Knockin’ on the Temple Door

God Bless You. Goddess Bless Me.

When I gaze upon You, yes I revere you, I adore You. I look upon your visage as that of a mere mortal trying to glimpse a deity without being blinded or condemned.

When I bow at Your feet and kiss them, it is with a sacred solemnity. When I come close to the Temple doors to breathe in your Aura, to feel the tickle of your hairs on my lips, the damp dewy pleasure as I drink the nectar of the gods, it is as Sunday communion for the parishioner. You are my Pastora. My Confessor. My Spiritual Awakening. My Hope. My Gratitude.

But, when I look through Your green orbs into the depths of that endless Sea, it is all of You I want: The middle aged woman, the frightened child on her own for the first time, the nail-biting girl so far from where and whom she dreamed in her Walt Disney-naivete on where she’d be,  who on occasion needs an Ambien or to be gently rocked to sleep, deep pulsing nurturing rhythmic hungers sated, thirsts slaked. Caress your soft, mortal shoulders, kiss those gentle rose-water lips, stroke tus mejillas as We are One. Hold you, be with You. Walk Together. Along the shores of our Life. Juntos


I often told You and You still don’t believe me when I rub up against your swollen lips, thick with excitement as You hold my head in a loving and teasing thumb-index finger stroke that drives me wild, when You awaken your parts with mine and gently invite me in, it’s Love. Not sex. I don’t have this stamina based on drugs. Or youth. Or even the fleeting of romantic and corporeal desire.

Love is Love. Profundo. Abiding. In You and Without You, Love.

Pax et Lux. Siempre.

photo© courtesy of Cheryl Perez Chatzis


Yeah. Right

SO, I read your short note.

To the point.


With a door prize. My bracelet returned. Thanks for playing.

Did I do good, Mammi?
Or, maybe I failed? I pressed too hard. Maybe the note to your dad and your sister was the last straw. Or, given your months of stoney deadly silence they simply forced you to act beyond the cowardice I have always perceived in you, the child’s maturity level in a woman’s gorgeous figurine. You speak all the right words but all your actions – and that of your poisonous friend – show me you a. like the toxic world in which you live and b. I was right to not capitulate to your manipulative, inappropriately written not spoken, demand, ultimatum.

“As I already explained, I need to be on my path,” you say.
Ah, no. You held our relationship at tearful gunpoint to your demands that I, once again, externally compensate for what you cannot reconcile within. Now the question is do I send you the loving gifts I had intended for Christmas? Do I send Papi a Red Sox World Championship hat as planned if they won? Do I send the necklace, the cd, all with ‘friendship’ when you revised “Eternal Love” with a terse “Glad we reconnected,” and no sign off with love.

Why did you give so much, so intensely, so quickl? I’ll never understand how I came to this place but I also know I was pissing blood and cornered by a woman knowingly had me against the ropes. My wish is I could play Sigmund Freud and question you out of your instinctive, territorial, jealous manipulations – not malevolent just bad habits. I would love to know why you could not distinguish you the nubile nymph drawing her professor away from his then wife from the middle aged mom who was with a man who loved and saw only her and was maybe a little too needy in trying to move forward with his life.

Now, in the wake of the wreckage – your only communication with me to first remove me from social media then block me, more passive aggression like your bestie posting you both on my birthday knowing I’d see just to confirm her clutches and your compliance – I am left wondering if I ought parcel out your gifts to others who can hear or, still send to you in loving friendship

Too bad.

We had such a promising sunrise on the waters of the Summer of our Life together.

We blew it. But, you blew it more. Fear wins. I lose.

I Love You. &iempre.

Love Medicine

I touch the suffering bodies like they were saints I should handle with gentle reverence. This is how I take [Your] hand. This is how I hold [You in my arms.]”  &iempre.

Louise Erdich’s Love Medicine, paraphrased.

I sometimes think I did this only not well enough. I believe I should have done it better. On the day you came to me in emotion, regardless of what I judged, perceived, assumed in my full-blown ego, I ought to have taken you at your word. No, I don’t believe you ought have come at me at that moment. Yes, I believe you, too, could have eased up on the clutch and moved over to the third lane in whatever fever had you worked up. Yes, I believe myself more responsible but we spent so much time on your hurt and wounds, we never made you accountable – not that we could have. Maybe the end was nigh for us somewhere down the road. Here, now as the autumn leaves blow and the warm Sun bakes the scents into my receptive nostrils, my Heart is ticking, calculating backwards to where the Sun was six months ago, where it will be as we start to stumble upon anniversaries.

Will you remember me on the first, the one you defined based on our re-lit fire of friendship? On the day a year after our first kiss? Our walk around the fort? The moment you let me in? I will send you flowers with the word “Siempre.” Will you care? Or, will you be rising to a Sun in the shadow of another laying by your side.

Why do I, still?
Someday soon, &iempre will come to mean more than love letters to You, unread. It will come to be what We, You & Me, intended from the start. A ‘ & ‘ that is the bridge between Two into One: Mind, Heart and Soul. Maybe Tonto, Yo. Maybe romantic, tanto.

Pero a mi no me importa ya no mas. Solo El Amor. Come &iempre lo era, lo sera otra vez.

The Six Poisons


What does A Woman Need?

“The six poisons: A vital aspect of internal purification that Pattabhi Jois teaches relates to the six poisons that surround the spiritual heart. In the yoga shastra it is said that God dwells in our heart in the form of light, but this light is covered by six poisons: kama, krodha, moha, lobha, matsarya, and mada. These are desire, anger, delusion, greed, envy and sloth. When yoga practice is sustained with great diligence and dedication over a long period of time, the heat generated from it burns away these poisons, and the light of our inner nature shines forth.” – Pattabhi Jois teaching

“Keep looking if you get rejected. Move on to other prospects,” it is said in job searching. Should we do this in relationships, too? We do. But should we? Or ought we look at a single prospect and fight for it? Then, this leads to the question of the above yoga practice and the pamphlet here, challenging my attachments.

3 July 2013
34 days

Alma, I miss you terribly and I am attached to you with desire. I don’t think, however, this is negative. You are a Truth. This pamphlet also represents two of the many conversations this man has taught me. (The middle passage is more of a report, I believe, as this is a ‘bulletin.‘)

As I re-read through another source, conversations with Krishnamurti that have been transcribed, I thought of you and want to share. They bring me some awareness of the way I perceive, judge and dream but never actually reveal to you. I know I bring to you a continual, large volume of words via text, email and phone. I apologize I do not do so more in Spanish. But, I am a communicator. It’s my nature. I keep trying even though not economical with words.

When you and I reconnected in January I was thrilled. Yes, I was very excited you were divorced. I didn’t know what to imagine except seeing you. Slowly, sexual feelings arose. I do not recall them from our college years. I think then I only adored you innocently but it was Love then, too. It was Love January 15, 2013. It is always love with you. You are Special. The Moment from the first note you sent me on “Caminante” I felt that all my Life has led to this: A Journey With You. We seemingly began twenty-five years ago, me seeing you and finally meeting four long years later But, I also draw great joy from my awareness of this Truth, to me: Our birthdays. When I was born, I ‘arrived.’ 28 days later, You. Since then it was just Time. Waiting.

Why did I write to you in my hour of need twenty two years ago? Why did you reply? Why confess your self, your shame? How have we managed to remain connected? It’s not chance. It’s choice.

You spoke of waiting ninety days. Then you wanted to see me. Then I introduced you to Skype. We moved quickly. But, it all felt and feels so right! You don’t know how intensely and quickly you already were affecting change in me, though, Bebe, to be a better man! Real lessons from a perspective I admire, respect and heard. I was a student ready for the lesson. I guess without asking, I soon decided we were life partners and inspired by your intense flame of love, longing and promise to me. We seemed to forge a partnership over these last few months pushing each other, daring each other, growing together. Now, you have chosen to separate your path. I was naive to your needs, emotional and psychological. I took for granted this Vision of A Woman, This Wonder, this New Age Hippie Chick who had come back into my life to be everything I wanted and believe I need.

I am sad and disillusioned now after a rocky set of missteps from my leaking anger you witnessed and also experienced. I was selfish while convincing myself you were ok with things I needed at this crossroads of my life, only intellectually accommodated your feelings, deciding you were ok or should be. It was what you needed to solve as Mi Alma searched within Her Self.  I didn’t judge you as ‘open’ or ‘closed’ minded. It was simply part of the process. Did I assume that what You presented on the surface was The Honesty of the lake-depths down deep in Tu Corazon? Of course. How naïve and short-sighted I was, caught up in my eager Christmas morning feelings around You.

As any Fool, only with the crisis at my doorstep did I hear. Only after you left me did I hear what you had been telling me and I had been resisting, lashing out as part of my defensiveness. My need to be around my ex and desire for my dogs was about fear, not moving on more than anything positive. All I wanted – You – I had chased away saying I don’t want to come for my birthday, . . .we should end if we can’t communicate. Nothing impeccable about those choices in words, was there? I wasn’t listening to or reading your honesty, your open heart and did not remove my ego to trust in you, that we could work together. Now, you don’t want to and this crushes me.

When I experience my own toxic emotions lleno de expectation you are with someone else already, or when I chase seedy and taboo fantasies, it’s about not possessing you. It’s about not witnessing your incredible female sexuality envelop me, surrendering to you and watching You slowly let your walls down to truly let  Me in. Once in my life I was foolish to think a man might truly satisfy a woman, that a man could comprehend a woman’s depth, her power. Once, I wanted to control and believe I could be given that control when all along it is I who wants the woman, You, to control – to let go in You and just Be. In that choice, I know we’d both find a push and pull to carry and be carried, to rule and be ruled. Perfection. Like Theseus in Oedipus, I know already without being a woman who has better sex. Where once my ego believed I was the reason, I guess now I like to think I am some small part of her – You – participant, witness and maybe a giver of pleasure.

I cringe with the jealousy that I was not enough to satisfy You. When I slip into the darkest of places, you picking someone up in a supermarket and having him in the back seat of your car or being ravaged by multiple men, quietly collecting yourself and going home with them dripping out of and all over you, no visible expression on your face except an eerie calm, I come to see my jealousy is in that female power, that even in a group the men are duped to think one way not realizing who is running the show. How a woman has such might and yet also the ability to dwell deep within her most private, sacred spaces to heal emotions, as Robert A. Johnson in We discusses. How inadequate we men are, emotionally unruly. Maybe you can’t truly own your own power and accept my limitations. Maybe it is self-esteem for you. You cannot fathom when I want to bow down to your Sacred Temple door with gratitude, I am not abandoning my own power, my own strengths – simply holding yours in reverence. And, when I think of you succumbing to another or others, when I imagine you being goaded to be atrevida and tremendita then building off those impulses with another, it is not mere jealousy – it is inadequacy. I helped you spring forth, awaken long dormant or maybe always forbidden desire. Yet, I was not violent and aggressive enough to handle your appetites, not compliant and resilient enough to let you be in charge after the sheets were washed and the bed made, in the civil arena.

So, I squelch out what you might say if you come back to me after satisfying those needs. Yet, I love you so. I want you to be happy.  Do I truly love Her as I claim? Would my ego be able to reunite with her knowing she had chosen other people, that I hadn’t been enough? The answer is Yes. Difficult but yes. It’s your Heart that matters most to me. All those fantasies come down to missing You, you not wanting Me, banishing me from the Temple, the Altar and shutting the doors but banishing me from most of all from your Heart.

Alma, you said you don’t want me to suffer, that I should be happy. I am happy with you. I suffer from silence, from not knowing why you won’t talk with me. Separation is painful now even if you have other reasons like time spent with family, gaining economic independence or what may be your reasons, none of which I know beneath the depths of those sad, salt-green lake eyes, so wide with knowledge, love, pain and fear. I do not accept that merely the experience of my anger and my relationship with the ex are your only reason for not continuing. In short, without wanting to offend, I don’t believe you have an allergic reaction to anger. I believe your ‘hurt’ and silence are forms of unexpressed anger, fear. Why don’t you want to manage conflict where we both made missteps? Is it pride? Are you staying hurt to avoid deeper examination of either yourself and/or us? Or you know what else is going on and won’t say. It is too vulnerable to talk or to speak with me because you are too in love with me as I am with you, right? You say you feel pressure from me or confused but it is you trying to find the quiet within to follow the Truth, Us, right? So, you steel yourself away from showing me emotions, intimacy?

It is possible to speak intimately again, Alma. I think we may speak even more deeply, as what you might write in your diary. I love talking with you, being with you even with these obstacles. I know you feel the same with me.

My ultimate need as an Individual is that I foster a spiritual path that is merged with my human appetites and attachments. I cannot be detached. You are the Perfect Partner: Friend; Lover; Teacher; Student; Witness. Adventurer. Journey Woman. Not necessarily geography but I think that you and I have a World to discover together. Does it make any difference to say you are the first person I have had this desire with in my whole life?

Let’s witness each other, share the path and try to stay on it together. Do you want to excavate and explore with me, Alma? Are we a pair to deeply slowly go into every physical, emotional, spiritual and psychological cavity with total surrender and commitment to the other at the same time letting the other person be? Is shared path as witness to what the other needs compatible with commitment?

I believe so. I do desire you in spite of this yogic message at the start reminder.

If You choose to never speak with Me again, I hope You Trust the Process, that You truly allow those 90 days of courtship and that You find a way to truly let someone in. Maybe WE can find a way to Trust the Process with each Other. 90 days. 🙂

As I work my way through my six poisons, hopefully We is not a delusion. I  seek The Truth with you next to me, Alma. From Living to Dying and beyond wherever that leads.

Yours &iempre.

Dear Sir


Well, it started out something like  that. Only in Spanish. Then, I started to wonder if all I’m doing is fueling denial, keeping alive a false positive.

As the Sun washed over my closed eyelids, dissolving third eye into a clean canvas, I felt the warmth fill my chest cavity. Only, I opened my eyes, turned around to face the still, silent and slightly bewildered beasts. All of it a beat too soon.

Ugh!! What a great shot missed. All over again like yesterday’s epic fail to be camera ready since the moment was ready.

I turned around. Take two. Close my eyes. Light, Love, Hope blah blah wash over me. Effort efforting f’ing effort. Ridiculous. Me.

Missing the point. Again. The moment ends. Another takes its place. Even if eyes open a beat too soon and you move on too quick, it is all Perfect. So, trying to do it again. Or being stuck in a moment you can’t get out of – story of my life. Of our watch-the-replay-8 times culture. That’s why players play. Spectators speculate. Players HAVE to move on, live in the moment.

Why can’t I? Why can’t I accept even if Our Moment ended prematurely, it was Perfect? Am I just too needy? Clingy? Ego not in control?? Or do I truly Love You??

Would I have reached a critical mass moment and dumped out of We and not look back but because You did so, I cannot handle It??

I am in Love with You. I am greedy. I don’t want Our Moment to End.

So, I cannot capture that dogs’ moment. I can capture this one. While I cannot correct our choices, I can take up the pen and write your father to let him know how special You are and that though only You know what You want, no matter who You choose as a companion, it will be some body but maybe not Me, He who Loves You above all others and more than any other will. Ever. Siempre.


© MMXIII &iempre™

Autumnal Equinox

What am I to do ? What am I to do without You? Not sure how long to float with Blind Faith, in the harbor waiting for Y(our) Ship to set sail. Sea of Joy.


I wrote your sister yesterday. First draft. Not sure how long I want to let it go on, how long I need to go on. Not sure what I can say that will make someone stand up for Me, for We, for Love. Feeling doubtful. Needy.

Torn between: letting it ride and knowing, believing You and I are We, meant to Be some day when the timing is right and We have achieved patience proper, trusted in God’s timing, looked inward at only the Self, discovered all that each of us needs to before we proceed together on the golden road to unlimited devotion; and the fear of you in your Temple-turned playground for the rich and sleazy underbelly of dark desire, or a casual simpleton’s trade-off material needs and emotional support for a Papi with a paycheck.

Torn between Faith that You are The One; and the understanding however intellectual that Love is Love and can be procured from any corner of the Universe if One is deeply in Trust with said Universe, understands Our own essential vibrations, puts out into the ether the generic clarion call for Hope, Desire, Strength, Love, Peace and Meaning that will flow back to Us from the Right place.

I continue to know even in the turbulent choppy seas of your stoney silence that You Love Me. I have to Believe this, that I wasn’t some interesting idea or a transaction for my cooking and neat-order-structure to Your insane external chaos, that Love is Love regardless of the $ecurity blanket a Man for a Woman from an old-school culture provides psychologically if not realistically going into the next phase of Our Life.

Robert A. Johnson, M.D., writes in HE: Male Psychology, on the Parsifal legend and the Holy Grail. He cautions not to mix mother in the real, mother complexes interior or exterior, fair maiden and the human wife. I know You are my Human Partner, spouse, Wife. I have never solely placed on your sweet, soft shoulders the burden of being simply my Diorosa, mi Divine Love – I know you for all your frailties, even the ones You deftly spin away from Your Self to make about my tone, my words, my actions not compromising I see clearly how you rebuff the reality that You, in Your weak moment, sought me to fulfill Your emotional neediness and discarded the mirror opposite of what I could ask of You were not Trust involved.

I continue to vibrate with Love, the Eternal Inspirational energy that as I look out to the Ocean’s horizon towards that one place on the map I so often looked through my years in desire and wonder, was You all along on Your Island. I knew then somehow. We have continued to just miss each other until the time was ripe and yet in a fit of fear You fled and retrenched into Your hardened shell.

&till, I believe.


In this moment of Love as The Sun shifts south past You, and the Pendulum at Five o’ something today will dial past the Summer of Our Love, I know You Rider are going to miss Me when I am gone – gonna miss your Baby from rollin’ in Your arms.

But, what are you prepared to do about it? Can you, honestly, simply have the red pill and go back to a sleepy state even after You were presented the Blue ? Don’t You know I am The One? You are the One? Together, Trinity and Neo.

Last night I dreamed I grabbed those delicious hips as You teased and delighted in a loving taunt in front of Me, showing Me La Manzana it’s all its perfection and glory. From behind I pushed You up against a wall. You invited Me in, actually grabbed me and brought Me in Your self. In that moment of heated lust the intense bond I felt coursing through Me was You entering Me, Yo Tu Chocha y Tu Mi Bicho. Anima y Animus. I felt My Self as the penetrated Woman, You My conquering Man. No matter what role internally or externally, physically We are destined to play, Each of Us in our Equinox of Love are in Perfect balance with the Other. Tu y Yo. Nosotros.

I just wish You Would See what We know and let it wash over You. We.


Caffeine Revelations





Fill ‘er up, Sam.

To be caught by an exuberant mood is also to be seduced by the inner woman. . .Such a seduction exacts a high price later in the form of a depression that brings a man down to Earth again. Fate spends much time bringing a man up from depression or down from inflation, which the Ancient Chinese called the tao – the middle way. It is here The Holy Grail exists and happiness worth of the name can be found. (later defined as ‘that which happens’ and enthusiasm for all of life’s colors not a mood of happy)

HE By Robert A. Johnson