Archive for fearlessness


Posted in musings, relationships, social commentary, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 22, 2009 by kimmy

I couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of empathy for him because I know exactly what he’s undergoing.  If there was an easier route, we’d take it.  However, how many of us really know where we’re headed when pain grips so tightly that all vision is temporarily halted?

Having been through it more than a few times, I know that the reward on the other side is much greater than the effort.  However, first-timers are often overwhelmed by the magnitude of the challenge.  It seems insurmountable, but that’s only an illusion concocted by the players.  If you extricate yourself before intermission, the ensemble will be short an actor and the drama suspended, causing resentment among those left onstage.  Pity we can’t send in an understudy…

Not that he would be welcomed.  A pinch-hitter is only as good as his predecessor.  It’s unlikely that he’s aped your habits well enough to fool the audience, or the blood demands of your fellow thespians.  So you must choose between your own wellbeing and that of the show.  Which will go on?

Of course the problem is that the longer the show goes on, the harder it is to leave it.  It’s like a long-running stage contract in Las Vegas or a sitcom with endless residuals.  It’s difficult to leave the steady paycheck and familiar routine.   And yet even these may not be enough for you, especially when you’re alerted to something greater beyond them.

Hence the quandry, which in essence is not conflict between others, but internal strife.  When you realize that the hot mess you’re in is of your own creation, suddenly you have no one to blame and the long watch begins.  It’s a lonely black night sitting with yourself, ruminating on all the detours you’ve taken.  You might rail against all those choices, despairing over your inability to hit the bull’s eye.  But who of us do on the first try?

You might feel ashamed that you didn’t learn sooner and had to involve so many people in your journey.  But how can you thank those who are ignorant of the role they’ve played?  Or angry and dismissive when you do?  No amount of explanation, however earnest, will convince them.  Just as you have, they must discover these subtleties on their own.

And they will… in time.  But for now you must sit quietly in the dark and wait.  The light of understanding will come, not carried on a tray by a rowdy host of friends and family, but slowly over the horizon.



Posted in musings, personal with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 5, 2009 by kimmy

I absolutely did not want to get out of bed this morning, being caught up in a dream so vivid and sensual that I wasn’t sure where I was.  When the alarm sounded, I wanted to throw it across the room for daring to interrupt.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t return to that moment.  It was like a soap bubble that once punctured could not be remade.  But as fleeting as it was, the effects are long term.  I am, hours later, still plagued by vision and deep-seated longing.

It would be easy to dismiss this as an act of the overly-imaginative, but why?  Is the activity of the subconscious mind unimportant?  Or does its non-linear nature disturb us so profoundly that we disregard its messages?

Granted, it’s difficult to reconcile two seemingly disparate factions.  If your waking and dreaming minds are at odds, then your behavior must be tailored to the medium in which you operate.  Clearly, we cannot move from one impulsive act to another without carefully weighing the consequences, but dreamstate eliminates them.  You are free to act from the deepest part of self, exploring scenarios which otherwise might be off-limits.

And was do your secret activities say about you?  Are you repressed and only able to express creativity and emotion in the privacy of your own head?  Or, are you problem-solving and making sense of your life through strange metaphor?  More importantly, how have you integrated what you’ve learned into your life?

If you’re like most people, dreams are just pleasant (or occasionally terrifying) diversions to which you attach no significance.  Think of all the dismissive commentary that comes to mind.  It was just a dream.  Just ignore everything and learn to mistrust yourself.  Go back to sleep.  Like that will make a difference?  There are no such things as monsters under the bed.  They only exist in the bed, and are usually parked next to you.

Worse yet are the condemnations of the uplifting dreams.  It’s just a pipedream.  Happiness is only for the stoned?  You’re dreaming your life away.  I thought I was devising ways of making it better.  You’re just a dreamer.   True, but only if I believe that the sole measure of success is that obtained by mindless adherence to corporate principles and the utter disregard for the soul’s yearning for truth.

I’m not going to limit myself and pick through the crumbs offered by external reality.  I’ve seen no evidence that living by its code unifies the world’s inhabitants.  Much to the contrary, they are being slowly ripped apart and devoured by the same entities that promise deliverance.  I will not add myself to the feast.

If that makes me a dreamer by default, so be it.  I accept my lot and embrace the happy dreams that both waking and sleeping provide.


Posted in musings, personal, writing with tags , , , , , , on January 31, 2009 by kimmy

I’m hanging on a moment that stretches out before me like a map.  I lean into its elasticity and it waves under and through me, yet I’m not prompted to reach out and clutch it.   This ride cannot throw me off because I’m interwoven in the mesh.

And so together we elongate, stretching into infinity like the waves of a bell.  I can’t remember what I did yesterday or even an hour ago.  Those trifles don’t exist anymore.  There’s only this moment and it’s moving in all directions.

Why was I always so afraid of endlessness?  I only vaguely recall that it used to trigger panic in me, as if something without beginning or end was a threat.  What possible danger does this cradling pose to me?  It holds me fast in its weave and I’m happy, knowing that my little thread is part of an unending whole.

But my brain is on temporary hiatus.  Tomorrow it will awaken and refuse to believe that I left without it.  It will invent countless excuses for my present experience, baiting the hook with fear, hoping I will forget my solo flight.


Posted in erotic fiction, love, romance, sex, writing with tags , , , , , on January 1, 2009 by kimmy

“Don’t move.”

The words slid into her ear, molasses-sweet and sticky.  Even if she had wanted to run, it was too late; they held her like flypaper.  The explosion of neighborhood fireworks outside the bedroom window was slowly muffled, replaced by the drumming inside her chest.  There was something dangerous within that sought release.  It beat against her, hammering at the bars which caged it, but she wasn’t certain whether to loose it upon him.  There was no way of knowing what it might do.

She had never intended to be drawn in so deeply.  Friends and colleagues had warned her, telling her to beware the charm that had waylaid others, but she dismissed them.  She was immune to entrapments.  What possible hazard could he pose to something dormant?  In fact, she was so confidently numb that she believed herself incapable of feeling.

Of course all that hubris evaporated one afternoon when he took her by surprise, effectively rendering her defenseless.  It was both terrifying and exhilarating, and despite the well-meaning cautions, she found herself shedding self-restraint one hobble at a time.  It was difficult to recall why she had them at all.  When he was near, she operated in a zone of moral ambiguity that seemed particular to them.  Established boundaries were curiously suspended, as if their peculiar connection took precedence.  That she never disputed it was proof of collusion, although she couldn’t explain why.

It was easier to understand as a function of her brainstem than that of conscious reasoning.  She recognized him with the same fervor and singlemindedness as a reptile knows its mate.  And when he growled at her that night, she responded in kind.

He pressed her into the wall, reaching beneath her dress to pull away her panties and the last vestiges of reserve.  She acted without thought, wrapping her legs around his waist, surrendering not to him but to herself.