Received: by luke.cpl.net (mbox kailas) (with Cubic Circle's cucipop (v1.31 1998/05/13) Tue Oct 1 09:48:01 2002) X-From_: CBercovici@aol.com Tue Oct 1 09:43:02 2002 Return-Path: Received: from imo-m06.mx.aol.com (imo-m06.mx.aol.com [64.12.136.161]) by luke.cpl.net (8.11.3/8.11.3) with ESMTP id g91Gh1n78584 for ; Tue, 1 Oct 2002 09:43:02 -0700 (PDT) Received: from CBercovici@aol.com by imo-m06.mx.aol.com (mail_out_v34.13.) id f.1a0.9adf13a (4380) for ; Tue, 1 Oct 2002 12:37:17 -0400 (EDT) From: CBercovici@aol.com Message-ID: <1a0.9adf13a.2acb293d@aol.com> Date: Tue, 1 Oct 2002 12:37:17 EDT Subject: No Subject To: kailas@sisp.net MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Mailer: AOL 5.0 for Mac sub 39 X-jf: 20010528, 1:1,2:1,3:1,4:0,ad:0,bo:0,di:1,do:1,he:1,ip:1,us:1 Art, I am confused about your e-mail addresses, so I'm going to write to this one hoping you get it. Is this the address I should use? First of all, forgive my intrusiveness. My assumption is that you'd like not to hear from me for a long time; that my phone calls have become irritating just like this e-mail will be. Please correct me on my assumption. Just the truth. I almost called you a short while ago, remembering your sweet words that I could "call you anytime, that you would always be there for me." I almost moved out from deep within my bed to go for the phone and the only thing that stopped me was the early hour and thinking I would irritate you with yet another call. I don't know if I can do this in silence. I don't have anyone to talk to, no one. They all talk to me. Nancy couldn't comprehend and I'll stop that thought right here. Dave in Nevada is a biker. He's kind but brand new to Siddha Yoga so he wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about. Besides, biker drama gets old before it's cold. I am trying to get him to come to the Deva Premal concert with me. An unconscionable substitute for you, but there isn't anyone else. I have to admit that I am very angry that I sunk close to $900 into the Volvo with the sole motivator being that I would conquer a great fear: I would be able to drive the road BACK to Lucerne Valley. And now I can't. I wanted to come and see you there. And now that won't happen. So why did I spend all that money? What stupidity and impulsivity drove me to think that I could be so arrogant as to be invited to your home? I am angry with myself. It was a very foolish thing I did. And quite frankly, I regret it. As time moves along, I will be less inclined to telephone you because I will be afraid to. I already am afraid to call you anymore. For almost two years I fostered the fantasy that I was your lady, at least the one sitting next to you on the throne. For two years I desperately held on to the hope that I was still yours. I've been kicked off the throne by the Siddhas and I feel like a fool, an idiot, sitting on my ass, alone, lonely, with NO ONE TO TALK TO. Part of my compulsion to call you, and for this letter, is because I need someone to talk to. You have Rami (sp)? Good for you. I am glad that you don't have to be lonely anymore and that your woman friend adores you and will look after you. I just need to talk to you and I'm losing that too. So maybe talking to you is bad. Maybe they're teaching me that my need to be close to you, to be "your woman" is bad, is wrong. Maybe. I don't know anymore. I'm losing everything, even my hope and the fear is increasing. I really don't know if I'll make it. ABANDONMENT: I've been left sitting in the dust for countless lifetimes. No one can reach that far back and clean me out. So what? So I've been left abandoned before. Millions upon millions have. I see it every day. I suffer it every day. So what? It's not like I can turn back time and redo something. So it's a fact, an awful fact that has afflicted me when ugly personality traits. So what? I'm ugly, I know that. I've always known that. In three days time I've aged to about 60. I don't care about that. I just care... I just care that, I wish I hadn't messed up so bad with you; I wished it could have worked. That last weekend we spent together in Shasta and Haystack, I was so in love with you, there was so much love flowing through me for you, that had you popped the question, the would have married on the spot. And I'm not joking. I still have all that love for you in my veins, in my heart, in my being, with nowhere to go. You're not there anymore for me to give it to, so I just wear our rings, both of them. They are what is left for me to look at and wear everyday, all the time, for the rest of this mortal life. And so the abandon Christina drama repeats itself. Seems I have to abandon Christina now too. I cannot distinguish good from bad, light from dark, appropriate from inappropriate. What I can distinguish is a growing anxiety in my chest. Tita is very sad. She has lost her friend Arrttttt. Mama Laurel will die soon and I'll have no one to talk to. I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU!!! But I feel like I don't have that privilege anymore. I just want to hear your voice, feel your love, your arms around me holding me safe. I just wish I could still dream that we will find our way to each other in this, our last life times, to spend together in the ecstasy of sadhana. But that dream is gone. And I honestly couldn't tell you if that's for the best or not. I'll try not to bother you with any more of these melodramatic letters. I have letters in Mail Waiting to be Sent and I'll delete those now. But this letter I'm going to send, no matter how scared I feel. Always, She who stands among Saints in the dusty roads of India