Stephany

My cookie peddling days are specific in that I go to set neighborhoods on designated days. This way patrons and shop owners know when to expect me and they wait. They wait for more than the cookies.

My preferance in life is to never rush and to breathe deeply. No matter what personal concerns I may have I leave them in the car when I embark on my cookie walks; hence my enjoyment of these hours is real and I am met with smiles, welcomes, and intimate sharings. What a lesson in humanity.

On Tuesdays my neighborhood is in Beverly Hills. The blocks of Robertson between 3rd and Melrose, a Brahmin shoppers haven where the chi chi restaurant The Ivy sits and so too limos and flashing camera bulbs. Who would think that behind the counters and in the back rooms along this avenue bloom gardens full of hopes and dreams and disappointments, each with its own unique poignancy and beauty.

Stephany, a stunning sparkle of soft brown beauty, masses of black curly hair, a style and figure that rivals any runway model and a vulnerability and neediness that sucks and entices, manages one of these boutiques. She met me at the door yesterday, a breath-taking vision, and a wide smile with tears faintly seen but clearly lurking., and out blurted 'Tomorrow I'm shaving my head!" Silence. She searched my face as she spoke the words and without missing a beat, my past flashing before me of dearly beloveds who had shaved or cut their locks at a crossroads, my answer "How exciting! That's fabulous news!"

And the little girl emerged with a high sweet 'Really?"

Busted. And beautiful. And hyper chitter chatter about the ex-love and the imagined what's, who's and where's of his present life.

Big sigh and deep breath. How perfectly we create these scenarios that take us to our knees. Every single one of us, one way or another, once upon a time experienced an abandonment wounding from a parent or significant elder. It would behoove us to surrender to our brilliant minds and soul knowing that the way to heal this is to recreate a passion deep and authentic, full of neediness and submission and juice, disguised as love, and then be abandoned and faced with the truth. The poison that blocks true love must be expunged to prevent the wound from further festering. The poison of self loathing and unworthiness must be acknowledged and looked at and lived before arriving at love. Love without need, love of oneself, love of another.

I exited this store with Stephany titillated over the new baubles that her non hair would inspire and she said, "Do you really think I'll be beautiful?"

That gorgeous little face, about to leap a little leap that feels monumental to her. If we each could only know that there is no such thing as a mistake. That every thing we do has consequences but there are no mistakes. We must go where our souls lead us, especially if its into the dark corners so that we can dance naked in the light.

Personally I prefer the moonlight.