Midday, Adrian: {from Rotorua airport.} Mouse, Hi. Food for Doggie is in my room. Library books? Thanks my Sweet. Love, and longing loins, your Dignified Man, your Prince, your Swallow Boy, your Beloved, your Loving Partner, your Unfolding Husband, Deep Friend, Companion——Thank-you.
P.s Just boarding. How’s the Soup Lover? My lovely new trousers got black crap on them and need to be washed. If you are going back home to get the dog, could you pick them up? Thanks. Only if it’s not a bother. Here we go——X
Mouse: Oh Prince of mine, oh deep embracer, so deep this time——where, oh where will I find said trousers? Have found everything else and will do small bundle of washing in the basket. Your Intoxicated Lover, your Complete Partner, your Unfolding Wife, your——X
Adrian: In the laundry tub. Just arrived. Realize there is such a lot happening. I’m keen to be quiet for a while. This is a chance to readjust. New changes——empowerment in the solar plexus——holding my sensitive strength——my dignity. Living into the King in me——the Father in me——the Weeping Man——the Clairvoyant——Mmm. Better get off the plane. X
Mouse: My hand is on my Prince’s heart. I feel warmth as I cover the Greenstone. Take care of the new strengths, they come now for a reason. Breathe into them. Give them time; they are your birthright. Your Lady has always seen them. She loves you——X
Having been in the country for over a year, I know what ‘the tub’ is. No, not the bath as we would imagine, but a metal sink beside the washing machine; a Kiwi, household necessity I have discovered. I remember the estate agents always pointed out ‘the tub’ when we were house hunting. I duly find the trousers in a bucket in the tub and put them in the car along with the relieved dog. School pick-up at both learning establishments follows, and then on to the local rugby ground for the Go-Getter’s game of Touch Rugby where we join half the town with primary-school-aged children.
The Kiwi dedication to rugby is apparent in the full turn out at this elementary level of the sport. Our keen sportsman is in fighting form and charges around the sunny playing field with his bare-footed schoolmates; girls as well as boys on the same team. They wear a dashing strip of golden yellow and purple; always easy to spot. Parents sit in the sun and chat. I overhear a couple of mothers from another school commenting on the vibrancy of our sports kit; some people consider us a bunch of hippies with our alternative school. They seem surprised. “Were they expecting us to be wearing crotched tops and linen shorts?” I whisper to my friend Freya. We laugh quietly and watch a team of competent Maori youngsters score the sixth tri. They are good. I expect we will be thrashed this week.
I am amused to see Cedric the Scowler surrounded by a gaggle of girls from his college class. How come he smiles like that away from home but never at home? He really is a fraud. His young sister nudges me knowingly with a womanly grin. She is only 7 for goodness sake! She must have in-built female intuition. She has certainly come up with the most surprising remarks about Adrian and me over the past few months. I chat amiably to other families and eventually scoop up my brood for our ascent up The Mountain; the ever-present demand for food and more food in their darling voices.
Early p.m. Adrian: My Sweet. I have eaten fully——Indian——walking on my own in the late afternoon sun. Found a pool, and swam and swam. Yum——breathing deep. Just feeling, feeling careful——quiet——caring. Nice to think of you free for the weekend, able to respond. Want to reach out to you at the moment. Sure I’ll be swept up soon though. Come with me on my walk through this lovely flat City. Help me stay connected. Just a bit flaky and waffly. Love to you.
Mouse: Darling, I am with you on your walk. I am holding your hand. So pleased you are free for a while. I feel very close to you at the moment with my free evening. If you aren’t too tired later, even at 2a.m, do phone and we can make love in the air. I am listening to the C.D you gave me——feeling you nearby. Loving you. X
The children are asleep and I settle into bed at last. I listen to the silence and wrap myself in Adrian’s shirt from the laundry, feeling him intoxicatingly close.
P.m. Mouse: He held her in a new way today, with strength and quiet dignity. She felt the change in him instantly. A King——a raised drawbridge——a Kingdom. His bearing solid, his nobility affirmed. Veils lifting. Potential grasped. She holds out her hands and takes his. This is their new platform. They watch with gratitude and baited breath. Sleep well, My Love; my hand on your heart and your hand on mine——X
Saturday 4th November 2006
A.m. Mouse: Good morning, My Darling——how are you? I do hope that everything is going well. I am curled up with you, wearing your linen shirt; the manly scent of you evocative and thrilling. We are kissing each other’s soft skin, looking deep into sleepy eyes. Long limbs and waking loins claiming each other. I have a new poem for us; I will send it next. I love you. Have an awakening day. X
RAISING PATALS
Gossamer threads tinkling as Heaven’s bells,
Raising petals in new-born white.
Moments marked——
Watch for Angel prints upon the movement of our mouths,
Breath as wind harnessed,
Exquisite dewdrops quiver in our eternal caress.
Adrian: One day they will have the luxury of a full night together; the laying and the waking——like an overseas journey——a whole new land. But I am waking now with the cry of a seagull. I am by the sea in the home of a gay guy called Ulrich. Course already illuminating; all about giving and receiving and how we do it——what is tied up in it and what money equates to for us: Love——control——the power to avoid conflict——self-worth——deep and unconscious——now being exposed.
And so, My Love, I feel free to reach out to you——no husband to be concerned about——no cost to consider with new phone plan——free! This is how I long to be——normal——allowed——husband and wife——my body yours——yours mine. I want to hear your new poem from your own lips. But I forget——CHRIST. Thanks to the world of Spirit once more. Thanks to the world of Earth. Christ, may your light shine for our souls upon paths of Earth. May the Holy aims of God be remembered through the aid of Christ in waking deeds. I LOVE YOU——Friend. Looking forward to our careful reunion. X
Mouse: Beautiful, my Love. May Christ be included at all times, especially when we are holding each other. How enlightening to feel you freed up. We are so in each other, my Friend, my Darling Friend. Thank-you, oh thank-you. I look forward to hearing all about the Priest’s talk from the Christian Community Church. Big J. said you had been to it. I’m loving you. Will be by your side all day. Tread gently——X
Midday, Adrian: Have a great day, My Love——am in session——now!
The Laird returns from his trip at four o’clock, bouncing up the steep drive in the white Ute. He comes into the cabin carrying a plastic bag. “Can you bring a chopping board and sharp knife to the shed? I’ve got fish for supper. I’ll deal with it straight away. Where did you put the new smoker?”
Early p.m. Adrian: Teatime. Full-on day——lots of challenge and acknowledgement——life-shocks and a sore belly——connections and disconnections. My Love——such useful models——important questions and reflections. Flooded with gratitude Lord. Pull me back from self-serving actions——humble this racing heart——ease this tight gut——comfort my Bride. Back I go——X
Mouse: Loving your texts my scrumptious Lover. Sounds like you are coming up for air before diving back in. Keep me posted. I certainly feel I am there with you. Well, the day is ending here——bright moonlight with scudding clouds, smoking fish aromas curl around The Mountain from the shed——chuffed Laird after camping trip and good haul for the larder. Same trip next weekend. Better put Friday night in your diary, Lord Swallow. Your Lady is longing for her Groom——aching——X
Sunday 5th November 2006
A.m. Mouse: Good morning Darling——hope you aren’t too exhausted? Are you waking to the sound of seagulls again? I hope U
lrich is interesting and is making you a good breakfast. I am definitely turning into ‘The Mad Animal Woman on The Mountain’——chicken on my shoulder, cat in my arms, dogs bouncing around my feet. All we need is a pig and The Laird’s second worst suspicion will be confirmed! Oh well——with my Lover by my side——X
Adrian: What Angel-dusted touch will she receive today? He hopes that he is in integrity——that he hasn’t jeopardized their connection by speaking——by bragging. Why did he speak? Confession? Pride? I wanted to——wanted to try it out—urge. Forgive me my weakness, My Lover. This is an edge——keeping the cloak——not to be secretive, but to choose my moments with careful consideration. Maybe I did. I had been thinking of it during the day. It felt a little wrong, then useful.
Mouse: How interesting. In whom didst thou confide, Lord Swallow? Pray tell.
Adrian: The confident was my gay host. My Love, I reach for you——take your hands——gaze into your eyes——see you——show me——my watery eyes——my troubled brow——my late nights telling——my digestion showing——my strength and willingness to be seen slow emerging. Yes, my Love, weakened, but steady you would find me——ready to be revealed——ready to drop the dramas——ready to probe deeper into the lies which bind and hold. Ready to love——you.
How are you this morn? How steady beats your heart? How easy your breath? How deep your connection with yourself? How bright your day? How warm your thoughts? How driven your deeds? {All questions for myself to answer.} Seeking within, I find——dullness——sore guts——stuffy nose——but, no fear——no driven-ness——maybe a seed-like stirring——something is sprouting in here——a breeze is moving the fog. He is growing——gaining ground——slow, slow. What is her o ——?
{End of text. Bother. I must ask him what he was going to ask.}
Mouse: How am I feeling this morn? Fairly even——a bit dull——in a matter-of-fact mood. No visions yet; a picture yesterday though. Ate too much cake last night——yummy apple one made with coconut shortening instead of butter; really light and fluffy. Greens beckon. Too much sugar dulls The Spirit. Loving you lots——
I send Adrian a new verse later in the day:
HE TO ME
He to me———a beckoning flute, a silver path, a warm fireside.
He to me———a key-holder, an opening Gate, a duet complete.
Mouse: Take me with you on your journey, My Love. I need to hold your hand and feel your arms around me as we tackle a new day. I am kissing you gently right now——XxX
How I adore our literary connection. Even when Adrian is far away I remain beside him. As the months tick by I notice patterns emerging——patterns of reflection and intimacy, of Morning Prayer, midday record and evening relief. The Laird’s regular absence and sporting absorption means I have time to record the quantity of script. I bless the moments.
So——my Lover needs to share our joy with others. Of course he does; such glorious love cannot remain a selfish indulgence. My writing shares the magic. How will we ever by-pass conventional judgment? Is there a way?
Midday, Mouse: I’ve got it. Today is a stilling——a waiting——The Boat lightly anchored. Something is coming. Holding our emotions, shallow breathing. It is fine to tell a few about our union, perhaps good to try it out on a new friend. The Angels said “The end of October”——but——we must tread carefully. What is so golden from the inside could be misunderstood from the outside. I trust you on this, more than I trust myself. Your heartfelt integrity is one of the many gifts I admire in you. I love you. We belong.
And I do trust Adrian. I know that whatever he decides will be considered deeply, perhaps after the event, but considered deeply nonetheless. Sometimes The Wild Man in the Pond takes over and The King is pushed aside. I pray The King will rule over our delicate moral quandary. The Wild Man in the Pond would run from the serious nature of the gift.
Early p.m. Mouse: Hi there, My Friend. How goes the day? We are having a quiet time——housework etc. Am finding it tricky to concentrate on any task, just want to be with you. Thought I was having a dull day but was hit by a wave of massive Rainbows. Had to lie down——couldn’t continue cleaning out the fridge! No church today, no big revelations. The two must be linked. An interesting business plan for our land came to me earlier. Talk to you about it tomorrow. Loving you——X
I spend the afternoon considering a business venture for our windy Mountain; something I have envisaged before but without any facts or figures. Last Christmas we were invited to the Able Tasman National Park at the Northern tip of the South Island. We spent a memorable week walking, kayaking and celebrating Yuletide with our hosts; English-based Kiwis from our last school. They return to their New Zealand home every December. We were honoured to be invited and I came away with memories of remote golden beaches, hillsides covered in Manuka trees, a dramatic grey sky one evening before a storm and a Rainbow heralding the Nativity over the shoreline.
A book about the first settlers in the remote bay kept me enthralled every evening. I was amazed to read of the pioneers’ hardships; of the manual labour of two brothers whose father bought them the thousand-acre piece of Bush-covered land in the 1870’s. It took 17 years to etch out any sort of life, but at last they could bring wives into their homesteads and raise families. Their father was a Nelson pharmacist; the family business was successful, providing this opportunity for the two boys. The book was full of domestic detail; such as the day Grandfather’s smelly old hat blew off his head into the bay, much to his upset, but to the delight of his family. This Grandfather was one of the original brothers put ashore in his late teens with a pair of boots and a spade. Today, you can stay in the house as a guest of the original family.
Various other homes dot the shore and surrounding hills. Our hosts were political journalists. Fellow Kiwi critics and writers own the neighbouring holiday homes. A far cry from the artistic and spiritually based interests of their guests, mealtime conversation with our hosts was often way over our heads and usually riddled with cynicism. They must have found us dull company. One neighbour’s ‘home’ was a collection of old railway carriages——a jumbled assortment of barely habitable, rusted shacks. They sat without ceremony in the long grass. I wonder how they hauled them ashore——it was a feat getting our family up the coast, let alone tones of cumbersome steel! Our hosts were full of chatter about the intellectual debates that stretch late into the night when the ‘learned gang’ converge in the bay. We left just before they all arrived; “probably just as well,” we decided as we waved goodbye from the golden sands.
Our journey home was less hectic than our arrival. The instructions to reach the bay had been interesting. “Once you arrive in the village, park your car for the week and take a water taxi for two hours up the coast. When you reach our bay, {Make sure it is high tide}, ask the taxi to drop you on the spit of beach facing the shore. Then wave and we will paddle over with the kayaks. Oh——and can you collect all the Christmas food boxes from the supermarket in the village?”
Try that with bouncy children, holiday bags, Christmas stockings and a reluctant teenager! As a busy Housewife and Mother, I have decided that Christmas in the summer is not a good idea. On top of the seasonal whirlwind of school leaving, weddings, beach holidays, parties and sporting fixtures, it is definitely over-kill to travel the whole Yuletide festivity programme as well! There, that is my piece said for the sanity of womankind in respect of a Southern Hemisphere Christmas.
Anyway, I am meandering from the storyline. Traveling back from the South Island we stopped for the night in a ‘Tepee backpacker hostel’. A collection of tepees and yurts, each with their own wood-burning stove and low pallet beds, made for something different. Mown paths through waist high meadow grass led to our bedtime haven. An outside shower, a fire-pit and bluebell shaped ground lighting added a magical atmosphere. A talented German has created the site over a twenty-year period.
This is more like it. Yes, I could see my
self running an establishment like this on our Mountain. Maybe with sturdier buildings to withstand the harsh weather conditions——it could be achieved. We would need to run a mini-bus service up and down the hill; possible. In this untamed landscape you really need to be pioneers with many skills. As a couple, The Laird and I don’t make the grade. However, I do know someone. I work out the figures; a large loan would be required, and a lot of hard work. The numbers would need to be at least four/daily all year round to repay the bank loan. Food for thought.
Late p.m. Mouse: Darling Friend——just letting you know that I am all yours again this evening. Laird off for the whole night to watch Rugby with Andrew at his house. It starts at 4a.m! Keen is the word I’d use——not an interest we have ever shared. So, My Lovely, Lovely Sir——if you are not too tired, or too late, do text or phone——or just hold me against your chest as you sleep. Can’t wait for our ‘careful’ reunion. Your Lady in Love——X
Monday 6th November 2006
A.m. Adrian: Quiet howl of the wind and low roar of the breakers remind him he’s by the sea——but it is the birds that sing this morning. Though consecutive nights of late conversation leave him overtired he has been awake for some time——woken by a blowfly! He is naked——masterful connection with himself as sleep approached——deep and helpful. Now warm thoughts quietly graze the pastures of his mind——gentle and simple. School, he connects with it easily. Big J. and home——sweet. His naked woman——he can see her clearly, wondering how she is lying, if she is sleeping. But it is a warm familiarity that is with him, not lust——concern, care. Then the thoughts of love——deep intimacy——still not full-blooded and arousing——but a cool and quiet connection. She is part of him now. Maybe she has been pushed away by the myriad intensities of the weekend connections and by new thoughts of the wise use of money. These thoughts he has developed from a distance, looking at his life from the higher plateau of an intensive focus course.
The Celestial Sea Page 36