Read Caught in the Cogs Volume One Online
Authors: O. M. Grey
Caught in the Cogs Volume One (10 page)
When I’m in intense emotional pain, I often listen to Eckhart Tolle read his fantastic book A New Earth. This almost always relieves some of my agitation. I struggle with a crippling emotional disorder that sometimes gets the better of me, especially during times of hormonal or chemical imbalance, or during times of heavy stress. My husband, the most understanding and support man I’ve ever known, will stop everything else if necessary to help me through it, and I sometimes lean on him too much before I find my own footing again. But ultimately I must stant on my own or else I become a burden to myself, and I feel like a burden to my husband, although he constantly reassures me that I am not. He is a saint.
Back to my point, we all need some guidance and grounding from time to time, and if you or your SO struggle with depression or another mental disorder, then it can be more challenging for you and your relationship. It can also be more rewarding, as such issues only serve to bring the two of you closer together.
Tolle talks about something he calls the “pain body,” and his explanation of it as a construct of the ego is quite profound. When we are in the grips of our “pain body,” we may say or do things that we wouldn’t do under normal circumstances. We all have this “pain body,” although some people’s “pain body” is more dense than others. I call this state of mind my crazy space. When I’m in the grips of the crazy space, or “pain body,” it is like I am on a drug. I see the world differently, as if through a haze. I make irrational decisions. Once I am on the other side again, this becomes very clear, and I’m usually terribly embarrassed about it. Everyone has times like this, when stress or hormones or brain chemicals make you angry or irrational, and it is important to understand your SO’s crazy space, as well as your own, and learn how to deal with it. It is always temporary. Supporting your So through this will only serve to strengthen your relationship and bring you closer together. Plus, when your SO is in their crazy space, they are not thinking clearly. If you are able to remain calm and objective, you can help them out of it. You can lovingly remind them that it is just temporary and it will pass. You can remind them to breathe or meditate or exercise or listen to Tolle or whatever it is that helps them through it.
Their love will deepen for you because of your patience and understanding, and yours, in turn, will deepen for them.
In order to do this and be there in this way for your spouse, you must ensure that you, too, are emotionally healthy and aware. If you can remain in a place of peace when your SO is suffering, then you will not get triggered into your own crazy space, something that happens far too often and results in arguing and saying hurtful things you don’t really mean.
As I’ve said before, relationships are hard work. The idea of finding someone without “emotional baggage” is a fantasy. Everyone has emotional baggage. We start accumulating it when we are just a child, before we even reach 2-years-old. At this age, our brains are like a sponge. Although a 2-year-old is hardly able to speak, they are absorbing everything that goes on around them. They are looking to their parents and forming ideas about relationships. If they fight, the child thinks that’s normal. If they don’t fight but feel hostile towards each other, the child senses that as well.
Everyone has issues to varying degrees, and it is essential to acknowledge this and learn to work through it for your own health, your SO’s health, your children’s health, and the health of your family/relationship. Aren’t they worth it? Aren’t you worth it?
You may also try things like Tai Chi; daily walks to clear your head; exercises to bring you in the present moment, the only time that ever exists; and these things to find peace within. After all, it is what we’re all looking for, and we are not going to find it outside ourselves.
Many people say something like this: “When I get that promotion, book deal, break,
“In the stillness of presence, you can sense the formless essence of yourself and in the other, as one. Knowing the oneness of yourself and the other is true love, true care, true compassion.” ~Eckhart Tolle
Read more articles on relationships on O. M. Grey’s Blog
Caught in the Cogs.
Recommended & Cited Books
Chapman, Gary. The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts. Chicago: Northfield Publishing, 2004.
*Ruiz, Don Miguel. The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, A Toltec Wisdom Book. San Rafael: Amber-Allen Publishing, 2001.
Ruiz, Don Miguel. The Mastery of Love: A Practical Guide to the Art of Relationship, A Toltec Wisdom Book. San Rafael: Amber-Allen Publishing, 1999.
Ryan, Christopher, Ph.D. and Cacilda Jetha, M.D. Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality. New York: Harper, 2010.
Tolle, Eckhart. A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose. New Yorth: Penguin, 2008.
Excerpt from Avalon Revisited
Excerpt from Avalon Revisited
Excerpt from Avalon Revisited
“I was to be the King of England.”
Before I died.
Of course, I didn’t say the latter aloud. Not yet. That would give too much away too soon. No need to cause alarm yet. After all, I did enjoy watching the looks on their faces when I tell them I was to be king. It was true, of course, but they never believed it.
“King,” she said with a twinkle of humor in her eye. Her perfectly lined lips curled up slightly in one corner. She was taking the bait. She was amused, but more importantly, she was intrigued.
In a candlelit library we sat together on a white French Provincial sofa, a little too close for polite company, but then, I wasn’t polite company.
“You. Were to be king.” It wasn’t a question. It was merely a statement of complete disbelief. After all, I did look like a quite young, but the truth was much more complicated than that. Wasn’t it always?
I smiled and moved in closer, sliding slowly along the silk cushions towards her. She watched me close the distance between us and smiled a little wider, despite herself. I leaned in as if for a kiss, but instead brushed my nose softly along her jawline. “I was.” I breathed the words into her ear, letting my lips graze the pearl dangling from her earlobe. This one looked even more delicious than she smelled. That was a rarity. Especially for a woman her age. Normally, these middle-aged women had let their looks go. But not this one. She was still quite the beauty in her gown of deep scarlet, lined with black lace. The collar was wide, stretching from shoulder to shoulder, allowing me complete access to her neck, save for a choker: three strings of pearls clamped tight around her throat with a cameo adorning its center. She had a tiny hat embellished with an even tinier sailboat, pearls, and black lace, all perched purposefully crooked on top of her perfectly coiffed hair. Each copper curl shone in the candlelight, and I was entranced. She smelled of freshly picked heather on a warm Scottish evening. I wanted to roll and play in that heather. I wanted to pluck the blooms from its stems. I wanted to bury my nose in that heather and breathe in its luxurious scent.
I wanted her. But I kept my head and didn’t move too fast, lest I would’ve given myself away.
She didn’t recoil at my closeness, but rather seemed humored by it.
“You can’t be a day over twenty, lad, and you were to be king? Do tell, whatever happened to joust you from the royal line?” The dark lady turned her head cooly away from me and sipped the wine held by her black satin gloved hand. I softly traced my fingers along the hairline at the nape of her neck, and I saw her suppress a shiver. Good. She turned back and slightly leaned into me, playing my game.
The candlelight emphasized the smile lines around her eyes. She was forty if she was a day, and she felt flattered by the attentions of a younger man. Especially when said attention was offered by one as handsome and charming as I, at least, seemed. Her husband was nearly thirty years her senior, so she welcomed passion.
“I’m a little older than twenty,” I said as I brushed my lips up the curve of her delicate ear, exhaling warm air as I did so. I felt her shudder beneath my touch. She didn’t even try to conceal it. We both knew where this was heading.
I had her now. She was not only intrigued; she was open to being seduced. Obvious, really, since she thought I was joking about being king, as Victoria had been on the throne for well over sixty years, but she didn’t scoff at the game. She reveled in it. She likely hadn’t felt the thrill of seduction in well over a decade or two. However the kind of seduction she had in mind was quite different than what I had planned for her tonight.
The music played loudly in the adjoining room as the rest of the gala attendees danced or spoke to each other in raised voices, competing with the music. Still, it wasn’t so loud that they wouldn’t hear a scream, even back in this dimly lit library. No. Had to continue to move slowly.
The smell of musty books filled the air, and I was reminded of my father. Always reading. Always urging Henry and I to read and learn. We had had private tutors who taught us foreign languages and told stories of faraway lands. We learned about history and philosophy and theology and mathematics. It was all essential for our destiny. Me, future king, and Henry being groomed to be Archbishop. He had said we were the future of the kingdom. Well, he was half right. Henry had been the future, but now he was just the past.
“I died,” I sighed an answer to her question then nuzzled my cold nose in the nape of her warm, pulsing neck. Not yet.
She didn’t recoil at this dark disclosure, as she likely thought it was all part of this decadent game. Rather, she welcomed the soft kisses I placed on her neck. She shivered at the touch of my cold lips but moved in closer still. She was ready. Dare I say even earnest. She didn’t stop my hand exploring her thigh hidden beneath layers of satin. A soft moan escaped her lips, and I knew I had her. I continued teasing this dark lady, drawing out her desire. She caught her breath as I traced my tongue up the side of her throat to her white earlobe, circling around the pearl drop that hung delicately from it.
Then something across the room caught my eye. In the pale candlelight, an image on the far wall mocked me. A corpulent man stared back at me with black eyes. His gold doublet and fur-trimmed coat framed the fleshy jowls that held a smirking mouth. A replica of a painting, for even the sumptuous hosts of this opulent gala couldn’t afford the original Holbein. This painting I knew far too well. I had been forced to look at this likeness for centuries, and it always made me think about the road not taken, as if I had had a choice in the matter. Feelings similar to but not quite nostalgia filled my mind and ached in my chest. Perhaps it was more like sentimentality. If my heart still beat, it would be the rhythm to a sad song. But that’s part of my lament: my hollow chest. Every time I see that blasted painting of my fat, arrogant brother, I’d think, that should have been me.
But it wasn’t me. It was not my fate to be king. That was his fate. My little, immature brother.
My fate was to die, but I should’ve stayed dead. Over three-hundred years later, and I finally understood. I should have stayed dead.
“Why ever did you stop, dear boy?” The woman leaned into me, caressing my pale cheek with the back of her black satin hand. I hadn’t realized that I had pulled away from her while I had been caught up in my own remorse. She must have seen the sadness in my eyes, for she was becoming maternal. Mustn’t allow that. Time for a bolder move. Shaking off the past, I turned towards her and kissed her gently at first. But as she welcomed me with parted lips, I deepened the kiss. As my tongue swirled with hers, I drank in the warmth of her mouth, of her being. She didn’t seem put off by my coldness, but then few did when I had progressed this far. She ran her hand up my thigh, sending a spark through my core. My own roaming hand found her breast and cupped the soft flesh peeking out from the hard corset beneath.
I wanted to rip that corset off. Perhaps we had the same seduction in mind after all.
“Arthur,” she breathed. I couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter. She was Catherine. They were all Catherine.
As I caressed her nipple over her evening gown, a small sound escaped from her pouty mouth. It was the sound of pure pleasure. No one had touched her like this in quite some time, and she was hungry for more. Then I slipped my thumb under the top ridge of her corset, grazing the nipple nestled beneath. Her hips moved involuntarily, and she arched her back in longing.
“Let us move to more private quarters,” she whispered, breathless.
Fine with me.
She stood and properly smoothed out her skirts. Years of social training didn’t just disappear, even in a rush of desire. With a coy glance, she reached back for my hand and guided me out of the library’s side door.
The other guests were still busy with merrymaking and gossip, so no one saw us steal away. For how could they, as each couple were but interested in their own lives. Each man wanting to do what I was about to do, and each lady pretending that they didn’t. They danced and drank and held up the pretense of civility, but I knew the truth. Beneath the facade we were all carnal beasts, hungry for the flesh.