KT EMMERSON: Wild, Wild Horses… (The Sundays)
It’s a The Sundays kinda day. Let’s indulge…for the sake of better vibrations.
by Kt Emmerson
Dating with breast cancer is a crucible all on its own. But, I guess I’m fully committed now, and why not? Take it or leave it in the most ultimate sense…take me hairless, take me in pain, take me mystical as hell, take me sensitive and easy to tears. Take me racing the lightning for my forever man, who now seems ever-elusive and impossible to find given this new desert hell I’m having to trek through.
Two last-minute date cancellations promptly place the Rubik’s cube of “what exactly do I want?” right there on a crushed velvet pillow before me. In primary color- clarity is my solution…If Wild Wild Horses can drag you away from our date then it’s not worth the last few weeks of a full head of hair to me. Because, so far no one can cherish me the way I do, hold me sweet like I can, and treat me like Cleopatra in all her royal mysticism like queen Katie can, but I’m hopeful anyway. Rule one though, I want to feel like wild horses couldn’t drag you aware from my attention.
And isn’t it just good dating protocol? If we’re just passing the time together, casual like an every 20 minutes metro ride to the city, are we doing any favors for each other on this earthly train? And speaking of favors, maybe I can do men a few by painting a better picture for them what makes women swoon, pause before more swiping, and at least give a glimmer of a clue for a man with more substance and heart and the inner awareness to use those things to the benefit of …well, ME and mankind.
It’s fair play, right. I get dressed for you, make my kids dinner early, secure a babysitter (albeit live in big sister, but still), set my intentions right, and create a welcoming aura. Maybe that’s it, men don’t actually know what a woman does to prepare for a date. It’s quite involved, thoughtful, a gift. I know, I know, girls give a crap dating game, too. But not as much, I’d guess. I recognize a man’s got his responsibilities and prep work to program manage. And, I grant you I’m striving for the ultimate polarity, equal levels of masculine surety, and confidence to my feminine warmth and charm. But really…flaky sucks, cancer or no cancer. But especially with cancer. Just imagine you loaded every weak point in your matrix with 10 times the stress. So making a date happen under these conditions is superhuman work, requires stars aligning, and means she (me) might really be excited about this date. Don’t blow it and be a tosser by flaking.
And isn’t it all just attention, attending, presence, being present? I know I’m not past my frames of the world, my matrix, of norms like Ram Dass would like to see in me. Maybe this little rant will give me astral perspective, karmic disassociation, and lend me comfort in almost manifesting what I want. In any case, I hope I don’t turn into one of those online profile daters with lists of what not to be like in order to play my game. But I just might mention…I do not take kindly to flakiness or anything that feels flaky.
PS…I know, I’m a mirror, follow the tao…flow. I’m trying.
THE SUNDAYS Wild Horses
Band photo via Wiki
Songwriters: Keith Richards, Mick Jagger