Avidly Passionate Avidly Greedy

One thing I never considered in the self-reflection of my passions–is their relation to greed.

Am I greedy?
Yes.
Guilty as charged.

I declare my avid love of books. Of art. Of history. Of beautiful objects. Of costumes and fashion history. Of flowers and trees. Of oceans and beaches. Of babies.
Of living. Of loving.

I enjoy indulging in all of these and more. And my appetite never wanes. I can never have enough. My sensory overload is limitless when it comes to my desires. I seem to gain energy from my longings. They charge with pleasure in multitudes of ways. I become more. More connected. More loving. More joyous. More forgiving. More tolerant. More compassionate. More creative. More of the real me. The one free from the expectations of others.

I need only to think about the these loves of mine and I am happier. And when I experience them firsthand–happier still. I am boundless in my cravings.
And like an addict, they seem to grow. Enlarging my appetite for more. Opening space within my soul for new experiences and opportunities. There is never enough. Never an end. Never a feeling of completion. For this is an onward journey, expanding the horizons of my soul.

And so I am also greedy. My insatiable demand for more is endless. And despite what others may think or say, I will continue forever in my quest to relish in the richness of life and all the encounters that lay before me.
I am evolving. And avid. So very very avid.

But the bigger question I wonder is:
Are you avid and greedy too?

 

 

 

Avid

In Shakespeare’s Style: To Be Romantic or Not to Be–and Thus Be Rational…to Think…To Control…

To Be Romantic or Not To Be

In The Style of Will Shakespeare

To be romantic or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the soul to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous passion,
Or to take arms against a sea of desire,
And by opposing end them?

To think: To control;
To rationalize: And by rationalize to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural desires
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a discipline
Devoutly to be wish’d.

To think, to control;
To control perchance to prevent heartbreak: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that protecting from heartache what love may we miss
When we have resisted opening to the beauty before us.
Must give us pause: there’s the regret of long lost loves

For who would bear the whips and scorns of rejected love,
The risk unbalanced, the outcome failing,
The pangs of unrequited love: None but the romantic.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
Save for the romantic.

The romantic that enterprises of great pith and moment
And in this regard their currents turn awry,
And win in the name of love.

*

Bt Tessa Saks and Will Shakespeare

In The Style Of

The Border of Our Love

There is a border that keeps love safe. A wall that protects us from pain.
We stand behind it waiting to see when to let down our guard. And when we can trust that expressing how we really feel is safe.

Why are we so afraid to be hurt?
To say how we really feel?
Can it be that we do not trust others?
Or is that we do not trust ourselves?

That somehow, deep within, we are unsure of ourselves and need to hear from someone else first.
Need to know that we aren’t way offside. Or crazy.
That what we feel is shared. And mutual.
Before we open up and make a fool of ourselves
we test the water.
We wait in safety behind the border, for the clear signal.

And then…only then…can we let go and release the pent up feelings. The longings.
Like a force braced for an eternity, the desire explodes from our innermost soul
to free us from the repressed passion that tortured us beyond measure.
With euphoria and joy, we captivate all around us in the pleasure of finally allowing who we are and what we love to be revealed.

And the border that held us in…incarcerated love that could never be revealed. Now, finally freed.
The wonders of being who we really are and loving with fierce devotion, our blessed one.
Our kindred soul.
Our eternal love.

*

By Tessa Saks

cropped-21636.jpg

 

 

Border

What We Value Most

Ever lose something? Something that seemed impossible to replace?
What determines the value to us?
Is it merely that it is irreplaceable? Or precious?
I think the things we value most are the ones stored in our hearts. We love them and need them so we create a backup of memories in case of loss.

The people we love have an important place there. So too our loving animals. These are the sacred values. The ones that make life better and hard to live without. One of life’s bitter ironies is that often we don’t realize just how much we value someone until they’re gone. Then the backup memory isn’t enough. You miss them more than you could ever imagine. You would give anything to have another moment with them.

So while I might value my house or my car or all my books, I now realize that what I value most can never be replaced. It’s the one that is so easy to take for granted.
It’s the love I share with others. And the love I receive when I stop putting other things ahead of people.

But what about value as a moral compass? How do I define what my values are?

I see them as an extension of what matters most to me. By choosing to do one thing and not the other I see my values in action. Every day, every choice is related to what I value. I want a healthy body so I make choices for it to thrive. Not always. But I know
that if I can sacrifice what I want with what I need instead, I am adding value to my life.

Values are woven into all that I do and say.

So if you want to see your values, look at your choices.
And if you want to show how valuable someone or something is, make better choices.
Demonstrate that this, above all else, is what I value.

*

By Tessa Saks

Value

 

Weep No More Loss

Do Outer Layers Hide Our Fear or Display Our Character?

 

Tessa Saks Weekly Prompt
Who am I?
What is the message I send to the world?
Am I who I think I am?

If we had no clothes how would we express ourselves? And how important would it be to display our inner message to others? Would body marking be the rage? Would we be happier?

I am not my clothes. Never have been. But they do offer clues as to who I am trying to be or who I want to be. And thankfully, it has changed over the years.

What we wear is important in our society as every job or status-role has predefined ideals and standards of what is acceptable and what isn’t. You can think you are a rebel but somehow you are still conforming to a pre-set bunch of rules.

From Hudderites in black and white polka-dots to bikers in leather vests to saffron colored zen robes, there are codes for who we are–and maybe more important– what group we belong to. And in a way they do help hide who we are afraid we aren’t. A uniform can add confidence and bury fear. But for how long?

I have purposely tried to avoid following fashion as dictated by the magazines and instead sought to find my own style. One that represents how I feel about who I am and what I love. But I am still influenced. I love fabric and color and texture. I appreciate beautiful workmanship.

I do want people to understand more about me by what I wear. Years ago, I tried to go super-conservative for work and found myself living a lie. I wanted to belong and to fit in, but I was not who I pretended to be. I needed to let my inner diva out. And when I finally admitted this to myself, I also changed jobs.

I need freedom to be me.
And the outer layers of my clothing do represent a slice of the inner me.
I am grateful to live in a world where we can use clothing as a message to others about a tiny part of us.

And I fear a future world like in sci-fi which has us wearing jumpsuits or matching uniforms. A massive army of clones, afraid to be different. Afraid to stand out. Afraid to take chances and make mistakes. Because I would rather look back at my crazy 80’s shoulder pads knowing that I experimented and took some chances, than have a photo album full of safe and boring outfits to match a safe and boring life.

So yes to self-expression. It’s what living is all about.

Outer Layers

Poem: Truth

magnolia love 2
There is no reason to waste
countless hours
and days and months
and years
on regret.

Time cannot heal
wounds that
are self-inflicted.
Mistaken in their analysis.

Flawed logic
that causes me to
see the past as failure.
Instead of what it is—
choices.

The choices made in moments.
The choices that despite
my best intentions
held me back.

Gripped by the fear of moving
forward
I chose instead
to avoid the upsets
that living in truth creates.

But now I stand ready
to cast all the years
behind
and move forward
toward a bright vision
of what can be
when I finally
take the steps to be true
to the all that I am.

So I may become—
all that I may be.

*

By Tessa Saks

Poem: Departure

Love Poem New York Waiting
Departure

It hurts to think you may never know

How much love I feel …

Too deep to show.

My heart is full of love to last

My thoughts bring memories,

A cherished past.

While I do not want to let you leave

I’m happy for you and shall not grieve.

For time goes on and life does lead

A course for us to each

Succeed.

 

Tessa Saks