How To Hold Me

This is How I Want to be Held, Before your Hands Even Touch Me.

Via Xiren Wangon Oct 28, 2015

I want to be held. Believe me, I do, but I need more than a pair of heavy arms wrapped around me, tying me down when my soul is soaring.

I want to be swept off my feet, because if I desired to hold you I would want to sweep you off your feet, too. I would want to unbalance you so much so that you would fall right into my arms.

I would be there to catch you; I planned it that way.

I want to be held, because I grew up reading Jane Austen’s every word, and to be approached and enchanted like that shouldn’t be a thing so antiquated that you only read it in novels now. Modern romance as conducted through swipes, snaps and shorthand messages leaves me hungry for that “meaning” we all yearn for.

I’m starving, and emoticons just don’t feed me.

Meaningless entanglements of the limbs don’t feed me either; I need more than the vague pretense of a hold. Because nothing’s colder than an empty hold.

To hold my body, you have to hold my mind first.

Before we’ve met, hold me with your gaze. Hold me there for a few seconds, hold my breath, just breathe me in—lock eyes with me for one more moment—and just like that, compel me closer to you.

When we meet, address me in a manner that shows your force of character. Approach me with grace, and respect that I have a name. Don’t jump the gun on “baby” talk; conversely, don’t call me your “buddy,” either. Premature anything is less-than-desirable, and it’s nice to be differentiated from being “one of the guys.”

If we meet again, please find greetings other than “Yoooo.” (I’ve yet to encounter a successful man who addresses a lady like this.) And if you go for nicknames, show intellect and imagination, because wooing someone is an art.

When we hold conversations, tell me what you love. Tell me about your day, your world, your passions, your dreams—I’m all for that. Better yet, teach me what I don’t know. If you have me locked in a conversation with you, green lights, I want to know. There’s nothing more sexy than a man in focus. Nothing more attractive than seeing someone light up in their element. “A man’s worth is no greater than his ambitions.” Words of gold from Marcus Aurelius. So show me.

I will remember you for what lights you up, and how you light up and how warm that felt. So talk to me, and hold me with the tongue you speak. We can skip the part about the crazy exes, the bad friends and the nightmare parents or bosses from hell, because speaking poorly of others will reflect poorly on you. Refrain from that descent. Not now, not yet.

If you’re still holding me by now, ask me for what I like. Everyone has tastes and preferences; you don’t know if you don’t ask. Hold me with your questions, your intrigue. Figure me out, or at least attempt to, because the arrogance to assume you know what’s best will just make me want to skip the rest and go home alone.

Men who take charge are sexy, but men whose egos run the show are chauvinists in disguise. Real men never neglect to ask. Assume nothing.

And because who doesn’t have 99 problems? If I share mine, please offer tangible solutions. A single, pitiful expression of “That sucksss…” is not something I need to reacquaint with. Believe me, with first-hand experience I know better than you can imagine. Yes, that sucks, so please don’t make it worse; offer real solutions.

Be the man that I so need in moments when I most need to be held. Hold me together with your strength, your ability to figure things out, your balance, your solutions, because some days I’m a crazy hot mess, a train-wreck or a damsel in distress.

Hold me by grounding me.

If you still want to hold me—and really want to hold me more—don’t kidnap me away from what I love to do. Hold me, but don’t hi-jack me. Don’t tell me that I need a break, because I run on what I do.

Hold me with sincerity. Genuine sincerity trumps slick lines any day. I’m of the creed that’s immune to sugarcoated sweet-talk.

Lastly, if we ever get to promises, hold your promises, because a man is only as good as his words.

And if you’re still holding me, then now is when you lay your hands on me, and sink your teeth in me and let me teach you how it feels to be held like this.

~Relephant Read:

Date a Man who will Stroke your Mind.

~

Author: Xiren Wang

Editor: Toby Israel

Photo: Amy Wilbanks/Flickr // L. Whittaker/Flickr

WhistleBlowers

Lacking eloquence.  Maybe.

Maybe it doesn't have to be eloquent.  Maybe it just has to connect to something within you.  Within me.  Something that ties our humanity together.

What if you didn't know who I was.  Gender.  Age.  Appearance.  Would the words resonate more?  Less?  What if I were 90.  Would that make a difference.  It shouldn't.

A friend this morning told me about her dad.

"He wants what you want. He is a boots in the mud hunter.  Everywhere he goes he gets a hunting license.  He is a nice guy but you are too different," she says.

She knows me.  She knows herself.  She is one progressive woman.  Says what she thinks, is kind, is more than courageous.  I like that.  Courage.

Her mom is still a helicopter mom in her mid sixties.  I found that incredibly hard to relate to.  My blank face speaks volumes about that.  It is all too similar in some ways. Some go through the motions of it.  Some feel it and daughters intuit it.  Does it really matter how it is expressed?  It is felt.

Tomorrow I am going to see the film, Truth.  It is about Dan Rather spilling the goods on George W. Bush.  I remember the story that broke.  His apology.  His not needing an apology but sucuumbing to CBS pressure.  He was ultimately released by CBS.

Robert Redford will do a fine job on this.  I can't wait to see it.  We need more whistleblowers.

Feelin It

Are you feelin it?  Feeling the change in vibration and frequency?

When the inner shift happens and we awaken in greater consciousness we will find that life as we knew if starts disintegrating.

A lot of Lightworkers' panic buttons go off when they start losing family or friends or whatever because of the inner shift - the fact is that as your own vibration frequency changes and is moved into the higher bands, you will not be able to relate to them in the same manner. You have shifted, therefore you will find that even the language is not the same because of your inner being shifting and them staying in the same lower vibrational state.

It is nothing to fear, but rather to embrace. For you will find that new family and friends arrive who are on the same wavelength as you and they will often make up for what you seem to have "lost."
We are never left as orphans and when the human family cannot move into that higher gear, then the cosmic family steps in and assist in all and every way they can.

(Judith Kusel)

Fall is a time of release.  We see it in nature through the changes in coloration of leaves.  We see it as when the length of daylight decreases and chlorophyll breaks down. Green leaves become yellow, orange, gold and red.

The woman who used to cut my hair told me that fall was a time of examination for her.  She looked back on her life and evaluated where she was, who her friends are and who would begin the new year with her.  She wasn't angry about the change, but felt it was necessary for the person she was becoming.  

My heart is full of gratitude as the year closes.  I've connected with a few 'acquaintances' who are now 'friends' - people who have huge abundance; a large loving heart, healthy perspective, and lots of laughs over their own foibles and idiosyncracies.  It has been a time of listening for me.  Perhaps that is because my friends have been through some struggles and need a listening ear.

Yep, I am sure feelin' it!

No Panacea

If you approached the American public to propose a new social welfare program, there’s a good chance that most people would be enthusiastic about your idea. The people who could benefit from the program would obviously be receptive, and even the people who didn’t need it, would like the idea of helping the less fortunate members of our society.

However, these attitudes can turn on a dime once you tell the second group that they are going to pay for this program. See, we all like free stuff without strings attached, and most of us feel good about helping people, but only to a certain extent. If it’s no skin off our backs then we’re more than happy to help, but if it’s going to be a major financial burden to help someone, especially if we’ve never met this person before, it’s going to be a hard sell.

Now that our lesson on human behavior 101 is over, let’s start a new lesson on socialism 101. Socialists know that the average person doesn’t like to spend his money on people he doesn’t know, and for services that he doesn’t need. So how does a socialist convince everyone to accept the social programs that they want to impose on society? They lie of course.

They always tell the middle and lower classes that somebody with more money than themselves, is going to foot the bill. Unfortunately, everybody who lives under a socialist system will lose something, one way or another. In moderate socialist states, like the kind that Bernie Sanders has proposed, everybody pays with either higher taxes, low quality products and services, or a loss of economic freedom. Under extreme leftist regimes, the bill is paid with a mountain of corpses.

Make no mistake though, everybody will pay, so don’t believe any socialist who tells you that somebody else is going to be your sugar daddy. Least of all, don’t believe Bernie Sanders when he says that only the upper class is going to pay for his social programs, which is exactly what he claimed when he was interviewed by Bill Maher recently.

Maher, despite being sympathetic to Sanders, actually challenged him on the notion that we could pay for his programs by simply taxing the super rich. After discussing his ideas and how America would pay for them, he broke everything down into simple terms.

OK. But you want to increase social security.

“And you know how we do that? We pay for it. We say that somebody who’s making $10 million should not end up paying the same amount as someone making $118,000. Lift the cap. We can extend and expand social security.”

You also want free college.

“We do. Not free college—free tuition at public colleges and universities. You know how we pay for that? Through a tax on Wall Street speculation.”

So you’re saying we can pay for all this without raising taxes on anybody but the 1 percent?

“We may have to go down a little bit lower than that—but not much lower. And what people have to understand is right now people can’t afford to send their kids to college, and people are graduating school deeply in debt. Do I think we should join Germany and many other countries and encourage young people to get the education that they need, and make the country stronger? I sure do.”

You’ve got to love statements like “not free college-free tuition at public colleges and universities.” That’s socialist doublespeak at its finest.

What’s worse though, is that he’s clearly lying about only taxing the rich. That’s obvious enough, but not just because he’s a socialist. Contrary to his interview with Maher, he revealed on ABC’s “This Week” that everyone is going to feel the Bern. After Stephanopoulos repeatedly asked him if he would tax people below the 1%, he had this to say.

Sanders said, “I think if you are looking about guaranteeing paid family and medical leave, which every other major country has so that when a mom gives birth she doesn’t have to go back to work in two weeks. Dad or mom can stay home with the kids. That will require a small increase in the payroll tax.”

Stephanopoulos said, “That’s going to hit everybody.”

Sanders agreed saying, “That would hit everybody, yeah, it would but it would mean we were drawing the rest of the industrialized world and make sure that when a mom has a baby she can in fact stay home with that baby for three months rather than go back to work at the end of one week.

Perhaps that’s just one issue, but he seems to think that he can pay for everything else by closing tax loopholes and penalizing Wall Street. It can certainly be said that there is a serious income inequality problem in this country, but there is no amount of money in the world that is going to pay for socialism, because it always leads to insolvency and poverty. And since the rich never have enough money to support this kind of system, all of us will wind up paying.

Sorry Bernie, you can’t fool us all.

Delivered by The Daily Sheeple

---

Contributed by Joshua Krause of The Daily Sheeple.

Joshua Krause is a reporter, writer and res

Comment by blogger:  Look at the mouth.  What does THAT tell you?

http://www.thedailysheeple.com/liar-liar-bernies-on-fire_102015

Police State Right Here

I am struggling to understand HOW county employees and commissioners do not have to go through Judge Letts' metal detector experience to enter the admin/court system while the rest of us do. Seriously now.  

It is said these folks 'wear a badge .  A badge of exception, entitlement.  The rest of the populace is forced to have their purses exposed to radiation and who knows what to their person.  

Did anyone see the numbers warranting this expenditure?  Were their threats in the court room, in the administrative building?  Why is it we never heard about it?  More judicial secrecy? Or was it merely a threat by a Superior Court judge?

What this will do to this writer is keep her out of this building.  Fewer or no appearances to stand up for our civil rights at Commissioner's Meetings.  Fewer or no appearances in the various county departments.  

Moreover, I am aghast at the sheeple who filed through this experience with no comment at all.  Aghast when one Executive Director of a non-profic commented,

"I'm just glad I didn't have to take off my shoes," he said.

He sat next to me at the hearing on the changes to the steep slope ordinance.

People sheeple irregardless of political affiliation or not.  What happened to these people?  When did they give up their liberties?

Yes, there is a police state right here.  

http://www.thedailysheeple.com/10-ways-to-kick-the-police-state-in-the-face_122014

No, Thanks!

Now why would anyone put gory photos on Facebook?  Haven't we seen enough cruelty to animals, people, the disenfranchised?  Since most of our friends share the same qualities as we, who would you think you are preaching to?

I have seen more than enough of "The Donald",  heard enough bi-partisan slurs, a comment about Zionist Jews transporting illegal organs.  Give me a break!

So now we are attacking someone based on their religion?  On Fb?  Totally inappropriate and beyond a waste of space.  Less and less, I access this social media.

What I do enjoy accessing are nature photos, animals at play, in the woods, rivers, streams, incredible photography, nice comments, things that will lift the human condition.

Recently, I completed a Briggs-Myers questionnaire.  In the past I have been an ENFJ.  Now I am an INFJ.  Go figure.  Perhaps the online questionnaire is off?  I suspect the "I" part is accurate;  I do spend more time within.  It is probably due to years of eastern philosophical training, practicing mindfulness meditation and reading lots of books on human behavior.

I was married to an ISTJ when I was an ENFJ.  We were diagonal opposites.  I suspect little has changed in my actual scoring other than I am more introverted now.  I am probably an INFJ now.

Get To The Point!

In our broadcast media dominated world, blah blah blah seems to be the behavior of choice now.  Since I do not have radio, a newspaper or for heaven's sakes, television service by design, I don't hear too much of that.  On occasion, when their might be a topic of interest, I will into a radio talk show. 

I wish there were a more gentle way to say this.  Here goes.  The blah, blah, blah of these 'amateurs' puts me to sleep.  It is the continual non-sense of whatever they are blah, blah, blahing about that tunes me out.  It is almost as bad as the mainstream television networks.  Almost.

Most recently, I decided to try a talk show dealing with the paranormal, ufo's and things of that ilk.  The host talked for well nigh thirty minutes about nothing that make any sense to the non-flatliner.  Thinking they would surely speak to the subject at hand, I waited.  And waited. 

Getting up a few times to wash dishes and prepare for the next day didn't help too much.  It did complete a couple of house chores.  It did not distract me enough to allow me to continue listening to the talk show. 

Even worse the guest had no clue how to talk.  After another fifteen minutes, I realized I had not heard one single thing.  Now in the paranormal community, it tends to be among some that, "I know something you don't."  It isn't shared like an aha moment.  Or an eiphany.  It strikes of serious ego and totally turns me off.  

But this isn't the worst of it.  Please listen on. 

It is a sad commentary on the listening audience, who apparently have such dull lives that they will sit with numb bottoms to listen to that crapola.  This writer, well, just can't.  I can't understand the ego it takes to occupy air space with dead chatter.  Surely, someone must put the broadcaster out of their misery but telling them the sad news.  They are dull as dishwater!

I realize sometimes the host pays for air space.  Pays so that the unfortunate can hear them breathe.  Perhaps in some odd way, they validate themselves.  Or pay to their sad egos.

If you want an audience with a pulse, I strongly suggest to these radio stations that they stimulate the listener.  Tell the complete story from the get go.  And please.  

Get to the point!

Missing Molly

One year ago, September 4, 2014 I lost my beloved Molly.  She was fourteen and I knew we were on borrowed time. The hair around her face was getting white and gray.  She had lost muscle mass.  Her teeth were cracking despite a lifetime of regular dental cleanings and brushing at home.   It was difficult for her to jump up on the sofa or bed.  Steps were a struggle.

Nothing could have prepared me for her grand mal seizure.  The violence of it all is fresh in my mind.  Feeling helpless.  Seeing the fear within her as she lost control of all her muscles.  Even the slow recovery was painful.  She was terrified.  I was, too.

Molly and her sister, Jessy, are in the forest garden.  Their ashes are still visible.  I visit them often.  It is still too fresh to climb the steps to the garden without tears.  In some ways, I hope the tears never stop.  They are a testament to the depth at which they were loved.  Are loved.

Living things don't end.  They change from one form to another.  In this way, theyare always with me.  Whether in the car, or at night.  I can still feel Jessy's presence as she peers between the back of the car seats watching my every move as I drive.  Often I call out to her, "Mommy loves you."  Or, "we are almost home."  Those phrases always elicited tail waggings.  Perhaps it is just the tone used; I like to think they can feel the love coming from my heart.

Molly was sharp, protective, spiteful and sometimes cuddly.  The latter was rare.  I remember her always positioned sitting looking away from me, as though standing as a watchdog. She was twenty-five pounds, often a mere twenty-three.  She would have done anything to protect me.

She smelled the bear the night before I heard it.  Pacing back and forth across the oak floors, almost running.  Her olfactory senses were more keen than any dog I have known.  She could find anything given the command.  Once, after a heavy snow and then rain, she retrieved her favorite tennis ball from the top of the mountain where we lived.  It had been buried under mud.

"Find your ball, " I beckoned.

She did, almost instantly.

Yes, it has been one year since Molly's passing.  She is and will always be heart of my heart.  I was lucky to have been honored loving and caring for her.

"Mollyyyy.  You're home"

For Baby

Happiness.  Creating something new. This is the view from my small desk in the studio.  I chose this location because of its access to windows.  You can see the dogwood outside the window on the left as the leaves turn from green to crimson.  The birds outside are following the thermals as the rain gently cascades down.

This is where it begins.  With an idea.  This fabric will be used to make the baby's valance.  The former guest room was cleared out - mostly the closet and bookcase.  This was my daughter's dresser.  We painted it white a few years back.  Soon it will be filled with stuffed animals, and more books.

When the baby is born in early 2016, the window valances will be made from this fabric below.  Polka dots.  Fits nicely for either a boy or a girl.