Darklady’s Confessional: Being Here Now

Darklady’s Confessional
Being Here Now

I don’t fall in love half way. Maybe that’s a flaw in my character. Maybe it’s a virtue. I don’t know. I just know what it’s like to be the way I am, do the things I do, feel the feelings I feel, and so totally Be Here Now that I often forget that other people aren’t and don’t and maybe never will.

Being Here Now and loving with intensity produce interesting results. It sure makes sex an amazing experience. After emerging from a youth with not infrequent trips to the magical land of disassociation, Being Here Now is a mind fuck beyond comprehension, the ultimate trip, an infinite awareness of stroking and stimulation that reaches to my very cellular structure. Moments of transcendence sometimes grip my heart, but I don’t let them get to me too much. I like being a mammal and plan on spending some time luxuriating in existence before signing onto enlightenment, thanks. I like feeling love and affection and tender caring wash over and into me like a purifying liquid fire that burns through my veins and holds me close from the inside, if only for a moment. When it hurts, I figure that’s the price I pay for being alive, Being Here Now, being in my body – and searching for others who are likewise enshrined.

When I give in return, my internal flame burns – against all odds – bright and hot and true. How innocence and experience; open wounds and new flesh; trust and timidity; a once, twice, thrice burned and broken heart can repeatedly hit the mat and bounce back is a mystery – but there it is, nonetheless. This has been and continues to be somewhat baffling to those on the receiving end of my affections. If it’s any comfort to them, it’s somewhat baffling to me, as well.

Things become more baffling when those attracted by my light and heat draw away, feeling more intensity than originally expected. Having been raised like a lab monkey with a wire frame mother, I’ve never been one to shrug aside an emotional bond just because things didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. I’ve never been a particularly good consumer and simply cannot get the hang of treating relationships like disposable goods to be exchanged for something more wash and wear or that matches my décor better. Such does not appear to be the case with others, however.

Some nights, lying in bed afire beneath the touch, gaze, taste of my long lost and somehow re-found sweetheart, the wash of sheer Here and Now-ness is nearly unbearable. No lingering over memories like a good cup of coffee. No fretting over the future like a hair just below the surface. Instead, a limited eternity of skin touching skin and heart aching toward heart, igniting and re-igniting into love, accompanied by the fears and hopes that trail behind it like camp followers. Then the sense of belonging to something beyond myself and the sense of quintessential aloneness in my individuality and the sense that both are important and irrelevant battle for control of me against the sense of fingers and lips and skin and kisses hot with whispered promises of more.

I’ve been to the place where fear defeats hope and ultimately destroys passion, so I’ll once again choose the tenacious embrace of hope — and Be Here Now, believing that yes, there are others that are and do and will.

– Originally published in Playtime Magazine –

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