Shih-t'ou kicked me out of school because he thought I wasn't a peasant, but that's only because the silly man was blind to my *ankles*.

Although I'd maybe be better off actually calling this post "I Would Untie Your Sandals With my Teeth" because, really, my ankles do not bear discussion. And I also considered "Thanatos' Hetairai Rides a Pale Horse of Her Own" as a title, but dismissed that one in case it was the universe sneakily planting it in my head, what with this week of wind horses and the like. Then I was quite enamored with "I Can Spit in Your Eye Even Easier if my Mouth is Full of Blood" but didn't want to *waste* such an awesome title. So, I think we should just call this post "Harmony of Difference and Sameness" because that's really what it's all about. Everything. Always.

And since my hair is making me feel very Vonnegut-ish today, I will officially start this post with this one word:

Listen:

****
There are many things I was going to say, but saying more about having wished I had never said at all, is silly, lovies, and today I do not feel silly. And I still can feel scalded and sullied and that is a story. And having made a whole into encapsulated parts -- a large story into smaller stories -- is a story in and of itself. And making more of the story of how I made a story into stories is a story even now. And they are all stories about wishes, but aren't they always?

So I was going to say all that, in a horrid ripping rending tearing with nails and egorrific outpouring of, to repeat myself repeating Sue Monk Kidd, essentially this:

"It felt cruel and and astonishing to realize our relationship had never belonged out there in the world, in a real house where you wash socks and slice onions. It belonged in the shadowed linings of the soul."

But the cruelty and the astonishment accompanied the realization years ago and that's not a story for now. And if I had a soul, it would have many shadows, and one of them would be burst to overflowing with the VeryTrueStoryAboutHowStoriesAreNeverTrueEvenWhenTheyAre -- but knowing that is knowing that you don't know that, which is being nothing to know because you are knowledge and knower both. Pffft -- True? Not true? Both of those are stories as well.

And the space between one heart beat and the next: Is.

Listen:

****
"The mind of the great sage of India is
intimately transmitted from west to east.
While human faculties are sharp or dull,
the Way has no northern or southern ancestors.
The True source shines clear in the light; the
branching streams flow on in the dark.
Grasping at things is surely delusion;
according with sameness is still not enlightenment.
All the objects of the senses interact
and yet do not.
Interacting brings involvement.
Otherwise, each keeps its place.
Sights vary in quality and form, sounds
differ as pleasing or harsh
Refined and common speech
come together in the dark,
Clear and murky phrases
are distinguished in the light.
The four elements return to their
natures just as a child turns to its mother;
Fire heats, wind moves, water wets,
earth is solid.
Eye and sight, ear and sound, nose and
smell, tongue and taste;
Thus with each and every thing,
depending on these roots, the leaves spread forth.
Trunk and branches share the essence
revered and common, each has its speech.
In the light there is darkness, but
don't take it as darkness;
In the dark there is light, but don't
see it as light.
Light and dark oppose one another
like the front and back foot in walking.
Each of the myriad things has its
merit, expressed according to function and place.
Phenomena exist; box and lid fit;
principle responds; arrow points meet.
Hearing the words, understand the meaning;
don't set up standards of your own.
If you don't understand the Way right before you,
how will you know the path as you walk?
Progress is not a matter of far or near, but
if you are confused, mountains and rivers block your way.
I respectfully urge you who study the
mystery, do not pass your days and nights in vain."

Listen:

****
And at the risk of being lazy by repeating myself twice in one post, I would have you remember this:

Love relationships should never be more, or less, than growing separately together. We relate to be related to. It has always been thus.

We bond with another to bond with ourselves and always do I seek in you what is hard to find within. Love is our contact with ourselves through another.

The biggest commitment I can make to my lovers is to my integrating what is evoked in our relating.