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By RedPlasticRoses Date: 2005 Apr 26 Comment on this Work [[2005.04.26.02.02.1987]] |
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Pomegranates Do you remember much about your early teen years? Specifically, I am asking, do you remember much about observing adults in love during this time of your life? I was always very mature for my age, the oldest girl, I had adult responsibilities before most of my friends and I often preferred the company of older adults. I grew up a cradle Catholic in a home where sex was never mentioned, except that one suddenly became "pg" when God decided it was time to have a baby. And "good girls" wait until they are married. I suppose there is a turning point where one decides to "wait" or to explore. I remember the night that I decided waiting was not good......... and perhaps it was the greatest joy on earth that was being touted as "bad'? My best friend and I had "borrowed" a few books from her mother's under-the-bed stash and decided we would not wait - we feared, as those books confirmed, that waiting makes one a cold, frigid woman and the women in the novels were insatiable. We used to glean those books finding the "good parts" then trying to figure out what a woman in the middle, between "good" and "bad" would be like and if that was even possible. Sex was very mysterious and love even more so. My best friends had older sisters, some graduating from high school and some in college. We watched and observed them......... but they were not the ones who left a lasting impression on me. August 1969 - age 15 I spent two weeks on a family vacation with my best friend accompanying me. My family rented a cabin on the beach of Lake Huron, nothing fancy, actually it was gross but it was our home for those two weeks, while we visited both sets of my grandparents who lived in that small village. My best friend and I had the run of the town...a sleepy little village of three downtown blocks, where everyone already knew us, they remembered my parents and claimed I looked exactly like my father, so we knew, no matter what, we were being watched. We were still "good girls" and would be for years before we discovered "it",but we were beginning to realize love was more than romance novels and already we were observing adults in love who were looking for substance. It was the summer of love, the weekend of Woodstock- three days of peace, love, and music amidst the horrors of the Vietnam War - two years after the horrible summer of race riots. It was a summer consumed in an enthusiastic search of eros - one sultry summer night remains etched on my soul. I was much too young and innocent to really appreciate the richness of that particular evening but nonetheless, it made an impression on me, one that has shaken me many times during the middle of the night over the years...... perhaps that evening was a glimpse into my future. The older I became the more I understood that night, the more I lived it, the more it consumed me, to the point I am not sure where it ended and I began. Now, I live those memories in my dreams and in my heart. As we walked back from the beach after sun down, one cabin was lit only by candles - lots of candles. It was well decorated, artsy - Johnny Mathis was playing on her small box phonograph, the type I had as a child. Her door was open and she called to us as we walked bye. I loved Johnny Mathis, my friend's much older sister, a homecoming queen, used to listen to him while she was primping for her dates and he reminded me of her. "Hello girls, how was the water? What a great night for a swim! No boys on the beach tonight?" We thought, perhaps she knew where to find the boys and stopped to talk to her. "Come in, don't worry about the sand, just come in and tell me how your week is going. I used to summer here at your age and always found the boys of summer." We went in to talk to her, trying to find out where the boys were. She offered us fresh squeezed lemonade and a seat at the table. To her left was an easel with some paint smeared on a large canvas. "This is where I lost my inspiration, this is a sign of other things in your life rising to the top for attention, much like the crème does. You are too young to understand this concept but someday you might...... someday you may think of me telling you this.......telling you that when the "crème rises to the top", there are lessons there, you notice it... you need to stop what you are doing and tend to it.....until you do, it will smother you and you will accomplish nothing." We both looked at each other, wondering if she was drunk or if she was just an aging hippy or just wise beyond her years. At any rate, we liked her, she saw a value in us and we enjoyed her uniqueness. "I have no children, no lover, I never married. I came close once" she said as she looked out over the lake, like a widow searching for her husband to return from sea. "When I say close, I mean I should have taken inventory of what I had in that man, I should have changed my life to be with him, to put us first... but I was just too feisty, too self-absorbed, don't make that mistake... don't think you will find a second gem. I tell you, if I had my life to live over again, it would be so different." She was warm and generous of spirit and had eyes that looked into our souls as she spoke. By most standards, she was not a beautiful woman but she had a radiant beauty about her, wrapped in her reverence for life and love. In her eyes, for the first time, I saw a wounded soul and even at my young age, I understood it. Perhaps that is why I know that look when I encounter it. She was a teacher who spent her summers at the lake, in the same cabin she once shared with him, the man in many of the photos around her cabin. Her cabin, while just as old, was not as gross, it was filled with art, photos of them, music, plants, sea shells, jars of sand with the date written on driftwood stuffed inside the jar and art supplies, lots of art supplies. She was larger than life and a fairy godmother of sorts....... I felt our paths were meant to cross. The spiritual side of her intrigued us... She no longer attended mass and was not struck down by God, the way we feared we would be punished. She was the one who convinced me that people could be spiritual - good, kind, decent, loving people without ever walking into a church and live a good life, one that touches the hearts of others. It was that summer that I stopped attending church and labeled myself "spiritual" - in search of something more, something I always thought must exist..... something more appealing than organized religion. She gave us books to read...with the promise we would pass them on...... not hoard them. "Life is all about sharing, you need to realize that the universe is abundant, share your gifts and they will return to you". This woman oozed love of her fellow man......... we both felt it and were mesmerized by her, her goodness and the sorrow that lived inside of her. She was past her prime Back then I'd guess she was "old" mid-forties, perhaps older She sat on the opposite side of the table sipping her white wine nibbling on cheese fondling a pomegranate with both hands ever so gently as if it were part of her lover's body That intrigued me. As she spoke to us ever so softly she would pause lift it to her nose Inhale the scent deeply slowly with her eyes shut then slowly open them gazing at the beautiful fruit out of season "Do you know what this is?" she asked, her eyes soft with tears I shook my head I had no idea the fullness of the fruit the color the crown all appealed to me it was unusual and lovely unique She softly continued "this is the symbol of love this is what Eve couldn't resist nor could Adam it wasn't a damn apple it was this this beautiful pomegranate it truly is the fruit of lovers Again, she lifted it to her nose inhaled deeply closed her eyes kissed it ever so gently licking it now and then I swear she was kissing her lover's most private parts I felt I should leave on her phonograph Johnny Mathis was singing The Twelfth of Never she pressed her finger to her lips "Listen to the words..." "You ask me how much I need you, must I explain? I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true Until the Twelfth of Never, I'll still be loving you Hold me close, never let me go Hold me close, melt my heart like April snow I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time Until the Twelfth of Never and that's a long, long time" As the song ended she opened her eyes tears were streaming down her cheeks and then ours too she apologized for crying "those words always get to me... they speak to me telling me that the right love is worth waiting for even if you wait forever". we were speechless her soul was obviously wounded by 'him' the man in the photos "I spent my summers here waiting for him to walk in the door waiting for a second chance at love." You must have really loved him Yes, I did but I've come to realize it was with him that I had my first taste of love, he is not the one I long for he is not the one who makes the cream rise to the top of my day he is not the one who consumes my thoughts She tells us she longs for her soul mate the one who knows her inside and out and loving accepts her unconditionally as she accepts him. the one who holds her hand as they walk into the future hand in hand heart to heart their souls intermingled radiating joy and love Does one really exist? I ask quietly She returns to her gaze to us Oh yes, your soul mate exists they're not like leprechauns or the tooth fairy Spirit provides them when we are pure of heart Do you understand? I was listening intently Memorizing her every word He won't just appear you have to prepare yourself and your heart to love unconditionally to make the time to cherish that love or you will lose it forever without a second chance Do you understand? I am not sure if she is crazy but I know I am listening hanging on her every word the longing in her eyes the pureness in her heart as she speaks of her soul mate makes me long for mine How will you know him when you see him, I ask She grabs my hand with both of hers and looks into my eyes listen to me understand this she sighs and closes her eyes....... you will know you will feel him long before you see him You will just know you will know he exists you will know he is the answer to your longing your search your sleepless nights your chest splits open exposing your heart for the first time in your life you have no fear you know, really know it is safe from harm it is wrapped in love your longing, your prayers will be answered You are young but you should know all of us meet lovers on our path through life who may be disguised as "the one" or are just plain wrong for us they are lessons without those heartaches we would not appreciate our gem our gift she continues I will wait Until the Twelfth of Never for my soul mate to appear I feel him In my dreams I see him he is bringing me the fruit of lovers the pomegranate She stops talking lovingly she again fondles the pomegranate as if rubbing it would make her soul mate appear Have you ever tasted one? We shake our heads then you shall you shall taste the fruit of love she sliced it open delicately as she prepared it she continued talking pomegranates are mentioned in the Song of Solomon the most erotic offering of the bible singing the joy of a strong sexual relationship some cultures buried their dead surrounded with pomegranates To me, they are the fruit To be given and shared with a soul mate the juice, like true love leaves a lasting mark She hands each of us a quarter of the pomegranate Enjoy she says as she watches our eyes sticky juice is oozing over my fingers the sweet fragrance makes my mouth water the flesh is beautiful but loaded with seeds I stop to pick out the seeds she touches my hand and stops me Oh no, this is the fruit of lovers you eat the seeds they are the real offering of the fruit in silence we consume the seeds slowly one by one as she instructs us to close our eyes feel the gelatinous coating on the slippery seed then bite through it letting its flavor spill onto our tongues as we savor the unique taste of love She smiles at me someday you will remember this day and fully understand but for now promise me you will never consume another pomegranate until you find "the one" your soul mate Now you have tasted the fruit of love long for the taste as you long for him surround yourself with pomegranates as a symbol of your longing your need your desire hold them inhale deeply ask Spirit to bring him to you in your dreams so you may feel his presence before you see his face when he arrives bearing a pomegranate you will savor the fruit and juice of love together I promise you your longing will be worth the wait That was many years ago.... Over the years I came to understand the yearning that consumes me from time to time......... as my " cream rises to the top"... I too have had days where I was just worthless......... searching, longing ...my soul smoldering, unable to concentrate, knowing that nothing is more important than finding my soul mate. Like her, these moods block my creativity, my energy and consume my nights. So often, in my longing, I have thought of her words, her kindness, her sage advice, and wondered if she ever tasted another pomegranate or if I will ever have another taste of the fruit of love. |