lovemarked
Another New Year begins. Things are quiet and very still around here, like the calm before a storm. Maybe the postscript of big nights out for people. I was fortunate to spend the last few moments of my year in a luxurious bush style outdoor bath. No stars, just candlelight….happy as a snuggly puss.
I mentioned the book ‘lovemarks’ the other day and how I have been musing on it. A lovemark is anything that you absolutely love. Anything that sticks to you. Anything that makes you loyal beyond reason.
One of my lovemarks is Sanitarium Peanut Butter. Its been in my life since knee high and no other brand will do. Mr Sanitarium’s building in Christchurch, where I grew up, is embedded in my senses. It has beautiful seasonal gardens with a drivethru and my Dad used to take us through in the evenings so we could admire them. There is also a huge chimney stack coming from the building and if you traveled by in the correct wind you could always smell the breakfast Weetbix being made. Its one of those childhood smells I associate with home. Now Mr Sanitarium has been very smart because he used to be the only peanut butter on the block, but over the years he has been crowded out by other brands, all with similar taste. I remember a few years back when brands all followed the trend and started adding sugar to their spread (Ugggh) like they do in the States. I have watched every other brand do this. But quess what, not my Mr Sanitarium. He has been loyal to his beginnings and now his spread is the only one without the sugar added. I’m such a happy girl.
Other lovemarks; North and South Magazine (a NZ investigative mag), Ballantynes Store (an old high quality, service dept store), the movie ‘Dirty Dancing’ and ‘Pretty Woman’, Angel perfume, my mums pavlova, aniseed wheels, Corn Fritters from ‘The Totally Roasted’ ………
And of course, from lofty and lowly heights, there would have to be God, The Divine, The Mystery. God stuck at nine. I still remember my clear plea for a placing in the school cross country and the deliverance on the deal. And my part, to be a loyal follower, meant, we some how marked each other. God got me in the belly, like a warm spot of hot chicken soup on a wintery day. The Divine got me in the heart in some unconditional accepting sense of okayness. I believed and I still do. My faith sits in my body. I feel Grace in the moments that The Mystery moves me, my breathe and my sinews.
I’m a marked woman. I hope you feel a marked woman too.
Yesterday I sat with three other women as we lip kissed a few hundred advertising papers for an upcoming play in which we are performing. I had no idea it was possible to kiss in so many different ways with so many different outcomes. Every lipsmacker elicited another ‘Oh and ‘Ah’ and laugh. We left our mark and I couldn’t help but compare the experience to the many myriad of ways I experience Love. The lovemarks of God in my life and body.
The Air as my arms brush through it
A soft white feather brushed down my front
The smell of babies
After the rain
Lolling over a large rock
Naked intimate dance
Slow figure eight hip rolls
vulnerable naked tears