Monday, May 27, 2024

ARE THEY EVEN LISTENING?


I posted something about people who are with someone who constantly talks.

I've learned over the last few years, that most men don't hear all we say. They listen, and hear, but don't process it or hold it as something definite. I learned it with Anthony. I would say 1, 2, 3, times that we have to do this, that, when, why, how, etc etc.... sometimes just talking to myself as I have a lot to do and think about... especially when there is a big party, do this, that, when, by what time, you do this, i'll do that... etc etc... And that's a lot of noise. Heck, and I'm just his mom and business partner.

Most of the time he doesn't remember. As his son's mom, told me the same. And I thought hmm... is it a man thing? But, then again, many men never stop talking. Always joking or being clever, or wanting to give all the information they've learned in one long constant swallow of words.

Yup.... so, as I thought about this. And it being just one of the many things I've learned about men, with my son. See I've been married 2x, one for love, the other, to get over someone else... Both being 2 of the best things I've done because of what they brought to my life, 1- Anthony and 2 - Miami. I was young and dumb for both... didn't use the brain I had... just did what I thought I learned from example growing up where most everyone was married. Now divorced 14 years ago... and working, finding my way, and trying to learn every day about life... women, men and relationships... wanting to understand, what happiness is and how to truly be happy in relationships. All relationships, I guess.

So, heck... I used to talk so much. Always wanting to share what I was learning, wanting to school people and expose them to another way of thinking. Covid made me crazy... literally, as I tried to wake everyone up in my writings/postings to whoever I talked to in person. Until I realized, most aren't even listening, they're just waiting for their moment to tell all they know.

I even put up a sticky, by the table I sit at at the restaurant that said "just nod" I felt it was useless to tell anyone what I knew, because most can't or won't see past what they believe. The sticky note is gone, but I've learned to keep my mouth closed.

So back to men... and how they think, or process. Ok, many are like women, who retain every detail and will repeat it over and over. Many, who don't. I learned in Spain, from a quiet man, a respectful man, who listens to me... and wants to listen to all I have to say and all my beautiful stories... but he too needs to talk. So Mona, the forceful, controlling of all situations, is learning to mellow out... and just let people be, without voicing everything I have to tell. My gosh, I was so noisy in all my talking of what I had learned and wanted to share.

They say, something like, when you listen to others talk, you learn. When you talk, you never learn more than you already know. Although, whenever I'm speaking, I am analyzing everything I say, which many times brings new ideas or questions about what I'm spewing. Just like I veer off, so often from one subject to another...

And in telling others our stories, experiences, or what we've learned, they say, people only understand at their level of understanding. One time I told my friend Juli, I was frustrated with Anthony because he wasn't listening to all the positive recordings I was playing every morning, full blast, in the house, to inspire him. She said "the teacher will appear when the student is ready" a Buddha quote I believe... I heard her, and stopped trying to ram all that inspirational stuff into his brain... And yes, one day, he began playing or quoting what I had so desperately wanted him to learn.

My brain works funny. When I read, I can only read a little, then my eyes get crossed... my brain starts to hurt, not literally. But, I can only process a little at a time. And during conversations, that are mostly one sided, I begin to veer off and it's hard to hold my attention. But 2 way conversations, are so enlightening, so uplifting when we respect the other's opinions and really listen to them. I guess it's like going to school, when we can participate, we retain more, I believe. When we are lectured, our minds end up somewhere far from where we're sitting.... unless it's something that inspires us greatly.

Anyway... you're tired of my rantings... and yes, I can write and rant and rant and write forever.... but I'll stop. But again, I believe men think differently than women do. And sometimes, we women think we aren't being listened to... but maybe it's because all we do is talk talk talk... and they're thinking of going fishing... or whatever else makes them happy. Sometimes we have to stop and know... we are not alike. So we have to stop expecting them to be a certain way. Anyway... my thoughts on life. Happy Memorial Day! Make good memories <3



Wednesday, May 22, 2024

Me, Myself & I

 



5.5.25.  2:00 a.m.  oops.  It’s 5.5.24


My friend We asked me today.  “Who is Ramona, who is Ramona, really”   After a few seconds, I replied,    First, there are two of me,   The hard me and the soft me.     The soft me is magic.   The soft me is romantic and sees the beauty in the world.   The soft me makes things beautiful and romanticizes everything.  The soft me believes in love.    And the hard me works, and sees the ugly in the world.  The hard me has been hurt and it’s made me stone and it’s hardened me   It’s built walls around me to protect me from what I once believed to be beautiful friendships, beautiful family love and the disappointments and belief in people.   The beliefs I held so close to my heart and believed in with every ounce of my being now just shadows of that softness I long to be.  


I went back and thought of my weeks in Spain last fall and remembered I felt soft, and happy and I was all I wanted to be.   And then when I landed in Texas, I felt I had literally transformed.  I felt only one thing.  Hard.  And I remember wondering.   Is it because I’m speaking English    Because my voice changes.  In Spanish I am soft.  In English I am hard.   Literally.     In Spain I wrote and spoke of love and I smiled more than I had smiled in years.   I get back here and I have to become romanticized by music or get lost in writing love letters and fantasies or love stories to become soft again.  


Of course I’m going on more here than I did during my conversation with my friend.   Because I am thinking of who I really, truly am.    I began writing now on another note page I have of a story I’m writing and one of the chapters will be Me, Myself and I….


So who am I .   Truly….  Ramona, Mona, Mia.


Ramona, the hard one who protects and provides.   Mona, me,   And Mia, his.   Or is it just Ramona and Mona Mia.  Only 2.     I have to think about that.  Because Mona is all things beautiful that Mia has brought to life.   Mia has given Mona life, in all my childlike innocence, it lives, she lives, they live.   


The soft side of me is the best part of me and the part I wish I was always.  Mona, Mía …. The one who wants to love and be loved.   The one who wants to create and bring to life all that makes me and the ones I love, smile,    Ramona holds people at a distance.  Mona is free and invites everyone in.    Mona Mía is playful, and curious and wants to discover and share all that is beautiful.   Where as Ramona guards all things she loves afraid the world, the insincere will only tarnish all she holds dear.  Tired of being disillusioned. Tired of putting efforts where others will take but never nourish to make better.  So why try.    


Mona, Mona, Mona Mía…..   oh if i could write stories, I would write of beautiful loves songs, and dancing in the rain, walks on the beach with the love of my life at my side.   The running, the laughing, the adventures and days end in his arms.    


She also asked me what I found so attractive or what I saw in him truly, as I talked about all I am when I’m with him.    I couldn’t speak of specifics.  I could only speak of what he makes me feel.   Peace.   Even in all the turmoil or inquietude, he is peace.    One day many years ago as we lay in each others arms he said when he is with me he has peace.   I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I know what it means.    And peace is what Ramona seeks, to always be Mona   And Mia, is the cherry on top of that sky high mountain of sweet cream over raspberries and blackberries wrapped In a crust so flaky, you get lost in the flavors of life.    


Mia.  Mía.  Mía.    His his his… no reasons, no justifications, no understanding.  No understanding.  Just love.  Pure and simple love.    Unconditional, at its best.    A fantasy, algo incansable.    Untouchable, yet touchable.  Like taking a small bird into my hands and speaking to to as I look into it’s eyes but having to let go so it lives as it’s meant to live.  So we live what is meant to be lived.  Until the day arrives when we are free to live all that we’ve dreamed and fantasized about (Listening to Soñar by Shalim as the teardrops take me back to Ibiza).    


It’s funny how a song can wrap me in the words of my heart.  They spill but the tune or song changes and the words hide,    


Are we all 2 people.  The survivor overpowering the soft person we dream of being.     Soft for a man, is it peace?    Soft for a woman, is a whirlwind of all things beautiful?   Kind of like the little fairies in Sleeping Beauty with their pretty dresses, can spin all things into perfection, in an instant.   Whether it’s a snack or full course meal, a picnic on the beach or side of the road.   A lit candle, or a song to lighten the room where the two of you will find peace.     A smile, or that certain look in your eyes that will bring him to his knees.  The soft scent of your favorite fragrance that makes him wild as he pushes his face into your hair searching for your neck to kiss.     And then, allowing him to be his masculine self in the planning and the fixing, as you watch him smiling with pride that he is by your side, if just for a moment, he feels all a man is meant to feel.   And you, run your fingers through his hair. Pushing that strand of hair that always finds its way to his forehead.   Pushing forward to kiss him for his efforts in making everything perfect and bringing the peace, you long for every day, to life.   


Is it love that makes us soft?   Do we become pliable?   Do we flow freely?   And is it then that the world truly becomes beautiful.  No reason to be hard.   Maybe.   Because it is then that the child in us is allowed to come out and play.   You know the one we become when we have no limits.   To run and play, to smile and laugh till we fall on the floor.    I believe so.  Because when love is lost, or there is an absence of love, we become hard.     Justifying, and hiding all our vulnerabilities that, in our minds, makes us weak.    


Is that why people don’t talk about love, until love is talked about?  Is that why strangers tell me of their love stories, when I tell them I’m writing a love story.  Are we all so hungry to be soft.  Are we all just so desperately wanting to feel loved and to love with no limits.   And when we have an instant to tell our stories, the words and emotions pour from us like the opening of the gates of a dam so ready to release all of its waters.     


Love….  Life…..  we live it and allow it to form us


But, the only thing I can say is I always want to be soft.    


And I wonder, his love of my stories, listening to my words that create far away lands that always lead back to him, is that his way of always falling in love with me over and over again…..   I think I veered off, but yeah.   Yeah yeah…. Mona. Mona. Mía….    (Only Ángels -still in love).  Ibiza Ibiza.  One day we’ll be in Ibiza,..