Tummo-Inner Fire

I have recently started practicing Tummo, based on a book called ‘The Bliss of Inner Fire’ by Lama Yeshe. I do this after practicing Wim Hof breathing intermmittently for a few months. Meaning, I had already gotten started with the practices.

I have the need to write about my experiences. More as a personal log than as a poetic entry. I am not feeling very inspired to write, but I am writing nonetheless. Let’s see if this time I manage to keep it up.

Since I started reading the book, about three weeks ago (Inner fire on August 18th 2017),  I have been practicing a part of the meditations three to five times a week.

I  have also had a number of dream experiences which may or may not be related to the breathing meditations. My feeling is that they are indeed related.

I have a need to write a log about this, though I don’t feel like writing too much at the moment.

The first night that I read the book I fell asleep pondering about the mystery of the void. During those days I was attending a shiatsu seminar. Exploring the concepts of empty and full in perceptions of a patient’s body was part of the training. As I ‘slept’ I felt as though I fell into a void. I was still myself, and my body was still somewhat my body. All around me was full of nothing. I was floating in the nothing, and it was neither good nor bad. I was not conscious as I am in my waking hours, but I was not asleep as usual either. I wasn’t thinking, I only know that I wasn’t thinking because two or three times, I came out of it and had the thought ‘wow, I’m floating in a void without thinking’. I also had the feeling that it was hard to come out of it. In the morning I when I woke up to turn off my alarm I felt like I was in the middle of a very deep sleep. I usually have lots of dreams, so this dream, a conscious absence of thought or dreams was very unusual for me.

Another night I fell asleep while reading the book once more. That night I was reading about the representation of unity through the divine lovers, Heruka and his consort (clearly the book was written by a man). The book invites the reader to imagine herself as both male and female during intercourse, the joining of their energies represents unity. I had an amount of erotic feelings throughout the night, I could even say I had several orgasms. They were pulsing and subtle, delicious, continued, but there wasn’t a definitive climax; and therefore no definitive end to the pleasure. I woke up feeling like I had just met a new lover I was excited about.

I tend to practice about 5 to 10 minutes of concentration on the small A (as described in the book) after my usual yoga session in the morning. I also practice a ‘lighter’ more peaceful version at night before sleeping. It’s very effective to warm up my toes. I no longer suffer from permanently cold feet. Now they are only cold sometimes, but once I start breathing they warm up.

Several days went by when I just did the breathing without any extraordinary thing happening. I was a bit disappointed. When I started with a different breathing method in February (Wim Hof breathing), I was having some form of experience of ‘otherness’ almost every time.

The visualization of the small A is hard to keep in my mind. I tend to bring it to my forehead, as I am too much of a thinking floating head intellect. But I’m getting better at seeing/feeling it in my belly. I tend to see it as a black little metallic piece, it’s taken form on its own after a few sessions. At first it was a flat thing, suddenly it became 3-D (of course), the bottom was a cone, and the moon was a bowl, the circle became a sphere, and the upper line is like a cable. The whole structure resembles a satellite dish. I have trouble imagining it as a red or orange ember, rather it is a piece of black metal that begins to have tinges of color as I ‘blow’ on it with my breath. Similar to when coal begins to warm up in a barbecue. At some point the cone became a pyramid, and the breathing and concentration immediately improved. There was a moment when I started ‘feeling’ the small a in my belly rather than just visualizing it. At this point it became fleshy-metal-ish, as if the tiny metal small a is embedded in a folds of pink-orange flesh.

The first moment when I felt it was very joyful, so joyful that I broke out in a loud laughter. I just wanted to continue and continue laughing. I attempted to keep the meditation going and laugh ‘inside’. The ‘fleshy’ feeling inside is tied to the ‘ovarian palace’ as it is called in the Tao. It was a lot of fun.

Sept 9/ 2017

I went on a camping trip, slept on a tent outside. The weather outside must have been around 13C. I slept without socks (since my socks got wet and couln’t find my sleeping socks). Did a little bit of breathing before going to sleep, I was so tired from the day’s hike, I fell asleep quickly. I was suprisingly warm and cozy alone in my tent. Slept very very well. I woke up dreaming about my last lover, we were lying in the ground and he was holding me very tightly. He was convincing me to give it another try, (what he wants is not a relationship though, he wants to just meet about twice a month and have sex). This is someone I don’t want to go back to, despite great physical desire and emotional feelings for him. He doesn’t want to get involved, he doesn’t know respect, I am better off without him. I have decided this time and time again, but the feelings persist…sigh…

Sept 11/2017

Last night I dreamt that I was flying, and demonstrating this flying to sceptics. They could not deny what was in front of them. I have had, in my life many dreams about flying, but this one went on for longer, and I learned some finger positions to aid in the flying. They require joining the index fingers and the thumbs of both hands. Placing the hands over the head, or over the belly had different effects, and helped to keep the levitation going, or to point towards a certain direction. Flying in dreams has always been a pleasant experience. Today, by chance, I saw a video on youtube about tibetan monks who levitate.

Last night I also dreamt about my lost love, I went back to the place where I left him, and I called him and looked for him and couldn’t find him. I woke up disheartened, and didn’t do yoga, didn’t go to work, didn’t do meditation, didn’t do anything all day except eat and sleep and waste time. Every time my heart starts to warm up I feel this deep sorrow I carry over my lost love. There is regret, and there is also compassion for myself of four years ago.  I just didn’t know how to continue, and he expected me to tell him how to solve our problems. I just didn’t know how. Now it’s too late. My heart bleeds. It was numb, every time it wakes up it bleeds again. I will trust that this is part of the process that Lama Yeshe describes as the ‘melting of the heart chakra’. I feel immense love for him, and I feel like I will never love again like that, that I will never be loved again like that. As if I lost my chance in life for true love.

Today I haven’t had the strength to practice again, perhaps before bed. Need to find one of these monks who knows about ‘dream yoga’ as Lama Yeshe calls it.


About Love and Pain

Some more about my lost love. A year ago I wrote a letter to my lost love. I still feel exactly the same way. I wonder if the pain will ever end.

It’s been four years since we didn’t get married.

Do you remember the day we didn’t go to our wedding?

Yet, we were hanging in there by a thread,

I ran.

It was death that came that night,

It was death I caused that night,

I don’t know if it was you or me who died,

Or rather what ‘us’ used to be.

Every happy memory we ever had is now a stab of pain,

I wander around the world lost and purposeless,

Yet, I couldn’t find purpose in ‘us’,

I let you go so you could know full love,

Now you say you have it,

Love slowly kills me,

I ache every day.

There is no comfort,

There is no end to the pain.

I still love you.

Every hour of every day.

I broke my heart again,

I just wanted some happiness in love.

Is there even a point in crying anymore?



7 Reasons for Pain During Sex

Sex should not hurt. Period. I repeat: sex should not hurt.

So then, why does it hurt?

This is part of a series I’m writing in search of expanding my sexuality towards the vaginal orgasm. These posts can be found in the category ‘Opening the Flower’.

I will post here what I have observed through my own experiences and talks with other women. I hope that this can be of use to some women and couples out there who experience problems during sex. It is not an exhaustive list, and in fact, if you know more reasons please feel free to comment.

  1. Not enough lubrication. Wetness is essential for any penetration to feel pleasurable, or at least not hurt.
    • There are many reasons for lack of lubrication, but the most common one (in a healthy woman) is lack of physical desire. Here I stress the difference between psychological and physical desire. A woman will produce lubrication when she is physically aroused. Lack of lubrication denotes lack of physical readiness to engage in coitus. A woman can indeed be psychologically willing to have sex, but the body and the mind can go in different directions sometimes.
    • Another reason for lack of lubrication can be the use of hormonal birth control. Look it up, it is listed as a side-effect of most hormonal contraceptives.
    • Possible solutions:
      • Breast massage: In my experience the work with the breast massage (see my previous post) is helping to reconnect my psychological self with my sensual body aspects. I think it is a good way to work towards feeling physical excitation without the need to go for penetration right away.
      • External lubrication: always better to use natural substances such as coconut or almond oil (note: oils may debilitate latex, so take care to use a different kind of lubricant if you are with a partner and need to wear condoms). It is a good resource to get over the fear of ‘will I be wet enough’, but in the long term it is better to work with other techniques to draw out a woman’s nectar.
  2.  Vaginal infections: plenty of information out there on this one, so make sure to get a check-up with your doctor. Some infections do not present very noticeable symptoms, so it is worth it to get a check up regularly just to rule this one out.
  3. Swollen/irritated colon: this one I haven’t read about anywhere, but I’ve come to this conclusion after much self observation.  I thought that the pain I felt during penetration was in the vagina itself, because the whole area was swollen and affected with liquid. Now, I’ve stopped eating gluten and drinking alcohol for a month, the pain is more localized and I realize that what hurts is my colon when it is ‘bumped’ during sex. When you read about pain during intercourse, all the resources say that the vaginal walls do not have too many nerves and should not hurt. However, I knew, I felt, that my pain was coming from inside. I was just too disconnected from my body to know that it was really my intestine that is hurting. It also hurts when I do other things such as running, cycling, standing for too long…..
  4. Constipation: this one is directly related to number 3. A colon that is full will be hard and inflexible, when there is penetration in the vagina or a lot of movement in the area it will be uncomfortable and/or painful. The intestine is deeply linked to the body’s nervous system, therefore swelling of the intestine, can cause other nerve related issues such as widespread muscle/back/joint or even head aches. I believe that other symptoms such as brainfog and fibromyalgia might be related to intestinal problems. Again, this is from self observation and a lot of trial and error.
  5. Neurological level: here I talk about the nervous system, and therefore the body as a whole. When there is a specific stress in one part of the body, be it injury, infection, irritation, etc… The nervous system fires up stress signals to the brain, this also causes pain, and an inflammatory response. An injury in one place can cause referred pain in another place. In my case, I think that a chronic digestive problem is wreaking havoc on my nervous system. Lack of sleep, or poor quality of sleep,  can also cause the nervous system to fire up, and affect physiological processes.
  6. Posture: I talk here about general walking/sitting and sleeping posture, not just posture during intercourse. How you hold yourself can restrict blood flow to the sexual organs, and cause muscle contractions. I have noticed that generally women (and men also) who have sexual difficulties walk a bit hinged forward at the hips. This causes the lower back muscles to contract, the pelvis to tilt, and the lower ab muscles to bulge forward. This posture is usually accompanied by a pot belly that won’t go away even if the person is slim.
  7. Core and pelvic floor weakness: a weak pelvic floor will probably also be the culprit of lower back pain, bulging belly, urinary incontinence and some other symptoms. Strengthening the pelvic floor can go a long way to helping improve posture, lubrication and overall pleasure during sex. But, more than that it is essential for good balance and health. I’ll talk a lot more about this later on, but kegel exercises, and even better, jade egg exercises can make a big difference in a short amount of time.

That’s all for now. It’s always necessary to check with a doctor, of course, but if you’re like me you already did that several times and it didn’t help. It is up to us to learn what is going on inside our own bodies. I hope this helps.





Loving Myself: Breast Massage

A woman’s breasts are a wonderful source of joy.  If you want to love a woman’s body, love her breasts first. If you want to love your own body, love your breasts first.

This is part of a series I’m writing in search of expanding my sexuality towards the vaginal orgasm. These posts can be found in the category ‘Opening the Flower’.

In order to gain sensitivity in my body I have started to re-acknowledge my breasts. I’ve started with this about three weeks ago and have loved my breasts two or three times per week.

I thought that I had a good relationship with my breasts, but I realize now that I’ve been ignoring them. I just take them for granted, they are there and that’s that.

Practical exercise:

  • Massage breasts in a circular motion 100 times in one direction, and 100 times in the other direction. Smile at every turn.
  • Once nipples pop out, gently, and I repeat, gently, grab them between the thumb and index finger and turn them as if you’re turning the volume up and down with a knob. GENTLY. Repeat 100 times on each nipple. Keep smiling!

My experience with it:

I have medium sized breasts…ok..ok..they are on the small-to-medium range. I’m a b cup, they are not too big, but enough to grab.

As I started doing this I realized my breasts are sometimes kind of hard to the touch. They feel swollen and tender, touching them was a bit uncomfortable during the first 30 turns or so. There are also some hard nodules inside  them. I got a bit worried and checked with a doctor, everything is ok, they are just fibrous-type breasts. For some reason smiling at the same time felt a bit forced.

After a while, some kind of tension released and I started feeling rather happy. Smiling came easily then.  Also the nodules started dissipating, kind of like when a muscle releases trigger points. This gave me even more happiness. My nipples started surfacing more often also, they were laying kind of flat, and almost inside my breasts. Touching them was at first kind of painful, so I softly grabbed them in between my fingers and started gently turning around them. The happiness meter increased once more. I could also almost swear that my breasts have grown a bit in size since I started this.

I would recommend every woman to massage her breasts regularly. There have been nights when I’ve not been feeling up to the other exercises in my training (more on that later), so I just dedicate myself to the breast massage.

I also started feeling the connection between my breasts and my vagina. After 200 turns water definitely starts to flow, it is shy water at first, like a flower slightly misted by the morning dew.



Sexual Training 2016

I haven’t yet had an orgasm with a man, not even a vaginal orgasm through stimulation. I plan to write a series of posts in relation to this topic. I am doing extensive research on the matter (both intellectual and experimental), and I want to make it available and accessible to other women who might experience a similar situation. So, join me on my quest for the vaginal orgasm.

So, my new year’s resolution is this: how can I, as a woman, learn to take my pleasure from sexual relationships with any healthy man, regardless of how much experience or know-how he might have?

This is the beginning of a sexual exploration on my part. I recently had a lover who reminded me of my sexual-sensual nature. He woke me up out of a stupor, the brief relationship didn’t work out, but I’m grateful that it happened. It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, he is all power and energy. He’s also quite experienced and really took the lead. I learned a lot from him in the few weeks that we were together. I still didn’t reach orgasm with him, but I enjoyed his body so much. More than anything I enjoyed MY body so much. I was already enjoying my sensuality before it all happened. I attracted him as I was being sensual with myself. So, even though it is over with him, I know that this potential is in me.

So far, I’ve been waiting for a man who knows how to DO IT RIGHT. There are very few men who really know about women, sex, or even their own body. But, what about learning how I, myself, can do it right?

The truth is that for years I have had a lot of trouble enjoying sexual relationships. At some point it even became some kind of torture as I was in a very loving relationship and I forced myself to have sex with him even though I didn’t want to. It’s painful to even think about it, I hurt us both in the end more than I helped us.  I have made a lot of excuses for it. I have for a long time thought that ‘there is something wrong with me’; or my body just can’t enjoy sex, or that my vagina is insensitive, or men are just clumsy, or my belly aches, my head aches, etc… While all these reasons might have some truth to them, they end now. I am taking matters into my own hands.

Here something I wrote about understanding my own femininity:

‘I am a woman.

Being a woman is about a cycle of water, ever changing currents of water that shape my day to day life.  It´s a physical cycle that starts and ends in blood every month, blood as the physical representation of the water of life that keeps me alive. First, it’s a physical cycle that carries with it the possibility of harboring life, and the ever present reminder of the bloody death of potential. ‘

This is a part of a previous post- click here to read the whole post.





The Sand Ghosts Part II, Red Haze

This story is a continuation of ‘The Sand Ghosts’.

Another one of Luna’s stories of dreams and remembered lives.

WARNING:  this text contains adult content.

The Sand Ghosts- Red Haze:

Night after night they swayed their hips and entranced the warriors. They prepared the food the warriors ate, cleaned their shirts and laced their lives with their sweet elixirs. They fulfilled their duties as pleasure slaves. The thirteen owned and inhabited their bodies fully, they had all been trained in the sexual pleasures. They knew to sway their hips from the inside out, they knew how to open and close their flower around the warriors’ manhood. They took the warriors inside of their bodies, and wove their magic around them. Every night in the dinner tent, they danced and seduced the warriors. They took them into their embrace together in the tent, as they sang and provided the beat of life and brought them all to ecstasy together. The Persian brothers grew in power and might as the women of the sand infused them with their sexual energy night after night.

Luna was strong and men were too weak for her, she bit their necks and sucked off the life out of them. She couldn’t help it, it was her nature. She knew no pleasure as she could not surrender to the weak shadows that called themselves men. She would lay with men and kill them after for they were too weak for her. None could deny her, all wanted her, and all died for it. It was the nature of her gift to commune with death and the dead. She would whisper and whistle over every battle field, so that the souls of the dead would continue on their road. She often helped a few half-dead out of their life as well. The shadow-men, as she came to think of all men around her, could feel her closeness to death with some remnant of their drowned instinctive selves, and were intimidated by it. And she knew that they were all half-dead, being close to the dead as she was, she could see that they were all pale imitations of life. Entranced by common pleasures, hypnotized by choice, absent to their own minds, absent to their own bodies, absent to their lives. So she rode with the sand ghosts thirsting for blood to satisfy her own lust, killing those that were already dead, and hoping they would find better life after the crossing. She was mighty and had no mercy for the half-living, only compassion for the truly dead. Her stride was feminine and seductive, her two curved long swords were part of her death dance. She could kill with just a look, but she enjoyed feeling her body move around her swords as the blood of the half-deads that she dispatched built a red haze around her. Blood always knew power, even when it was quenched by unconsciousness. Blood called to blood, and her blood was boiling, seething with the power of the grateful dead.

And so the queens they took the seed of the warriors, and became stronger and stronger with their blood thirsty energy. And so they whispered their wishes as they pleasured the warriors. They whispered names of towns, and names of peoples that must be conquered. They whispered battle strategies and trophies that must be won. Slowly they counseled the warlord; they seduced him into many victories. The warlord was clueless that his ideas were not his own, and his strategies were the ingenuity of his thirteen goddesses. The sand ghosts willed it so, it served them, for a while. They bid their time, they strengthened their warriors, so that their death would be all the sweeter once they had conquered and unified the nations.

He came to her in the night, after all were asleep and the camp was quiet. In those hours when the silence strengthens the cries of spirits. He came to seduce her with his barely controlled rage. Loved by everyone, he hadn’t found one that could take his hot and strong love. His energy was too much for him to handle, he spilled it about in every way he could. In battle he was fearless, he felt alive when he slashed meat with his sword and tasted blood on his tongue. In friendship he was present, a brother to his fellow warriors, a father to the children of others, a bright to support to his own father the warlord. All loved him, all wanted him, and he gave his energy to all he could. And still he had too much energy, and it burned him from inside out. It burned all who would try to take it. He intoxicated himself with fermented water, and grassy roots, and still the fire burned inside him. No woman had been able to take his fire before, he grew bitter and the rage increased. Women were worn out by his force, burned on his desire, hurt by his vigor, victims of his violence. He denied the power of the insane wilderness inside him, tried to soften his stride to be able to fit in. Until Luna seduced him and took her pleasure from him without his knowing it. She seduced him without knowing it herself, her primal nature called to him, she seduced him simply by being.

So, he came to her in the night, in those hours when the dream magic is strong. It was forbidden to lay with the sand ghosts without the presence of the other warriors. They were known to be dangerous. It made it all the more alluring when he came to her tent to seduce her instead. And seduce her he did. This one, this warrior, was alive. Truly alive.

His fierce kisses were the kindling to the fire that would follow. She met his violent thrusts with her hips and challenged him for more. She opened up her flower to him and surrendered to the pleasure he would give her. And pleasure her he did. Luna drank his energy and gave him the nectar of her flower. She reveled in the smell of his sweat, she reveled in the sweet taste of his seed, she took his rage and warmed her cold heart with it, she drank his violence like water in the desert sun. She passionately bathed in his rage, the fire of a life that she knew she would have to take when the time came.

Night after night he came to her in the quiet of the dark. And the spirits around Luna cocooned the midnight lovers and silenced to the world their cries of pleasure so none would know about their forbidden passion. Soon Luna found that the power of death was one and the same with the sensual, sexual power that harbors the possibility of life. It should have been obvious, she thought, once she discovered it. Through the rage of her strong warrior she remembered long lost sexual magics, and these she started practicing with him, without knowing what she was doing.

She took him inside of her and spun his rage inside their joined bodies. He raged all the more for it, his thrusts became more violent, he pulled her hair and bit her thighs. Her own death fueled rage reared its head, finally accepted, finally acknowledged, finally challenged. She met his fire with her own blood power, she tried to hurt him, she tried to kill him as she had done with all her previous lovers. And she would have killed him through their passion, had he not been strong enough to face the death he saw in her eyes. He had danced with death before, and was fearless, he continued his forceful thrusting and held on to her hips. And so they embraced in the border between life and death, for this is where her spirit lived. Her hips were his life, and the more he held her hips the more he held on to life. She called him to his death, and in the face of his own mortality his fire grew. The more violent he became, the more she grew in power and surrender, and the closer they grew together. She learned to surrender to the power that held her hips. And so she spun his rage inside her blood, and put it back inside him changed and stronger. She kindled her own fire with his heat, she opened her flower to him and gave him the water that would bring him relief. She opened the paths of the river of fire that would bond them together. She fully surrendered to his relief, and they knew the pleasure of joined souls.

Once almost all the nations of the desert had been conquered and unified, the thirteen goddesses decided that it was time to send the warriors on to their next task. The Ghosts had grown fond of their warriors, and their warriors had grown strong with the presence of the fierce women. Nevertheless, the warriors were needed in the Nether, and only death would send them there. One more battle and the warriors would have to be killed. Luna had always known that the day would come when she would have to take the decision to kill her Persian man of fire. Perhaps they could escape together, she knew her spirits would silence their footsteps.

One night, knowing that the date of the uprising of the Sand Ghosts was near, Luna awaited her midnight lover. She was oiled and ready to receive him, the oil was hardly necessary, she thought, since just the idea of him made her lake bloom. She had a gift ready for him, she had a token of gold in her hand. This time, as they danced the dance of life and death in their fiery passion, she used the fire they created to melt the gold token. As he was about to release his seed inside of her she pressed the burning gold to his ear and used the power of her blood, and her grateful dead, in order to fashion a gold earring for him. He cried out in pain and shock as she branded the earring into his flesh and his soul. She tightened her flower around him to avoid the release of seed, and pushed the energy of his pleasure inside of himself instead. The dry pleasure drove him nearly to madness, and as his wrath rose inside of him he shared it with her, and they became one flesh. They were one now, as she branded him, he branded her with his ire. The day after she also wore a golden earring, they had ringed each other.

The night after the last battle was won the tribe celebrated their triumph. The thirteen women of the sand were called to the tent to dance their pleasure. Luna danced with her Persian prince this night. The women created a more pressing rhythm than usual, they danced harder and stronger as they took the warriors’ weapons. The thirteen danced the dance of swords that night. It was not common that slaves, for they were still chained slaves, would be allowed weapons. The men were enthralled by their beauty and skill and couldn’t hold a clear thought. The women continued their dance of swords and hips. They swayed the swords in rhythm with their hips, they created music with the blades. They were still dancing the dance of swords as they took the men inside of themselves. They twirled blades in both hands above their heads, and as the men spilled their seed they women yelled the battle scream that would herald death.

Luna looked at her Persian prince in the eyes, and he saw his death once more. He saw his goddess riding him with lust and fire, artfully spinning his two swords above their heads. As he had done every night that he had lain with her, he stared right back into her soul as she tried to drag him into death. The second right before the scream of death was uttered they looked at the depths of each other’s eyes and whispered a wordless pledge of love to each other. The guttural scream of the Sand Ghosts broke the desert night with soul fear. The tent was filled with a red haze as the heads of the warlords rolled into the ground. Luna kept looking into his eyes as she yelled and brought both swords down upon his neck and his head rolled off his shoulders. His earring was fashioned with the help of the dead, and it would help him cross over into the death that he knew was coming. She screamed with wrath as he died, and tasted his blood as the last of his seed and her water joined inside her and ran down her thighs.

Feeling around

What does it feel like to be an ocean? Or a tree swaying in the wind? How about being a newfound love? Or birds roosting in  new nest? Or new parents who see their newborn smile for the first time? Or a newborn mesmerized by the big moving things with five moving thingies at the ends?

I’ve  never been any of the above (well maybe the last one a long time ago); but I’ve  known all of them through their expressions of being. Meaning their feelings. I feel all of it, raw and unfiltered, as if it were me. I feel because I  am human. I  feel because I am receptive to the experience of feeling. I am an empath. So are you, if you want to be one.

Have you ever wondered what the rock under your feet is feeling? Or what the mountain thinks? I feel the love my mother has for me, and I love her back, and I  feel her love back in return for me loving her, and how she would love me unconditionally, and how I love her unconditionally. And it grows and expands. And it is love unexpressed that drives me to madness and sadness and despair.

And I  feel the unexpressed love of all those around me turning and turning. Wanting to get out until it explodes, being so misunderstood that it is sad. But in it’s root it is all love, so much love that it cannot be expressed. And so muvch grief over the unexpressed love. A conundrum by definition, a heart ache by practice. The root of all pain is love unexpressed and the root of all happiness is love unattached.


Letter to my lost love

It’s been more than two years since that horrible night when I broke both our hearts. I had to end it, I just had to, although it was and is beyond my understanding. I loved you then and I love you now. This is a letter that you will never read.

You spoiled me with your open smiles, your love, and dedication. No other man can ever measure up to you. No other relationship will ever measure up to what we had. Why couldn’t I love you with my body as well as with my soul? That, my dear love, is a question I carry around day in and day out. I wonder if I can love anyone with my body, I dare not try, my soul is already in love. I would only split myself in two.

How many times I have thought about calling you, about telling you that I made a mistake, please take me back, please love me and tell me everything is ok, please tell me that it’s not too late. I miss you every day, every hour of every day. I have nothing to give you, nothing to promise you, no children to give you. I cry and I bleed for you even as I write this. All I have for you is distance. And I would take your hugs, your laughter, your smiles, your support and your ring. And I would give you nothing but more heartbreak and tears.
We were once so close, I told myself time and time again, don’t ruin this. I found you, the love of my soul, and my dissonant body disagreed. But I couldn’t love you fully and I don’t know why. I fell into indifference, I ignored my aching body, I tried to please you and hurt myself.
I still love you, I always will. Every hour of every day. I fill my head with nonsense to try to keep the hurt away. There is no end to the hurt, no end to the tears. There is no point in crying endlessly. I hope my love reaches you, I hope my love comforts you, even when I know you feel abandoned and rejected.
I love you my dear, James Blunt put it right. Good-bye my friend, good bye my lover, you have been the one for me.

The Sand Ghosts

It was a time of sand and blood. It was a time of caravans and veiled dances around the night fires. Blood thirsty warriors became lust thirsty men in the cold desert nights.

The women of the sand were the most beautiful and mysterious dancers they had captured. Night after night they would create a cadence with their drums and chains around their waists. The smell of spices was ripe in the air, it mixed in with the heavy incense used to keep insects away. The women would come and dance all the horror of battle away from the minds of the young warriors. Their veils carefully covered and revealed their soft golden skin in rhythm to the music and their intoxicating swaying hips. Even the chains of their captivity were instruments of beauty and spirit as they wove their dance around the tent. Thirteen goddesses captured and given to the warlord for his pleasure. Sacred wars fought in name of one or another bloodthirsty god.

Before their downfall, the sand ghosts -as they called themselves- were a vision of power and beauty in the desert sands. Sitting atop their white and gray horses, they rode the sand as though they were flying in it. A mysterious cloud of sand always preceded the women of the sand. Their veils flailed in the air weaving a song with the hooves and their battle cries. They were fierce, and strong, their name preceded them, and no town dare deny them lest they be sand cursed.

The warlord, having heard the stories, wanted them as a battle trophy.
To be continued…