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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/newsletters/action/archives/id/3974-Whats-Left-After-the-Endorphins-Relax.html
Romance/Love: September 15, 2010 Issue [#3974]

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Romance/Love


 This week: What's Left After the Endorphins Relax?
  Edited by: fyn
                             More Newsletters By This Editor  

Table of Contents

1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions

About This Newsletter

“Love enables you to put your deepest feelings and fears in the palm of your partner’s hand, knowing they will be handled with care."~~ Carl S. Avery

“But when two people are at one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or of bronze.”~~ From The I Ching (ancient Chinese text)

“For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of our tasks; the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.”~~ Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), Czech-born German poet

“I could never love where I could not respect.”~~ Charlotte Elizabeth Aisse (1694-1733), French letter-writer

“Love is always bestowed as a gift - freely, willingly, and without expectation . We don't love to be loved; we love to love.”
~~ Leo Buscaglia (1924-1998), professor & author

“Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.”
~~ Bruce Lee (1940-1973)


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Letter from the editor

Mature love. Love that has stood the test of time. The tests that everyday living provides. The arguing of older children, the death of a parent. The loss of a house. Empty Nest Syndrome. Too often I read of love in all its new-found glory, whereas Bruce Lee is quoted above saying, it is when the blazing fire has become the burning coals--that is where true stories are born.

Love changes as we age. Some are fortunate in that all the equipment still functions and the desire burns as brightly as it once did. But while most still have the love and desire, some of the once fun stuff fades into the background, to be replaced by other things. Hugs mean more than they ever did. A touch, a smile, a shared laugh gain depth and the sharing becomes a more fragrant memory.

Hair grays, paunches develop and clothing-sizes change. Surface attractions blur and we see what is really important when we look at our spouse. And she is beautiful and he is even more handsome than he was twenty-five or forty years ago. We know all the drills. We know what our partner is saying even when they aren't saying it. We know when to tease, when to cajole, when to hug and when to flat out ignore them. We communicate without Mars/Venus issues because we are out on Saturn by now. *grin* Yet we love, we dream, we feel and we continue to grow. Sure, we might accomplish it a bit slower, and with creaky knees, but we still evolve and we still do. To fracture a line from a country song: We ain't as good as we once was; but we's as good once, as we ever was!

I wrote this a while back, but it fits well here. It is a commentary on a day spent between two old fogies (Hubby and I) one autumn day not too long ago.

So simple, really



The rainbow entangled
in your eyes explodes
raining jelly-belly candies across the bed.
You laugh
and our white puppy turns colors
from damp jellybeans.

I see you hunched over your desk
looking older than your years.
I hand you a cup of coffee, offer
a back scratch. You sigh.
My fingernails catch all the itchy skitters.
You smile and time
slides down to puddle on the floor.

We take the bike out for a ride.
Snugged in close we pitch
and sway around the curves,
I wish I'd worn a warmer jacket.
We stop for lunch in Hell.
Laughing at old, worn jokes
as if they were new,
we ate our hamburgers rare.

We meander the forest seeking
game trails and I am lost.
You look at me with that crinkly-eyed smile
and say, be a deer. I look with
hollow eyes and find the path.

The moon, pale orange orb,
rises as we wander.
Hunter’s moon you say and I run ahead.
I slip on fallen autumn:
a leaf fight ensues.
We are red and golden.

Trailing leaves we wend our way home.
Our Bichon meets us at the door on hind legs,
paws high fiving air.
She has chewed holes in your new socks.
You untangle a scarlet leaf from my hair
saying, Let’s save this one.

Mugs of coffee in hand we sit watching
the pup chase lightning bugs.
Venison steaks sizzle, dusk darkens to night.
Your hand warm in mine we speak
yet never say a word.
The pup jumps in my lap and we three
watch star-angels come out and play.
I tell you stories of constellations;
you tell me I still have stars in my eyes.
We talk of twenty years past
when we parted under the heavy burden
of new divorces and young children.
Tomorrow the grandkids
will all be playing together.

You head off to work some new wonder with wood
and I to write a poem.
We share ideas as both our projects take shape.
We plan, devise, strategize and measure-
taking ideas apart and reworking them.
Yours a curio cabinet
for a granddaughter’s sixteenth birthday,
mine to be a poem about bliss
that hadn’t come together yet.
Write about today, you say.
I smile.
So simple, really.
It all comes down
to bliss.




No games. No pretense. Just real without any filters. There's a reason that elders were once considered to be the holders of much wisdom and vision. And here, if you know where and how to look are so many stories, just waiting to be told!






Editor's Picks


STATIC
A FRECKLED FACE OF FEAR  (E)
personal fears vs comfy zones vary in each of us when venturing into the unknown
#1250292 by DRSmith


 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1707523 by Not Available.


 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#857330 by Not Available.


 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1221373 by Not Available.


 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1218452 by Not Available.


 The Photograph  (E)
A poem of growing older with the one you love. Please rate and give comments.
#873273 by W.M. Francis


 The Photograph  (E)
A poem of growing older with the one you love. Please rate and give comments.
#873273 by W.M. Francis


 Christmas Present  (E)
short one-shot
#1681173 by Fiona Hassan

 
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Ask & Answer

Fiona Hassan Fyn, you totally expressed my feelings on the subject of friend love!!! I prefer to work with that kind than the usual meaning of romance (nothing against it or anything), actually. lol Oh, and btw, I love your newsletters :)

Thanks!

DRSmith I must have missed your newsie about the "make believe", but no matter...let me share a pertinent little secret with you. One of my first stories (A Freckled Face of Fear) is about "make believe"... about a youngster leaving his tried and true turf to brave entry into a new and intimidating world only to pay a price for his first lesson. The secret? The hidden theme is about me... my "making believe I could write", yet I welled with fear of leaving the biz arena to enter WDC... a new world facing the scrutiny of seasoned literary talents not knowing if I'd be making a fool of myself, of being welcomed, shunned, encouraged, or guided into more proficient at the craft. It's a shakey feeling... perhaps outright terrifying for some. One reason why I think your reference to the "newbie" welcome wagon is so important for those standing on wobbly legs. You're a hell of a raindrop, my friend, Fyn.

Awww, thanks, my fellow raindrop! And see, you are an awesome writer!

Adriana Noir Beautiful and very inspiring, Fyn! *Heart* Friendship is beyond measure and true friends are the rarest, most precious gift of all.

How very, very true!

Mara ♣ McBain Great NL! Adriana Noir and I have that kind of friendship. *Bigsmile* Terror Twins Forever!*Heart*

*grin*


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