Namaste love tribe
Since I’ve fallen back in blah-gville. I’ve reconnected with my pre-2009 private self. Back before I decided to spend a few years using daily rants as a visualization tool to get me to New York City.
My time in Manhattan is on the decline. I’m not leaving tomorrow or anything, but my plotting and scheming game is on. I’m making plans, throwing darts, keeping secrets swallowed and grinning a lot in general.
During a recent impromptu trip to Spain, the most spiritually centered, global citizen I’ve encountered proposed forever.
How could I say no to that?
Interestingly, while I’ve had 1.5 husbands, neither of them proposed. It was more an agreement to bind to each other in a way we felt the state required. It was never about forever.
Certainly nothing like this. And this man, well – I’ll be keeping the details to mySelf.
But we totally need to talk about Spain…
I spent a week eating tapas, rolling through waves and drinking chilled Spanish reds. We smoked cigars and watched shooting stars. From the most southern point of Europe, I gazed across to the shores of Africa.
Between Madrid and southern Spain, we drove through mountains of olive trees and weaved along rocky coastline. I swam in two different oceans and heard Spanish spoken at lightning speed because, as my future husband advised, “We talk a lot faster in southern Spain.”
I stayed in three different houses, one with views of the sea from the bedroom balcony where the air reminded me of being home in Australia – scented with lavender and eucalyptus. I bathed in the Mediterranean as my man, a native of the land, approached me glowing in golden light declaring, “Stay with me forever.”
And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
In Spanish tradition, rings are worn on the right hand. A silver band represents engagement – gold is exchanged at the wedding.
Oh, and apparently I’ll be having something like that. Because according to my man. “You have never had this before, and I want to give that to you.” Continue reading