Goin’ tru a ting by Yaari



Have you ever started over? I do, almost every day. Teaching allows multiple avenues of reality …. many roads to fictitious excitement; a place for unconditional love; an arena for healing; a venue for layers of unexposed emotions struggling to break free.

Broad shouldered and thick, he comes into my classroom and, immediately, I remember long ago days. I smile. I know immediately…. he is a baller. His body bulges under the t-shirt; the legs, thick and big, solidly encased in blue jeans, slide into the chair and settle in a wide open invitation. A smile cleaves a familiar path deep inside as I reach back into memories.

They come in numbers…, these boys oozing new sexual confidence… ouch.. the seductive gene, and questionable self assurance!

My first encounter with his species was over 20 years ago … I remember him; here again is another younger version just as precocious and dripping with sex.

I conduct the class .. the air rippling with vibrations …. the physical awareness of masculinity, my female listening; in minutes he has me in his hands … young wickedness etches itself into his face …. male boldness says to me … deep in debate …. directly into my eyes; “uuumm..” he says, “but I’m different; I’m nineteen going on forty!”

His grin widens and I thought, “my God, he makes me forget that I’m 48 and he’s just 20.”

I look at him; hunger stings my eyes and a tender caress stirs on my lips. Leaning forward in my chair, my hands reach toward him…

Suddenly, I think of you and how you killed me; a cold wind enters and no passion rips through me. I recall the start …..

Slowly you aim at tiny places; your barbs are pin like, stinging just a little. You don’t touch the nerves …. your aim gets better, the weapons grow sharper.

Fortunately, I am high on love; so high that the adrenaline pumping in my blood dulls the pain; I am not aware of reality …. of a slow manipulated kill – time wounds.

Pleasure keeps knowledge at bay; it allows me to shake off nagging needle points of worry ….. bubbles of liquid easy adoration heals fast the wounds nipping at my heart. Sensual sounds clear the air of any warnings …. of coming despair. It surrounds my ears with promise and keeps me distant from disappointment.

The wounds grow wider; they grow deeper; they start to fester and denial seeps in; it takes over; the years come and go.

I understand the cancer. I’ve found an ancient cure … when the nausea enters my belly; when it pushes against beauty; when it causes heart break… retreat gallops in on printed words.

I hurt, not because of ignorance, but because I know too well why it is that I flounder. It is bitter sweet. I keep up the clamor of caged words, the chaos… and I avoid… I avoid.

Confusion rushes in and plays painfully on heart …. tears well up with the smiles and, not knowing fully where from or what they mean, I find an inane something… a shallow book, a light movie, a physical non-intimacy … I get lost in other worlds.

I am bitter that there ever was… and then I am frightened there will not be.

For the life of me, for the first time with you, no not the first ….. but the first this way… I am weighed down with pleasure and pain of the heart; I try to stay with feelings.

I tumble into an abyss of lessons learned… the rollicking human pain of again falling into ordinariness, obligation, and disappointment … not just wanting… but fighting in panic to make something special …. a real thing.

Do you ever wonder about change? Change and people? Change and feelings? Change and time? Love’s inability … to work …. an enhancement… a blossoming… a rose garden always in bloom!

Words can be so damning.. so dangerous… so alienating… they can do damage; or they can lift and soar… to dizzying heights… never imagined or felt… awe inspiring …. it reaches in and stills your breath.

One word.. or two pushes me into spilling … across paper… into confrontation with my inner most self; my wailing wall; my painter’s brush and vibrant colors… pushes … me.. two balking identities.. rasping, stuttering intellect and the quaking heart.. the tremulous and humble human, the bleeding thinker…. trying …. like always, to find a modicum of understanding…of this human condition.

I reach out… again… for time.




I wake up deep in memories.

Fireworks in the darkness of night rivet me as the explosive beauty of colors hit deep blue sky and explode into tiny sparks… like words hit my mind and, again, I believe I have purpose… that there’s talent… they come to me as a way of finding treasure…. of some kind… or the chance for deep exploration.

I find the elements of grace.. again…. I find the niche of life… a way to breathe. Like the 4th of July, I’m alone, on top of grassy hill, surrounded by warm summer air.. enthralled by the images high in the sky with their simmering images dancing on the ocean below. Pushed by a wave of possible sadness, memories hit the darkness of my mind… and explode; like fireworks they light me up with spectacular wonder.

My jaw drops.. my lips part.. a sigh escapes…. I am standing deep in the warmth of my coat, leaning forward against the wall of bridge Pont Neuf…. gazing at the dancing sparkles of lights on the Seine..

I am in Paris!.. again …. my eyes drink in the jagged angles of the Notre Dame…gargoyles snarl their smiles…. I hear the buzz of people… I shift my eyes slowly as I elongate my vision …. my eyes grasp the vision of strolling people along the quays ….. the lights jump at me from deep within the many cafes and restaurants.

I arrive on the magnificent hills in the heart of Hilos… in the air soft whiffs of salty ocean… the dew and dank of dark green grass….the soft stares of red Hibiscus, the sugary sweet scent of flowers fill my nose… and I lose myself …

Eyes linger on the light blue expanse of forever moving above my head and with a little fight they slide down to drink at the well of the never ending emerald green ocean…. Mother Nature is a gorgeous creature…..

An easy spiral and my heart is racing … I melt into a crowd of brown gendered beauty… the arms of Salvador de Bahia … Brazil wraps me up and walks with me into a park filled with smiles of recognition …. a willingness to share as fish jump in ponds and trees kiss each other as they reach to the sky.

Eyes blink …. letting lid kiss lid with a prayer for happiness enclosed in capsules of memories… I stand on the solid pavement of the Bond… China!

Cool breeze caresses my arms …. they wrap around my torso and squeeze themselves in wonder while I stand on a seawall looking at a snapshot of bright light….

In China I am thinking of my mother… she creeps into my vision as I capture the amazing structure rising in front of me.. a sample of Chinese brilliance and creativity. I want my mother with me and I reach out….

Nova Scotia beckons and I run… across the street into a botanical garden heavy with scents and colors, crisscrossed with white laced bridges over shallow ponds… Band stands rise up above the ground and I hear an echo of horns and trumpets… reminders of a long ago childhood guided by the warmth of a father’s hands.


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