I Want to Kiss

In this moment, I will not be taking anything.

Just me, this page, a matcha latte.

I feel the energy moving in my heart space, the center of my chest. My tongue is pressed against the top of my mouth, the tip of my tongue pressed behind the back of my two front teeth.

Energy flowing in my throat, a cooling sensation that is moving upward, dripping onto my tongue, wanting to pour out. I want to kiss. I miss kissing. My favourite pastime.

A lover comes to mind.

No one to kiss in this moment.

How else can I express this love yearning to pour out? What if I never meet someone?

What would I do with this energy and love?

How can I express it and share it other than making love to a woman?

Why would I even contemplate this?

It’s not an either-or; it’s about everything.

The Earth below and the Universe above.

Meeting within the centre of my vessel.

Life Dreams, Wet Dreams

Sometimes, you just need to release the valve, in whatever way works best. I feel better, less erratic. But I know it's not the only reason I was feeling scattered. I’m consuming a lot of information, trying to make sense of the world we're in, and at the same time, I'm sorting through my emotions anticipating the current to come. It's another reason, but not the only one, for pouring media onto my mind.

It’s hard to predict the end of something so far in advance. But I'm grateful for the chance to grieve, and even more grateful for my awareness of what I’m grieving. It’s not easy to say goodbye. When you do, memories of gratitude rush to the surface, and the longing begins—sometimes more painful than the grieving itself. Maybe they’re both steps within a greater process called death.

I'm scared. There’s no other way to put it. One Chanel, the other Gap. One is wet dreams, the other ignites life dreams. I’m drawn to Ms. Gap—madam life dreams. That’s always been my dream: a partner, two kids, a life we build together. But my soul had other plans: healing homework for both the soul and the whole. I was a strange mix of "too nice" and rage, birthed from chaos and conditions both now and passed down from those before me.

I learned from the screen. It was in the room where I shined. If only I could make her emulate the sounds and expressions I absorbed with my ears and eyes. I’m a man of contingencies, always with a backup plan—or maybe a forward plan, depending on the moment. The skills of the tongue. I did well. Sometimes not so well—it depended on the sun and moon, the alignment of the planets out there and in here. I achieved a passing grade, a high C, and maybe even a B+ at times. I guess it depends on the student who came before me.

A grading system that only she controls: the teacher. Once upon a time, she was the wise one in our historical eyes. Today, she is underground, difficult to be found but if you listen, you can still hear her subtle sounds.

Where was I? Ah yes, wet dreams and life dreams. It's not that life dreams can't have the thrill of wet dreams, but if I had to choose, I’d choose the illusory "happily ever after."

I said nothing. The fear of the past tightens inside my heart, holding back the words that yearn to rise up the channel and dew-drop off my tongue.

Feeling scared. Scared of what? Rejection? Possibility? That what you want might actually come true? One dream at a time. Wait why not two dreams at a time?

Rewind.

What stopped you? She was literally in front of you.

Judgment. Judgment of who she was surrounded by, judgment of her likes. Judgments that make no sense, judgments meant to distract and deter you from the truth of that moment. All you wanted was to say hello, to start a conversation. She felt good. She felt calm inside my heart. Maybe she had a man, maybe not. Maybe she was a million things or a million different scenarios, but it didn’t matter because she felt like a potential life dream.

A Moment of Reflection

At the Hart House for an R&B concert.

I feel like I need to be here, but I’m looking for some guidance, something more than just this déjà vu feeling.

What is this?

Is there anything I need to do beyond what I’m already doing in this moment?

Simply be as you are.

I am.

Your heart.

How is your heart in this moment?

Are you happy with your choice to come to this event tonight?

I feel a little emotional when I sense this feeling.

You know the one I’m talking about?

Like I’ve been here before, or that I’m exactly where I need to be?

Is that it? Is that the story for this evening?

Listen to music and go home?

Seems like a small ending to such a big feeling, doesn’t it?

“Beauty of artists is to seek for truth. Each note is a search for truth.”

I can relate.

For me, each word is my way of searching for the truth.

Searching for the truth from within.

It’s 10:45 now. The concert’s over.

I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in a while.

I liked her energy; she naturally embodied the feminine.

Her smile shines as brightly as the ring on her finger.

The kind that lights up every room she enters.

Her Colours

She expresses herself in so many ways, but it’s her non-verbal communication that truly captures me. Her eyes, her smile, and her energy embrace me in such a way that I can’t help but go in for a big hug. She supports me with just a single glance. She’s had my back since day one.

As I write down why I came here—why I spent all this money, travelled thousands of miles to this beautiful land, to stand in a room full of strangers, surrounded by glass walls with views of beauty, trees, sunset, and the sound of birds—I realize there was only one reason. When I wrote it on the large blank white page on the wall, I scribbled as small and faintly as I could, so no one would see, not even me. It wasn’t a conscious choice; I didn’t notice what I’d done until I turned around to look at the other thirty-five people. From halfway across the room, I could read what they wrote, but my own writing? Barely legible.

Costa Rica - Pura Vida Retreat Centre - Goodlife Project Immersion Program 2014

It was a tiny, faint green scribble. I didn’t want any of these strangers to know why I was there. How profound it was to see what my deep internal self had revealed. I’d always felt it, but seeing it written down in this way was like a slap in the face—like someone throwing a bucket of cold water over me. A wake-up call.

I let out a nervous laugh and smiled, the way I always do when I feel uncomfortable. I looked to my left, and there she was, standing beside me, looking up with those big blue eyes, her beautiful head of red curls glowing with perfection, and a beaming smile that said, "I support you. I’ve got you."

That was the moment my journey into the next phase of my life began—a journey where I would finally express my own colours fully and start supporting others the way she supported me.