Gaia: DIVING DEEPER: A Writing Workshop - Responses to Assignments

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://jensiper.gaia.com — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 16:04:56 GMT

I read this bottom to top.
very well written.
I like the details.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 15:23:58 GMT

Day 12

Ace of Swords: Great determination. Initiative. Strength. Force. Activity. Excessiveness. Triumph. Power. Success. Fertility. Prosperity. Deep emotional feeling love. Championship. Conquest.

Conquest. She thinks my power over her is absolute. She lies there in bed telling me that I could have her in anyway that I want. That I could exercise complete control over her. But then I would not know where on earth this would be going. i would feel even more lost than I do already.

I do not say anything when she suggests this. I just remain silent and stare down at her white translucent skin with the small blueish veins showing on the underside of her breast.

I want to lean down now and kiss her there. But I hold back. I am afraid that this will make me seem weak. I know she is looking for a strong, take charge sort of man. The sort of man that I am not. Why is she here with me I wonder. What does she think will change?

She rolls over and stretches towards the head board where she keeps a package of smokes. Shaking out the small card board box she holds it up to her lips and takes a cigarette in her lips. I love the way she purses her lips when she smokes so I reach down to the lighter beside me and help her light up.

The smoke twirls in the still air of the room. She holds it pensively and takes strong, sure puffs off the smoke letting it out in big clouds around us, murking up the air which is already thick with our unspoken designs on each other.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 09:08:03 GMT

Day 11

Knight of Pentacles: A mature and responsible person. Reliability. Methodical and patient person. Persistence. Ability to conclude a task. Laborious, organized, capable and dependable person.

She sits with her back to me brushing her long black hair, gleaming against the white nakedness of her back. She is not talking to me but I know that she has a plan. She always has a plan.

I want to ask her about her plan but know that she will not tell me. At least not the truth. That, telling me the truth, it seems, is not part of her plan.

I want to know where we are going. I want to pin her down to something that shows me that I am part of her plan. But she remains elusive in that.

I really wish that you’d tell me.

Tell you what?

Tell me what is wrong.

Nothing’s wrong. I told you that.

Is it the age thing?

No, nothing’s wrong. You always think something’s wrong but everything is fine.

I throw myself back on to the bed and let out an exaggerated sigh. I look at the ceiling. It needs painting but like everything it all seems like too too much work and effort even to get someone else to do it for me.

Finishing her hair she gets up and walks towards me. As always the sight of her, tall and naked, makes me want to weep. Her dark hair covers her breasts and she walks slowly, methodically, her heels barely touching the ground as if she is always wearing the impossibly high heels she has to wear at work to attract the men.

Throwing herself down on top of me, covering me with her nakedness, she presses me into the bed and kisses me hard, slipping her tongue into my mouth, delicately playing with my petulant lips as I try to pout my way through her passion.

She pulls back.

Why can’t you just accept that I like you. But I don’t want to make plans with you. It is just like that with you. I don’t know why.

But you have plans. I know you have plans. You couldn’t do what you do without a plan. Could you?

I don’t know. I don’t know how I do it. But I have to do it if I want to get anywhere. You know that. It was fine when we met wasn’t it? What’s changed?

Nothing;s changed. Nothing changes with you. I love that about you. But it also makes me crazy. I don’t know where I am with you. And I feel like I have no control. Like a kid. And I’m the old one. I doesn’’t make any sense.

You know who I am. You said you can accept it. It’s no problem you said. Is it?

I don’t know anymore. Nothing’s changed but it all’s changed. I’m not making any sense. I know that.

Just kiss me.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 08:47:53 GMT

Day 10

Two of Cups (Love): The perfect harmony of union, in romance, friendship, or business. A deep and palpable connection radiating joy and contentment. A great concordance or pledge of fidelity. The joining of male and female interpreted in the broadest sense. The sanctification of the natural through that which exists on a higher plane. May indicate the meeting of a kindred soul, marriage, engagement, merger, or partnership.

I sit on the edge of the bed after and watch her as she sleeps. The sheets, wrinkled and sweat stained, pull tight over her back and haunches, turned towards me. I notice the rise and fall of her soft sleeping breath. My face feels dead and lifeless as I try to force in myself a smile for the love I know I am supposed to feel in such times. But I do not really feel anything right now. Just a dull ache in my jaw.

The room is deathly quiet. Just the faint hum of the clock and a drip, drip from the bathroom where a leaky tap sits waiting to be fixed.

I am in disrepair. A faulty man who takes his pleasure where he can find it and gives as little as he can back. I say I want to change but in reality I do not. I want to fill myself. I want to fill the hole I feel somewhere in what I sometimes call my soul. But I do not really know what a soul is, nor if I even have one.

I bend my head down, giving my neck a stretch and then slowly as not to wake her, stretch out beside her and carefully move my body up against her feeling her sleeping warmth through the thin white sheet.

I like it when she sleeps. I can lie next to her like this for hours feeling the peace that seems to roll out of her in waves, pulsing her young energy into my body. I stretch out my arm above her, wrapping it around her torso and drawing her in closer to me. My hand I place, palm open, in the space between her breasts and leave it there to feel her heart beating, thump, thump, regularly with a soft pleasing pressure against my palm.

I shift my hips forward, bringing them closer in to her, so that my hips are spooning hers. Even while she is sleeping I feel the heat that always emanates from her groin. I feel a fresh stirring of lust in my own groin, wanting to wake her but enjoying the silence that drips through the room like honey.

Re: XII

http://sandrajensen.gaia.com — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 15:35:04 GMT

leigh-anne, this piece made me wish I'd done the 12 days of christmas writing. I feel somehow calmed reading this, the truth of what really is, inspite of all the tumultuous stuff that flies about during this time of year. Such a generous spirit comes through these pieces, it's palpable and very very lovely.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://sandrajensen.gaia.com — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 15:32:28 GMT

Andrew, I'm just diving in here randomly to read. I loved this piece. I liked the start, but when we got straight into a scene I was riveted. It's a beautifully 'shown' scene, such a great example of that thing about if you want to 'show' a relationship, you don't have to tell everything, one scene will do it if you go right in there. I can feel his frustration, his helplessness, hers too, and his reaching out and her pulling away when she probably is desperate for his comfort.. oh,such a classic moment between couples. Beautifully done and I'd read on and on. I'd love to know how they got to this point, what happens now.

Re: Tarot Card: King of Swords

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 15:26:17 GMT

I only today noticed this one sitting here with out comment.

It struck me as a very simple but somehow haunting tale with mythic qualities to it. I like how you went from the opening scene of the king/warrior, tying it into the mythic part of the piece.

In the end the story left me feeling a little bit sad but in a nice way.

Thanks

A

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 09:52:07 GMT

Day 9

King of Swords: The essence of air, such as a clear blue sky: A mature leader of unwavering ethics and indisputable authority. An incorruptible judge, whose devotion to the law cannot be swayed by emotion or material concerns. Perfect clarity of thought, directness of action, and eloquence of speech. One who, like a great general, inspires not love or devotion, but absolute trust and loyalty.

The fear of starting always comes on strong to me. I hesitate. I put a foot forward then take it back. I turn around and look again. I want to make something up but do not want it to be the wrong thing. I want perfection. Right from the start.

I never seems to come out of me easily. I have to start like this, just rambling around until I hit upon some idea, then out it comes all ugly and in my eyes imperfect. I want it formed.

Liz sits up in bed and turns to me as if she wants to say something. But she starts to shake, her shoulders hunched and her head hanging down towards her breasts. I want to turn away, to bring the sheet up over my head and hide in the dimness. I don’t want her to cry right now but hear her whimper as she struggles to hold it all back in side.

I shift and move towards her, reaching out to touch her smooth skin. She jerks down and away from me, the sobs coming stronger, shaking her body as she buries herself in the mound of pillows at the head of the bed.

I look desperately around. There must be some thing I can do to stop this. I want out. I want to get up and leave. But hold on, griping my hands in fists, digging the nails into the palms of my hands.

Where the hell is any of this going I think. How can I possibly see my way out of this? What does she want from me?

It all seems to tedious to me. So tiresome. In my head I am a king. A ruler of worlds. My vision is clear and I have no trouble translating this vision in to concrete reality in the world. In my head it is all so easy and real.

But out here. It is different. I rack myself. The tears want to come but I hold them back and feel a tension across my back begging for release. I want to take her in my arms and stroke her. Again when I go to touch her she ducks and pushes me away.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 13:24:03 GMT

Day 8

Queen of Swords: The essence of air behaving as water, such as a refreshing mist: A person gifted with both keen logic and natural intuition, giving them uncanny powers of perception and insight. One who easily sees past deception and confusion to the heart of a matter, and understands both sides of any argument. The embodiment of calm, forthrightness, and wit, in the face of even the most trying circumstances.

How can I be calm. Calm in this firestorm of activity that is my brain or mind. Thoughts pop in and leave, each threatening me with dire warnings of what will happen if I do not take care of them right away. Each one seems to beg for attention, a wailing baby with shit in its’ diaper waiting, demanding to be changed.

How can I go any deeper when it is like this on the surface? How can I describe anything in any detail when it is all such a misty blur before my eyes. The mist will never clear of that I am certain. I will never see anything really clearly. Just repeat myself endlessly and twitter on about my feelings and how hurt I have been.

How can I possibly hope to find an interesting subject in all of this?

I break down and stop all of a sudden. The earth beneath my feet grips me and holds me, tying me to itself and never wanting to let me go. If I knew how I would lay a trick on it and turn myself to liquid. Then I could run down through the cracks in the dry earth and trickle through its’ small open spaces until I find other liquid much like myself.

But what nonsense I write. What rubbish.

I have no love for this world. No affection for the green fields, tall forests, endless oceans. I could leave it at a moments notice if the right, most enticing offer came along. I would gladly trade the steely tube of a space ship for the gritty grey city I see around myself daily.

But then perhaps I would miss something. Maybe it is this familiarity, the assumption that it will always be here that causes my contemptuous feeling towards the mother of us all.

XII

http://quietlaughter.gaia.com — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 16:25:10 GMT

The sky is heavy and darkly grey this morning. Even though the rain is falling outside my window, my heart is full. The twelfth day of Christmas arrived quietly. Together we have shared the morning, each in our own way, in our time. My thoughts are like a many pointed start moving out in different directions - to you, to others, to the world. Filled with love and deep peace myself, this morning I hope that my gift has reached you.

Oh my heart, I would hold you closely for the rest of days, and protect you. I hold you closely but with open fingers, so that you may fly with the wind to where you feel you need to be, in the hope that one day you will return… one day. I cannot take on your pain, your suffering as my own – though I would if it were allowed. Instead, I share some of my soul that flow out like star bits to you, in the hope that it might carry you forward, upward, to where you need and want to be.

On this last day, my gift to you is of healing, and the peace that follows closely. Today, let there be peace. Let there be hope. Let there be love.

L.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 13:41:26 GMT

Day 7

King of Sites (Arkham): The essence of earth behaving as air, such as a diamond: A true businessman, with a gift for identifying opportunities and taking advantage of them. A person well informed about the world, skilled in all things physical, and eager to encourage others. A pillar of practicality and dependability, embracing tried and tested methods, and possessing an innate understanding of the material reality. A philanthropist and devotee of both luxury and hard work, whose word is as good as gold.

How old I feel today. I look down at the skin on my hand. Small wrinkles cover the back and dark spots start to emerge. When did this happen this getting old? The last thing I seem to remember I was full of youth and enthusiasm. Bursting with life. Thinking that the future was an endless parade of opportunity. This will happen. Then that. There is a plan and you are on the path.

Believe it. I did believe it. Maybe somewhere I still do believe it. But when I look down at my hand and see the wrinkles slowly creeping in I start to believe something else as well. I start to believe that it has just begun this getting older. Or the noticing of the process anyway. Maybe I will se more of it next year and more still the year after.

Live. Long live the king. But the king lives only so long as he lives and even he, with his divine intervention can not stop the tick of entropy setting in.

I want to say that I am old, cold and uncomfortable. I want to complain about it, to growl and grump to no one in particular about how hard it all is and how hard it has been. I want someone out there to hear me in all of this. Not to just be one silent old man groaning older by the day and regretting that he can not get it up like he did when he was 21. Yes that to is not quite so dependable and enthusiastic as it once was.

I want the smooth soft dank juiciness of youth. I want to touch it, to feel it, to slowly and tenderly insinuate myself in to its’ soft petal folds and smell the muskiness with in. I roll with this youth, sheets damp with sweet sweat, her shell like giggles tickling my ear as they caress the wrinkled skin covering my tired body.

Pressed against her I breath in the scent of perfume, cheap perfume, hoping to entice a youthful lover, but to me with the undiscriminating lust of a man twice her age finding it more enticing than the musk of any sweet virgin first in heat.

I tell her just how lovely she is. All she can do is thank me. Thinking I am just being nice I guess. I have to say that she thinks and rolls away from me, turning her back which cause me to lurch once more with a lust for her, feeling it deep in my groin, and leaning forward to lick the two winking dimples on her back just above the small curve of her waist. With this she giggles again and tells me that it is over.

XI

http://quietlaughter.gaia.com — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 15:05:32 GMT

XI

Eleven beads sit
On a string around my wrist
Each a prayer for you
~

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 09:47:41 GMT

Two of Pentacles (Change): Balance and harmony achieved in a time of upheaval and transformation. Taking two steps forward for every one step back. Shifting the importance of projects and priorities to keep everything on track. A change in occupation or location.

Change. Why is it so difficult for me to write about change. I sit here, my mind nattering on at me, for over 40 minutes looking for the way into this. Every time I come up with a plan it seems to melt into my apathy about the subject.

I guess I hate change. I want things to stay exactly as they are. Familiar. Like my slippers. Old, ragged, not even very comfortable. But familiar.

And I can not imagine that in this desire for things not to change i will ever hope to find a story or something interesting for others to read. For in an interesting story things always need to change somehow. Do they not?

And why such a struggle against change. It is as if I like to grapple with the whole might of the universe. I see it as a bog old place that is solely intent on thwarting my desires. But maybe it is just myself I am fighting.

How trite that is. How very trite.

The clock ticks and I see time slipping away. One second at a time it disappears into the past. How may seconds are there? Could I measure them?

I sit with my head hanging down, eyes closed and try to bury myself in to the very center of my being. But I can not really be sure that I have a center. It is, or so it seems to me, just my mind drifting around looking for something that it knows, something with which it is familiar.

I am rooted in the physical world. But this physical world is so very tenuous. It changes constantly. So I guess I am rooted in change. How very disturbing for me.

My heart, or where I seem to understand my heart to be aches for something. It wants. But I can not really be more specific than that. At least not right now as I feel the ache and nothing more.

Re: 12 Days Assignment

http://quietlaughter.gaia.com — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:12:30 GMT

Hello Andrew,

I have been reading your 12 Day posts through my mail each day - I am sorry to have not been able to get here sooner to leave a note. I am very much enjoying each day as they come. I find myself slipping into the flow of each day, the cards bring a powerful dimension to each letter/ note... and I can't find a part to highlight on its own. It all feels like a single organism breathing and growing and evolving... I really can't wait for tomorrow to come (please post more!)

xo
Leigh-Anne

Re: 12 day assignment

http://quietlaughter.gaia.com — Thu, 24 Dec 2009 00:04:05 GMT

I am really enjoying these letters so far Nono - both are beautifully written and I chuckled when I read " Well shit happens Henry".. love that!

whenever this more I will ready happily.

xo
la

X

http://quietlaughter.gaia.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 20:38:03 GMT

X

All day today I have been thinking about what I would write to you. What words could I possibly put in this paper for you to read. The paper reminds with each turn of my pen, when my fingers graze its rough face, that there is a distance between us, physical, real that cannot bridged right in this moment. The distance between us otherwise is much less though, and I have only to close my eyes to feel you here with me.

Not even sunshine this afternoon is enough to quiet the search for what to say. It isn’t that there is nothing to say – no lack of sentiment, feelings, wants or desires to let you know that I am here, and thinking to you with every moment. There is much to say – too much perhaps and that is why I find myself falling back into silence.

What ten things would I tell you right now?

1.   I miss you.
2.   The sunshine isn’t as bright without you here.
3.   Your friendship is a treasure to me as is your love
4.   Whether it is under the sun, or moon or clouds I will always look up and feel comforted that we are standing together under the same sky
5.   You make me smile
6.   In the quietest moments of my day, I think to you and I feel less alone
7.   You are a touchstone to my life.
8.   In the most chaotic moments of my day, I think to you and I feel still
9.   Who I am today is because of knowing you.
10.   I love you.

However our paths wind and turn through our lives – I am blessed that your path has crossed mine. I cannot imagine you not being part of my life – it would be like the stars never knowing the moon, or the trees never knowing the wind, or the sand never knowing the sun. Thank you for all that you have given me.

L.

Re: 12 day assignment

http://pz.gaia.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 20:09:57 GMT

Hi Andrew!

Yeah, there are two of us wondering then, cos I have no clue :)
Since my christmas peak is tomorrow the 24th I am not sure I will manage to write any.

Merry christmas

xo

Re: 12 day assignment

http://apfawcett.gaia.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 12:41:07 GMT

Hi,

I've not much to say except that so far I enjoy these. I wonder who it will be tomorrow.

A

Re: 12 day assignment

http://pz.gaia.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 11:03:34 GMT

Dear Mr Kissinger,

I don't know much about you, more than your name and that you have been an advisor to president(s) and a person with a huge influence nationally in US of A and Internationally.

They say you are behind many suspicious things that occur on our planet. The latest I heard was the thing of Swine Flu pandemic, "they" said you are behind this. Why is this?

Swine flu is a cook-along of tree different viruses; flu from pigs, bird flu and what was it normal influenza. Some mean that this cannot happen without it being engineered in a lab. Therefore it is said in conspiratory theoretical I-think-I-know-it people that the pandemia is a deliberate act. Planned by you since you seem to be concerned about the over population of earth.

There's nothing wrong in being concerned about that dear Henry, we are indeed overpopulated and that is a real problem.

Our wealth is so good these days that we survive longer and longer, our populations became also older and older. We eat up the earth like a plague, so maybe it is time fo us to go. Right? Is it this you thougt as well?

Since we no longer let nature thin out the population, all deseaces are fought for, well, at least in the wealthy part of the world. Right?

Was it because of you the group of scientist in WHO where able to earn a whole lotta money when they gave the pandemic warning; yeah boys and gals, make some vaccine!? And you must've laughed, because a vaccine is a good place to hide something bad in.

Remember, was it bad for you that the laboratories in Switzherland found out the living bird flu virus in that vaccine where no living virus should've been? That was a backflash for you and of those that planned to get rid of some people. Right? Living virus in massvaccine, wow, that is such a plan. And the bastards shouldn't have cheked the vaccine, it was an accident that they found it. Right?

Well, shit happens Henry.

I don't think that you have to worry, nature will catch up with us, nature always does. You don't have to do anything, not eaven take the vaccine!

Mme X

Re: 12 day assignment

http://pz.gaia.com — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 10:34:18 GMT

Jens, this has to do with a deeper profound "knowing" separate from occasional emotion, how high or low it might be. Thanks for reading hun'

:)