dear world, just in case you were wondering

For the past few years I've done this thing called 10Q, you answer a question a day for 10 days and then your answers are stored for a year until it's time to answer another 10 Questions. This year I'm making my intention, the bonus question 11, public. This is what I want, and this is what I will be working towards in the coming year. You don't even have to wish me luck, because I fulling intend to make this happen.  Cheers!!

My Intention for my 52nd year: 

I will be living my own home, with studio space, a front porch and a screened in deck. There will be a spare room for my kids to stay in whenever they need to. There will be lots of light and it will be filled with colour, pieces of art, books, my personality. There will be water near by, and a small, but very beautiful garden that attracts humming birds, honey bees, and butterflies.

I will be in a loving a meaningful relationship with a man who thinks I am the best thing that ever happened to him. He is witty, handsome, kind, intelligent, funny as hell, financially secure and loves animals. He is also organized and balances, supports and grounds me. We will travel a couple times a year, get to local theatre, galleries and interesting restaurants regularly, but also really enjoy just hanging around with each other doing nothing.

I will be making more than enough money doing work that I love. I will continue teaching yoga, managing and developing other teachers and constantly growing my own practice. There will be travel involved with my work. I will continue to write and will be published. My art will find it's audience and I will create bigger and more daring works of art. I will be exploring different ways to expand my creativity, including improv and other forms of expression.

I will be healthy and strong and continue to have a loving community of friends and family that love and support me. I will have made peace with my mother, my brother and my step-father.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo : 'La noche está estrellada,

y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos'.

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.

La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.

Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche immensa, más inmensa sin ella.

Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.

La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.

Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.

Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles.

Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.

Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Es tan corto al amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,

mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque ésta sea el último dolor que ella me causa,

y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses.Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her.Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my armsmy soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me sufferand these the last verses that I write for her.

I loved him. A flawed and messy love that was my best. An open, vulnerable love that left me open, exposed, and for a while, shattered. I thought maybe he loved me just a little, just for a few hours, but it was his lust I had, never his love. I never said the words aloud, just in my head, when I looked at him, when he touched me, when we held each other. I thought I could have looked at him forever. 

I no longer love him, that's certain, but how I loved him.  In the end, that is what mattered. What mattered is that I loved, not that he did not.  

This is the last pain I will suffer, and the last lines I will write for him.