A free woman in Paris

This morning I heard from a journalist friend who lives across the Atlantic ocean. He's really a smart guy.

But he's not just intelligent as in thoughtful and well-versed in a lot of fascinating topics.

A while back my friend married a Frenchwoman he met while serving in a foreign news bureau. Now he and she live in Paris with their family.

I have a cousin who used to live in Paris. And I still imagine it (having not seen it for decades) as one of the most romantic cities in the world.

A city in which one can tumble out of bed (of course, one does not sleep alone in Paris) and walk down the street to sit as a sidewalk cafe for breakfast at noon.

A city in which one can walk for miles along the Seine and catch glimpses of the Paris of 400 years ago.

A city in which a debate about poetry can be taken as seriously, if not more so, than one about politics.

One in which people care about style, but aren't obvious about it.

I want to be in Paris. I can't get there right now.

Yet the city of La Belle Epoque, of croissants and Proust and stolen kisses waits on the horizon, tantalizing and gorgeous.

I trust that Paris will be there when I can.

Wanna come?

Polyamory: a (serious) reconsideration

I'm aware of the religious, ethical and practical arguments against polyamory.

I got it.

So if you are going to be shocked by what I am about to say, I advise you simply not to read this post.

Of course, that pretty much guarantees that you WILL read it.

A few years ago, a friend told me about polyamory, those who have multiple relationships or many loves.

Actually, it could just be one other love, or one other lover.

Polys are clear that it's very different from swinging, where men and women engage in sex without emotional attachment.

Jealousy is the obvious problem with that choice. I'm not sure how they manage it.

There are so many obvious reasons why this is an unsuitable lifestyle for me -- the problem is that they are mostly in my head.

My heart says something else. I'm not entirely sure what it's telling me, and I'm trying to sort it out.

There are so many things, in the romance arena, that I'm trying to sort out.

And there are so many things I know.

I'm tired, and I'm losing patience.

Patience with guys my age or older who need to date younger women to validate their masculinity.

Patience with guys who haven't dealt with their issues and riff on the same theme with a few variations.

Patience with men who won't 'fess up to having baggage.

Also, as much as I respect them, engineers and I don't share much of a common tongue.

I thought that I had endless stores of empathy - but it may be a good thing that I have a limit.

I hope this is, metaphorically speaking, a fertile period.

I know that something in me is changing.

Perhaps it's time to take some risks.

I don't know if they look like polyamory. Given my cautious personality and beliefs, I tend to doubt it.

I don't know whose face he wears....and if I did know, I wouldn't say right now.

But there's a lot about which I'm not as sure as I once was.

And guess what? That can be fun.

I'm not going to turn into a spinster....a confirmed bachelor, and likely to remain so (pace Henry Higgins).

There ARE mouths to be kissed after mouths to be fed (forgive me, Stephen Sondheim).

And I'm goin' looking for him.

Let's see if I'm girl enough for one guy. I think I have potential.

PDA among "friends": How much do you expose?

There are all kinds of reasons I've been thinking about this question recently.

And again, some of them will remain nameless.

But I am being reinforced in my prejudice that what you say, or don't say online, says something about who you are. I find this fascinating -- and a bit dispiriting.

For sure, there have been times when I've made an ass of myself.

A lot of my friends online choose to say nothing. They prefer, apparently, to conduct most of their lives offline.

Some of my other friends have alternative personas. That's really intriguing.

I sometimes wonder what the heck they think when I post a blog update, or some rant from one of the media outlets that gives me the privilege of ranting (and even getting paid for it!).

And then there are folks who sometimes let it all hang out sometimes. I don't know too many of them.

And I may not even know them well.

But I do wonder: what were they thinking when they posted a status update or wrote on a blog?

Did they realize that what they wrote might say more about them then perhaps they would want others to know?

Or do they take the risk, and jump, with forethought and bravery?

Do they gamble that readers and "friends" will be kind?

Because I take on a public persona now and then, I have gotten all kinds of comments. I am well aware of the risks of exposing myself.

But I also know it's what people aren't saying to you that may matter more.

And I wonder what I have opened to public view without even knowing it.

In the meantime, I'm in the hunt for dignity. While it seems like an old-fashioned virtue, it might be one we should bring back.

I'll let you know if I find it -- offline. Because if it's found online, the person behind it ain't saying anything.

If I was with you

If I was with you...

I'd race up the hill, throw myself on the ground, and roll with abandon to the bottom, grass in my hair, the cool day staining my cheeks red.

Smiling crookedly up at you, I'd pull you down beside me, both of us laughing and amazed that such childlike play came naturally.

If I was with you, I'd let you pay me the most brazen compliments, half-skeptical and half-charmed, both of us knowing that it was a delightful game.

We both know how to play at serious.

If we were together, I'd kiss you with a passion that would burn all of my years of self-denial and care and prudence to smoldering ash.

If we were in the same place, be it mountaintop trail with the fragrant pines overhead, or running along the sea, where the sand hills rise and fall in the late fall breeze, I'd slam the door on tomorrow.

We both know that tomorrow arrives whether we want it to or not.

If we were to meet in that place where dreams and hopes collide, I would open myself to you and the moment, listening to the part of my spirit that has been so frequently subdued and ignored.

I would be the woman you see in me.

You would be freed from the invisible burdens you carry.

But it is only sometimes that I allow myself to dream -- and wonder how to channel that passion in the here and now, the flame that burns so far away, the dream that lies out of reach of my open hands.

To push the door ajar, even for those moments, is an act of determination I have not allowed myself until now...the luxury of imagination that defies rational thought -- and soars and cavorts and rises, illumined for a moment, against a night sky.

Holy Ghost Girl

Why is it good to wonder?

Because if you don't, whether you be atheist or believer, whether the topic is stars or sand, you become smug in your certainty.

Because if you don't, you miss the mysteries that lie around each bend.

Because if you don't, you never live the questions.

And if you do, oh, if you do... those of you who wonder, know what you don't know already.

It is not a bad place to be, the land of wonder.

http://www.philly.com/philly/entertainment/literature/133684203.html