So far, so good as far as the PapaII thing goes. Actually, it’s more like so far, so GREAT. It’s just beautiful, and I’m very happy. He asked me to use my talents for him and write him hand written letters. I’ve written two so far, and he’s written me two back.
It’s a bit of a challenge to be the girl, but I’m learning. I think that in missing him so much for so long and in the excitement of finally getting him back, I forgot some of the duty part of the role: pit crew. He is so independent, strong minded, and strong willed that though I did pretty well at being nurturing and caring, I didn’t do so well at not being overly demanding of attention. When I found myself having to remind him that I understood that he might not be able to call very often since I’ve been in the military too, I realized that it was because in some other ways I was not behaving as if I understood. So I have that in check now.
It’s an important thing to be supportive of your man’s occupation and/or mission. I have some of my own, but being female, I think like a Lernaean hydra. I can multitask until I literally run out of energy. At this very moment, I am giving my hands a break from beading an Oya eleke by writing in my blog, and simultaneously composing a poem in my head for two binding scrolls while considering with what essential oils I will anoint the same.
…but mine is physically and mentally light work. No plane is going to fall from the sky because dove doesn’t exactly rhyme with wove. No ship is going to sink because my reading light flickers a little when you turn it on. Nobody’s going to burst into flames because of an accidental extra bead. If I sneeze from smoke while consecrating a talisman, the Orishas are not going to give me a dishonorable discharge. Well, maybe little discharge of mucous, which Eshu would find funny and remind me that for all my lofty ceremonial efforts, I am still just a mortal.
Many men’s work is so far away from that. Lives are on the line. My man’s work is like that, so if I’m going to be in a relationship with someone with that heavy a job to do, I have to help rather than hinder. He has enough stress in his life. So I’m not putting my little wants aside for him, though I’d be happy to if it pleased him. I’m putting them aside because the work he does keeps bombs from falling on my home for another day. On days it doesn’t, then I can be fairly sure the people who launched them will get a few back.
No, it’s not politically correct or peaceful, and yes I understand that politicians and the rich don’t give a crap about us and treat us like pawns in their deadly game. Still, peace will take a very long time to accomplish. Death happens in an instant. I also don’t believe that war happens because of the politicians or how they use soldiers. It happens because deep down, the will of the people of any nation is imperialist. They let the politicians draw them into conflicts because that is what they want. They want to kill their enemies/the other whether or not they are a real threat. This is human nature.
Some people’s nature is not like that, or it’s well enough under control that they can keep a balance, but this is very few people. Most people, like the spectators at human sacrifices of old, like to know that the government is willing to shed blood to preserve their society. It makes them feel secure.
I can’t say I’m either average or a peacenik. I don’t feel secure and never have under any kind of government. I understand very well that security through institutions is an illusion. For me, only love is security. I am grateful to my family and friends for this. It’s “you and me” security. When a group with a supposed “common good” is so large that I don’t really know where everybody in its’ head is at, I no longer feel safe that my good is important. It’s why I have few friends.
If we argue, we can work it out eventually because at some point we knew each other never really wants to hurt the other. If we hurt each other, we know it wasn’t on purpose, so even if it takes awhile for us to find our way back to one another, we do. Love is cool like that…a coolness with one another that conquers just about anything in time because it’s not “common good”. It’s your good and mine. It’s personal.
Hearkening back to a bit older post, it’s kinda freeing to know who was the bitch. I’m not sure if I’d feel that security if I hadn’t come down off my pedestal. It may have been just a rickety stack of palettes held together with duct tape, and straining under my weight, but it was pretty damned high.
So my inner princess has to roll up her dainty little sleeves and keep a nice, comfortable nest. She has to sit quietly or bring snacks while her prince is watching television or at the computer. She has to let him sleep peacefully and long on the weekends. It’s cool.
