Pillow talk, that intimate exploration between us humans. In our home, pillow talk is not just a man and woman. It is a parent and child. A grandchild and grandparent and a magical pup and his pets, for he is the true master.  Our common ground, our bed. It is reminiscent of the marriage bed. A union of all. Ultimately we all gather there.  Priceless instruction. If you ask those close to me, I have this fire in my belly, unlike heartburn it is as if, I was an ask-hole.  I persistently have a burning desire to ask the question. My need to know. You ask a question, I need to know with a question. Why?  My sister compares it to a scene out of the movie Pillow talk. Tony Randall is having a conversation with Rock Hudson. He is trying to convince him of the union of marriage. To each point, the counter point of why?  Tony Randall eventually gives up and states, “Well, if you want to, you can find tricky arguments against anything.”  I am sure it is a deeper why? For me, it is really about checking out of intimacy. I truly have found it to be a reliable form of communication. When the spoken word is necessary. The wonderful ability of knowing who you are and the realization of making the change. I share a bulk of knowledge on the subject of looking within. I know, no greater source of inspiration than seeing myself for who I am. It use to be the bogeyman. The dark entryway to the unknown. I know of nothing worse than not knowing me, not accepting me, for me. I recall, having a tete-a-tete with myself, I was as insightful as all get out. What does that really mean? See I form a question. I just have to laugh. Back to my point.  I was so afraid to look. What would I find? I heard myself say, “It is not what they see, that will transform you to love. It is those moments we see ourselves within our soul. For beauty lies in the beholder.” Then I knew, I behold my soul, I answer my own question within. Simply, intimately, like laying my head on a perfectly plump, cool pillow,  suddenly the why is the definitive reason. The discussions of a lifetime, the spiritual flow of conversation born in knowing exactly where I rest my head. Pass the pillow and let’s talk.

My Life lessons on the relationship with words, men, women and the classic man versus woman.  Less is more, surrender to win, first things first and my all time favorite, keep it simple, sweetness!  Actually when I was given that acronym, K-I-S-S, it was keep it simple, stupid. Now. Who wants to hear that? My sister, Kimberly, (a perfect Sally) use to say, “That’s just ignorance”  She would go on to explain that ignorance is not stupidity, it is, lacking knowledge of something specified. I always learn something with Kimberly. Now, in a conversation with Harry.  It’s along the lines of contempt prior to investigation. For example, I won’t try certain things, so I make the remark, I don’t like it. Which is almost always met with “Don’t knock it if you’ve never tried it.” Oh yes, that is going to change my mind, instantly. I balked at the idea of compromise. Without pretense, I am nothing, if not sincere. I had a bit of an edge with Harry’s and sometimes still.  I recall listening to an acquaintance.  She was talking about a conversation with her Harry, he referred to her as one-dimensional. It was rather a mis-step on his part. Bad cha-cha, no tango for him. She was a clever Sally, educated, a teacher. She played this card game with the Harry’s. She would walk like a little girl and suck on her finger. The Harry’s were helpless. So in front of us all, she called him out, in a coyish way. She proclaimed, “I wish, I had an edge” Then went on to repeat her conversation, quite cleverly, not mentioning Harry. I glance in Harry’s direction, he is clueless, or worse (Gasp) could care less. My turn to speak, I knew, what I was about to say. Now, let’s be clear, coquettish, I am not. If I sucked my thumb, I’d just look like Baby Huey. Plus playing small has never been my thing. I am tall, blonde, snap, crackle, pop. (Again, thank you Kimberly) But Harry needed to be blasted. It’s what Sally’s need to do. “The sisterhood of Sally’s”  was at stake. I, though played it another way, for you must have the other Harry’s on board as well. A Sharon Stone move, with panty. No real ice pick. Just to hurt his feelings a bit. Make him whimper. He asked for it. I say to her, “Oh darling, you don’t want an edge, I have an edge. Their rough and jagged and you can cut yourself on it. You spend your life trying to smooth it out or trying to jump off of it. Be you, stay you, trust you” Then I gently pass the baton to a Harry. Giving her the edge of empathy, crushing her Harry’s fragile ego. The dance of duality.  Two parts of a whole. Gratefully, time gently marches on for all the Harry’s and us Sally’s. You learn, you grow and you love.  There is never mediocre love, love is love. Whether, it’s Sally or Harry. It is human to human, soul to soul,  when given encouragement and understanding the introduction of a lifetime.

Winds of change, those moments of letting go, endless years of holding on and the hopeful remnants of days past. I often find myself gazing into a memory. A bittersweet reminder of an idea that had a foundation built-in sand. A structure of necessity. It was a partnership of pain, we both carried. A theatrical act of childish participants. One, I  now realize, we both acted out in. Both cast in the role of hero and hobo. The hero in us wanting to perform an outstanding gesture that heals the other. The hobo, our true selves at the time, trying to find a home within a vacant vessel. I have continually taken responsibility for my actions in this drama, in truth. I was holding on to be absolved. A penance of purity. How I love being cast as an innocent, and equally the villain. Just give me the role and I will give you a “Tony” worthy performance.  Such grandiose histrionics. The embarrassment of ego. The catalyst, a shared moment of social media, an exchanged joy between God’s kids. The seed was planted.  I stood beneath the bustle of blowing brush and in its glory came freedom of flight. I heard it tell me, ” I will take it with me, if you let me”  Suddenly the struggle was no longer my burden, The release was a catharsis of true love from the creator. Out in the wind in the presence of nature, I kneeled in gratitude and let go.