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	<title>the muse &#8211; Saturday Soul with Sandy Hibbard</title>
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	<description>Laughter, Dreams, Love, Desire</description>
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		<title>New Musings on Love</title>
		<link>https://saturdaysoul.com/new-musings-on-love/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sandy Hibbard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 20 Nov 2015 13:39:15 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[The Muse]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[falling in love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the muse]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[New Musings on Love When it comes, I feel completely distracted.  Getting me to focus on the things that matter<span class="excerpt-hellip"> […]</span>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="https://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg"><img data-recalc-dims="1" fetchpriority="high" decoding="async" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1649" src="https://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=788%2C513" alt="musingonLove" width="788" height="513" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?w=1600&amp;ssl=1 1600w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=300%2C195&amp;ssl=1 300w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=768%2C500&amp;ssl=1 768w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=1024%2C667&amp;ssl=1 1024w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=224%2C146&amp;ssl=1 224w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=50%2C33&amp;ssl=1 50w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/musingonlove.jpg?resize=115%2C75&amp;ssl=1 115w" sizes="(max-width:767px) 480px, (max-width:788px) 100vw, 788px" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><b>New Musings on Love</b></p>
<p>When it comes, I feel completely distracted.  Getting me to focus on the things that matter is like pulling skin off my bones.  Funny how unpredictably these moments are, when the muse, my passions, utterly consume me.  What is that?  Why?  It comes upon me like an obsession, like a brain drug I have quietly become addicted to. Love. The feeling spawned by desire of your heart racing and your tummy flittering that literally takes your breath away. THAT feeling that gives you butterflies, and takes over your thoughts to the point of physical and mental anguish.  Only you are aware of the terror that comes along with it &#8211; you cry tears just to release the feelings, daydream instead of sleeping just so you can create a world to play in, you feel more stress and pressure in your heart than if you were getting ready for a major performance.  Anticipating the next move, you fantasize about the next meeting, or how you will EVER meet&#8230; again.  You reel from one extreme to the other &#8211; full of the most magical energy and then you wane, curling up like a baby &#8211; secure only in the touch of your own raw skin.  It’s that thing that happens EVERY TIME &#8211; at first &#8211; then quickly dashes away into a game of hide and seek.  So weird.<br />
That intense passion is my muse. It is what fuels the artistic side of me and inspires the words I write. It is sometimes all consuming. It is sometimes totally absent. It makes me think hard, and occasionally (yes), realistically, about the psychological state I am in. And interestingly, when I am in the right place, my muse can fuel me to move forward aggressively in my creative tasks with confidence, joy and excitement.<br />
The muse comes ofttimes to torment me of the love that I desire and think will complete me, and that I fear will never come.  (I define that love, you define that love, from our own hearts, needs, and our past experiences.) Although my intelligence knows this kind of love does not really define me, my emotions believe they do and will intently move toward it like a starved lion to its prey. Love will violently rip through and take over my thoughts &#8211; cutting straight through the bullshit of logic, expectations, and the images in my mind that I have succumbed to (and perhaps for what I have habitually believed was the truth) and challenge them &#8211; and for that I am most grateful.<br />
My best friend and poet soulmate said it to me this way:</p>
<blockquote><p>“<i>I think the most fragile relationship we have is with our muse, even though it is strong and always there, we let ourselves get in the way of it. Knowing my  muse is there often sustains me when nothing else does, because it is the keeper of the keys to all that is spiritual and alive. The muse is what gives us art and art is the only way to capture the muse in a weird symbiotic twist.  Love springs from the muse as well, I don&#8217;t know exactly what the muse is but I think it is that third eye to other dimensions and because we are victims of gravity and reality, it is sometimes difficult to hear it as well.</i>”</p></blockquote>
<p>People can “fall in love” with a new job, a fresh little baby, big house, beautiful man, a gorgeous woman, or an adorable pet.  We may love and live with many people during our lives.  Some will live contently with the love of their life &#8211; and it can all be good &#8211; it can be magical.  They will have fun, navigate long and successful relationships, overcome painful obstacles, grow and be happy.  But for so many, relationships fail in providing what is needed and can leave you in total emptiness and un-fulfillment. Enter the muse.  Out of the blue and unexpectedly you are filled with an insatiable desire that seems can only be filled by someone or something that cannot be possessed. “It” speaks to your passion, awakes the emotions, and seems to alone understand your heart.  You simply have to say something.  You must take action! You will wait on a dangerous ledge 100 feet in the air for the next move, anticipating with displaced joy what will happen next. You will long with every fiber of your being to feel that rush of feeling one more time that validates your desires, and fills that longing.  What magic!  A love that will feed your passions and satiate your desires &#8211; this is the love and companionship we all dream about.<br />
Sometimes the muse comes and delivers within us a powerful embodiment of love. I don&#8217;t understand it, but I have experienced it.  I have learned and accepted that I am a being filled with joy and light and an abundance of passions, overflowing with desires for love and life. Sometimes I am so filled up with <i>joie de vivre</i> that it wells up onto my nerves and skin so that I can physically feel it. It is too powerful to keep to myself and painful if I must.  I am compelled to spill it out and enter into a love-dialog &#8211; relinquish it, if you will &#8211; to that special person who has enveloped me with their understanding, someone who I have truly connected to. We long for someone who can flow with us along this journey of living, who is compatible with our nature, so much so that when we are satiated, that abundance naturally flows from us into that ONE and then eventually returns back to us &#8211; gift to gift.   I think we MUST have that receptacle &#8211; a two way connection &#8211; any other way returns us to loneliness.  Maybe this is how some people sustain a life-long love partnership &#8211; they have learned to provide a natural outlet for the springs of their partner’s passions and affections to flow into, and out of.  They have accepted the mystery of love and the struggle of unhappiness life brings and have agreed to navigate it together.<br />
In the world of loving and pursuing love, when we allow ourselves to act out on or honestly acknowledge our passions, I wonder if sometimes it can blur the lines between what we NEED and what we WANT, what we DESIRE and what we KNOW could lead to our destruction &#8211; or our joy. Acting on our desire is powerful.  POWERFUL. You can’t always call it love though. Many times it is merely lust and a need for our own personal validation or instant gratification, often times it is selfish, but sometimes it is the tender fulfillment of exactly what we have longed for.  It is good.  It is beautiful and fulfilling.  I believe that being aware, understanding our true feelings, and living in the moment is how we divide the truth correctly in our hearts and minds to know what is right for us. I believe that you can have a meeting of the hearts in this way &#8211; I know you can. But it doesn’t always mean it will stay.  And it doesn’t mean that it won’t break your heart.</p>
<blockquote><p>“<i>You love who you love.  You can’t make yourself stop </i><i>dreaming who you’re dreaming of</i>.”</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">~ John Meyer</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The muse can teach us.  The muse will give each of us a good case for acting compulsively (not so safely) when you feel that connection and that nervous feeling  for someone.  It can humiliate you, embarrass you, bring shame or pride, it can bring you unfathomable pain or indescribable joy.<br />
It is an understatement to say how important it is to understand what I need in a relationship, not just what I can give, but what I truly need to complete who I am.   Ahhh Love, it comes in many forms, and in many ways.  It is a miracle. I only hope I can be aware enough to recognize it when it arrives. We meet hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of people in our lifetime, yet we truly connect with only a few &#8211; maybe we are lucky enough to honestly connect to that ONE.  So when you feel it, act on it, tell them &#8211; see where it goes, or don’t &#8211; but see to it quickly because the muse won’t stay long.<br />
Love and peace&#8230;<br />
<a href="https://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/sandysignature.png"><img data-recalc-dims="1" decoding="async" class="alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-1499" src="https://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/sandysignature.png?w=150&#038;resize=150%2C120" alt="sandy hibbard at #saturdaysoul" width="150" height="120" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sandysignature.png?w=306&amp;ssl=1 306w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sandysignature.png?resize=300%2C239&amp;ssl=1 300w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sandysignature.png?resize=183%2C146&amp;ssl=1 183w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sandysignature.png?resize=50%2C40&amp;ssl=1 50w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/sandysignature.png?resize=94%2C75&amp;ssl=1 94w" sizes="(max-width:767px) 150px, 150px" /></a></p>
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		<post-id xmlns="com-wordpress:feed-additions:1">1645</post-id>	</item>
		<item>
		<title>That Tingle &#8211; There it is Again</title>
		<link>https://saturdaysoul.com/that-tingle-there-it-is-again/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Sandy Hibbard]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 04 Mar 2014 08:14:20 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Soul Rhythm]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[business travel]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[flying]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[leg jitters]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[small planes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[soul rhythm]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[the muse]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing on a plane]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://saturdaysoul.wordpress.com/?p=1281</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[I was recently on a plane heading to San Francisco to attend a business event.  On the flight I was<span class="excerpt-hellip"> […]</span>]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><a href="http://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg"><img data-recalc-dims="1" decoding="async" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1285" alt="that tingle saturdaysoul 3-4-14" src="http://saturdaysoul.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=388%2C444" width="388" height="444" srcset="https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?w=1047&amp;ssl=1 1047w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=262%2C300&amp;ssl=1 262w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=768%2C880&amp;ssl=1 768w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=893%2C1024&amp;ssl=1 893w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=127%2C146&amp;ssl=1 127w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=44%2C50&amp;ssl=1 44w, https://i0.wp.com/saturdaysoul.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/thattingle3-4-14mepenn.jpg?resize=65%2C75&amp;ssl=1 65w" sizes="(max-width:767px) 388px, 388px" /></a><br />
I was recently on a plane heading to San Francisco to attend a business event.  On the flight I was just uncomfortable.  I felt physically exhausted, anxious, and a bit squished into my seat.  My legs were jittery and nervous and I needed to move, so after the plane gets up in the air, I took a brief walk up to the restroom.  Settling back into my seat, I decide to turn on some music to take my mind off my jitters.  &#8220;Maybe I could write&#8221;, I thought, I felt the muse pushing me (which is not uncommon when I fly).  I could hear my blood running through my veins and the heaviness of tangly nerves laying on top of my muscles, squeezing, moving, and tingling without a thought.  &#8220;Ok, I will write about that, about how my legs were feeling, and the rest of my body, I&#8217;ll direct some energy there instead.&#8221;   I clicked the little white button on my ear buds and the muse brought me the rhythmic and entrancing music of Anoushka Shankar&#8217;s &#8220;<a title="Anoushka Shankar Buleria con Ricardo" href="http://youtu.be/3UL75BA9vZs" target="_blank">Buleria con Ricardo</a>&#8221; and here&#8217;s what happened:</p>
<h3>That Tingle &#8211; There it is Again</h3>
<div>TAP<br />
tap tap fingers snap</div>
<div>my soul in rhythm to my body’s nerves<br />
tingle wiggle<br />
CLAP<br />
my blood flows thick<br />
through my legs like mercury running<br />
slow<br />
fast<br />
slow<br />
like the maestro&#8217;s<br />
hands on the keys running through time<br />
running through me<br />
through scales<br />
through my brain<br />
FLIP<br />
switch clap tingle wiggle snap<br />
steady<br />
now is the background beat<br />
that fills the space between my brain<br />
THAT</div>
<div>we dare not touch<br />
heart mind spirit-breath<br />
snap tickle-touch<br />
stirring round round<br />
flowing down down<br />
the spine into my feet<br />
like clay they stand<br />
HARD<br />
hardened<br />
harpooned by their spears<br />
of doubt<br />
self dosed drug-induced<br />
wriggle wrinkle warp<br />
LOST<br />
from self</div>
<div>denial<br />
disdain demon-dust</div>
<div>shaking it down</div>
<div>whirl whirl twirl twirling<br />
ahhhhhhh<br />
and there it is again<br />
that tingle<br />
not of nerves<br />
NO<br />
nor wretched pain<br />
but now it’s pounding</div>
<div>sounding</div>
<div>founding my brain</div>
<div>from blood to nerve<br />
slapping<br />
belly laughing<br />
bending twisting turning<br />
inside out<br />
tap tap<br />
TAP</div>
<div>bringing life to bone</div>
<div>blood and heart</div>
<div>every cell dancing<br />
lifting<br />
lighting</div>
<div>CLAP</div>
<div></div>
<div>© Sandy Hibbard</div>
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