mia loves henry miller
Letter 10 – Thunderstorms, Time Machines, Orgasms & The Bridges of Madison County
12/11/2011 – 8:52 a.m.
“When I was studying the Japanese language – but for a brief period – my teacher translated for me a beautiful letter to her niece by a noble Japanese woman, who was dying. The niece was about to get married. In it she expounded her probably ancient views on the true relationship between husband and wife. To me it seemed the ideal prescription for a happy, lasting marriage… The keynote, as I recall it, was surrender (or submission, if you like) on the part of the husband and the wife. Submission, surrender – these words are inadequate. It was more – living for and doing for the other. For, after all, when we try to define love, do we not think of it as living for the one we love, a not thinking of self but a complete concentration on the other? And, if wives and husbands were truly to behave thus, would they not be exalting in one another, making him a king and of her a queen?” –Henry Miller, Gliding into the Everglades
Dear Henry Miller,
During the early months of my relationship with Mr. C, we would love to travel on the weekends to a far, yet, a close enough destination, so that Mr. C could get back to work on Monday mornings. My children would be visiting their father or grandparents. His children were with their mother. We would leave as soon as Mr. C got off from work early on Friday nights. I had a teal green, 1997 Ford Tempo, which we had nicknamed, The Time Machine. We drove it on our weekend journeys. It seemed that my vehicle would transport us to our destination quickly, because we were so enamored with our conversations with each other, about our past, spirituality, relationships, experiences, knowledge, etc. Our time would pass so quickly – our hours turned to minutes – our minutes into seconds. And when we arrived to our destination, time would just stop for us, making our journey seem longer than it was. It was hard to believe that we fit in so many activities – site seeing and sex into two days. No matter how many hours we both worked during the week ( I was a full time writer and mother of small children at the time), we somehow found the energy to drain every second of time on the weekends for each other, our pleasures, our memories and experiences.
It was early spring. I wanted to visit the Bridges of Madison County in Iowa. I had always yearned to see the bridges, ever since I had watched the movie, The Bridges of Madison County, with Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. I loved the romance and their sensual, adulterous, destined affair, and the courage of the woman (Meryl Streep) who wrote her memories in ink upon paper, departing behind a beautiful story. Mr. C had never seen the movie. It was approximately a five hour drive from the suburbs of Minneapolis. We left around 7p.m. on Friday night, and didn’t arrive in Madison County until after midnight. The sky was clear, crisp, twinkling with a gazillion, illuminating stars. The moon was vibrant yellow and almost full. I hadn’t seen Mr. C for most of the past week. But, we still found the time to connect and communicate with each other by emails or telephone every day. When we entered our hotel room that night, I desperately needed to surrender myself to him – every inch of me. I needed to fuck. I wanted to feel over powered by him, and desperately experience the zip of erotic intoxication, flow drunkenly inside my veins. Until then, I had never been with a lover who could please and delight me in so many ways. His attentiveness to my needs, his strength, his vitality, virility, and his dominance became a magic elixir for my soul. We didn’t sleep until my cravings were satisfied, which took hours. I slept well afterwards and so did Mr. C.
I had just turned 30. My grandfather, whom I was very close to, had recently died. I was healing from leaving a bad marriage, which had lasted almost ten years. My first husband was erratic, immature, manic, undetermined, refused to work, and could be reckless. I was exhausted from the insane chaos and the uncertainty I felt when I was with him. I was lost, defeated, emotionally damaged, insecure, and not yet a mature woman. Mr. C had also endured an ugly, seventeen year long marriage to woman who was an alcoholic, drug addict. We were both broken, attempting to regain the balance in our lives, frightened to fall in love again. I was terrified to open my heart up to a man, who I knew deep down inside, was my soul mate – the man I could love forever – the man who would permit me to be me. I was terrified to submit to the journey of where this man, (who, at this time in our relationship, I still had a lot to discover) was taking me. I somehow found the strength within me to relinquish my will and move forward.
The next morning, after breakfast, we began our tour of the Bridges of Madison County. There were seven of them. The serene scenery and the fresh country air revived me. I always loved when spring time arrived. I felt a sense of release, relief and reawakening. In the Midwest, everything seems so dead, depressing, confining, grey and frozen during the long winter months. I felt so alive, re-born, basking in the warm sunshine. My senses were heightened – my mood elevated.
“It takes courage to push yourself to places you have never been before…to test your limits…to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” –Anais Nin
At this time in my life, I wasn’t very comfortable with close intimacy, my body, my nakedness, my sexuality. Turning 30 and meeting Mr. C was like spring time to me. I was beginning to take the risk to blossom. Mr. C worked in the computer industry, but, he had a deep passion for photography. He loved to use his vintage Nikon camera, which his father had left to him when he passed away. He was always trying to get me to pose in front of the camera. He loved taking photos of me! I hated it! It took all of my energy to concede to his requests and pose for him.
It was mid afternoon when we saw this little, grey, stone castle near one of the bridges. Free spirited Eagles soared elegantly in circles above it. Because it was early May there was hardly any other visitors. The castle was empty.
“Come on, “ Mr. C urged, pulling me towards the castle with his hand, his camera dangling from his neck, swinging in rhythm with his wide, hurried strides. I was enchanted, much like I felt when I was a kid when I played in the woods nearby my home and elementary school. The atmosphere made me feel like Guinevere with King Arthur.
I don’t know how Mr. C persuaded me to be so daring, provocative, and liberated – I soon found myself posing semi-nude inside this stone made castle, rays of sunlight glinting through the windows and nearby trees. I couldn’t believe I was doing something so unlike me. Back then, I lived within so many boundaries and prison walls. However, Mr. C always had a way of making me feel attractive and desirable. Whether I was wearing make-up, or not, he always told me I was beautiful. He has always made me feel so beautiful, even still today. He was unlocking the shame I had for myself and my body, releasing it to soar with the eagles, which still circled above the miniature castle. We eventually made it to the rooftop. Mr. C had encouraged me to remove more of my clothing. I was nervous, but I did so, hoping that no other visitors would come to visit the castle – at least for awhile.
It was late in the day when we made it to one of the last of the seven bridges, which I think was nicknamed the lover’s tunnel. It used to be known to some, that if you walked through the tunnel with your lover, it would bring the two of you good luck. We walked hand in hand, through the covered bridge, writing a note, dedicating our love for each other, dating our visit, and posting it to the bridge wall. It was one of so many notes posted on the inside walls of the bridge. We watched another couple walking hand in hand through the tunnel. Both, Mr. C loved to meet new people on our adventures. Somehow the four of us became engaged in talking. We found out that they were visiting the Bridges of Madison County for the very first time as well. It was their first date. They had met on the internet, much like Mr. C and I did. They appeared happy and in love. I often wonder if they are still together.
“At first power, power, then the wound, and love, and love and fears, and the loss of the self, and the gift, and slavery. At first I ruled, loved less; then more, then slavery. Slavery to his image, his odor, the craving, the hunger, the thirst, the obsession.” —Anaïs Nin, Fire: From “A Journal of Love” The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937
“Passion gives me moments of wholeness” —Anaïs Nin
Sunday morning, after an evening of mind-blowing sex and submission, we got back into our Time Machine, heading for home. The sky was painted with severe darkness. Plump, vicious, storm clouds invaded the sky like overpopulated space ships full of threatening aliens. The thrill of danger simmered in my blood, rushing through my veins, fluttering deep within my gut, tingling in my limbs and in my loins, building and building and building inside me, as if untamed, unpredictable barometric pressure. Every single cell inside me felt erotic energy whip through me like high powered wind, heightening my sense of trepidation, titillation and anticipation.
During our long ride home, I fought between the polarities of struggle and surrender, inside my mind and heart. I was falling deeply in love with Mr. C, but didn’t want to admit it. In my silence during our drive home, my emotions ricocheted like a silver ball in a 1980’s pin ball machine, back and forth between a huge wave of anxiety about not wanting to get too close or too involved with Mr. C, and the deep sense of love I felt for him. Our relationship was so new – things were moving so fast. I was scared. I was enamored. I was confused.
The storm outside continued to brew with ugliness. Mother Nature was about to have a temper tantrum. Attempting to calm the confused storm inside me, I began to count backwards from 25 to clear my mind, to slow my breath. I did this so many times, until I began find my rhythm and to surrender to the moment. The rain rushed down upon our windshield in large, heavy sheets. We could hardly see the road – the windshield wipers could hardly keep up. Yet, my body relaxed, minute by minute, continuing to count backwards inside my mind. I was feeling the calm within the storm. My body yearned for Mr. C’s hands. The more relaxed I became, the more I felt aroused, horny, stimulated. Mr. C was beginning to learn my body well, knowing how to read my mind and body language.
“Take down your jeans and panties,” he ordered, knowing I would become more excited. Obediently, I succumbed to his request. I thought that he’d never ask.
My salacious moans echoed throughout the car when his right hand reached over. His left hand, gripping the steering wheel with steadiness and virility – the other hand deeply pushing between my legs, his agile fingers working their way inside me – my ripped, blue jeans and white lace panties strangling my trembling thighs and knees.
“For you and for me the highest moment, the keenest joy, is not when our minds dominate but when we lose our minds, and you and I both lose it in the same way, through love.” —Anaïs Nin, Fire: From “A Journal of Love” The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1937
His strong, adept fingers pried, poked, thrust, curled, wiggled, and satiated. My orgasms were as strong as the storm! My moans were as loud as the angry thunder – my sex as wet as flooding rain. I have never felt such power and orgasmic energy! When I had completely surrendered and just let go, sending all my energy into my lover, as well as into the moment, the vigor of the storm moved through me, so fast and furious, fueling my drive for sexual intensity. I couldn’t get enough! I wanted to thrust my hips down, fast and hard, until I consumed his hand. I never thought that I would get the overwhelming sensation of ecstasy I felt, to release in its entirety – to uncurl my toes. My fingertips clawed at the upholstery in the car seat – my frantic hands gripping the leather seats, releasing, and gripping again. Mr. C was doing all he could to keep the car on the road. My ass was hydroplaning on my seat from my deluge of wetness, much like the Time Machine was doing upon the glossy, wet, slippery highway. Our drive back to Minnesota seemed to pass by so quickly. Before we knew it, we were at my home, and Mr. C was kissing me goodbye. What an amazing weekend!
“You don’t find love, it finds you. It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what’s written in the stars.” —Anaïs Nin
I must go Henry – I have an early dinner date with a very good friend and her husband. We meet every year around this time, to celebrate our friendship and the upcoming holiday. I’m looking forward to spending some quality time with them. I cherish my time with my closest friends. It means more to me than gifts.