To Ulanbataar with Love

Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say. And it does because I miss him. More so than normal because He's not just a phone call or a text message away.

He's off in a far off land that is but a concept to me, doing what he does best.

I guess even with the distance, you get used to being in touch and I feel strangely robbed of him despite knowing that it's only for a while. Despite never really having him here in the first place.

Last weekend was wonderful in the most obscure of ways. We did nothing of consequence but everything that mattered and it heralded a future filled with nothing, but everything to me. 

And to be without him in its wake leaves me feeling a little out of sorts.

For in a relationship like ours, without the contact, what are we? Little more than an invisible glittery string that stretches across the seas I think.

It reminds me that it's too easy to take his being "around" for granted. It reminds me of this, sappy though that may be.

i carry your heart with me

E.E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it

(anywhere i go you go,my dear;

and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear no fate

(for you are my fate,my sweet)

i want no world

(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root

and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky

of a tree called life;

which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart

(i carry it in my heart)

image courtesy of Lars F. Menzel on Flickr

for all the little things

that He does *smile*

because...

 unable to share this Ramadhan with me

He calls me each Sahur

and makes me happier than I ever imagined I could be

Image courtesy of  blueberrymom on Flickr.

a better man

so I was reading today about someone's unrequited love. you know the one. most of us have one of them, the one you feel got away either because things just didn't work out the way you planned or just because you never got around to saying anything.

i used to have one of them. i said goodbye to him a while ago. because i realised there was a difference between what i wanted to see and what was actually there.

but this post really isn't about him. it's about a far better man.

throughout the course of the past few days or so i've had moments when it just randomly enters my mind that I love this better man. and it's a strange, humbling, heart warming moment everytime it happens.

the man in my past chose to betray my trust. he then came back, seeking my forgiveness. i took him back. his reasons for his betrayal were manifold, i forgave him because i loved him still and i made the excuses i had to in order to justify my reaction. now looking back, i see that there is a reason an excuse is an excuse.

he blamed it on the distance. said he was feeling down and lonesome and needed the company. i'm not even sure he apologised. i think he just made excuses.

in the months after, he got angry that I wasn't over it, upset that I found it hard to trust him, didn't do much to ease my soul into trusting him again and the biggest kicker of them all, he eventually left because he could not cope with the guilt he felt having betrayed me in the first place.

*LOL* What a load of baloney! and i fell for it too. hook, line and sinker.

this better man though, he's different in the most wonderful of ways. he thought long and hard before we even got together if he could deal with me being a plane ride away. when he finally realised that me a plane ride away was better than no me at all, he made it very clear that he would find it ridiculously difficult. it was a very practical thing to say in a moment supposed to be rose tinted, but now i realise it is the essence of what makes him better.

he struggles with this distance, yet through it all i see that he's determined to persevere. he doesn't blame it for any of the problems that crop up, but rather he tries to find ways to make it work in spite of the distance. because he is a better man.

he never said it was do- able, he simply said he would try. he never said he was ok with it, never pretended it was a breeze, he simply acknowledged it was a problem and moved on. because he is a better man.

Resoundingly, I can say that there is no other. there is no "one who got away". there are no "what if's". not for me. not anymore.

it wasn't a moment in a field full of daisies, there was no bicycle built for two. it was not the summer solstice. But it was perfect in it's own awkward, quintessentially He way.

I have been blessed with a better man. and i could not ask for more.

Image courtesy of ccurtiz on Flickr.

at last...

... i begin to see, just how it happens that one love could last a lifetime.

because with you, when it gets all difficult and grumpifying,

the overriding thought isn't resentment

it isn't helplessness

it isn't anger

it's this...

it's that this too shall pass

it's a certainty that things will be ok

a conviction that you will stay

Truly...

grow old with me...

with you i honestly see

that the best is yet to be

image courtesy of cosairstw on Flickr.

What if...

What if we stop having a ball?

What if the paint chips from the wall?

What if there's always cups in the sink?

What if I'm not what you think I am?

What if I fall further than you?

What if you dream of somebody new?

What if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin?

Well what if I do?

I am giving up on making passes

and I am giving up on half empty glassess

and I am giving up on greener grasses.

I am giving up.

What if our baby comes home after nine?

What it your eyes close before mine?

What if you lose yourself sometimes?

Then I'll be the one to find you Safe in my heart.

I am giving up on making passes

and I am giving up on half empty glassess

and I am giving up on greener grasses. I am giving up.
I am giving up.
I am giving up.

I am giving up on greener grasses. I am giving up for you.
I am giving up for you.
I am giving up

Giving Up
Ingrid Michaelson

the ties that bind

I have often wondered what the big deal was with engagement rings. Sure I get that being engaged is a big thing. But is the ring a part of that?

Perhaps now I get it.

It's a tie that binds. It's a solid reminder of the promises that you have made. A physical manifestation of the future that awaits.

It says.. I'm serious about this, I'm serious about wanting you in my life.

It whispers... Grow Old with Me. The Best is Yet to Be...

Image courtesy of MHA Photography/ Michele on Flickr.

and I can hardly wait

Cause it's you and me and all other people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all other people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

You and Me
Lifehouse

for this is love

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle in your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."- From When Harry Met Sally

Image Courtesy of |ash| on Flickr.

he needs to be...

"he needs to be Big enough so you can both take cover under his coat when it rains.
Small enough for you to wrap your arms almost around.
Strong enough to restrain you from leaving too easily.
Gentle enough to know when to leave you alone.
and Man enough to know when to give you his hand."

the above is an exerpt from "The Datin Diaries" a now defunct blog I used to read. The Datin blogs no more which is a shame as her entries were thought provoking, heartfelt and well written. It's not often a blog with no gimmicks, of a random stranger, keeps me coming back for more. Some of her entries are reproduced in Notes from Venus.

The Datin's right. That's all he really needs to be.

Image courtesy of rebecca whitney on Flickr.

that word

She thinks that the word “Love” is bandied about too easily. One only has to watch an episode on American Idol to hear it umpteenth times. She’s no superstar so she does not know how they feel about their fans but seriously, LOVE?

It’s such a big, little, word isn’t it?

Not to say that she does not love easily. In some cases she does. Very easily and very quickly. Perhaps it comes from having family constantly separated by the big blue sea. When she sees them, she loves them, in the space of a heartbeat almost. Because she knows that if she doesn’t fall in love with them now, the next opportunity may be a squagillion light years away.

But then to say those words. To say “I Love You”, it’s a big thing to her. It’s not something to be thrown about. It’s not “luvya” or “love ya” or any other derivation. It’s those three words. In Malay “bulat bulat”. Literally meaning roundly, actually in context meaning unequivocally I suppose.

With some people she knows it instantly, and she tells them then and there. She’s not really one that waits for tomorrow, there’s no promise it’ll arrive. But with others she has taken her time, thought about if she meant it, before saying it, if ever.

Because it’s the lightest but the heaviest thing to say. It carries such resonance, so many unspoken vows.

It denotes a promise, a steadfastness of belief, an actual- honest to god- will defend with my last breath- feeling. It’s a pledge to stay, to try, to hang on for dear life, to see it through. An oath to be honest, to be true, to be vulnerable. To let go, to have faith, to aid that faith in every way you can.

So no, she does not bandy it around. She has meant it, each and every time she has said it. And she is proud of that.

Image courtesy of Hawee Ta3kees on Flickr.

he...

... has made an appearance in this blog before. however the name attributed to him then is no longer applicable.

She feels the differance in this, in that she does not feel the need to trumpet it from the rooftops. She wants to, because it makes her happy, however there is no need. There is such a marvel and a wonder to that statement that she is still very much getting used to. She is just comfortable in knowing she is with him and he with her. And that's enough.

So without promises, without saying too much, without declarations of endearment, without fanfare. He is now, simply that... He.

Photo courtesy of J- C- P on FLickr.

I was not born in a barn...

... therefore I close doors.

Literally and otherwise.

Lost One once told me in not so many words, that there were some women who he previously dated, to whom the door was always left ajar. At that time he was trying to close the door to me, hence the enormity of what he had said did not strike me.

It was not till many make ups and break ups with him later that this sentence came back to haunt me in the form of his first love. I have opinions on what the reasons were for their demise from what little he said. However, that in the context of this post is neither here nor there. What matters is that he had never closed the door to her.

And it stung.

How does one really take the fact that in some part of the man you thought loved you, is this tiny spark of hope that someday things might work out between him and someone else?

To me anyway, a large part of being in a relationship is tcerebral. I believe you can emotionally cheat on your partner without lifting a finger physically. I don't believe that the absence of the act makes this any less wrong or any easier to swallow.

So I close doors. At the dregs of a relationship, I will flog that horse till it is good and dead. I do this so that when I leave that relationship, I know there is nothing more I could have done. So I know I will never go back.

Some enter again through a different door, in a different context, in another lifetime. But it will never be that same door and never those circumstances.

Sure, it's natural to stare at that door for a while. To, in some way, wish it would open back up. And that's ok, so long as you don't look at the closed door so long that you miss one that's open.

Open doors let in too much, and seldom anything good. We owe it to the ones we will love in the future to close those doors in our past.

Photo courtesy of Engineer J on Flickr.

the parts i forgot

in her elation she forgot, why it was she swore off relationships where he lived far far away oh so long ago.

tonight she remembered.

tonight she remembered the tears

Photo courtesy of *Vali on Flickr.

Free Falling

Photo Courtesy of AraiGordai on FLickr.

It has been a while since these words meant anything.

This year's love had better last
Heaven knows it's high time
I've been waiting on my own too long
But when you hold me like you do
It feels so right
I start to forget
how my heart gets torn
when the hurt gets thrown
feeling like you can't go on

Turning circles when time again
cuts like a knife
if you love me got to know for sure
cos it takes something more this time
than sweet sweet lies
before i open up my arms and fall
losing all control
every dream inside my soul

and when you kiss me
on that midnight street
sweep me off my feet
singing ain't this life so sweet

From "This Year's Love" by David Gray


Think I'm free falling. For the first time in a long long time. And it makes me smile.

She is...

twitterpated

to be twitterpated

and you,
a windrose, a compass,
my direction, my description of the world.

-Ian Burgham

Most people who know her know of her silly preposterous chain of events that will ultimately lead to her wedding. These flights of fancy aside however she has been worrying lately that she has become rather jaded and desensitised in matters of the heart. She doesn't know if this is simply growing up or if she is just in some way... broken.

She used to fall helplessly, hopelessly, accidentally in love. It has been years since this last happened. She used to pray that she be made insensitive a la Jann Arden. Now that she might possibly be that, she misses what she was. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Those lowest lows that made the highest highs possible.

She now thinks through it more. She's more afraid to take that blind leap of faith into the abyss. And because of this, when things go pear shaped, she doesn't weep and feel the raw emotions she used to. She just accepts that it wasn't working or wasn't going to work and moves on.

She feels... just not so acutely.

She still loves the sappy love songs. But ultimately the ones that reverberate in her soul are the ones that make no promises of everafter. She sees more romanticism in the ones that don't. The ones that see their human failings and hope that their personal brand of love is enough, despite those failings. The ones that are simply more honest. Like this one....

"And who am I to tell you that I would never let you down
That no-one else could love you half as much as I do now
And who am I to tell you I'll always catch you when you fall
Well I, I wouldn't be myself at all
I wouldn't be myself at all, at all"

Who Am I by Will Young

At the end of the day, for her it's the words. It's always been the words. It's not the Alexandrite ring, the daisies or the white marquee. She has moved from Frost to Donne. Maybe it's not desensitisation. Maybe it's just that now, more than ever, the honesty matters. It's the words...

Photo from the collection of Jeanine Payer.

going going gone

I deserve better.

I'm going.

NOT wasting the pretty

*grin*

Photo courtesy of anna makaske on Flickr.

on soulmates and spirituality

This image speaks a thousand words. It's not the boy (for he is still in many ways a boy) in the picture. Though he is dear to me.

It's what he represents. The tie, the bandanna, the funky watch, so supremely modern. Juxtaposed with a gesture so ancient. A gesture that to me signifies piety and faith. It was a moment not too long ago, etched in my memory, of two men that mattered to me with their heads bowed in prayer. A powerful image that i revisit from time to time to try and remember the lesson.

I am Muslim.

It's something I identify with more now than I did as a child. And that strangely enough came about from living in a country where being Muslim wasn't part of the air that I breathed.

Am i a conventional Muslim?

Definitely not, and I am very much still learning.

Am I a good Muslim?

I could be better, but then I feel that that judgment is something for God and God alone to make.

Here's the thing, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I seem to have mostly been attracted to and subsequently dated non muslim men. 66.66 % in fact have been non muslim. And 3 of the 4 relationships that have made an impact on my life have been with non- muslims. Queenbee asked recently, what it was about them that made it so. I really don't know. Perhaps it was their confidence, perhaps it was their non- judgmentalness. Perhaps perhaps perhaps.

Maybe it's simpler. Maybe it was simply to show me what to look out for but also to impose a test of faith. A test of faith that i have to admit that I failed many many times.

With 1 of 4, I was too young to even understand the repercussions though I got a tiny smack on the wrists.

With 2 of 4, i convinced myself it was ok if he converted just to convert and not for the actual faith.

With 3 of 4 I failed spectacularly. I looked into the possibility of civil marriages. I had mostly convinced myself that to marry within the faith was overrated and not necessary as long as I kept my own. The family would get over it and I wouldn't be spending most of my married life with them anyway so it wouldn't really matter. I had to however draw the line when I realised he wanted children raised without any faith at all. This to me was unthinkable and I left (though it took a while *smile*)

Recently, faced with the possibility of this choice yet again. I had to revisit old, worn out paths in my thoughts. Walked that road again, eyes straining to see something new that would show me the right way. I questioned why I had to keep making this same decision. Then Psyche Doppelganger asked me if i had learnt the lesson expected of me from all the previous times. And I realised in that moment that perhaps I hadn't. Perhaps that was why.

The memory induced by that picture is precious as that moment brought with it a moment of clarity. Suddenly the reason stole over me. That it mattered to me that the man I grow old with is able to take that spiritual journey with me. To hold my hand when I'm scared and mess up. To lead me when I get lost. And even to lead when his path is that little bit murkier.

That only a man with faith would be able to understand that part of me and only a man of my faith would walk with me.

It just matters.

And I think I've finally learnt that lesson.

Let's just hope it's not an easily forgotten one

*fingers and toes crossed**eyes scrunched up in concentration*

Photo courtesy of Kama on Multiply.

the sweetest thing

Image courtesy of Vijayal on Flickr

"Will you be my shoulder
When I'm grey and older
Promise me tomorrow starts with you"


High
James Blunt

Confessions

And there it was, this picture. Of him. That face. That beautiful decent face.

And in that instant, I was reminded of the future I lost when I lost him.

Being with him, a Malay Muslim man, the first, the only, changed me in so many ways. With him I saw a path I'd never seen before and I realised how badly I wanted to go down that path holding his hand. How, finally, spiritually I understood how much I longed to have a companion on that road to faith. How, I must confess, that parts of me never really want to go down any other path from this point forth.

He was like slipping on an old pair of trousers that I always knew I had, but had forgotten how comfortable they were. With him I had allowed myself to fully indulge in that dream of the future.

I worry about him, about the fact that the company he keeps now is company he always despised before. I wonder why the sudden about face. I wonder which him was the act. And it hurts to know it's none of my business. Not anymore.

And I know it's not fair to miss him. To want him back. And logically I know it cannot work at this point in time and knowing him and how his psyche works I know it may never work again. Perhaps at the demise of it, it's easier to remember what I loved about us. What I adored about him. And what in many ways I still do. Perhaps at the demise of it all it's easier to see la vie en rose.

Whatever the reason, despite the justifications, I must confess...

i miss you

And I wonder how you are and I hate that people know more about you now than I do and I wonder if thoughts of me cross your mind and what those thoughts are.

i miss you

it's that simple. but it's really not. it's that easy but oh so complex

i miss you

i miss you

perhaps if i say it enough and click my heels together...

i miss you

i watch too many fairytales

and i miss you...

Image courtesy of ®°ôn|y Gôd Knôw§°® on Flickr.