I thought to be pursued would be fun, a real romp.
It wasn’t.
I thought to be beheld as beautiful could give me confidence, know my beauty.
It didn’t.
I thought to be loved to could open my heart, make me love.
It couldn’t.
I thought when tested, I would pass.
I didn’t.
“We will only engage in pure spiritual practice if we have definitely understood that we have a precious human life and we have to use it now. We can die today. It’s possible.”
How do I write this now? How now, my Lord, after all that’s become of us?
How do I tell you what’s become of me?
I’ve been sun-kissed and wave-licked I’ve been rolling in the dirt I’ve slapped a horse’s ass, cherry picked and I’ve spit creek water to the earth
I’ve seen snakes in grass and long thin worms, and sometimes chubby slugs the forest yields such photographs beetles, spiders, bugs
Moths and butterflies have pressed me with silken, pollened wings while no bee nor wasp has ever stung me as the dog-day cicada sings
A cricket symphony has often put me ‘lone to sleep under starry skies, dry eyes wake damp with dew out here I do not care to weep – a tear outside was never shed, except those I shed with you
If I never loved another, Desdemona be my name I have never touched another, yet an Othello I have made I have never laid another, but you laid me with the blame.
Oh, poor Othello! Confused with talk fed into ear by Iago’s mouth, untamed and tainted with mirthful, selfish motivation, to destroy love! Revenge!
Was my mistake the one she missed? The one where I fought back? For though I’m fair, when I get pissed boundaries up and eyes go black
Not so passive, lacking grace I begged and pleaded and tempted fate with tearful eyes and ruddy face now there’s nothing to investigate
I’ve not strayed, and still I wait as Desdemona would have done had Othello spared her life and run her story, I do speculate, and mine
Would be as one.
So though leaves have stroked my arms And brooks have soaked my pants, No other man has ever stirred me Woodsy tickles come from spiders, ants
Still, the forest gets me going, More stagged than sumac sprigs How then I touch myself knowing I’ve never caved to pleasure twigs
Right now, I cannot know your mind How now, my Lord, I’m feeling blind! So, in ignorance I must declare:
I will never sacrifice my virtue To die upon a kiss Know, still, I’m saved for you.
Love, Desdemona
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears, each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Happy Twelve Days of Christmas! A Christmas Countdown featuring my Christmas favourites (plus pictures of my foster kittens).
I feel like it’s time to be honest and admit that my real true favourite most enjoyed Christmas song is… Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.
I feel like this is a song even Scrooge can get behind. A reminder I love my grandmas, but I also love laughter, fun and not taking things so seriously.
This song is a a comedic sketch, humorous holiday storytelling. On a deeper level, perhaps it’s also a great reminder that we never know if today is our “last day” – after all, death is life’s only guarantee. With this somewhat Dharmic teaching, I’ll make my segue.
Bonus: 12 Days of Charity
Looking for a charitable organization to support this season?
Consider Samudra Buddhist Centre. I recommend signing up for beginner classes or click here to go to their donation collection platform. Through the practice of Buddhism, I have found an abundance of inner peace simply by learning and applying basic meditation techniques and contemplating virtuous objects (like love and compassion).
Studying over the last five years, I have cultivated faith through experimenting and observing. I am happy to share this wisdom with others and encourage them to sign up for general program classes to learn wonderful, practical and basic meditation techniques to enrich one’s life.
The Halfwit Writer 