification on something very, very important which I hoped wasn’t offensive in asking:

    “Is Superbloom aware of how close we’re becoming?”

    “She is…thank you for asking. And Anthony?”

    “Yes, he knows.”

    She exhaled.

    “How is she so cool with this,” I asked Sammy. She said that her wife was holding it all with “celebration and tenderness.”

    Sammy told me that she had been working for days now on composing a letter to me which had taken far longer to write than the amount of time we’d actually spent together. There was something she needed to explain to me which would take some thoughtfulness on her part and some understanding and care on mine.

    “I really don’t know you well enough to be emptying myself before you. But there is something in me that wants to be true before you, no matter the outcome.” She continued, “Have you ever had a ‘soul’ friend before? Outside of Anthony?”

    I stalled. That Sammy imagined Anthony as my soul mate was such an illustration of the fact that we didn’t know much about each other. There were things I must be presenting about myself that weren’t true.

    I asked her to describe what she meant by ‘soul friend.’ Sammy became nervous.

    “Oh goodness,” she said. I’m starting to get an overwhelming feeling of being ridiculous…interesting. Are you texting me with Anthony, by chance?”

    “No, I’m alone. And you are not ridiculous. I’m hanging on your every word.”

    There was a long pause and then, the last minute of the last hour of her birthday, Sammy said: “Teetering on what would best serve you and us right now….”

    I told her to take her time. It seemed that her deadline had been moved up. Otherwise, that letter may have taken weeks to write. But we were having this discussion right here, right now.

    Previous –> 14…dear pilgrim. Next –> 16…conscious.

    Image by Joe from Pixabay
  • 14…dear pilgrim.

    August 12th, 2023

    In all my years with Anthony, I had never been grateful for his straight-to-the-point style regarding me. I would have explored every emotional and psychological nook and cranny with him. That was important to me. And fun. It would have built intimacy…although not everyone wants that.

    Whenever Anthony and I discussed things of human complexity, that high-speed attention train didn’t wait for anyone to board before getting the hell out of there. As a consequence, I eventually retired from spending effort expressing myself. I developed the habit of whittling down my words to the bare essentials when communicating with him, and here was just another example. My reflex was to share all of the details of what was happening–inside and outside–but he seemed, as usual, uninterested. So I took the whole beautifully unfolding story with Sammy and reduced it to a single bland bite, which was all I believed Anthony could swallow.

    My heart already knew that Sammy and I were, accidentally and intentionally, in love. But I couldn’t betray myself in saying it out loud to someone who would receive it with cynicism and mockery. There was no proof of it anyway so there was no credible value. “And besides,” my head said to my heart, “there’s really no way this can be true…he’s probably right. How humiliating, singing to them from your heart and then realizing that you’re tone deaf. Could you ever trust yourself again?”

    So, my heart kept its secret…for now. It mustered up as much courage as a heart ever could while protecting itself, and gave my voice those few dense words: but what if she is interested? I really think she is.

    A clean and simple response: Go for it.

    What freedom! The message that had broken my heart months before…namely that my fidelity to Anthony wasn’t that big a deal to him…was being repurposed to open a new door for me. This was permission, if you will, to be radically creative in pursuing what inspired me. I was relieved at his consistency and, in finding this secret door ajar, elated. And, for once, appreciative of Anthony’s passivity in my direction.

    If he had stomped on the brakes for me in this moment, I would have pulled the plug on my passion. I would not have explored. Instead, I would have trodden the familiar path of Anthony’s perceived needs and wants (many of them projected), which wasn’t in conflict with what society, “morality,” religion, friends/family said was “right.”

    I also would have resented him for wanting me to not have my cake or eat it.

    Instead, I felt incredibly grateful for my newly realized liberty which was not afforded to many women by their husbands. It didn’t matter what actually happened with Sammy. Now I could imagine the possibilities available to me. There was spaciousness to roam and I also had security. Thanks to Anthony; thanks to my husband.

    Regarding Sammy, when I thought about her having romantic feelings for me, my logic stepped in to play devil’s advocate. For instance, the first time I met Sammy, when the subject of her wife came up, I mentioned having met her. “Isn’t she wonderful?” Sammy had said, beaming a smile at me, adoration dripping from her voice onto me like warm molasses. And the indications kept rolling in…the ones that told me that Sammy was completely and totally in love with Superbloom.

    But what about her messages to me? The subtle and not-so-subtle things that were tugging at me and convincing me that…. Convincing me of what?

    Anyway, I was no homewrecker. Happily or unhappily married, I wasn’t the kind of person to become romantically involved with a married person. Was I???

    And that kiss. I had looked at the photo over and over again. If I was falling for Sammy, why wasn’t I jealous? I was that kind of person. Wasn’t I???

    To ponder or not to ponder…that is the question.

    (And if you still don’t know me by now, I always choose to ponder.)


    Sammy had checked in briefly after arriving home from their trip, delighting in the gift she received from me, wishing to connect further after the birthday dinner she was preparing for. I didn’t hear from her again until way past my bedtime.

    After putting Leetl to sleep, I slipped into the guest bedroom, my “sacred office,” and pored over my books for hours. Still no word from Sammy. Finally, when I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open, I sent her a goodnight message, letting her know that I was celebrating her existence in the world. I tucked myself in for the night.

    Five minutes later, her poemed response illuminated the dark:

    Because the Woman I love lives
    Inside of you,
    I lean as close to your body with my words
    As I can–
    And I think of you all the time, dear pilgrim.

    Because the One I love goes with you
    Wherever you go,
    Hafiz will always be near.

    If you sat before me, wayfarer,
    With your aura bright from your many
    Charms,
    My lips could resist rushing to you and needing
    To befriend your blushed cheek,
    But my eyes can no longer hide
    The wondrous fact of who
    You Really are.

    The Beautiful One whom I adore
    Has pitched His royal tent inside of you,
    So I will always lean my heart
    As close to your soul
    As I can.

    Hafiz

    I was stunned. Only emojis could convey my true emotion in this moment.

    Previous –> 13…gate of heaven. Next –> 15…bless us.

    Image by Sasin Tipchai from Pixabay
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