TT - "Through the Eyes of My Beloved"

I have mentioned before that, when it comes my time to pick the Talk Thursday topic, I usually pull it from the air and without any prior notion of what I will write. Such is the case with this week's topic. I sat in front of my computer, staring at a blank screen, wondering what on earth I could suggest for the ring of talented writers. I was completely devoid of brilliant ideas.

Hmmmmm... what should the topic be? WHAT should the topic be? What should the TOPIC be?

"My Beloved Looks at Me and Sees..." my fingers typed of their own volition.

I grimaced unattractively at the computer, as if it was the violator. "What the... I don't even have a beloved! Why in the hell would I write about a beloved?! Besides, that word 'beloved'? It's so... cheesy!"

Without editing myself - a new policy that I am struggling with - I pressed send. And then the fireworks began accompanied with wretching, writhing and anarchy. I laughed for most of the day as the comments came through, realizing that I was reacting as violently to my own topic as the people in the group. I eventually pitched in with my own taunting, calling them all "pussies," and adding a "LOL." I never stopped to think that the name calling would turn the entire interchange to a sour accord.

It's all fun and games until someone gets peed on.

I sat back and watched it all, attempting (rather poorly, I admit) to not take things personally. This is not the first time I have caused group upheaval and chaos with my ideas (once to the point of being kicked out of the group, no ifs, ands or butts [yes, that extra "t" is intentional]). In fact, this is third time this year alone (that I am aware of) that a tornado has been caused by my written words.

None of the experiences have been pleasant. This one was no different.

For awhile, I pondered changing the topic title, but that seemed weak. So I left it as it was, picked myself up and dusted myself off and after the entire ordeal, I was still completely blank on what to write…


Beloved... I hear that word and I am instantly transported to another century and country. With the etymology of this word being around the late 1300's, early 1400's, it is easy to understand the romantic feel of it as it rolls off my tongue. It embodies another time when romance was, seemingly, the most important thing to society.

Closing my eyes, I try to imagine what it would feel like to have someone call me his beloved. I attempt to picture the look upon his face as he gazes at me, how he would touch me, how he would hold me. I wonder how I would feel about him.

I looked in the mirror just now, to see what I would see when I looked at me. Of all the people in the world, I am supposed to love me the most. Therefore, I guess that would make me my own beloved. I am still trying to grasp this whole "love myself" concept, so I stared in the mirror for some time, wondering when I would feel beloved.

It was too much. Staring in the mirror spawned all the thoughts that jump to the surface out of self-defeating habit. Too fat. Too short. Getting old. There's a new zit. Need a hair cut. Where did that gray hair come from? Eyes look tired. Shirt doesn't fit. Pants too tight. When did make-up become laborious?

On and on went the thoughts ad nauseum. I stopped myself and stared into my own eyes, knowing without a doubt that someone who considered me to be his beloved would see beyond all that. He would see into my soul. He would look at me like I look at others - focusing on the beautiful aspects of their humanness.

Why am I not able to offer that to myself?

Two weekends ago, when I pulled myself into my essence, I discovered that love is who I am. When I am in my essence, I feel love flowing through me, around me and surrounding anyone within a five-mile radius of me. When I am in my essence, I am graceful and easeful and I flow with gentle graciousness. When I am in my essence I am Love.

Remembering that, I then knew what I will feel when my beloved looks at me and I look upon him. I have a body knowing of what my truth is and in that truth, there is only grace and beauty and infinite forgiveness. In my essence, I am beauty and warmth and sexuality and a tender embrace. It is there that I no longer have to worry about "how" to love myself. It just happens. When I am breathing and moving, I am alive and I am love.

It is in that space that my true beloved will meet me and I him. And we will see one another.

image: "Endless Love" link: http://www.arsgeek.com/?p=2806