Though at the time I was silent on the subject, here, in the Archives, it was exactly one year ago, today, that I chanced upon the Bohemian. A random invite came for Jeb to play with a friend and I decided to take the free evening time to go and watch the sunset at the beach.
He was there with a rose on his arm. The sunlight was touching the water just so. Clouds were pink in the sky and when he told me his name, it was foreign but familiar. The connection was profound enough to make no sense to my mind. So I left the words alone where they simmered quietly.
About three weeks later I became so full that language started seeping out. My first post to actually name the Bohemian (at first “the Bohemian Lover” but soon, simply, “the Bohemian”) came on 10/11/11. I was tiptoeing around a tsunami, trying, oh-so-hard, to be careful. To not be overtaken by Love’s force, the one I knew could both kill and birth me.
The following is a small collection of threads woven from those first months when I began to let go to love this man. They’re offered here as a snapshot to how life weaves, as I am still in awe.
Did I know on that 11/29/11 post when I drew a picture and asked “what’s going to happen next?” that one year later – 11/29/12 – would be the day we chose to wed? I did not know consciously, but maybe I felt a hint. Somehow, I believe, we’re all creating our stories in a magical blend of choice, intent and mystery.
Here’s to that infinite essence we call Love (Laska) and to the Bohemian, my Love (Lasko) who has graced my life, opened my heart and still dances with me in the kitchen.
LOVE WITH A CAPITAL ‘L’ – 10/11/11
“Laska – Love, Lasko – My Love”.
This is my text message, Czech 101.
Oh, how I wouldn’t love to hear us turn that a into an o. Lasko.
But I’ve been reminding myself since the day I met this Bohemian Lover that he will never be mine. That the only way I’ll make it through this heart-opening is if I keep it to love in the Highest. So that would be Laska with a capital L.
There was only one word spoken between us on the day we met. I looked all around as he looked at me. “Beautiful!” I said.
Still gazing at me and smiling, he nodded. “Beautiful.”
The day before our chance encounter, I found myself perusing and collecting vintage photographs of women. Most seemed sourced from Eastern European countries. One picture in particular touched me deeply. A woman exuding utter beauty and peace, ethereal and magic, yet real. Perhaps she was my harbinger.
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