Musings

I don’t even know where to start.  

I feel sad when I hear words like “you shouldn’t be thinking about moving at your age.”  

You should be setting down roots…. 

You should be this and you should be that…. 

Essentially give up and wait to die.  

I didn’t sign up for that.  

Am I too old to do anything?  When did this happen?  

To someone in their youth, I am old.  

To someone in the middle, I am average.  

To someone older, I am young.  

To me, I am simply me.  Why do I need to be old or young or average?  

Why do I need to be anything?  

Why can’t I be who I am?

Why am I not allowed to have freedom, just because I am over ‘some’ number? 

Perhaps I am old.  My friends have kids, some of them young, some older.  

I never had a measurement by which time elapsed.  Most of my friends marked it by kids birthdays, life events…. things I never had.  

So there is no concept of age for me, there is no marker to say I should be ‘old’.

I am used to the pity look when I am asked if I have kids, and I answer ‘no’.  That is a societal standard I came to grips with a long time ago.  

Kids never happened and I guess never will.  Now I am not THAT old, my doctor still reminds me if I want to have children I should do that soon…..

But the reality is chances are low that blessing will ever happen.  I never defined myself by it, so I never had hope, and thus I never felt loss.  

The cruelty of life is the day I meet the man I want to have children with, it probably won’t be possible.  Sad but true.

I don’t have a complex about my age, I actually don’t even think about it till someone jabs at me.  

Of course it is a pain point.  

It is a reminder that my time might be more limited than I want it to be.  

It reminds me that I wasted so much more time than I should have.  

But in reality did I?

All things happen in the time frame they are supposed to.  So how could I have wasted time if whatever I was hoping for wasnt ready for me?

I don’t want to think about a number, or how many years I might have left, I want to think about all the adventures I still have waiting for me. 

I don’t want to grow roots, I want to wander and love every moment of life.  

I want to live my life to its fullest.

I want to walk my path with someone who values me for who I am, and not trying to cage me because he sees me as ‘some number’.  

When the Universe knocks, open the door.  That’s always been a phrase that served me well.  See the ‘Universe‘ or ‘divine intervention‘, or whatever you chose to call it has always been the predominant force in my life.  

Long before I understood the concept of being ‘present’, or before I was introduced to the idea of ‘awareness’ I already knew this.  It was a deep part of me that was plugged into this ‘awareness’ long before anyone explained it to me.  

There was always a deep and inexplicable connection between me and my surrounding space, it was knowing without asking.  Now if this sounds completely wacky, well I don’t blame you for thinking it.  It never was weird to me, it just always was.

I think of it like trying to explain water to a fish.

A fish has no idea it lives in water, it has no concept that this force is all around it, exerting pressures, creating flow and currents that either you go with or fight against.  

It’s like that for people.  When you try to explain this concept is something we all live in, it exerts pressures and forces on us, creates struggle or ease in our movements… it is all around us.  But so few recognize it or can feel it.  

I can feel it.  I can feel it around me, and I can feel it as a connection with other people.  

I can even feel it in the residue left behind by those who are gone, it is a lingering energy that I can perceive.  I’ve always been this way, I have been able to feel this since i was a child.

It used to creep my mother out, as a baby I would wake up singing.  When I was an infant, I would wake up every day singing.  Still to this day I sometimes wake up humming a tune I don’t know or don’t remember.  

Mom would tell me how as an infant I would talk in that silly baby gibberish to the empty rocking chair in my room.  Standing in my crib, just completely engrossed with an empty chair that would slowly rock, as if someone was actually there.

I don’t remember any of this, but it certainly is no surprise.

My mom and grandma were the same, they each had their own way of perceiving things, but it seemed to run in the family.  As a kid I would run to the phone, back then corded phones with a rotary dial hung on the kitchen wall.  I would run to the phone and pick it up before it even rang.  And I would start talking.  And everytime it was my grandma.  I knew before the first ring of the bell.  I just knew.

When I was in college I would do the same with my Mom.  I knew she was calling before the phone rang.  If I called her she did the same thing.  This was normal to us, but apparently to the rest of the world it’s a bit freaky.  I had no idea till a friend in college watched me and thought I was some incarnation of Satan.  

In a different era I think I would have been burned at the stake.  

So that’s a long introduction to my connection with this strange collective energy we all swim in.  

Discount it as crazy if you wish, it wouldn’t be the first time nor the last.   

Now you have an idea of my world, well the universe has been knocking lately and it’s been pretty loud.  So much so that I know a big upheaval is coming, I just don’t know when.  

It started about a year before my Mom died.  I was her caregiver, and working from home at the time.  The stress of that life was unbearable, but I have always been close to my Mom, leaving her in someone else’s care would never be an option to me. 

I gave up everything in my life to make sure she was ok.

So while I am struggling with this emotionally and physically I decided to distract myself with learning a new language.  I have always loved to travel and love languages.  It’s something of an escape for me.  I have incredible auditory perception, so picking up nuances in language has always been a fun game. 

For some unknown reason I picked Korean.  No reason, just happened to do it.  

I think this was the first knock, but it was very subtle.

So I embarked on learning a language for fun, granted I picked one of the hardest according to the Department of Defense’s scale of Language learning.  Seems I wanted to punish myself.

Well this was just fine.  I was learning for the sake of distraction.  It helped me cope, and left me humbled as this was the hardest thing I ever tried, making my Cyrllic language attempts look like kindergarten.  

Things continued along without event until my mom died.  

She died at home with me.  I felt her leave, and I was devastated.  My world detached and everything became abstract.  I was finally alone.

Now I knew if there was another side to existence, my Mom would be back to make sure I was ok.  I knew she would never allow the universe to abandon me.  That is not how we roll in my family.  We have always been a very tight, very protective lot, not even death would stop that.  

Mom died at the end of July.

But I knew things would be different now.  However it wasn’t exactly what I expected.

Almost immediately the Universe started up.

The packages started in about September.

It was a barrage of packages, things, needs, wants, all this stuff just showing up at my house.  Things from nowhere, nobody, just things.  

I got a giant box of Chanel for my birthday in October.  I tried to return it, telling them there was a mistake.  But they had no record of any order…. Nothing. 

A gift from the universe.

Next came boots in November.  My size, perfect fit- exactly what I would have ordered if I could afford the $300 price. 

Again being the honest person I am, I contacted the company and told them the mistake.  

Again no record, sorry.  Keep them.  

Ummm…. Ok. 

In the fall my relationship fell apart.  Realizing we weren’t right for each other, it just ended.  Terrible timing, but is there a good time for a breakup? 

So even more alone now.  We still stayed friends, but it was clear, everything was changing.  My world was expanding and contracting at the same time.  It was a violent upheaval.

 If you stuck with me so far you know:

1. The Universe likes to play with my life
2. My mom died in July
3. Weird packages start showing up for me
4. My relationship of 8+ years fell apart

Ok so you are up to speed.  Now we start getting really weird

In early December, I started getting comments, in real life, not online.  Weird comments out of the blue….. from people I know and don’t know.

If you get a comment from a client saying “Hey, just want to touch base so when you leave the country we have all things sorted”….. That’s one thing.

When you get another reply like “Hey when are you moving overseas?” from the person in the grocery store who you don’t know…. That’s a whole different level of weird.

And this continued…. To the point where in one weekend I had about 15 comments from people I don’t know asking me about when I am moving.   And it started getting oddly specific.  

Can you see where this is going?  Remember back to my random pick of languages?

Oh yeah.  We’re getting there.  

So now I’m beginning to think I have a doppelganger going around telling people I am moving overseas.  That must be the reason right?  I mean why would anyone make that conclusion when I have never once talked about relocating.  

Definitely odd.  Definitely something up.

It’s before the holidays, and any chance to travel is squashed by my emotional state, I am just not ready to do anything let alone try to be functional.  A few other weird universal coincidences started happening too. Those actually lead to a different story, but let’s just say, it was the most intense focused moment I have ever experienced.  The kind you literally can’t ignore or brush off….  

Next week I went to the vet with my cats.  

The vet has known me for years.  She knows everything about me, so imagine my shock when she walks in and tells me the papers are almost ready.

What papers?

Well the papers to take the cats to Korea when you move there, of course!

What the actual fuck? 

Are you for real? 

Never once have I ever uttered any word about moving overseas, nor to Korea.  Ever.  To anybody.  Never even thought about it.  

And here I am, getting handed a packet of papers about moving with animals to the other side of the globe.  

My brain stopped working.  I literally just stood there in shock.  Clearly the Universe had stopped any attempt at subtlety.  And I was now being informed by a long time friend that I need to plan a few months in advance because we need to get special permissions and papers prepared so I can take both cats with me to a country I never planned to go to.  

Holy shit. 

Oh and it keeps going.  This isn’t the end of the story.

Now packages of Korean things start showing up.  Again the gift of the universe concept.  From nowhere from nobody. 

The best was about 5 kilos of Kimchi.  That was an experience. 

Mind you I have not committed to moving anywhere yet.  Moving is a massive undertaking.  So if the universe plans to pull this off, I need a new job or something to give me the freedom to do this.  

And what about Visas? The universe has yet to give me that solution to that conundrum.  I am expected to move someplace with animals, just to have to leave every three months?  That’s impractical on every level.  

And what about my house?  I own it, what am I supposed to do about that?  

The epic scale of this is completely beyond my comprehension.  

So I am asking the universe for baby steps.  Yes, outright asking.  I can’t do this in one massive leap, nor can I do this alone…. This is so much more complicated and overwhelming than what I can shoulder by myself. 

So the universe better have some plan for helping me, because I am strong, but I am not that strong.  

Right now I am hoping to settle affairs and move to the city. 

Giving myself some time to acclimate and understand where and what is happening. 

If the universe is determined to launch me at Korea (God help those poor people) then I am game.  But we do have some logistics to figure out before that can happen.  

So I am waiting for the next piece of this puzzle from the universe. 

I have absolutely no idea where this ends up.  It’s a fascinating mystery. 

However, if my Mother has anything to do with it…. it will turn out just perfect no matter where I end up.

Society today has an interesting opinion on age, especially when it comes to dating.  Older men and younger women is a pretty old concept.  It’s a standard among all cultures.  It is not a surprising event, men are capable of fathering children for their entire lives.  Meanwhile us women have a very limited window to create life.  

Compounding our ‘expiration date’ and a modern society where women are either forced into the workforce or chose to focus on their careers, well, we end up with successful professional women who are childless. 

In the greater scheme of the world, this isn’t really a horrible thing. It’s just a fact that biology has us on one timeline and society pushes another.

I fall into that category but I did this by my own accord.  That is another story for another time.

This post is about age.  

Men have always had the luxury of dating younger.  For men it’s always a point of pride to have a younger hotter girl.  Trade in the older one for a newer, typically dumber, model.  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

I don’t have an issue with it.  If a man is that insecure that he needs a younger girl to enhance his ego then so be it.  

Now did that sound jaded?  It’s not.  For a lot of men, it really is about ego and feeling desirable.  

But it’s rare to find a man who is secure in his masculinity, secure in himself to want to be with a woman, not a girl.  For that man, a complex woman, an equal partner is desired not avoided.

Now that’s the man I want in my life, the kind that appreciates a woman for her strength, not seeking a girl for validation.

But let’s flip this.  For women we get chastised and labeled if we date outside our age range.  Cougar is the most common term.  Some women wear it with pride, others avoid it.

Personally I find the term annoying but not offensive.  In different cultures men are the ones labeled.  

My favorite is the Eastern European term:  Chicken Meat.  

Yes, that is the term used for a younger man dating an older woman.  I think it’s hilarious, uncalled for, but a very strange term indeed.

Now I have been in relationships with men older and younger than me.  Even by large gaps.  And never once has that ever bothered me.  

I see my partner as a man who enhances who I am, and I in turn enhance him.  For that there is no age difference or requirement.  

I don’t see age as a factor.  I never have.  To me the quality of the person and the nature of the relationship is the only thing that actually matters.  If I am older so what?  If I am younger, who cares?  

If the match is good, then isn’t that the only thing that matters?

And for the most part the answer is yes.  The only time this becomes a factor is when children are involved.  I can absolutely understand that could be a factor. 

But if that is the case then there are options.  If two people want children, there is always the possibility, and it is a very big possibility in modern society, that infertility is a real issue regardless of age.  So let’s not blame it all on the ladies ok?

Many women suffer infertility or complications.  I happen to be one.  I may or may not ever be able to have kids.  I simply don’t know.  I am told by my doctor that it’s possible but that I am ‘high-risk’ whatever that means.

But as time slips by the chances become smaller and smaller regardless of my ‘risk factor’.

Now let’s not be depressed about it, shall we?  There are options, it’s not an all or nothing concept.  

I guess for me that is the only consideration I really think about when entering a relationship with a younger man.  I don’t want to rob him of something as beautiful as children.  

Perhaps someday I will find a guy I want to have kids with, and I will try every last option available to me to do it.  But the reality is I need to accept that it may not work.  And is that fair to him?  

That is not a decision I can make.  Only he can make that choice.  

Only he can decide if that is a deal breaker.  

Or if he is willing to try, or use an egg donor, a surrogate, or even adopt…. All options, but for a man, I get the impression it is about legacy not about love. 

You can love a child not of your own genetic profile, and there are plenty of abandoned kids in the world needing to be loved.  But I get the perception there is a twinge or resentment raising a child not of their own lineage.  

I could be completely wrong, and of course that is subjective to every man.  I can only judge by conversations I have had with friends and other men in my life.  

Women tend not to see those distinct lines, our nature is to care for any child in need, regardless of whether it is ours or not.  That is the beauty of our gender, our compassion and love has no limits. 

So men have this luxury of time.  Women do not. 

I think that is why there is that ever pervasive approval for men to date younger women.  It is their biological right to father children anywhere they can.  

Reversely it is the reason that women who date younger men are scorned or labeled because they dare rob a young man of his legacy.  

A double standard for sure. 

Love is most certainly blind, but she wears a wrist watch.  

Tick-tock, tick-tock,  motherfucker.

I have a motivation issue.  I really do.  I am highly successful in everything I do.  Nothing is a struggle for me.  It never has been. 

Am I super smart?  I don’t know.  I don’t think so, I just love a challenge and I wont stop till I get my objective.  

But here’s the glitch…. I never want anything.  

Seriously.  I don’t.  I don’t want anything.  I have no dreams, I have no goals, I just have things I want to do or not.  To me everything is fluid.  

For the most part I let the wind carry me wherever I would be.  Typically it’s in some direction that I gravitate to inorder to help facilitate or grow my skill base.  

I’ve always seen it as looking for my orbit.  

I don’t want to be the center of the universe, I want that space to be the spotlight of someone else.  Ideally I would choose that to be my partner, but God knows when or where that plays out.

If I am brutally honest I believe that my partner will be in life, love, and business.  I want to live a life and build amazing things.  Create structures and plans, create a world envisioned by my partner.  That alone is what thrills me to no end.

I welcome every challenge, every obstacle, every failure.  I want to face the challenges with my partner and conquer every single one.  Every tear shed is a challenge, every smile a success.  That courage and determination to overcome everything with another soul by my side is what keeps me going.  I believe this is out there, I believe this is part of my path.  I just can’t wait to get to it.

All I can tell you is this path is not where I am.  I know I need to bet everything on a gut feeling that I need to break out of the box I am currently in.  

I am ok with this.  

In fact I am dying to get going.

Is that motivation?  Am I motivated into some blind unknown?

Perhaps in a twisted way.  

No goal.  No clear path.  No idea what I am doing….. And I cant fucking wait.

But like everything else in my life, things fall into place.  I don’t make some herculean struggle or effort, I don’t force things to happen, I just make a clear determination of what I want, then sit back and let it unfold.

And it always unfolds.    

But that also creates a motivation problem.  Because I know things will all coincide as they are supposed to, I stopped dreaming of goals, or deciding on this or that.  Yes there are things I would like….. But I don’t see any of them in stone.  There is only one truth I hold deep in my heart, and that is an unshakable foundation that my path is not alone.  

That fact alone sits so strong in me is the bedrock of everything I am.  And that is truly an interesting story to tell.  The day I realized this, everything changed.   

Just to give you an understanding, in the Jewish tradition when someone is buried, the family all shovel dirt into the grave.  But you don’t do this in a conventional method.  You turn the shovel upside down, so you are using the wrong side to shovel dirt.  It’s awkward and difficult under the best of situations, but add emotion to it and it’s nearly impossible.

The reason for this is that when someone dies, your world changes.  Everything looks the same, but it isn’t.  Everything is wrong.  Everything is backwards and upside down.  There is no right side, no up, everything is wrong.  

The irony is everything is technically the same, it’s you who has changed, it is you who are no longer whole.  

And that is the feeling when you experience something so soul shatteringly true, that you are willing to turn life itself upside down because you have an unshakeable belief.  

I have no issue being alone, it’s a very normal thing for me, but this is different.  This is legacy, there is something much bigger than me in this equation and it will require two equals to pull it off.  

What is it?  Fuck if I know.  

Like I said, I am the person who LOVES making things come true, not the person who loves coming up with the plan.  I let someone else do that part, it’s not my strong suit.  

Perhaps that will lead to getting to do or see all the things I have some desire to do… or not.  Again, I have nothing set in stone.  

If I get to see Paris again, I would be thrilled, but if I dont I wont cry over some lost dream.  

If I get to live in Italy for a while, it would be lovely, but it’s only a thought.

If I get to go on a road trip around the US just because, well that would be fabulous…. you know the rest.

But tell me there is no building, no stars to reach, no plans to work toward, well then life holds no joy.  It is a hollow shell of disappointment. 

So I have a motivation issue.  I live for the motivation of another.  I live to build great things for someone somewhere, and I will move heaven and earth to make it happen.  That is my joy, that is my motivation.  That is what true happiness is to me.

Every woman has a signature.  Something that encapsulates her perfectly.  Typically this is a perfume, but some prefer a signature color, or style.  

For me it has always been Versace.  

I have a deep love for being discreet.  I think sensuality is a woman’s greatest power, and making that a beautiful intimate thing is the meaning of our existence.  

So I chose perfume to be my signature.  Not something overpowering, but something sensual, the kind you would not even notice unless leaning in for a kiss.  

Versace Crystal Noir is my poison.

It is the beautiful sexy fragrance that is completely mine.  It is hard to find, and rarely worn.  It’s not trendy or verbose, it’s soft, oriental and frankly smoldering.

It’s the fragrance that your lover will never forget.  

I am a very sensual woman.  I love feminine things.  Touch is my preferred language.  This makes me a rather extraordinary partner, affectionate and powerful.  It’s a very rare combination, and even rarer if you know how to use it.

I by no means flaunt this.  Again, I am a creature of immense discretion.  Hence my choice in signature scent. Something rare, something completely and utterly unique.

My signature is so specific I have had ex’s who bought my perfume just to remind them of me.  

At first I thought that was kinda creepy.  But I realized that I left an impression on these men, something special.  

Sadly we weren’t meant to be, but it was an affair they will always remember, if not long for. 

I guess in a way that is flattering, to be remembered in such a light.  

I am still searching for the man who will walk my path with me.  And wherever he is, I think he will love that scent, he just doesn’t know it yet.  

So here’s to having a signature all your own.

Versace I owe you one. 

In the beginning….. Well there was a stupid idea I had to start a blog. 

A hidden blog.  Completely random. 

A place where I could vent my frustrations, say my thoughts, contemplate existence and yes write the occasional love letter.

I have always been a fan of love letters.  The charm and simplicity of something so sweet.  I love the lost art of writing, especially those handwritten notes, those little treasures you can hold and feel the emotion penned into the paper. 

It’s probably the reason I still use a fountain pen and actually write everything from my grocery list to my daily journal with ink scribed onto paper.  There is something lovely and cathartic about writing.  

Typing is expedient and the method used to create this text, but the clack of the keyboard lacks the romantic sound of the nib against the paper.  There  is no satisfaction in the fast movements, I much rather prefer the slow pace of writing and composing my thoughts.  

But back to the story.  

Invisible Love Letter started out as just that.  I love letters.  A bit of a love letter to life, and a way to express myself.  At the time, I was in a relationship where I was the romantic and my partner was anything but.  He was cold and logical.  He was an intellectual with no need for romance and no tolerance for it in any form.  Even our discussions were cold and frigid.  I could never say anything that constituted my color and love of life.  Instead I was relegated to an insignificant voice, a companion without the relationship.  Essentially I had a roommate with an attitude.  

He would joke how if he could, I would live in the vent.  Close enough to be seen, and occasionally interacted with, but for the most part out of sight.  

Nice huh?  That really makes someone feel wanted.  He was joking of course, but under every joke a kernel of truth remained. 

We are still friends to this day, but I realized how much I gave up trying to fix something that I could never do.  

But because of that, I started this blog.  It was about 10 years ago.  Yes, Invisible Love Letter is over a decade old. It has lived a few incarnations.  But for the most part it was a long blog filled with my poetry, emotional outbursts, frustrations, and romantic pinnings.  All the things I could not express in my real life.

I eventually got tired of living only in this virtual space.  I left Invisible alone for a while, trying to find my own peace without the space to vent.  Hoping that by realizing the shortcomings in my own relationships and my ability to diminish my own worth, I would wake up and get my act together.  

In some aspects it worked.  I didn’t need the crutch of writing.  I started to work on healing myself, and improving my relationship with my past, present, and deciding about how to improve my future.

It wasn’t a phase, but a tool to help me when I needed to find my voice.  It served its purpose and I slowly let it collect dust in the background of my life.  

I even went as far to abandon it, letting the URL expire, and the hosting company deleted my long kept secret journal.  But then something gnawed at me.  Reminding me that there was some importance to this, even if I could not see it then.

I quickly regained control of the URL and in a panic, I tried to preserve the old blog, but that failed.  Everything had vanished into the digital ether.  

Probably for the best.  That was a chapter in my life that does not need to be revisited.  I learned and grew from it, it served its purpose.

But lately a new development reminded me that I used to do this.  I used to just vent to the world.  Not for validation, not for love, not for attention…. Just simply to say I exist.  

I exist.  

I do.  

I don’t need likes, views, follows, or any metric to remind me I matter or have significance.  I live by a very basic rule.  

If you have done things right, nobody knows you did anything at all.

It might sound ridiculous but I believe this is the motto of the universe. That complex God-like mechanism that we all exist within.  I believe that fate, karma, or whatever you chose to call it has a plan for each of us.  We are never supposed to know what it is, nor how it will unfold.  That is the beauty of existence.  

But that plan is there.  

Free will is an illusion in most respects.  

We move through the void ignorant that our path has always been and always will be.  Our free will is in our willingness to accept or reject the joys of that journey.  Only we as individuals can control our reactions, emotions, and how we accept or reject what happens on our journey. 

So I don’t need anyone to validate me.  I validate myself with every step on my journey.  I graciously accept the good and the bad as I go.  Because I believe that the universe has dictated my path, and those who shall cross it, and hopefully join me through this lifetime into the next.

See I told you I was a hopeless romantic.  I wasn’t kidding.

Recently my path took an unexpected turn.  One I never saw coming, but when it hit, the world changed.  Everything changed, in the most real and tangible sense of the word.  I could not have predicted it, but this time the universe wasn’t being secretive and discrete.  It was very clear, and I was listening.

That will be a story for another time. 

I became inspired by the bravery of another.  Someone whom I greatly respect.  I am certain at some point this writing will be seen, and to be fully honest, I dont care.  I would have hidden before, terrified that I was seen, somehow disgraced by my own humanity.

This time, I am not.  I am fully aware of my actions and write with wreckless abandon. 

We are only a collection of stories.  Our existence will end and nothing will be left of us.  Depressing but true.  These words will also die out someday, as will I.  

But for one moment in time, I am here.  Right now.  Completely honest.  Letting my heart, my soul, and my mind be open to what may come.

For in life there is one truth that I can always rely on.

If something is to be, then nothing you do will ever prevent it.  But in kind if it is not meant to be, then nothing you do can force it.

In other words our path is destined.  Enjoy the journey.

And write.  Write like there is no tomorrow, because someday there won’t be. 

With that, I bring back my home to write.  I bring back Invisible Love Letter, and let it be a home for whatever may come.  

-C