A Little Wink

A Little Wink

I think I’ll have an affair with my soul.

Wouldn’t it be nice to greet the morning with a wink in the mirror,
even before the mask is donned?  Maybe I’ll set up a date
and keep it sacred from interruptions, plan something special,
something not of the mundane.  Or perhaps, just exactly that. 
Mundane, but of my own creation.

I don’t have to be wooed by candy and shiny things,
a book would do just fine, or a little walk among the trees.
Or we could go to an art gallery where someone else’s passion
can whisper encouragements from the portraits to my ears,
"dust off your buried passions and unfinished works
before it’s too late."

Or maybe, I’ll plan a bike ride to remind myself
that my body does matter, even if it doesn’t define me.
This glove of my soul could use some attention now and then.
So often I feed my mind while my body suffers from the neglect
of a spouse whose appearance has merged with the scenery
after so many years together.

During random hours of self-awareness,
well, random minutes if truth be told,
I find it funny that we often seek that perfect someone
from whom we can expect to hear good things about ourselves
that would bolster our timid self-worth. 
Meanwhile, these “soulmates” as we call them,
in their own little moments of enlightenment,
are looking for much the same for themselves . 

We bump into one another in a coffee shop
and think we’ve met a kindred spirit. 
We think we have so much in common
that we manufacture the glue that will someday bind us
in matrimony or perpetual engagement.
Then we realize, years later, that the only thing we shared
was the fear of unimportance, medicrity, disappearance,
the fear of fading into the fabric of society, forgotten.

Such paltry cement, can it possibly hold us together, considering
most of us weren’t even focused on each other when we met?
We were looking for a mirror, questioning the god of our making,
in search for the one single person on this lonely earth
who will simply tell us to our face, “I love you”
or “Look no further, the answer is within you”
or even “Who you are is enough for me.”

If we were honest and unafraid, which we aren't most of the time,
we’d confess our insufficiencies, our belief system that tells us
that everyone else is a master weaver
and we are mere novices in the tapestry of life.
Maybe, if we were unafraid of being ourselves, we’d realize
we are all yearning to believe we are quite whole in our uniqueness,
yet none of us truly believes we are already whole
before we find who we are seeking.

What a waste of mistakes and consequences.  Some of us,
to avoid showing our scars, would rather become skilled imposters
in the social game of feigned confidence and self-deception
while the other half wallow in the murky pits of self-loathing
to avoid the ones feigning confidence and self-deception. 

So, wouldn’t it be more fun to have an affair,
a serial rendezvous with the soul?  I think so.
My soul and I could meet at the ocean, dance with the waves,
laugh at the irony that is fear and bravery, how that tides
chase and retreat on the sandy shore, and how we respond,
retreating when the waves chase our feet,
chasing when the waves retreats.  Sound familiar?

On my date, I will appreciate the give and take of the tides
and of communication without the pressure to conform
to the delicate rules of polite conversation. A wave against the tide
finds it difficult to reach its peak, so too for a woman who finds herself
a little off cadence with the tide, how much more difficult is it to find her voice.
in a world where she is admonished for a lapse of judgment, indicted
for a crime of conversation, condemned for the sin of interruption or derailment,
or belittled for missing the hidden minefields behind polite words.

Even waves need a little forgiveness, some space on the beach
to find a destiny of their own, without crashing on rocky shores
only to be pushed back in the throng of the tides, to start over once again.

And what if we fail to find our voice, to recognize the worth of us?
Not the worth of our belongings, but our inner worth that tells us
we belong here on earth, that we still have a mission, a purpose.
What if we fail to find someone who will tell us we are loved, that we belong?
Perhaps, each woman and her soul are the only lovers
who can truly have a fighting chance of changing each other
without hiding behind the veil of wishful thinking.  Look in the mirror,
you have already succeeded in your search.  You cannot fail.
You already are the one you seek. Now you must make time
to be with her, get to know her, befriend this lover that is you. 

For those brave enough to enter such an affair,
we must all remember that there is no shame
in sharing a little "I love you," with our selves,
no heresy in whispering "The answer is already in you,"
no self-deception in "You are enough just as you are,"
and I don't think we will be found guilty of vanity
if we offer ourselves a little wink in the mirror,

just because......


P.S.  If you're trying to figure out what comes after "just because........",
please resist the urge to finish that sentence. 
Look in the mirror and just wink at yourself, already. 
You need no excuses to show yourself some attention. 
Enjoy the compliment. Then pass it on. 



SWPoet
Revised 6-12-12

First version below

A Little Wink

I think I’ll have an affair
with my self.

Wouldn’t it be nice greet the morning
with a wink in the mirror, even before the mask is donned.
Or to set up a date and keep it sacred from interruptions,
to plan something special, something not of the mundane
or perhaps, just exactly that.  Mundane, but of my own creation.

I don’t have to be wooed by candy and shiny things,
a book would do just fine, or a little walk on a winding path.
Or an art gallery, perhaps, where someone else’s passion
would hang on the walls, whispering encouragements
to dust off my own buried passions before its too late.
Or maybe, I’ll plan a bike ride, to remind myself
that the body does matter, even if it doesn’t define me.
This glove of mine could use some attention.

Funny how I think, at random hours of self-awareness, well, random minutes if truth be told,
how odd it is that we seek someone, anyone out there, from whom
we can hear some good news to bolster our self-worth.  Meanwhile,
these “soulmates” as we call them, in their own paltry moments of enlightenment,
are looking for much the same.  We bump into one another in a coffee shop and think the other
a kindred spirit.  We think we have so much in common that we manufacture the glue
that will someday bind us together in matrimony or perpetual engagement.

Years later, we realize that the only thing we shared was the fear of lack,
of disappearance, if unimportance, of fading into fabric of society
while believing everyone else is a master weaver and we, mere novices without a clue,
or worse, imposters skilled in the art of feigned confidence.

Such shaky truth to hold onto when none of us are even looking at each other,
only pondering our own reflections in the mirror, asking the universe
why there isn’t one single person on this lonely earth who will simply proclaim to us
“I love you” or even “Look no further, you already know the answer” or that
“Who you already are….is enough for me.”

Wouldn’t it be nice to have an affair
with our own soul, to touch toes in the lapping ocean waves,
to meet and retreat with the tides.
Or to have a conversation where no one interrupts,
or perhaps to agree that interrupting is just a wave who finds herself
a little off cadence, absent the guilt for a lapse of judgment, a rudeness, a social faux paux.

And what if we fail to notice the worth of ourselves?
We will, you know, but in this special affair, our soul will realize
that we are very possibly the only lovers that can actually change each other,
without hiding behind the veil of ridiculous impossibilities.

And if we can talk ourselves into indulging in a taste of vanity,

a little wink in the mirror,
could do us all a world of good.