Rena is an Aries. All Aries have the image of a Ram in their features. There was an energy around Rena that was so raw, so primal. It was overwhelming. It was all I could do to look at her when we first met, for she dared me to. She had already won, already had the upper hand. I gasped!
Rena was no grinning pink bubble gummed girl with bouncy breast. She was the deep lustre in the grain of an ancient wooden door to the kingdom of Druids. She was an Oak Goddess, the deep coals in a primordial fire that was never quenched. She was formidable. A warrior!
Rena was the beautiful fire that found its way to the heart of the Midwest. From there she sent her hayseed warriors to do battle with Hitler and his Huns. We won, America, thanks to our secret weapon, thanks to our Home Goddess who refused to be their cute Daisy Mae. So she moved to Britain, married a Commadore, and born two children on the Isle of Wight. We have not spoken since 1971.
I have been away from my art for twenty four years in order to study the words of God. I want to be an artist again. I am out of practice. I mourn for the young artist I used to be, the sure strokes of my brush, the hunt over hill and dale – for beauty…..to capture!
It has been along time since we slept in our tent atop the mountian, with no telephone, no television, no radio, no movie theatre, no book. For fifty days we just had each other, and our Pure Quest. Now that I am a grey haired gentleman of sixty five, I am overwhelmed with my good fortune, to have rescued the most beautiful woman I will ever behold in this life. What an honor – without equal!
Below are sketches I wrote two years ago, or more, for my novel ‘Capturing Beauty’.
Jon
The Kiss of an Angel
Last night I went to sleep imagining my Soul Mate was by my side. I have placed
Rena beside me in my bed several times in the last month. I have put my hand on
her flat stomach and fallen asleep. I had a dream of a woman I wanted so much,
it hurt. She was rejecting me completely. She wanted nothing to do with me, but
she was very aware I wanted her. I pleaded my case, told her she was the one,
and our moment was fading. We have one chance.
Just when I had given up she came into my bed, naked. She hovered over me, and
her mouth opened. Her lips came to brush my lips. This was a test. She was
telling me she was so open to me, now. Is it too late? Her mouth carefully
covered my mouth……..and she drank from my soul.
This was the Kiss of the Muse. We became as One. We surrendered to our
Synchronistic messages. There was no resaon for us to remain a world apart.
Nothing, but nothing stood between us.
The events that had to line up so Rena and I could meet, were incredible. Upon
meeting I told her I was expecting her.
“Synchronicity plays an important part in twin soul meetings… I like to say
that synchronicity is God’s way of getting your attention.”
I was a father, a mother, a brother, and sister to Rena, for these people were
absent in her life. As my daughter I cooked for her, made a nest for her watched
over her, protected her, spoiled her. Then, when she was grown, I had to let her
go her own way in the world.
“Soul Mates are souls we have met and lived with in many life times. They have
been our lovers, spouses, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, teachers,
students, friends, and family, or even our enemies, victims, or tormenters. We
contract with these souls to return to earth together for greater learning and
growth.”
We let each other go with beauty and grace. We were the Soul Mates of our Age
when Lovers were learning not to cling to one another. Our peers would explore
new ways of bonding and creating extended families. We shared our spark of love
with many people. We helped free love from a prison of dark shame and
codependency. She was too young to be taken hostage, especially by her Soul
Mate.
“Let me go! I want to experience the world”
“Before one can physically unite with their Twin Soul, one must do the conscious
work of healing and becoming whole within their self. Twin Soul love cannot
exist in a codependent, ego-based relationship, or from a perceived “need” that
the other person will make you whole. Both must often face separations while
they strengthen their own connection to Spirit and find their strength and
purpose on their own.”
When we said goodbye, I went MY OWN WAY. In the painting of the lone figure
silhouetted against the deep red sky, we see the greatest love possible with
your Muse and your Twin Soul. You have split apart, perhaps to never see each
other again, but, her soul goes with you to accompany your soul. From the
deepest most naked embrace, you leave your Oneness to go into the Creation that
has been transformed by your meeting. You are not co-owners of your souls, but,
co-owners of the World. Everything is yours when you surrender soul ownership to
the Love of Other, and trust in a more Divine Design and the invisible map that
will once again bring you together again. When you do, you hold out your hand
and Give the World to one another.
“You’re afraid of the Ocean, aren’t you?” I asked Rena, who put her book down,
then gave me a long look.
“How did you know?”
“It’s obvious. You have your back to it and are reading a book. I grew up with
women who were born and raised by the sea, and they treat it like their best
friend. Is it because you were raised in the middle of America? I guess it could
be overpowering for someone who grew up in a flat, monotonous, landlocked,
landscape.”
This was how our first meaningful conversation began. I used the sea as an ice
breaker. Rena had been aloof all that morning, and I understood she was afraid
of other things, one being, she is going four hundred miles north with two men
she did not know. I would understand in a few hours that I had challenged Rena.
On Pismo beach she would show me, my friend, and his ten year old daughter, she
was no longer afraid of the Pacific Ocean.
We had another conversation about the Ocean when we first lay eyes on each
other, when she came gliding out of the darkened entrance to a bar that had
closed an hour earlier. It was close to 3:00 AM. My sister, Christine, her
boyfriend, and I, were heading back to my other sister’s house on the canal in
Venus after our late walk on the pier. Christine was in love and happy. I let
her and boyfriend go by themselves down the pier while I looked down at the
waves rolling in, crashing on the shore.
I began to think of Marilyn, my first girlfriend. We spent as much time as we
could on the beach next to the Santa Monica pier. A year earlier I had driven
down in my Volkswagen camper determined to kidnap her, get her the hell out of
LA, and up North so she could live the life I was living. I had began to really
hate Los Angeles. The LA hippies were really weird. They were obsessed with sex
and playing fuck-fuck games. Jim Morrison got sucked into that energy when he
went down there. Marilyn was in deep with a guy who had taken her hostage, and
as we sat in a empty field in the Hollywood Hills, she said goodbye to me. It
felt it was for the last time. I was a part of her past.
Five sets of seven waves must have rolled under me and broke on the beach before
I asked this question.”Where is she? The woman I will love forever, and who will
love me forever?”
This is the God’s truth. I was saying goodbye to Marilyn, after eight years. In
a spiritual process I let her go, and, made my heart vacant for `The One’. It
was like a prayer made unto the sea.
I looked up and saw my sister and her lover coming back from the end of the
pier, and started walking back ahead of them. This is when a figure came at me
out of a darkened door. Rena came close so I could see her in the darkness, and
I almost gasped, she was so beautiful, and she is tall. Rena is a thoroughbred.
If I had been approached by a Unicorn, I would not have been rendered so
breathless.”Can I walk with you!”
“Sure. Why not! I was expecting you” and I resumed my gate and she fell in
beside me. Christine and her boyfriend were about twenty feet behind us taking
this all in.
“What do you mean you were expecting me?” Rena tentively asked, wondering what
she had got herself into – now!
“Don’t be alarmed. I wont bite you! I just said goodbye to the love of my life
while looking at the water, and a minute later, you walk into my life. Nothing
to be afraid of. I’m a harmless romantic!”
“Oh!” is what Rena said to that. And I wondered if she could hear my heart
beating madly for she was knock-down gorgeous. I had to take another peek.
Unbelievable! This is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and she
approached me and asked if she could walk by my side. What is this! What’s going
ooooooooon!?
I was proud I was able to appear so aloof and say exactly what was in my heart.
Any man, and I mean any man, would have stumbled, bumbled, mumbled – and fumbled
the ball! I think Rena was caught off guard when I did not. I was running with
it after catching a perfect pass from the gods! I was already in the End Zone.
What became of Rena and I after that, did not matter for I was absolutely
positive The Fates were on my side – our side! I had absolutely no reason to
believe otherwise. Kasiadah, what ever will be will be!
I sometimes go back to that moment and put myself in Rena’s shoes. What an
amazing place for a beautiful, seventeen year old beauty from Nebraska to be. (I
would later discover she was seventeen when she told me she was moved forward a
grade because she was a straight A student. She told me she was eighteen.)
Earlier in the day, she had seen her ride, her boyfriend, and goddess protector,
run for his life, and disappear down the beach! Could Rena relate to my goodbye
to Marilyn? I assumed the five musclemen caught up with him, and mushed his face
in. Not wanting Beauty to see what a monster he had become, he got in his car
and headed back to Nebraska leaving Rena stranded!Now she is hiding in the
doorway of a closed bar, and there was not a soul around, until I came walking
her way. She had to make a quick assessment of me, and the two people walking in
back of me, a young couple who could witness my sudden attack upon her lovely
person, and beat me off of her with a piece of driftwood, or broken bottle. This
is no exaggeration. This was the welcome she and her boyfriend had gotten so far
– in spades!
In the morning Rena asked me if I would go with her to get her stuff at these
guy’s apartment on the beach. They had invited Rena………………………and her boyfriend,
to crash at their play fuck-fuck games on acid pad! When we walked in, these two
jack-offs were tripping. I knew their type, Bellaire brats with money and drugs,
trying to know what a fuck is – and they didn’t have a clue!
One of them began to mock Rena, make a clucking noise. He then held out his
forefinger, and with his face all askew in rubbery sex spew, said to her;”Come
here pretty bird! Come sit on my finger!” The other rubbery acid-dick got a big
kick out of that, and was rolling around in a gallon of his rank jism!
“Go get you things!” I told Rena, and gave these pricks the look of a real
player, from up north, who had tripped with real people, who made real love to
real people. These two were caught in a game of illusion I would not wish on my
worst enemy. They were not nice people, and never would be. They pretended to be
helpful to the out of towners so they could have a shot at her, get in her
pants.
And this is what I will always love about Rena. Because she was so beautiful,
you would think people, especially men, would show her their best side, reveal
unto her their best qualities. Not so! Rena was treated to a ugly world very few
people ever see. Even when I was right there by her side, I saw the ugly
peep-show they show her – on the sly -and in her face, and she remained
unflappable, utterly true to her ideals. Rena proved to me, that beauty was not
skin deep! I believe finding this proof was her mission in life, her Fate, that
was thrust upon her the day she was born.
Rena as Diana
The words, Muse and Play go together. Some people think we are born on the
planet to own bigger toys then the next fellow, but they end up playing by
themselves. The final tragedy in Rena’s and my play, is, that we could have
played together till our dying day. I don’t think we ever got bored when we were
camping. We had no toys. We played in nature as two Bohemians. When I told Rena
I was coming to Lincoln to see her, she prepared a stage.
Once Rena was finished with her caped rival, she now hooked her arm in mine and
propelled me towards the art department. She wanted to show me something. She
took me into the sculpture room where stood a life-size sculpture wrapped in
gauze, which she started to carefully unwrap.
“My boyfriend did this.”
Oh no! Please! Spare me. I can’t stand it. Not but ten minutes ago Rena is
raging at her rival, she all in a froth, and now she is going to destroy me with
sheer envy by revealing a statue her new lover did of her – my Muse! You are so
cruel, Rena, I said to myself, and watched her concentrate on unveiling the
piece de resistance that would put a crack in my heart, forever.
Around and around the maypole Rena walked until the head was exposed. I gasped!
I was truly shocked.
“It’s……it’s your boyfriend!” I stammered. “Why? Why isn’t this you? I don’t
get it! This guy preferred to look in the mirror at his nakedness, instead of
you modeling naked before him! What a waste – of clay!”
I looked at Rena, and this was the second time I saw her defeated. She lowered
her eyes. She more then likely wondered if this would be my reaction, but, maybe
I would not get it, the truth that something had really gone wrong here. Alas
she met her talented Adonis, but he is even more vain then Rena. Indeed, he has
demoted Rena to being a mere observer of his beauty. No doubt when he first lay
eyes on her, he surmised she was worthy to be in his presence and compliment his
Narcissistic life and love affair he was having with himself.
I felt bad for Rena. Even though I stood on the brink of a broken heart, I now
wished this sculpture was of her, because that’s how it goes – the play! This
guy had changed the rules, and I passed my verdict on him. As I watched Rena
rewrap Narcissis, I saw a look on her face that told me – this guy was history.
He’s out of the sandbox – the play!
We now walked to the museum where Rena did the Dance of the Muse. I wondered if
she had rehearsed this part of the play. Rena danced, skipped, glided to one
work after another, she explaining to me why these were her favorite paintings.
Rena was very intelligent. She was a straight A student and got a scholarship to
College. This was the most intriguing thing about Rena, she truly was held
prisoner behind her stunning beauty. I had freed her by the waterfall. Alas she
could be equal with mortals. I had come over to where she lived, planted seeds
of liberty, and now she was blossoming. This beautiful girl is only seventeen –
and at College!
When she told me she was skipped a grade, I learned the truth, she was not
eighteen. It was the only lie Rena ever told me.I was in awe of her, her ballet
in her long green cape, she tossing about her wavy dark hair, her hands now
framing another favorite, she explaining why she is drawn to it, she making
little swirls with her hand – and she now slides to the next work on the wall. I
had tears welling in my eyes, for here was my protégé, my apprentice, she no
longer Pretty Bird trapped in a gilded cage. Rena is letting me know that I had
been her Muse, that I had pointed to her the way in, in to the world of art, and
she had full membership.
Later on she would give me the photo of her naked in the woods that a young
photographer had taken of her, he seeing Rena as a work of art. Her old
boyfriend was an artist, and her new boyfriend was an artist. Life doesn’t get
any better then this. She was free, out of her grandmothers house, and a great
big wide world lay before her. I was in the position of releasing her completely
into that world, because I was her teacher. It was graduation time. So far, I
have given Rena strait As.
We now came to stand before a standing statue of Diana, the goddess of the hunt.
Rena appeared to at a loss for words. But then, she fell to one knee, and drew
back her invisible bow.”This is how I would sculpt Diana!” Rena spoke with fire
in her eyes. I was awestruck. The sculpture we beheld was of a sedate Diana, she
walking erect ready to shoot her little bow as if she was at a garden party.
Rena’s Diana was all business. You could feel the strength in her arms, the
tension in the bow. And then there was the look in Rena’s firey Arie’s eyes. She
was going to bag her prey, take out its liver and devour it, because that’s what
she needs. This is a serious huntress.
This is why I will love Rena till the day I die. You could make out her lovely
body beneath her green cape. The pose she struck was extremely dramatic, and she
held for me to study. Here is the solution to her boyfriends blunder. Is it any
wonder that she became a dancer and chorographer. This moment is frozen in time.
There was no one else in the museum, just an artist and his Muse.
Mazerati Sunset
Rena and I sat on our hillside watching the western sky turn into a rainbow, and
then beheld the first stars appear in the thalo blue richness of the sky. This
was to be our last night on our mountain before we descend to the land of
mortals below.
I sat above her, and thus she used my legs and knees like a thrown, a leather
bucket seat, her beautiful arms resting on me as I caressed her shoulders. A
warm wind came up through the pines and oaks, and the strong smell of dry golden
grass was like a perfume that still lingers. This aroma is my solace, at knowing
what she had in store, for herself, just herself.This beautiful Midwest girl was
born in the body of Ferrari, a Mazerati, in a little town in Nebraska, and for
seventeen years she lived like a old crone in the home of her dear Grandmother.
My God, she was in a walker at seven!
“Oh, Rena, do be careful! Watch out for those garden pebbles, They can trip you
up! Now, let’s go watch the backward sprinkler till it gets dark.”
Before I came into her life, her plan was to take that beautiful Mazaerati body
to college – and conquer Lincoln – for starters!
Look out Lincoln, here come Rena Ferrari Mazerati, Italian film goddess! Look
for her to burn some rubber down your street on her way to the campus where
there are a hundred good looking men in great bodies, they out of their mother’s
home, too, and there is no one to stop them, all that healthy stuff, the years
they played on the swings and jungle gyms, coming down to this – College Mating
Time!
If I was born in her body, there would be no way you could talk me into parking
my Mazaerati in that old barn in back of the Monastery, then go into the field
and pick potatoes and radishes for the communal stew. No way! I mean, my God,
your’re a godly sex machine, the sexist car alive, and………besides, she had
already parked herself in a little tent atop a mount overlooking the town of
Monte Rio – for forty five fucking days with a hippie who was not going anywhere
in life, because wanting to be someone, is not cool.
O.K. This is/was true! But Rena didn’t have to be anybody either, because she
was so fucking beautiful. It just – grew on her!
Rena wanted to have a few more lovers, that will fine tune her cylinders, her
moves, her love making technique, before she takes it out on the autobahn – and
really opens up!
I was already in her dust, and, was trying to be fair, make it easier on both of
us, by telling her;
“I would do the same thing, if I were you!”
“You would! “Oh thank you! Thank you for releasing me, and approving of
everything I want to do!”
I love Rena like my own daughter. She never knew her father.
Of course I made this conversation up, because, when I pointed out the planet
Pluto to her, I slapped an invisible ball and chain on her ankle while she was
distracted.
“Where’s Pluto?”
“See that tiny little star at the very tip of that pine tree!”
The Last Time I Saw My Muse
Yesterday, as I walked to the dentist, I composed words for the image of Rena
and I in our tent. This scene will be at the end of my story about my Muse, who
is Rena Christiansen. When I got home, I searched for her again on the computer
with my cursor. Something caught my eye, and I looked out the window and beheld
a rainbow. I went out on my balcony so I could see the whole arc. Standing there
in awe, another rainbow appear, and lay itself upon the first. With my soul
resonating I said;
“She restoreth my pallet and soul, then lifteth me up to heaven to paint
rainbows.”
The words I had already composed, were;
“And she lifteth me up and carry me over the river and sea, then up to a
mountain top. From there, she taketh me into the clouds, to be amongst the
stars, and I beheld the Kingdom of Beauty and Truth.”
Perhaps I have been too harsh on Rena, but she broke my heart. She did this not
to be cruel, but to show me she got it, she got me, she understood the lessons I
had been giving her. And now, it was time for us to part.
She had taken me to the University Museum, the Home of the Muse, and it was
empty but for she and I. When she was finished showing me her favorite images,
we went outside and sat on the steps. It was a grey sad day. Then, Rena
stretched out her beautiful form on the steps, and gently lay her head on my lap
and embraced my legs. Her green cape flowed down the granite stairs. I stroked
her beautiful head and shoulder, and she closed her eyes.
This beautiful being maketh a painting for me, for us, that I will do my best to
make sure – will live forever! Here are the Archetypes, in Greece long ago,
sitting on the stairs of the Temple of Art. Behold the Artist and his Muse, and
hear the rustling of angel rings.
There was a reverent silence as we worshipped each other for the last time. Then
I heard the great roar of a crowd close by.
“What was that?” I asked Rena, and not opening her eyes, she said;
“That’s coming from the stadium. There’s a football game today! We must have
scored.”
There was another loud roar, and I was transported back in time to the Olympics.
It was then I understood how old Rena and I are, how far back we go – our Mad
Love Story. We part to meet, and then we part again. It has to be this way, the
Way of the Muse, who always leaves us inspired. She comes to us when we are in
need of inspiration. But, she must part and leave us alone to maketh our
Masterpiece.
Thanks to my Muse, I own the solution to a great problem. When the rainbow
appeared in the sky I was given approval to apply the solution. I always seek
validation from my Muse, her seal. When searching for a photo of the rainbow, I
was amazed to see the University of Oregon football stadium at the end of it.
And once again, I heard the gods standing up, and applauding us! For our Love
Story brought high art and culture to Nebraska that day, thanks to Rena. She put
on a great show, in gratitude of the show I put on for her in Monte Rio. What a
Genius! She blew my mind, drove me mad! And this is payment for saving her!?
“All Together Now”
My mind could barely take in and care what I was seeing. I was indifferent to
whether the Blue Meanies squashed Ringo’s fucking brains out with a giant apple.
Nothing really happens to a Beatle anyway, not like it does us nobodies (I
thought at the time) because they got too much money and power. I could care
less if they were getting any sex, for the obvious reason this was my last date
with Rena– without any hope of sex at the end of it. I knew how our movie was
going to end.
Rena politely endured the Yellow Submarine adventure with me, she already
telling me she was going to rush to see her boyfriend – for a more meaningful
dinner date – as soon as the Beatles save the Cosmic Universe from fucking blue
assholes. It all looked so plastic, our first movie show. We never once saw a
T.V. screen. We just gazed up at the milky way most every night, or searched
tide pools for interesting creatures. Now we were having pesudo-halucinations,
making rich producers, even richer. For what?
Oh sigh! alas, we had made it to civilization, and are snug as bunnies,
surrounded by sex-zapped college students, most who were going to get lucky
later on, after smoking a little refer.
I couldn’t put my arm around Rena, who felt a zillion miles away, in College
World, because that was not done anymore, and we were no longer sweeties. The
Sexual Revolution was just underway. So far, anything goes, but, holding hands
in public, or kissing under a tree.
Rena felt my utter disgust at this bad ending she was putting me through. All of
a sudden, she has hold of my hand, and is bringing it inside her cape.
“Feel my stomach. I’m getting fat!”
“Oh comes on! You seriously want me to believe that?” I said to myself.
Rena lay my hand on her warm stomach, and held it there. We were home.
Everything, and everyone, vanished. My dead body was – alive! I live – again!
Now what! Where is this going!!! What was her desire? What does she want me to
do – next?
I pressed on her stomach, and moved my fingers, but only to test for the
presence of fat, for, only I could tell, after all, I was with her when she was
not fat. What an honor to render my last verdict, because I am totally blameless
for letting Rena’s body go all the hell! Not on my watch!
“Why didn’t someone try to stop her! What kind of monster is she dating? Is he
some kind of Pasta freak? ”
I thought about opening my mouth, but Rena’s hand upon mine was sending me clear
massages with little tippy-taps. Our fingers spoke in Morse Code under her cape.
“Should I remove my hand, now, and render my verdict?”
“No, just leave it there!”
“O.K.”
Then I felt it. There was a fine, and very soft layer of fat that young women
acquire when they are eighteen and nineteen. It makes them utterly luxurious and
exotic. From that day on I looked for it all women who caught my fancy, I
focusing all my attention to see it shake ever so slightly as your lover walks
to the bed from the bathroom. And, then – unbridled lust!
Rena’s head slowly fell on my shoulder, and our souls let out a great sigh.
Warmth began to build in the palm of my hand, and I sent this healing heat down
into the core of the beautiful womb of this woman. Here, alas was the engine of
life, that was indifferent to the struggle of our sexual identities, our Yin and
Yang sparring. Rena was letting me know that she had let me in all the way, that
she had surrendered completey, in our very special way, and in our time apart
she came to realize this, and there was an empty space there, that for the time
being, only I could fill?
Her womb was saying goodbye to me, and, hello – hello to the hand that pulled
back the veil, the hand that wrote her a love poem and rendered her image on
pure white piece of paper. In this gesture, or pure genius, this young soul
found the perfect way to say goodbye. But, suddenly, I was wondering if she was
pregnant. I put that wonderment quickly out of my mind, not once considering it
could be my baby, but the baby of her new lover. Any possibility of us getting
married, seemed the long shot of the millennia.
The movie ended. The good guys won. Rena and I found ourselves under the theatre
marquee coming out of our last trance. For a long minute, we stood their
paralyzed, we both shocked that we would not be walking anywhere together, side
by side.
We looked deeply into each other’s eyes, and, I did not want see a smile, a
meaningless gesture, that would never make our parting easier.
“Don’t say goodbye, Rena. Just turn and walk away. I want to watch you walk away
from me.”
Rena studied my eyes, and she got it. I watched her head slowly turn away. I
beheld her stunning profile. Then the waves of her chestnut hair closed like a
curtain, till her beautiful face was hidden from me, I never to see it again.
She took a few tentative steps, with her head bowed. But, then she thrust her
chin up – and tossed the mane of her hair like a thespian or magician his cape
upon a stage!
With a steady graceful gate, she walked down the street, like a total stranger,
like the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, passing in the opposite
direction. She had stopped me in my tracks, and for a millisecond she gave me
“the look” a sideways glance that many strangers would forever remember about
Rena, men who were not as fortunate as I, men, who never got so much as a
“Hello” from Rena, and thus, never a………….Goodbye.
I wanted to remain eternally grateful for that, look. Just that. And I
turned……..”Goodbye Rena. Goodbye my beautiful lover!”……… and I went my
own way.
Rosamond Press 
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