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The NEMRF is a huge catalyst in my day-to-day humdrum existence.

Yes, I have a day-to-day humdrum existence, doesn’t everyone?

Every so often, someone plugs me in and I light up like a Christmas tree. I sparkle — sometimes, I even go as far as to expound a shiny little rain shower. Usually it’s the Big Bad Cat. It’s hard to spend even a minute with him without my glowing from the inside like a Jack O’Lantern.

But other than that, I’m just me.

I do not complain, please do not misunderstand me. Once, years ago, there was no enlightenment. I floated from day to day, week, to week, month to month, year to year. I was not myself, I had lost the essence of me. I was buried and smothered under a sea of mundanity.

And then I rediscovered life.

I found myself through a process of awakening that began over five years ago, that was catalyzed by my falling in love. I have been in love several times since then, and am still in love in certain of these cases. The true love of my life, prior to meeting the Evil Rotten Cat, who is a deeper and no less true love and Cat-of-my Heart, was and remains my love.

This is what they call polyamory, folks. Living and breathing. Loving more than one person.

I speak now of the love I mentioned, the one who came before the Cat. We are barely in touch for a number of reasons, mostly involving his own personal hell, which has effectively straitjacketed him to the extent that we communicate rarely and sporadically. On paper, that is, or rather on screen. We still have a degree of telepathy that is frighteningly effective. He will think of me, and I of him, and then we will find out letters crossing in mid-stream. He traveled to this region last year, not actually to this country, but over the border.

He wrote to me:

“When I stood on the eastern shore of the lake and gazed toward your country last year, I called your name.  Didn’t you hear me?”

I checked my diary. I’d written of him on the day he mentions. He’d been in my head the way he usually is in my heart.

He is older than I, by 17 years. He has experienced life to the full, in both the positive and, unfortunately, most negative sense. He owned my heart as he was the first to fully expose it, to tease it, to provoke it to love harder, deeper, fuller than ever before. He encouraged me and my creativity, he dragged me with him on eternal flights of fancy, he opened my eyes to real erotica and all that lay beyond.

He wrote to me:

“I miss you more than you can possibly comprehend.”

Really? He’d be surprised at how much I can.

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