Journal 26th Sept

26th Sept

All bets are off.

Posted gardener a birthday card from that tourist here anyway space.

Just because I don't want to hang off his neck as he looks at someone else, doesn't mean the love goes. Perhaps love is too strong a word. Affection. Acceptance. Forgiveness.
Is that what real love is?
It's lust and longing that diminish.

So I posted him a card that hopes he's happy and has a wonderful birthday.
Truly.

The week I went to his garden, Japanese man stopping him coming near. The last morning, I gave up my anger at him. I stepped forward to work with the woman beside me, and peeked around her at him, with only one (Japanese obviously) woman going to him. He needed two people. So I side-stepped and went to work with him, just as Japanese man literally jumped to join me in the first group.
Fate took a hand.
The Universe, pushing a clearway for us.

And still we fucked it up.

Walking towards him, both of us exhausted, beaten, a calm came over us. Walking towards him looking at his skinny body, not wrapped up warmly enough, so cold his eyes were runny, he looked like he'd slept rough the night before.

I will never understand why I didn't just take him in my arms and say tell me.

But I didn't.
I walked towards him and saw his spirits rise, he can't hide that at least.
Last chance.

We held hands at the rocket and blessed it, then shared. A check in. How are you doing? Me first.
I said some of the truth, that I was exhausted, that I'd had an emotional week, that I'd loved being here, and was staying the weekend, but that I was ready to go home now. I was truthful, but I didn't say all of it.
I didn't say I love you.
I didn't say I've come here for you.
I didn't say speak to me.
I'm in your garden for you.

He said he felt the same way and was at a meditation retreat this weekend.
Game over.

The Japanese woman and I cut the rocket as he wandered off. He's always wandering off. He's so good at what he does and glows when he talks about it, and in his wandering he's noticing his garden, what's to be done how are things.
Then he came back.
I'd cut almost all the rocket in record time.
Japanese woman cut her finger.

He got rid of her to the lettuces and worked beside me preparing the rocket for bagging. Just the two of us. We ran out of conversation and were standing so close I could smell his smell, feel his energy field around him, feel the heat of his body, hear the beat of his heart, mine crying out to his, the peace of it, the pink love drawing of it, magnets at last. I looked up at his face 'kiss me just kiss me' in my mind, catching him leaning over me smelling my hair. Time frozen, the air electric, don't breathe, don't change it, but my eyes had been down too long.
Somehow, we missed the moment.
He moved away.
Crash and burn.

Over and over in my mind I imagine putting that bloody lettuce down and falling into him. Into his cold under-dressed chest and crying, laughing, sobbing, kissing, hanging on, anything, something.
Just something.
So he'd know.
It's you.

Our moment.
Lost.

Regret. People say they have no regrets. I think they are in denial. How do you learn if you have no regrets? How do you change? How do you get it right the next time? How do you progress? How do you get happy?
If you have no regrets, you've just stopped feeling your feelings, you've stopped aiming, stopped trying, you're avoiding.

I will always regret sweet gardener. That I never stood in front of him and said.
I love you.
I didn't tell green eyes how I felt either. That stings too. I told him I was glad I met him, I told him that I was attracted to him, I thanked him for being so kind to me, but I didn't say I fell in love with you.
I still can't believe my first time outside Findhorn and it happened again, but it did, and I do.
And I think he did too.
So there.
Now deal.

One day I'll tell a man. One day. Take the risk, for me. Not for outcomes. For me. Just to say it.
I love you.
So there.
Now deal.

One day.

Today, I posted the gardener's birthday card, then came into work.

To an email from green eyes.

Jingle jingle.

She has some sense of humour, I'll tell you.

Butterflies as I saw his email address. I had thought of writing to him after the course last weekend, but didn't. My heart and mind were full of him. But what was the point, sending emails that won't be returned. Chinese water torture of checking, did anything come?

So I didn't and had stopped looking, stopped hoping that he would think of me and write of his own accord.
Stop wondering and here it is.

Sunday 22:09.
He was thinking of me.

He sounds, perturbed, but the email is full of Manspeak and I don't know what it means.

Manspeak for my head is full of you?

Did green eyes get hit hard too? Am I right?

"How am I s'posed to know
What's in your head?
What's on your mind? Erasure

Why can't we just come out with it and say even if it's that we don't know what we are feeling?
Why didn't gardener?
Why won't green eyes?
Why won't I?

I can take 'no.'
I can take 'it can't be.' (Eventually.)
What I can't take any more, is avoiding and pretending it didn't happen.

The magic words - 'I was thinking about you last weekend.'
I'm in his head.

Does green eyes know what it's like to look for an email that isn't coming?
Was he waiting on me contacting him again?
It didn't even cross my mind that that would be possible.
Game over.
I'm invisible.
I'm pathetic.
I'm an idiot.
He's forgotten about me.
He doesn't care.
That's what I thought.

Today, reading this email, in my joy there is a sting. He could have replied a month ago when I was on my knees and all over the place, but he didn't. When I sent two emails to nothing. To outer space.
But he didn't.
Why is he writing now?

But I don't say any of that in my reply and I only think of delaying sending it for a moment. Make him suffer and feel what it's like to look for an email that isn't coming?
Not my style.
Not on purpose.

That's not what love is. It's not what love does. It's not how love feels.

I don't need my power from making him wait. Plus I have a hum dinger answer for him that is going to pop his gorgeous green eyes out of his head.
One day I'll say it.

And today's the day.

Jingle jingle.

How have I been in the last six weeks? Well I've been having a major wobble from falling in love with you¦and got butterflies seeing your note.

Och Kali mischief.
Let me knock your socks off green eyes.
Coz all bets are off.

In this moment, I don't care if he never writes back again.

I told a man I was in love with that I was in love with him.

It wasn't scary at all.
It's his business now.
Up to him to come and find me.
I'm not holding on to this any longer.

He felt something for me too. I'm sure of it. I saw it in his lit up green eyes. I felt it when he was shaking hugging me and when he grabbed me and kissed me. When he stood watching me walk all the way in to the station.

I don't need him to leave her.
I don't need him on the first plane to Aberdeen.
I just need to hear it.
One time.
As much as I need to say it.
I'm in love with you.
And I've never felt more alive.

For the moment, that's all that counts. It's up to him now. Come and get me green eyes.
I double dare you.
Or not.
Both is okay.
Coz all bets are off.

Oh but wouldn't it be great if he did.

Is it enough that a man can't get you out of his mind? All those lonely sobs when I thought no-one had me in their thoughts, he did. 'I was thinking about you last weekend.'

One of my German friends says men never think of us. Not even when we are lovers with them. I told her she's wrong, mostly coz I don't want to believe that.
She's wrong.
Proven.
Case closed.

They think about us as much as we think about them. They're just crap at communicating it unless it bursts out of them.

I've told him that's my wish for him. That his emotional gyroscope goes into orbit and he stops stopping himself.

Coz if you love someone, even if it's a great big wall you know you're running into, a mistake you've made before, a crash to split you open. Wreck your plans, rip up the safety net, freak out with the pure undiluted force of the sweetest part of life.
And just run.
Straight at it.
Coz that split is how the light gets in.
Anything else just keeps you in the darkness.
Even if you know you're going to crash and burn, do it.
Coz you're going to crash and burn worse without them in your life anyway.
So run, right at that fear, screaming like a banshee.
Take the risk.

Just tell them.

That's what Tammy Wynette would do.