Master has mentioned geisha a few times, so I knew it was an interest of his, something that he found value it. Therefore, I wanted to explore the subject. My next few posts will be about geisha.
Note: My impressions of geisha (at this point) are formed solely based on reading the book Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden.

What is a geisha? A geisha is a prostitute. Some would argue that, but to me, a prostitute is a woman who sleeps with a man for money, and that is what a geisha does. It’s true that a geisha is not a woman who is given a fixed amount of money, has sex with a man, then gets up and looks for the next john. Nevertheless, sex is a service which the geisha provide, under the right circumstances and for the right price.
A geisha is (hopefully) sponsored by a danna. This man pays for her to take classes where she continues to refine her skills in such areas as dance, playing musical instruments, social graces, etc. He may pay for her medical expenses, her food, her clothing, and whatever else is negotiated. The man, however, does not talk to the geisha about the arrangements, however, but to the mistress of a teahouse or the leader of the geisha’s okiya. The geisha may have little to no influence in the choice of a danna for her. The geisha then has to be available for her danna when he wishes. If he wishes her for the weekend, she is his. And, yes, that includes having sex. Actually, it includes pretty much whatever he wants. She dare not refuse him. He is her means of support. To defy him would be to lose him, and to lose him would be to lose a big chunk of income. A geisha does whatever she must to keep her danna happy. If she becomes pregnant and he says abortion, it is done. If he says keep the child, so it is.

In addition to her danna, a geisha generally is available to entertain at parties. She may show off her skills in areas like dance or music, but much of her duty is to be there, be pretty and be a charming companion to the men. She is not expected to have sex with them. However, she is still paid for her time to keep the men company and keep them happy by being an amusing companion. A geisha’s livelihood is dependent upon knowing the right people and keeping them happy.

Such beautiful words, don’t you think? Everyone longs to hear them. In my family, however, those words generally remain unspoken. I don’t know that I ever heard my dad tell my mom he loved her. At least, he didn’t tell her in words.

I remember one Christmas he bought her a new rocker/recliner. We hid it in my room. Yes, even as a kid I was pretty messy. We just piled the chair in a corner, threw some junk over it and you could never tell the difference! Christmas Eve night (or maybe it was very early Christmas morning) my father and I attempted to take the chair out. We managed to catch it on something and put a rip in it. Dad was angry. Not at me. He was angry that this nice new chair that he had bought especially for my mother was now damaged. I think it is the only time I ever saw tears in his eyes.

It was then that I understood my father’s love. He didn’t show love with words, or with hugs and gentle touches. He showed love by what he did. Providing for my mother and the whole family was his was of showing love. My father is a man of few words. But then, actions speak louder than words.

Apparently, this trait seems to be inherited by my oldest son, A. Like his grandfather, A is not one to say those three little words. I remember several years ago there was a speaker at the school, and it reminded me that I really ought to tell A how I loved him and was proud of him. When I did, he was embarrassed. His response was something like, “Yeah, Mom, whatever. A and I work at the same part time job. I remember a coworker teasing him and telling him he really should say that to me. His answer was, “She knows.” And indeed I do. He just doesn’t say it.

But, I saw evidence of it this weekend. My boys really didn’t do much for Mother’s Day. My youngest, M, brought me breakfast in bed, two sweet rolls that he knew I wouldn’t eat. When I politely refused them, he said ok, then took them to his room and had his breakfast in his bed! This was doubtless his plan all along. Later, he did give me a picture he had done in art in school. The day seemed to pass without A noticing at all. Oh, well.

But, after he had left for his final week of college this year, I found an envelope under the computer keyboard. It said Happy Mother’s Day, and had some cash in it.

His way of saying, “I love you.”

Master, on the other hand, says “I love you” regularly. And still, I seem to want to hear it more. Strange. Instead of listening with my ears to hear the words, I should listen with my eyes and see the actions. The time we spend together, via computer or phone, his keeping me informed of his health problems, even his insistence that I do things well, his unwillingness to let me slide, these are actions that tell me he loves me and he wants the best for me.

"you and I are connected in a way that goes beyond romance, beyond friendship, beyond what we've ever had before. It defies time, distance, and changes in ourselves and in our lives, and it has defied every explaination except one- When i'm with You it's like a tiny part of the universe shifts into the place it's supposed to be, and all is right with the world."

This is a description of love as it should be, as it is between Master and me. Our relationship includes romance-dinners together, presents for each other, friendship-a shoulder to lean on, someone to share our thoughts with, beyond what we have had before. We have had a relationship for nearly 3 years, and despite the fact that we are physically together only rarely, we still maintain the relationship. How does that work? It works because it is supposed to work. It is the way the universe is supposed to be.

There is between Master and me some sort of connect that I find difficult to explain. Sometimes the connection seems very strong. Sometimes it is as light as gossamer. But always, always it is there. We influence each other, support each other, love each other through this connection. We are entwined together.

Why is this? How did we achieve it? What did we do? We did nothing. We did not decide “we will be a couple”. It happened because it was supposed to happen. All relationships, including ours, involve work. We have to take advantage of that connection to share with each other and nurture each other. But the work does not result in the connection. The connection is something beyond us, mandated by something bigger than us. We simply take advantage of it.

Happy Mother's Day to one and all!

My early morning present was breakfast in bed. My son M brought me two sweet rolls, which he knew I would not eat. He proceeded to take them to his room and have breakfast in HIS bed. As Master said, smart kid.

I hope you all have an opportunity to share with your mother how much she means to you. My mother passed away in 2000, so there are no cards to send or calls to make. But my mother will be on my mind.

Anyway, Master has kindly given me the day off in celebration of Mother's Day. So, enjoy the day, and tell mom you love her!

Ah, yes, remember the good old days? The sun was brighter, the world was younger, and everything was good.

Yeah, right. If your past is anything like mine, you have your own set of difficulties. Mine include a divorced that shattered my life’s dreams, and the loss of my second child via miscarriage. Some of my past is damn painful! Why in the world would I want to go back and relive it? Somehow, as we age it we seem to smooth over all the bumps in the journey that we have experienced so far. We seem to forget they were there, or, at least, don’t remember them as being so bad.

The other night I dreamt about a house I used to live in. I was visiting it, and I wanted to buy it and live in it once again. The urge was overpowering. But wait a minute. I hated that house when I lived there. It was way too small, and the plumbing was done in such a way that the pipes kept freezing up. There was no basement and just a strange furnace in the wall of the living room. Oh, and did I mention that in the dream the place had caught fire and was half burned? Why the hell would I want to go back???

I think the past is like that. We somehow believe the past was better than today. Christmas was always wonderful (was it really?) the family was a loving place (my siblings and I fought like cats and dogs) and life was simpler (I was a fat outcast growing up; not that simple).

Is it possible that we cling to the past because the future is an unknown? The past, all of its bruises, is at least a known quantity. We don’t know what the future will bring, and we often indulge in fantasizing that the worst possible thing that could happen will happen. But, I have learned that it usually doesn’t. Although bad things can and do happen, usually things don’t turn out as badly as I was afraid they would.

As Billy Joel said, the good old days weren’t always good; tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.