Rings

For whatever reason, rings have always had a very strong symbolic power to me. They are more than jewelery, in fact, I don't really consider them accessories like bracelets, or earrings or necklaces, rings are different. You'll never see my hands covered in rings, my fingers are naked, except for the symbol that is currently part of me.

They are statements, indicators, announcements, memories, and they can even be chains, they mean something more than just making yourself a little more bling....

I've worn many rings in my life, and I've also given a couple to people I've loved. As they mean so much to me, the act of me giving one to someone bears the same weight as me receiving one. This doesn't always match with how they feel about the symbol, but that's OK, we can't all be the same after all.

I remember when my family moved back to Canada in '87, my parents had put a ton of furniture into storage when we left for Europe, which was now the family furniture in our big blue house. I was in the basement one day poking through stuff, opening unfamiliar drawers, examining the papers, pictures, albums, memories, slices of my parents lives before I came around. I've always been interested in peoples stories, how they came to be, their influences.

I remember opening a drawer in a wooden desk, enjoying some pictures of my hippy parents when they were just married in their early 20's, and my fingers stumble upon a chunk of rust. At first I thought it may be some old rusty bolt, yet I didn't discard it, something about it felt different. I brought it up to my mother who knew what it was immediately, it's your fathers old ring she tells me, hold on, I know how to clean it.

Within moments she presents me with a gleaming silver band, almost a centimeter wide, edged rounded down, and I immediately put it on the middle finger of my left hand. Aside from my life as a child in Europe, I've never had a strong or close relationship with my father, even though I've always wanted one. Wearing his old ring gave me a sense of being connected to him in a special way.

That ring stayed on my finger for a few years, we had it resized for me as I continued to grow, then at one point it simply cracked along the seam that was created while resizing it. I don't remember why, but I decided to retire it instead of trying to fix it, it sat in a drawer for years after that.

I showed the remnants of the ring to a girlfriend I had after having moved to Montreal. She saw how special it had been to me through my words and my eyes, and she gifted me with a new ring one day, almost exactly like the old one, and I loved her for it, and wore it proudly, it was a link from my past to my present. It reminded me of the connection I had been trying to create with my father via the original ring, and at the same time solidified my connection to her.

I honestly don't know what happened to that ring, in fact, I don't even remember which of my first two long term girlfriends got me it.... mists of time and all that

I recall buying myself a ring at the Highland Games festival while dating the second one, it had intriguing Celtic markings upon it. I didn't wear it long, it had no meaning to me, it was just pretty, an accessory, something to fill that naked finger that had gotten so used to having something upon it. I lost it, and didn't care.

On July 31st 2010, Becca placed my wedding ring on my finger as I placed her ring on her hand. This one meant the world to me. Again, it was fashioned similarly to my fathers ring, simple, wide, and silver. I would fiddle with this ring constantly, spinning it around my finger, staring at it, in all honesty, I think I loved my ring more than she loved hers. I would flash it to everyone, especially during our honeymoon, with my big face splitting grin, as if to say "see!, she chose me!". I loved being married, even though our marriage was doomed from the beginning, I absolutely loved it and I made sure everyone knew it.

I'm looking forward to being married again one day if the fates gift me with that honor....

now, I guess we get to the ring I actually wanted to talk about, the one that I still wear, and has only been removed three times (and each time I ended up panicking, "wheres the fucking ring!, GAH!").

Becca and I thought we could make it, right up to the end, right up to March 27th of last year, H-day. Six weeks before that fateful day, right at, or around, Valentines day, while we're both standing in his old kitchen, she looked at me with sad, but hopeful eyes. She asks me to extend my left hand to her, and she takes my ring finger gently, my wedding band already there, and she slips a beautiful, thin, feminine ring onto my finger and lets it rest next to his ring. She looks at me and tells me that this is Dawn's ring, to symbolize that she accepts the real me, and that she wants to be married to her as much as she wanted to be married to him.

I have no idea what she went through in order to make that decision, to go out and buy that ring, to get it sized for my finger, and I'll most likely never know. What I do know is that it wasn't easy for her, even though she loved me, she was losing me, the man that she fell in love with, but she was trying, oh, so hard, she was trying, right up until the last day. I'll always love her for trying so hard, she will always have a part of my heart and my soul

After we separated, I continued to wear my wedding rings, the small feminine one next to the fat masculine one. It was only when things went bad between us, a month after separation, that I removed his ring. I still have it of course, and I'll always have it, tucked away in a jewelery box.

This was the first time I removed Dawn's wedding ring.

Although I'm not religious in any way, I've learned that in certain religions, if a spouse dies, the surviving spouse will transfer their wedding ring from one hand to the other, on the same finger. I've always found this to be a very beautiful tradition, a powerful symbol.

I placed my ring on the ring finger of my right hand, where it has remained for the past 19 months.

I look at it often, and think about my past life, feeling guilt over what Becca had to go through being with me, and how it all ended. It still brings me a sense of love, a reminder of love, thinking of her, and her struggles to continue our life together. I touch it and remember, and sometimes I smile, and other times, like right now, I do my best to hold back the tears.

I know that one day I'll take this ring off and place it aside, in the box, next to his. I don't know what I need to do, or what I need to go through, or what I need to let go of, to make that happen. I don't even know if I want whatever needs to happen to actually happen, I don't think I'm ready yet, still so much more work to do. It won't be because, if I'm very very lucky, someone else gives me a ring, if that were to happen, I may continue wearing both rings for a while, I simply don't know. What I do know, is that all things considered, that time is not too far in the future anymore, it's coming closer, I feel a shift coming, and that's terrifying but it's also going to be wonderful.




A part of me wants to hold on, the rest, knows, that it will soon be time to let go

My house..... his house

So I took Mara up to the old house yesterday, I wanted to check it out, haven't been there in almost 2 months which in all honesty, isn't that responsible of me. I didn't expect the feelings that I experienced

I do own it, technically, but in a way, it's not my house, it's never been my house..... it was his.... it was the place he died

Even though my wonderful neighbor has been taking care of the lawn, the gardens have gotten overgrown, what started off as little sprouts have become saplings, the place doesn't look that great from the outside.

Junk mail had piled up, and Becca still hasn't changed her address on a number of important documents. I got angry at her, frustrated, if she still hasn't been able to do this, how must she still be feeling. It's been eighteen months now, I was praying that she would have moved on, maybe she hasn't after all....

I let us in, and the inside looked the same..... but empty..... hollow.... a thing of the past

The nickel tour as she called it

We went downstairs, I could see Becca and him sitting there on the couch, watching TV, him rubbing her feet, the shelving that caused such drama and made me (him?) lose a friend....

Poked around, realized how much I still have left to do up there

We climbed the stairs to the top floor, and it started to hit me..... I'm not sure what started to hit me, emotions, sadness, guilt, regret for letting things go so far with Becca, shame for needing her so much to become who I always was supposed to be

Mara sees it in my eyes, she holds me tight, kisses me, doesn't say anything, lets me talk as I try to, just holds me

We enter the guest room, then the room that I had wanted to give to my first child. I couldn't look her in the eyes, I held back my tears, but she felt them regardless. We stood there together, me in her arms, she fed me her strength and her love. I needed it, she let me onto her rock for the time I required. We kiss, as if trying to bring new life, new energy, into this place

It felt haunted to me, just realize that now as I type this

We don't stay long, and on the way out, we deliver the mail to my old cousin's house across the street... I'm thankful they don't appear to be home... going there fills me with anxiety at the possibilities of what could occur

We make plans to take a day on a weekend soon to come up and spruce the place up. Her eyes, face, soul, smile at me. It's going to be difficult, so difficult to come back, to take care of the place like I should have already done.

I've been avoiding it, avoiding the place, avoiding my responsibilities there, just hoping someone will take the problem from my hands. Perhaps it hasn't sold yet because I still have work to do there, not just material things, but I need to make peace, I need to let go instead of shutting my mind to it. The universe has ways of fucking with me, giving me challenges I don't want to face, I wonder if this is one of them

I'll hop from my rock to hers for this and let her help me, making my own rock stronger in the process

I thank her for helping me change the energy of this place.... locations.... things.... they hold energies, and past sentiments, past pain and loss, but they can also hold love and hope and beauty

We go out for sushi at my favorite little place, and we talk, and we laugh, and we grow.... and after a while.... being up there, in his little town, the place where he wanted to finalize his story, the place where he died.... it doesn't feel that bad anymore

Thank you Mara

And to him..... rest well..... your work is done..... I'll take over from here

tears run down my face

Cyclical Meanderings..... part 6..... poly

I'm seeing someone new, the one that was alluded to in my last post, from the pantsless party

It's been a whirlwind so far, the connection that we feel, the ideas and thoughts that we share, incredible, completely and utterly incredible. I sincerely have never felt this before. Yes I've been in love, deeply in love, but not after two weeks.... my pattern has always been that lust grows fast, but love takes it's time. In this, we are completely aware that we are in lust, but it is more than that, and she feels it too. It's love, and it's been declared, and it makes us happy.

The kicker?, she's polyamorous, and married to a person that she loves deeply, but that doesn't mean that she can't love another deeply as well.

So, does this mean I'm now poly?, what does poly mean?.... I have a feeling that poly can mean different things to all of us, just like open relationships or even monogamous relationships. Each have their own way, their own set of rules, their own reality.

I don't really do casual anything. If I do something, anything, I usually dive headfirst into it. I don't do casual friendships, I don't really see the point, I love my friends, each in their own way, for various reasons, and I feel that they satisfy different needs, different aspects of me, and bring different things to my life. I don't sleep with (the vast majority of) them, but I do love them. I would fight for them, support them, make sacrifices for them, stand by them, open myself up to them and they to me, they are truly special to me. Losing a good friend at times can sting just as much as losing a partner.

Isn't that already kind of poly?, does it take sexuality in order to make it poly?, if so, then maybe I already am poly, I do have a friend that I love, and we have always had a sexual connection which recently became real. Isn't that the classic definition of poly?

Is there a classic definition of poly?

My girl is going on a date with a partner of hers. They will talk, and eat, and enjoy each others company, and most likely end up in bed. That's what I just did with my good friend, but I don't think of it as "a date", I think of it as a good friend who I enjoy time with, will eat and drink with, and maybe we'll end up in bed together. The outcome appears to be the same, the only difference I can find is the label that we put on it. She's going on a date, I'm not, but we do the same stuff....

which of course leads to.... what is a date?.... what makes a date different than enjoying sexuality with a loving friend?

I think, for me, dating has the component of wanting to examine if there is a potential future with said person, testing the waters, looking for compatibility in that way. With my friend that I love and share sexuality with, I hope she is in my future as an important part of my life, but not like that.... but what does that even mean?.... lets see.... where is the line?.... what is the difference?....

I would hate to lose her from my life, but I'll never feel a romantic love for her.... perhaps dating for me is a test to see if romantic love can be there at all. Love is different with everyone, and for everyone, and while I love many, that specific type of romantic love is reserved for .... up to this point .... just one

and I'm a romantic at heart if you haven't all figured that out yet

is that the difference between poly and open?, the romantic love?.... do others have the same definition of romantic love?

what is the definition of romantic love?.... oooh.... that's a good one

delving deeper

woo