How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. 
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. 
I love thee to the level of every day’s 
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; 
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 
I love with a passion put to use 
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. 
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath, 
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose, 
I shall but love thee better after death. 

—— Elizabeth Barrett Browning


A few days ago, my sweetheart and I were talking (as we do everyday) and I brought up some thoughts I’d recently had about intimacy, specifically regarding the value of our own intimate partnership.

Every couple will of course define this for themselves, and each of us (my sweetheart and I) will do likewise as individuals. However, one of the functions of this my writing practice (as with all my contemplative and creative concoctions) is to explore ideas in an attempt at as much universality as possible without losing my own sense of style.

That shouldn’t be hard to do, eh?


For me (as I told my sweetie) one of the most valuable benefits of our relationship is how I now have one with whom to share every little thing on my mind, my conscience… I have an answer for the little voice. The voice that longs for loving witness. Someone to safely see every internal conflict, every discreet dilemma, every questioning thought.

With this knowing then, I no longer need… or the need be not nearly as much.

Knowing this creates a positive feedback loop, bolstering my backbone and holding my inner critic at bay… or at least at a safe distance. Allowing my true knowledge of self to better command my consciousness.

It also has an equally positive effect on my judgement of others.


Since I’ve been want to actively avoid my occasional urge to use this blog as a repository for all that pisses me off. A place to carp about all the annoying crap I see and hear round and about my world. I am often reduced to poetry. Or some such thing resembling it as closely as my muse muscle might muster. (please excuse the reflexive alliterative affliction)

This phenomenological foundling, is also a function of my newly discovered intimacy glory goal.

Get it?


I’d much rather focus my mind on those myriad examinations (the likes of the here mentioned phenomenology for example) I occasionally find. They promise far more than any random rants harbored in my head.

Far more.


I love my sweetheart so very much!