Dark Chocolate and Roses in Savannah

I am a romantic. I watch for rainbows and moonshine, summer nights and stars, signs, gestures, moments of revelation. I like boys who know how to play fairly, guys who smell good and men who mean what they say.  To dance with him, to spend nights in his arms, to be admired and adored and to have heart-to-heart pillowtalks... I live for that shit. I can't help it. It's the way I'm made.

I also love getting presents. Thoughtful gifts, something made by hand, the presents that when received make you say, "Oh my god. You knew! How did you know?"--the ones that show you they were present all along... he watched and listened during carefree moments or when you had your glassy eyes on while shopping and talked crazily because you wanted this and that and oh god he's bored and you try to entertain him while still making mental notes about all the stuff you need. Later, he gives you a gift that says, "Here. I heard you. I know what you like."  Most of the time I get the best presents from my best girlfriends who just know what it is good, what is quality, what is fun and what we dream about most in our heart of hearts.  From guys, it's mostly chocolate and roses.

These days I'm having to give presents to myself. I take long hot salt baths and I continue to try to stay open everyday... not to danger or intrigue, but to comfort, softness and revelation. Savannah has eased me into Southern time--going with the flow, not being so hasty or reactive, listening, dawdling, enjoying my walks, receiving and giving back in a gentle, kind way.

It's been difficult at times. I'm an L.A. girl. I'm used to moving quickly and making things move faster if I need to get somewhere or have something in by a certain time. I've had to adjust. It's all in sync, though, with everything else I'm trying to do in my life: be present, stay mindful, love myself, be kind to myself and others, do the hard work, accept reality and strive toward my future.

Dark chocolate and roses are my recent revelation. I admit, both are kind of cheesy. When I've been the recipient of such gifts I've always gladly accepted them, except there's always a small part in me that asks, "Really? Is this the best you can do? How cliche." Yet, secretly, pushing my inner jaded snob aside, I'll get tickled and think prom! first dates! awkward boys! cute... awwwwwwww.... Dark chocolate and roses are heartfelt gestures from sweet boys. I heart them.

Mostly because I love dark chocolate and roses. He knew! The bittersweet chocolate--dark, rich, swimming quickly along your tongue, settling in hidden recesses of your mouth--when roses coat the sharpness of the chocolate and lessen its bitterness. Petals wafting into your throat and softening, soothing, mingling the scent and taste of roses and dark chocolate, I inhale and taste.

While in Savannah I've been experimenting with dark chocolate. I'm open to all kinds of dark chocolate, but what I seek is that savory sweet bitterness and almonds! It's hard to find good dark chocolate with just the right amount of almond crunch, flavor and texture.  Almonds are woody and hard to the bite--they have texture and flavor, crispness.  I like dark chocolate with other nuts, too, but hazelnuts and macadamia can be too soft and buttery. I like bite and flavor with my dark chocolate. I buy different brands of chocolate bars at Parker's, a 24-hour gourmet gas station, or Fresh Market, Savannah's mediocre attempt at Whole Foods, and then store them in my freezer when I have a hankering for something sweet. Tonight was a revelation! Valrhona's Caraibe Noisette! The elegant packaging, with its delicate gold foil that makes you feel like you're unwrapping a winning Wonka bar, is just a slight indication of the treat you are about to indulge in.  Sharp dark chocolate, slightly bitter and barely sweet (frozen is the best: you bite off only what you can chew--crisp!--and then let it savor in your mouth as it melts), minced almonds... then let the goodness mix with Tazo's Wellbeing, Tazo Rest: "a lulling blend of rose petals, valerian root & citrusy herbs" and luxuriate in the blend. Let the flavors soothe you.

Dark chocolate and roses are the presents to myself now.

Lost and Found

Somewhere I veered off course.  When I started this blog, I thought it would be a mere documentation of my travels through The South.  I started off with a bang after I left LA and traversed Hwy 40, jotting down the kind of food I ate, the songs I listened to, the sunsets I saw.  Traveling opens up your world again and alights the senses--everything is anew and fresh; driving on an open highway is like automotive yoga--it clears blocked energy and attunes you to a greater body at work.  Using my iPhone as a compass and Ragmar's Kingdom as my destination, I thought that was where I was headed and where I would find Liberty.

My friend lives in Liberty, Tennessee, after all, hence the name of the blog.  I think I simply hoped that it would be my final destination and where I would realize a triumphant release.  I did jump off a 20-foot cliff into a river and I walked a mile on a winding forest road in the pitch black of night.  I became friendly with insects, the sultry heat of a Southern summer, and experienced the exact solitude of being human--vital and vulnerable--in a wooded world stirring with life all around.  I wrote about some of my adventures and discoveries, although I censored myself from writing about the wonderful world of faeries I had stumbled upon because I did not feel knowledgeable enough or qualified to write about them.  Instead, I wrote about or to distract me from what I was consumed by: these temporal fixations and hang-ups that came in the name of a boy, but were plagued and fueled by a demon much greater than him.

You may think I have lost my mind.  Writing about faeries and demons and such.  Crazy.  No, I actually encountered them in the woods of Tennessee.  I found a delightful group of faeries who nurtured and tended to me during my two months there and I also began seeing the demon growing inside me as I was left to my own devices deep in the backwoods, 2,000 miles from my loved ones in Los Angeles.  I became bosom buddies with a regenerating bottle of Bullit--a fantastic bourbon whiskey from Kentucky--and drank myself silly.  I dealt with some issues around my father, this boy, and mostly myself and my own inequities during my time in Tennessee and in order to cope with the pain of going deeper and deeper, I drank.

Somehow, I stumbled into my car (not drunk, just hungover) and made my way to Atlanta to visit my dear friend, Charles.  Then, I got back into my car and made my way to Savannah to visit my good friend, Fitz.  Fitz said I could stay at his mother's house, who was away for the summer, and I arrived at a lovely row house in the Historic District and parked my car.  I stayed there for three weeks, slowly losing my mind to Bullit, but the gentle arm of Savannah cradled me and helped me to regain my senses. I stopped drinking and decided to stay.

That is all I will write for now.  It's been two months since I've had a drink.  I've gotten an apartment.  I've made some wonderful friends.  I feel at home here, at peace, and I am happy.  The Boy and I are still talking, but he becomes more and more distant as he continues with his shenanigans and I continue to tread a more honest path.

I will write more about faeries and demons, but I will also write more about The South because that was my intention to do so when I came out here.  I was derailed for awhile, but I am back on track.  I still don't know what this blog is really about or why I even bother to write it, but I do know that on each step of this journey I am coming closer and closer to finding liberty.  Also, I promise to include more photos.