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Sábanas frías / Ángel de amor  

You know, I can psychoanalyze, intellectualize, philosophize, all you want. But, in the end, it still comes down to this.

I want to somebody to sing this song to me.

Sábanas frías - Maná

Cómo me duele este frío,
aquí en mi cama.
cómo yo extraño tus besos
en madrugada.

Quisiera dormir amor
sobre tus pechos.
quisiera vivir amor
atado a tus huesos.

Estas sábanas mi amor
están muy frías.
ven a darme tu calor
y arráncame el dolor.


Yo te quiero compartir
toda mi vida.
te comparto mi cuarto mi cama
y todo mi amor.

Vente a vivir conmigo amor
que mi sábana está fría.
Vente a vivir conmigo amor
que mi cama está vacía.
Vente a vivir conmigo amor
hiriendo a mis sentimientos.
Sábanas frías sin su amor

Y te cuidará por siempre
y donde quiera,
te amaré como uno quiere
a su bandera.

Yo te quiero compartir
todo, todo mi amor.
te comparto mi cuarto mi cama
mis besos y todo, todo mi amor.

Vente a vivir conmigo amor.
vente a vivir conmigo amor.

Sábanas frías sin su amor,
que dolor, que dolor.

And I need someone to sing this to me:
Ángel de amor -- Maná

Quién te corté las alas mi ángel
quién te arrancó los sueños hoy.
quién te arrodilló para humillarte
y quién enjauló tu alma, amor.

Déjame curarte, vida
déjame darte todo mi amor.

Ángel, ángel, ángel de amor
no te abandones
no te derrumbes amor

Quién ató tus manos, ató el deseo
quién mató tu risa, mató tu Dios
quién sangró tus labios y tu credo
por qué lo permitiste, ángel de amor

Déjame curarte vida
déjame darte todo mi amor

Ángel, ángel, ángel de amor
no te abandones
no te derrumbes amor

Ángel, ángel, ángel te doy mi amor
abre tus alas
deja tus sueños volar

Ángel, somos arena y mar
no te abandones
no te derrumbes amor

Ángel, ángel, ángel te doy mi amor
abre tus alas
deja tus sueños volar

Ángel de amor
pero mi amor ya nunca te derrumbes
ángel de amor
pero mi amor ya nunca te derrumbes

:: Sarah @ 23:40 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post


Amid my reflections and study on the topics of love, relationships, and truth vs. selfishness, wanting, having, and manipulation, I've wandered into the topic of gnosticism.

This excerpt from an essay on Valentinus struck a chord:
Valentinians believed that God is androgynous and frequently depicted him as a male-female dyad. This is related to the notion that God provides the universe with both form and substance. The feminine aspect of the deity is called Silence, Grace and Thought. Silence is God's primordial state of tranquillity and self-awareness She is also the active creative Thought that makes all subsequent states of being (or "Aeons") substantial. The masculine aspect of God is Depth, also called Ineffable and First Father. Depth is the profoundly incomprehensible, all-encompassing aspect of the deity. He is essentially passive, yet when moved to action by his feminine Thought, he gives the universe form.
"Pienso luego existo"
"I think therefore I am"
or, more precisely: By thinking it, it can become so

But, as I wrote earlier, it takes two for the thought to become existence

It's all fine that my Thought is there -- the feminine aspect that makes existence possible. But, where is the masculine aspect that gives form to the existence of that Thought?

Poor little girl
With her head in the air
There's a poorly sick world all around you

Poor horny boy
One thing on his mind
That poor little girl
He must find you

There's a whole lotta love
Shaking inside of me
And I must figure out why it's there

There's a bottomless heart
That's hooked into all of you
And it's wondering how much you care

Poor little girl
With a whole in her heart
There's a poorly sick world all around you

Poor horny boy
One thing on his mind
That poor little girl
He must find you

There's a whole lotta love
Shaking inside of me
And I must figure out why it's there

There's a bottomless heart
Hooked into all of you
And it's wondering how much you care

Poor little boy
Head in a whirl
There's a phony slick world all around you

That poor little girl
With her head in the air
That poor little boy he must find you

There's a whole lotta love
Shaking inside of me
And I must figure out why it's there

There's a bottomless heart
Hooked into all of you
And it's wondering how much you care

There's a need and desire I have
To express what's inside of me
I must figure it out while it's still there

And an endless amount of
Of a joy that you touch me with
Thought it's almost too much for me to bear

Poor litte girl

:: Sarah @ 15:59 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post

Convince me   ·> more

This is "But what would it take, part 2"

Because, before I can say "yes", I have to be convinced.

And I have to know what will convince me before anyone will be able to do that.

Show me and tell me -- use words, actions, whatever, the method of communication doesn't matter, the specific words and actions don't matter -- only that they are true
  • that you want to be here. not because I might say yes. not because there's an opportunity to get into someone's pants. but because it's me you want to be with

  • that, at least now, you feel love for me. I don't expect promises of forever, but rather that you know, now, today, that you feel love for me

  • that whatever happens, we'll still be friends the next day ... even if we find we aren't supposed to be lovers, aren't supposed to be partners ... that whatever happens, it wasn't a mistake for us to feel awkward and regretful about afterwards

  • that I can feel free ... to tell you what I want without inhibition, without fear that you'll criticize, and to ask you to tell me what you want
Convince me of those things, and I can say yes to someone I love. Convince me that those are not true, and I will say no. But until I'm convinced, I can give no answer

:: Sarah @ 00:38 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post

Yes, No, No Answer  

One of the rules for negotiation between men and women has to do with navigating that "first" encounter ... in the matter of sex:
When a woman says "no", she means "yes"
And when a woman says "yes", she means "right now"
I was a little dismayed to hear that, since I never learned how to play those games, and, to be honest, I don't like playing games in relationships.

I was also puzzled ... if a woman says "no" in order to mean "yes", what about when she really means "no"? What does she say then?

The answer I got was: well, she probably won't answer.

I'm not sure that rule is very widespread in the US any more, though in my youth I think it was more so.

In any case, I can see how I could be misunderstood. Because for me:
yes = yes
no = no
and "no answer" = "convince me"

:: Sarah @ 23:14 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post

Arrive without traveling   ·> more

I had an interesting experience this afternoon.

About 4:30, a feeling came over me -- soothing, calming, warm and enveloping ... I felt it all around me and through me, like someone was visiting me from across the miles.

Later in the early evening, I was driving home and stopped by the Wendy's that's on my way to bring home something for dinner. It was all as usual ... Latinos at the windows, which is nice because so often I find that the Latinos I see in stores will smile and chat in a genuine way and accept my friendliness, whereas Anglos seem like they are barely there.

At the window where you pick up your food, the guy smiled and was nice, but there was a moment at the beginning of the interaction. Sort of a pause, where he looked at me and spoke. I didn't specifically hear his words, but rather I heard words in my head "Hi! You're doing ok?" ... during a moment where time was sort of suspended.

Then the moment passed, and we chatted about my car (a Mini Cooper) and then I drove away as usual.

But, not entirely as usual, because I was filled with this strange experience ... you know how truth can feel? how it's not something expressable in words, but where, deep inside, you know there is some truth?

In that feeling, someone had reached across the miles ... sending their spirit, using that chance interaction at Wendy's as a way to check in, see if I was ok, and let me know that person had thought about me.

:: Sarah @ 23:51 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post

But what would it take?  

Isn't it a pity
Now, isn't it a shame
How we break each other's hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other's love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn't it a pity

Forgetting to give back ... but, even if they do give back, can we recognize what's being given?

What would it take for me to believe that I was being offered love?

There was a time when I thought it was holding hands, kissing, being willing to tell people "this is my girlfriend". But that wasn't really it. Bryan liked to hold hands, but there wasn't love there. And Jorge wasn't good at those kind of outward trappings of affection, yet, I know he felt something. Besides, I was thinking of those outward trappings in an adolescent way.

There was a time when I thought it was sex, which I suppose isn't really a surprise -- lots of girls make that mistake. I mean, when people love each other they make love, right? So, if a guy would have sex with me, then he loved me, right? Or, if not at first, if I got him to have sex with me, then he would love me afterwards, right?

ha. As we know ... WRONG and WRONG.

Flowers? Could be... I got those once and I was impressed, but nothing came of the relationship.

The words .... "I love you" ... the holy grail! You know, none of the boyfriends, not even the two partners, ever said those words to me. Even more, I've found that when it's someone you're not interested in, and who knows you're not interested, yet he keeps saying "te amo, te amo, te amo", a tiredness seeps into your being. How strange to find that the holy grail can be empty.

Yet, when a friend says "te quiero mucho amiga, cuļæ½date" it feels like that holy grail, even though it's filled with something else.

I haven't seen the movie, but I've been told that the one valuable thing in Superman 2 was the advice: if you want a girl to fall in love with you, try poetry.

Could be ... But my response was: how do you tell if it's poetry that you should fall in love to? And not just poetry that the guy is sharing with you? His answer: "Pienso luego existo" ... think it and it will be.

Could be ... in fact, I do believe that our thoughts bring things into being

Yet ... it takes two people to be thinking the same thing into being ... doesn't it?

When I was with Jorge, I didn't think he really loved me. Toward the end, during the last few years of our relationship, I accepted that he had become accustomed to me, and even believed him during that summer in La Paz in 1987 when he remarked on how close and comfortable we were together, that he felt like we were already married.

But, living in Bolivia would have been too hard for me -- the politics, the ramifications for him of being with a white woman from the US (and it wasn't theory -- he'd seen what happened with his brother and his wife from the US). I came back to the States, and the next spring I told him I couldn't do it anymore. We had been apart since August 1985 by then, seeing each other when I would visit him, spending the summers of 1986 and 1987 with him, writing letters (no email, no MSN, in those days). But I'd lost hope ... I couldn't go month to month anymore, waiting to phone, writing letters, waiting for letters.

We still stayed in touch. I received letters until 1992. He contacted me in 1994 when his daughter was born, and again in 1997 when his son was born.

I kept all of the letters, in a box, which I didn't review although I looked in the box from time to time.

Two years ago I decided it was time, and I got the box out and collected all of the letters. Arranged them in order from oldest to newest. And started reading.

By the time I got to the letters he wrote after he returned to Bolivia in August 1986 through to the end, I knew, for the first time, how much he had loved me.

But I hadn't seen it then!

It's true, he never said it. He never really did anything that I can remember to demonstrate how he felt.

Or... maybe it was me, me who was unable to see it ...

And now, trying to say what it would take for me to believe ... I find I don't know what it is ... something to do with actions (but, not the vacuuous actions I've experienced before), something to do with words (but, not words empty of meaning)

I hope it's only true that I can't define it because there is no one who is trying to convince me that he loves me.

(or, is there, and I just can't see that it's happening?)

:: Sarah @ 22:27 [CT] :: permalink :: 1 comments :: links to this post

Las Trampas del Amor  

La trampa del amor by Los Kjarkas

Gonzalo Hermosa

Siempre he buscado en la vida
un amor muy diferente
que comience en cualquier día
y se acabe con la muerte

El amor es una trampa
como la flor de retama
no para con sus promesas
hasta llevarte a su cama

No des vueltas al asunto
escucha mejor amigo
es mejor andar soltero
que casado y sin dinero

El amor había juntado
al lobo con las ovejas
se comío a las jovencitas
despreciando a las mas viejas

El amor que había buscado
quien diría que mi suerte
me ha dejado mal parado
solo triste y desolado

But I'm going to talk about tricks of love of a different sort.

They say when you love someone, you'll give them anything. But that is not always true.

Sometimes, giving is a trick, a device by which you strive to ensure that love will be given to you for you to take. I know, because I used to do that.

When Bryan and I were breaking up, I was ... shocked, dismayed when I learned that he'd said that he believed I'd never loved him, that I wasn't capable of loving him. How could he say that, I thought! After all I'd done! All I'd put up with! His moods, all my walking on eggshells in an attempt to avoid saying something wrong (I couldn't even offer to help with carrying a large heavy object, or it would be taken as an accusation of his inadequacy). All the ways I'd submerged aspects of my personality in an attempt to be who he wanted. Ignoring the gun that I'd seen under the passenger seat of his car. Bailing him out of jail, for christ's sake.

After he left, I cried for 2 months. But even in my tears, I realized that I wasn't crying for the loss of Bryan... I was crying for the loss of the possibility of receiving love.

And I can see now that he was right. I did not love him. Even, maybe at that time, I was not capable of loving him. Maybe not anyone.

I can see now that my goal then was not to love someone, but to have someone give me love.

As a result, I couldn't see that my own giving was not appropriate ... love is not a barter system by which you can exact a pound of affection in return for a pound of loyalty.

But also, in that time, I was unable to see that in the name of that pound of loyalty, I was also sacrificing whole masses of myself. Not until it was all over, did I realize that I no longer could answer the questions: Who am I? What pleases *me*? What do I want? What will fulfil my destiny? What *is* my destiny?

Then I met my friend David, and as our friendship grew, I found myself sharing and giving, and after a while, I realized that I was not doing those things with thoughts of "what's in this for me?" In fact, as events in his life progressed, I found that the advice and support I gave could easily be to my "detriment" ... that is, if my thought was "what's in this for me?" then I could not have given it.

What does one do in that situation? Casting it in terms of "what's in this for me", oddly (for me, given my history), never rose to my mind. The only question was, what is the right thing to do? What can help a good person through difficult times? What can help a good person find his own happiness?

All this even went to its logical conclusion, and, sort of to my surprise, I realized that I could do the right thing ... I could do what it took to show my honor and respect and love for this person. Sure, it hurt, a LOT, but the hurt was different this time.

And, as it turned out, the friendship did not have to be sacrificed.

Nevertheless, I found out that I could have done it. If necessary.

I won't pretend that I'm not much happier that it did not have to be sacrificed. But I could have.

But, more than this, I have realized, again, as I have known in other situations, things are not always what they seem. Someone can give ... even give a lot ... but it is not always giving out of love.

Given with no thought of getting something back. That's the trick of (false) love: tricking someone into loving you by giving them something... by tricking them into a position where they give you what you want.

The other kind of trick is being able to tell the difference between being given real love and being tricked into a position of giving someone what they want.

I'm not sure yet if I'd be able to tell the difference. But I'm pretty sure it comes down to honesty.

:: Sarah @ 23:56 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post

This is Love   ·> more

Little things that will change you forever
May appear from way out of the blue
Making fools of ev'rybody who don't understand
There is one thing I've been searching for, and that is love. I know where this desire comes from, that I have. Sure, we are social beings. We need to feel human touch, we need to know that there is someone beside us. And those are certainly part of why I have searched. Yet the real reason is that, ever since just before my 7th birthday, I have been searching for the love that I lost when my father died.

My poor Mom ... I know she loved me, and would still if such coherent thoughts were still within her capabilities. But there was nothing in all of her life to teach her how to show love. It was my Dad who showered me with attention, who taught me how to spell my complete name and address in case I got lost, who taught me how to spell Mississippi (we lived 2 blocks from the Mississippi River).

My Mom would sing to me when I was falling asleep ("By baby bunting, daddy's gone a-hunting, to get a little rabbit skin to wrap the baby bunting in" -- I remember her singing that when my dad had taken our dog to go pheasant hunting, and I imagined that it was *my* dad who had gone hunting only to bring me back a treasure).

And it was because of my Mom that I already knew how to read when I started Kindergarten just weeks after my 5th birthday, in an era when learning how to read was considered to be a 1st grade activity. ... Well, my Mom doesn't take credit for that. She read to me every day, but she has always said that it was me that made her use her finger to follow the words on the page, which she attributes to my learning to read faster.

But, it was my Dad who showed me affection. That joyous, spontaneous affection that just is there, so that you hardly notice it -- it's just in the air, enveloping you like a soft warm blanket.

I remember it as being January of 1963 ... I don't really know the date, but I remember it as being dark, cold, winter, but after Christmas. I even seem to remember bits of the occasion: standing in the hallway, looking toward the kitchen, my Mom standing in the kitchen, my Dad sitting at the table.

"Chronic leukemia" they called it. I don't remember any of what they told me other than that. I was 6 1/2 years old ... of course I had no idea what chronic leukemia was, but I knew from that moment it was bad.

Over the next 6 months, I engaged in my first exercise of waiting for someone I loved to leave me ... waiting for a man, who I depended on to give me love, to leave me.

I was a smart girl. I learned how to do that too well.

I grew up. The boyfriends were few and far between, although I almost always had a crush on somebody. The boyfriends I did have always seemed just out of my reach, never interested in commitment. Even the significant relationships, the long term ones (if 7 years and 6 1/2 years are called long term), had that distance. Even the significant one that I still treasure, who I believe did love me in some way -- he never said "I love you Sarah. I want you to be with me. Please don't go."

Then, August of 2004 happened. It felt like an important time, and, in fact, I'd felt rumblings of the importance during the few months previous to August, but I didn't know why. A clue came when I took a trip home and visited my father's grave. I'd been there a couple of times before over the past couple of decades, but not like this -- I re-experienced with full sensory memory the time of my father's death. And as I was crying, I realized that, for the first time in 41 years, I was actually, finally, starting to truly release the grief ... the grief which, as a child, no one taught me to release ... and so, grief that I'd carried, packed safely away in a little box all those years.

Part of why I traveled to Clinton from Maquoketa on that trip was to take photos to share with the new friend I'd met. It wasn't *because* of him that I had that experience, which would open the door for the lessons I would learn over the next months, but he has undeniably played a part.

... little things that will change you forever ...

See, because my father died and left me, I've been looking for love ever since ... to replace that love I lost from my father. Then the replacing of that love got confused with the love people are supposed to have in the context of a couple, which gets confused with sex, and it all gets confounded by the fact that men and women are supposed to get married.

And ... growing up with my mother, who had no one to ever teach her about love. With a grandmother who was responsible for my mother's sad state. Without other relatives. Without somebody to sit me down and help me think clearly about what I was doing and what the results could be ...

I didn't understand that *having* someone is not the same as love. I wasn't able to see the little signs that would indicate that someone did love me.

I never even thought to tell myself "you deserve a man who loves you".... I'd just take whoever showed interest, and if I liked him ok, I'd hope and "try" to make it work.

But in that lack of self-confidence, I would get jealous. I was also imaginative, and so I'd think of all the terrible things that could happen ... think about them and worry, until finally they came true.

And then, when things did happen, it would be me who would beg to be taken back ... I never thought I could demand that he "do right" by me ... as though, it were not my right to ask such a thing.

I spent my time in those relationships waiting for them to leave ... I learned too well in 1963, that if you love a man so much, that he will leave you. I waited and expected, until finally it came true (be careful what you wish for).

And so, these other men left me too.

Those are the mistakes of thoughts and actions.

But, underneath all of that, the real problem was that I had no idea what love really is.

All I had learned was how to take love, and how to feel pain when the love is no longer there for you to take.

From David I have learned that that is not love -- it's selfishness. I've learned what real love is. He didn't try to teach me that. But it was from our friendship that I learned it.

I don't even really know quite why it was him ... well, yes I do. I like people, but, to be honest, most people are kind of boring. The reason I don't have a lot of friends -- real, close, friends -- is that I sense so keenly the distance between me and most people. Different interests, different priorities, such different ways of seeing things it's like we aren't even living in the same worlds.

But David ... sheesh ... were we separated at birth? Once before I felt that kind of kinship with another person, and that was with Jorge. Maybe we all lived previous lives together ... who knows ... (if you go in for that kind of fun speculative thinking)

But, not only was there that feeling of kinship, there were the similarities between the two of them ... interests, sense of humor, taste in music, intelligence, way of seeing the world ... as though the same spirit runs through the two of them.

And that spirit emerges into the physical world ... shook me up, a couple of photos that so much could have been Jorge ... looked like him, and even more, there was a style, an attitude that the two shared ... culminating in one evening in a shop, looking across the distance in the store and seeing David trying on a baseball cap ... the similarity was so striking it brought tears to my eyes.

Let me be clear ... Jorge might have been the love of my life (or the love of my life, so far), while David is my friend. But it's from David's friendship that I've learned what love really is.
  • I learned about trust, where you realize that you will be accepted and not criticized.

  • And then I learned about honesty. It's easy to be honest when you can trust that you'll be accepted and not criticized.

  • And then I learned more about honesty ... it's not just telling the truth to someone, it's also actions. Was there something that I would be ashamed to admit doing, because I knew it was not the best action? And if I did it anyway, would I want to lie about doing it? If so, then I should not do it.

  • I learned about acceptance. That to try to change someone shows that you do not love them. A person consists of all the pieces of themselves, their life, and their experiences, past and present. You have to accept all those little pieces, because the totality of them is the person you say you love.

  • I learned that acceptance also means sometimes you have to let people go. And you always have to be ready to let them go. If you accept all the pieces of their past and present, you have to be willing to let them go out and collect more pieces .. even if it's without you.

  • I don't know how I learned it, but I realized that love is not something you can ask for. If it's there, it's in the air ... for you to breathe in and enjoy and be nourished. If it's not there, it can be tempting to ask for it, but what you get is not love, but some imitation. You might imagine for a moment that it's sweet and satisfying, but the aftertaste is bitter.

  • And most importantly, I learned that people don't always go away. It took me two times to learn that (August and April), or maybe the first one was just a little preview for the one that I would be able to learn from.
The lessons aren't over. I still have to learn to be happy in my solitude. I have to stop thinking that it's ironic that, now that I think that I really know what I need to know to share in a real relationship with a man who loves me, it is possible that now there will never be anyone.

I have to learn to neither hope nor expect that person, but also to continue to believe that he might appear.

... to appear from way out of the blue.

:: Sarah @ 00:58 [CT] :: permalink :: 2 comments :: links to this post

Three Things  

Got this from here, which came from here, which came from ... well, you can trace it back.

  • 3 names I go by: Sarah, Sarita, and Sue (but only by people who've forgotten my name)

  • 3 screen names I've had: sajones, [one I won't disclose], and [another I won't disclose]

  • 3 physical things I like about myself: my hair, my eyes, my risa explosiva

  • 3 parts of my heritage: Welsh, English, German

  • 3 things I am wearing right now: tshirt, sweatpants, my birthday suit

  • 3 favorite bands/musical artists: The Beatles, George Harrison, Los Kjarkas

  • 3 favorite songs: Poor Little Girl, If I Fell, Tiempo al Tiempo

  • 3 things I want in a relationship: trust/honesty/love (that's one, because they are intertwined), synchronicity, well-placed irreverence

  • 3 physical things about the preferred sex that appeal to me: the side of the neck (between Adam's apple and below the earlobe), eyes, the way his lips move while he speaks

  • 3 favorite hobbies: listening to music, watching movies, surfing for cool gadgets

  • 3 Things I want to do badly right now: cuddle with someone, cuddle with someone, cuddle with someone

  • 3 things that scare me: treatment for breast cancer, being a failure at something, being subjected to violence

  • 3 of my everyday essentials: my Treo, my computer, a cup of coffee

  • 3 Careers you have considered or are considering: a social worker (thank God I didn't become one), a linguistics professor (thank God I didn't become one), a librarian web developer (thank God I was able to become one)

  • 3 places you want to go on vacation: San Francisco, Cuidad de México, anywhere with good company

  • 3 kids' names you like: David, Michael, Megan

  • 3 things you want to do before you die: live outside the US, be able to communicate in Spanish, have one more partner - this time, a good relationship, with someone I love and who loves me

  • 3 ways I am stereotypically a boy: [don't know]

  • 3 ways I am stereotypically a girl: [don't know]

  • 3 celeb crushes: [taking the fifth]

:: Sarah @ 23:35 [CT] :: permalink :: 0 comments :: links to this post