May Day Clarity (2015)

I woke up with such profound clarity this morning that I hope I can write all of these thoughts out before it’s time for work.

“Cruel to be Kind” – I’m not sure if I completely understood the meaning of this phrase until now. Is it kind to be honest, or if you know if someone would be hurt by your words, do you hold back and keep it to yourself?

All I have seen in a few conversations, is when I start speaking my truth, later on, you’ll bend that around, so it no longer represents what I mean.

When talking to you, I can see your intensity and your forceful spirit and now completely understand why others ran away from me in the past. Yes, I recognize myself, my old behaviors in you. I remember how hurt I had felt by other people’s honesty, and I struggle with how to be forthright, yet gentle with you.

The tendency to help and fix, without being asked, was one of my old ways to feel useful in this world. I’m still working on that balance of not imposing what I think will help others. Instead, waiting and see if someone wants help. [Maybe this is why you might never see this writing.]

Reflecting on your gift to me last week, it was a terrible gift; why hadn’t we learned from the parable of Adam & Eve? My clarity is this: that anyone who loves and respects me would not hurry into the physical. Because when things become physical too soon, all sorts of doubts creep into my mind. The type of doubts that had me hiding parts of me from you. Because patience and time is how those are earned.

My mind questions my heart incessantly. I’ve finally calmed that down by realizing no one can really know the future, so I should accept the past, learn from it and move forward.

I love myself, and need to make sure I’m not in any type of relationship (including friendship), where I’ve feel like I’ve lost my voice. I’ve worked too hard to gain my voice, and to know my heart, to ever risk losing that.

Something else that has troubled me makes so much sense now: I can’t be your nourishment, your way to “be kind to yourself.” It took me many years to realize, I’m the only one who can nourish my soul. You are the only one who can nourish your soul.**

I love myself enough to know that someday, if I do find someone by my side, that he must love himself as deeply as I love myself. We are both strong enough to nurture ourselves; then, in times of trouble, we can be there for each other. So, like the song asks, “Are you strong enough to be my man?”*

Then again, after soul reflection, distance and time, perhaps the universe will bring us each the souls we’re meant to be with.

*I’m not sure who’s the mouse or the lion is in our parable.

**Since our conversation yesterday afternoon, it makes perfect sense. You remind me to be kind to myself too.

The Perfect Scene

Sometimes when creating, the perfect scene pours out of my mind and onto the paper (or electronic document). It is something I can see so clearly, and I feel fortunate enough to capture it.


Then, the rest of the story is still a mystery. What happened before? What happens next? I want to know and share it with the world.


The mystery man remains silent, and doesn't share his story with me.

Why Music?

I've been drawn to music most of my life. In the past, it's been able to express emotions when I didn't have the words to communicate how I felt.

What is it about music that draws a person in?

Music is art for the masses. It is easily accessible, yet pure emotion.

Music speaks to our souls. Reminds us to enjoy life, to love, to breathe. Music is more than the notes played or the poetic words sung. The synergy of the two, mixing and melding, creates a new energy, spinning though the universe.

In looking at old musings, I realized that music is what has set me free. Free from repression, from depression, from fear and regression.


Maybe this is why most of my fictional dream lovers are musicians. The fellows who created this music: I'll always have a place in my heart for them.

Short Musing: 15 Minutes

In talking with a friend today, I realized that it's too easy to feel overwhelmed by the world. And when a person feels overwhelmed, it is easy to feel stuck or trapped by our circumstances. I see this over and over with people I know, and have felt this way from time to time too.

But if we can just spend 15 minutes just doing something that will improve our situation (cleaning out one cluttered drawer), tapping into our creativity (taking 1 sheet of paper and writing down whatever pops into your head) and/or spending time on oneself (soaking in a warm bath), we are improving and investing in ourselves. If we can do this every day, we are changing the narrative of life. We are showing that we do matter. 

It's too easy to say that we don't have time. And yes, sometimes there really is no time. But overall, if one is not kind to oneself, why should others be considerate of us?

Other people might think that this is time wasted. True, if I write, maybe no one else will enjoy it or even read it. It might never be published, but who's to say all writing has to be published. 

When we just keep our heads down and work, are we contributing to our souls dying a little bit each day? 

I've spent too much wasted time worried about what other people think. I am going forward in the world with peaceful and positive intentions and not wishing harm to anyone. So, I need to let go of being who other people think I should be. I need to be true to who I am. 

And yes, last night when writing I figured out something. When I shut off the writing, I feel a little less alive.

I don't know what the future has in store. I'm done hiding in the shadows. It's time to embrace life, appreciate my eccentricities, and just find my way.

Thank you for sharing this 15 minutes with me.

Cracked Ice story-list of all of the segments (so far)

If reading the "Cracked Ice" story, this post was created to it easier to read it in chronological order. I started posting this in August of 2013.

Part 1:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/08/cracked-ice-part-1.html

Part 2:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/08/cracked-ice-part-2.html

Part 3:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/08/cracked-ice-part-3.html

Part 4:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/08/cracked-ice-part-4.html

Part 5:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/08/cracked-ice-part-5.html

Part 6:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/10/cracked-ice-part-6.html

Part 6.5: http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/10/cracked-ice-part-65.html

Part 7:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/10/cracked-ice-part-7.html

Part 8:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/10/cracked-ice-part-8.html

Part 8.5:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/11/cracked-ice-part-85.html

Part 9:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/12/cracked-ice-part-9.html

Part 9.5:   http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2013/12/cracked-ice-part-95.html

Part 9.75:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2014/02/cracked-ice-part-975.html

Part 10:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2014/03/cracked-ice-part-10.html

Part 10.5:  http://leora-tozer.blogspot.com/2014/04/cracked-ice-part-105.html

Cracked Ice - Part 10.5

“CRACKED ICE” by Leora Tozer © 2014 -Part 10.5 

Art’s two-toned cream-colored Caddy Roadster was idling outside the boarding house at 10pm. 

I was walking downstairs in a long peach-toned silk dress. Nellie was standing by the front door, and said to me, “Looks like someone’s waiting for you.” 

“Yes, but do you have a shawl I could borrow?” I asked. 

“Of course,” she answered, while holding up a colorful and beautifully embroidered silk shawl. 

“Thank you Nellie,” I smiled. “I’m not even sure where we’ll be going. Should I be nervous?” 

Nellie’s clear blue eyes twinkled slightly, “No, it seems like everything’s been going well for you so far.” 

“Thank you for the shawl. Off to a new adventure,” I said. 

“That’s right,” Nellie replied. “Embrace life.” 

I smiled, “And have a good evening.” 

“Thanks. You too, sweetie,” Nellie answered. 

I opened the front door and walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk. I watched my step and listened to the click-click of my Oxford shoes on the cement. As I walked closer to the car, I could feel a strange energy surround me for just a second. 

I looked up and smiled at the car. The passenger door popped open slightly. I caught the door handle and opened the door enough for me to slip into the car. Art had moved back to the driver’s side of the car, “Good evening.” 

“Thank you. Good evening to you,” I replied. “Am I appropriately dressed for tonight’s adventure?” 

“Yes,” Art smiled. “Perfect.” 

Since I’m not familiar with town, I didn’t recognize where we were going. However, it didn’t seem to take long to get to an area of town where a few bars and restaurants were open late. 

He parked the car, and we went into a small building with a brick façade. We went into the bar, and sat on bar stools. The bartender asked us what we wanted. I ordered an iced tea and Art ordered a ginger ale. 

One of the waitresses came in from the back room; she was tall, and as I looked more carefully, I realized she was a man dressed and made up like a woman. As she was waiting for the bartender to make up her orders, I asked her, “Your fingernails are beautiful. How did you get your nails done so precisely? I don’t have the patience to get the polish that smooth.” 

Art didn’t say anything, but I could see in my periphery that he looked momentarily surprised by my question. The waitress smiled, “Thank you. I have a few drinks to deliver, but in a bit I can show you a couple of makeup tricks.” 

“I could use the help,” I replied, smiling. “As you can see, I generally look like a ghost when I’m done putting on makeup.” 

After she left, Art looked at me carefully, “For a Benson, you’re full of surprises.” 

“And why’s that?” I asked. "Life’s a continuous gift as long as you keep an open mind.” 

“I know,” Art said. “But not everyone sees that.” 

“That’s true. They can miss a lot,” I answered. 

The waitress came back, took my arm, and told Art, “I’m temporarily borrowing your date.” 

Art grinned and tipped his hat, “No problem.” 

While Leora was gone, Art surveyed the place. It was a small room, with dark wood paneling. Drawings and small paintings dotted the walls. The bar was busy with only a few people standing and talking, but several waitresses with drink orders were coming in and out of the second room. 

“So what’s in the other room?” Art asked the bartender. 

The bartender smiled, “When your date comes back, you can go in and find out.” 

Judy led me to a small dressing room that the waitresses and other staff shared. I held out my hand, “By the way, my name’s Leora.” 

“Nice to meet you, Leora. I’m Judy,” the waitress said while shaking my hand. Judy and I sat down in chairs at a makeup table. Judy opened a drawer, and pulled out a kit with blush, eye makeup and lipstick. She also selected nail polishes, which were setting in the corner of the table. 

“We’ll do your nails first. Which color do you like?” Judy asked. 

“I like the mauve tones,” I answered. Judy and I talked while she worked on my fingernails, starting with my right hand. “What type of work do you do?” 

“I’m a secretary,” I replied. “The nail polish will probably get chipped up from typing tomorrow.” 

“We’ll apply a second coat and see if that will delay the chipping,” Judy suggested. Judy had me set my left hand on the table, so she could apply a first coat. 

I smiled and asked, “How long have you worked here?” 

“Not long,” Judy said. “I moved here from New York a few months ago, because I heard there are jobs here.” 

“That’s why I’m here temporarily,” I replied. “Thought I’d work in an office a short while and then go back home to the Midwest.” 

“So what’s your story with that sharp-dressed New Yorker you’re with,” Judy inquired with a smile. I smiled back, 

“Sorry to disappoint; not much of a story. He’s one of my bosses and he wanted to check out this place, and he thought I should tag along.” 

Judy looked thoughtful as she blew air onto my fingernails to dry the first coat. The polish changed from dark to light to shiny as they dried. 

“From what I’ve observed, people come to either find someone or to get to KNOW someone,” Judy stated. 

“Not to presume, but do some folks come to gawk out of curiosity?” I asked. “I mean, some people don’t see that we are all the same, so they think they are seeing something different.” 

“Oh, there are a few like that, but they don’t stay long. They get nervous,” Judy replied, with a wink and a smile. 

I giggled and smiled back, “I bet they do.” I looked down at my fingernails; with the second coat, they were perfect. 

Judy opened the makeup kit, and found blush for me. “Take off your glasses, Sweetie,” Judy said. I took off my glasses and set them on the table. Judy applied blush, lip and eye color while we talked. 

 “You know, if you get the chance tonight, you should kiss him,” Judy stated. 

I blushed slightly, “He’s been very kind ever since I started there. But that could get awkward with my other bosses. 

Judy asked, “Do they know you two are out tonight?” 

“Well, no,” I said. “I’m not saying anything. It would make one boss think I should go out with him and the third could feel jealous.” 

Judy asked, “Oh, you have three bosses? And are they in the picture business?” 

I smiled, “Sorry, I wouldn’t feel right answering that.” 

Judy replied, “Oh Sweetie, everything is private here. Otherwise, people wouldn’t come back.” 

“Well,” I stated, “You may have seen them in the movies.” 

“Sounds fair,” Judy said with a smile. “I’ve always heard the quiet one’s a real sweetie.” 

I had tried to watch Judy apply the makeup on me, but I got distracted by the conversation. 

Judy said, “There. What do you think?” 

I looked at myself in the mirror. I felt in awe; even though I’ve tried many times, I could never quite get it right. “Thank you Judy. I’ve never looked this put together before,” I said. 

“Glad you like it,” Judy said. “My dream is to get a job doing makeup.” 

I thought a moment, “Have you tried at the studios? Or is it hard to get a job there?” 

“I haven’t asked yet. Maybe with a bit more practice…” Judy said. 

“You have real talent,” I smiled. “After all, look at the magic you did with me.” I put my glasses back on. “Thank you. And trust your gifts.” I gave Judy a quick hug. 

“Now it’s time for you to take that handsome man dancing in the back room,” Judy suggested. 

We walked back out into the bar, where Art was waiting. Art smiled at Leora and teased Judy, “Where’d my date go? Did she sneak out the back?” 

I nudged his left arm playfully. “If I didn’t get scared off from Henry last week, what makes you think I’d run off tonight?” 

 It seemed like Art couldn’t quit looking at me. Meanwhile,Judy motioned to the other room, “Now you two go back there, enjoy the music and dance.” 

“I don’t remember how to dance. Can you show me?” I asked. 

Art asked, “How can you not remember?” 

“Too many years of not dancing,” I replied. 

“We need to correct that,” Art stated, taking my right elbow with his left hand and leading me down the small, dark hallway. 

I opened the door and the room was mostly dark, except for a small candle on each table and a lone spotlight on the small stage. The three piece jazz band was playing a fast song as we carefully walked into the room. Our eyes began to adjust and we noticed the doorman nodding to Art and pointing to an unoccupied table for us to sit down at. 

We quietly moved through the small room and sat down at the table. I slipped my shawl onto the back of the chair, while Art set his hat on the table. 

“The beat is too fast for me, at least to start out with,” I said. 

“The only way to learn is to start now,” Art replied and took my hand. 

We took a few steps to the small dance floor, and I followed his lead, taking a step or two with the music. He swung me around in a circle, and spun me back. Surprisingly, I kept on my feet during the dance, and we applauded when the band finished the song. 

As the band started a slower song, a female impersonator walked onto the stage. The singer sang a torch song about missing her man. Many more couples came onto the dance floor for the slow song. 

Art moved closer and gently put his right hand on my waist. With his left hand, he took my right hand; in his grasp, our fingers became entangled. I placed my left arm across his shoulder and my hand rested lightly on the back of his neck. 

We danced close, but our bodies were not quite touching. As the music infused the crowd, it was easy to sense love lost and unresolved longing from many. The fingers of my left hand began to trace soft circles on the back of his neck in time to the music. 

Usually I would watch the crowd, but I felt transfixed by Art’s eyes. I felt surprised by a sense of recognition within the deep recesses of my soul. Getting lost within his gaze, I felt something more, another stirring, more primal, more physical. 

As the band kept playing slow, sensual numbers, we kept dancing. My body felt so aware and awakened by each minute change in pressure from his fingertips on my waist and his hand squeezing mine. My body felt washed with longing and desire; I blocked other people’s emotions and realized I was feeling my own long repressed want. It had been so long since I had felt attracted to anyone. I was uncertain what I was feeling, until it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

As soon as a faster song started, we both stopped dancing. Art didn’t say a word; he kept hold of my hand. We went to the table and he picked up his hat, while I grabbed my shawl from the chair. He led me out of the club and we walked to his parked car. 

We were standing by the passenger door, and as he was reaching over to open the door for me, I kissed him, just one gentle kiss on the lips. He looked at me with such human hunger. I realized the music must have affected him too. 

I draped my arms around his neck and kissed him again, and stepped back. He stepped forward and took my face in his hands and kissed me back. We got as lost in the kisses as we had in the dancing. 

Time seemed to stand still as he leaned me against the side of the car while we kissed. My arms slipped around his neck; my body quaked against his. Every nerve ending in my body felt awakened and my fingers worked through his hair. 

After 15 minutes or so, Art pulled back and looked at me. I’m sure he could see the pure want in my eyes, since he whispered, “I should take you somewhere. But where?” 

He opened the passenger door. I crawled into the car, and opened the driver’s door from the inside. I leaned my stomach on the back of the car seat, looking out the back window. I felt keyed up from our kissing and wasn’t ready to sit down yet. 

Art slipped into the driver’s seat beside me. My eyes shined down at him with pure, innocent lust. He wrapped his arm around my waist and sat me down on his lap for a minute. His left thumb slowly caressed my cheek and jaw line. I softly sighed. 

 He whispered in my ear, “If I kiss you anymore, I won’t be able to drive home.” My body trembled slightly with his statement and with my lustful thoughts. 

I slid off of his lap, “The music and atmosphere must have influenced us too much.” 

 I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It felt like he did the same. When I opened my eyes, I smiled at him. “Thank you for taking me here this evening. I should go home.” 

He looked at me carefully, “Are you sure?”

 “Yes, it’s a work day tomorrow,” I stated. “Besides, don’t you have to rest for all the things you need to do tomorrow?” 

“You mean golf and a card game?” Art asked. 

He drove me back to the boarding house, and I thanked him again for taking me to the night club. Before I hopped out of the car, he held my left hand briefly. My eyes flashed another lustful look at him, and then I slipped out of his grasp without looking back. I knew if I looked back I’d be too tempted to slip back into his car and too soon into his bed.

Cracked Ice - Part 10

“CRACKED ICE” by Leora Tozer © 2014 - Part 10 

The morning went by quickly. I typed quite a few answers for Leo’s letters. He briefly checked them over and signed them. I was able to get a lot done before the mail went out mid-morning. 

After a brief lunch outside with my book, I felt newly focused and energized. I was able to start on a few templates, which I planned on sharing with them for additions and approvals. As I was typing the second template, Henry popped his head out of his office and asked with a grin, “So, you’re answering those without me?” 

“I thought I’d quote your movie lines to create the answers,” I teased back, smiling at him. “When you have time, I can show you what I have done so far and how it would work,” I continued. 

He looked around the office and asked, “So where are my lazy brothers?” 

“I don’t know where your lazy brothers are,” I answered, “but Art and Leo were in for at least an hour, and now are gone for lunch. Don’t you need lunch?” 

“I had lunch. Come in with those letters.” Henry directed. 

I brought in the templates, a couple of fan letters, a notebook, and pen with hope my plan would work for this project. 

I entered the office. Henry shut the door and went to sit down at his desk. I sat on the chair across the desk from him. He moved the notebook and pen he had in front of him into the right desk drawer. 

He read the first letter template and then I showed him the letter and where I would need a few answers. 

He looked at me and stated, “This isn’t working at all.” 

I wasn’t surprised that he might not approve, but was shocked that he did so quickly. I answered, “I know it won’t work for all letters, but if it would help with even 20%...” 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said. 

“What’s not working?” I asked, slightly confused. 

“This seating arrangement,” he responded in a flirtatious way. “It’s difficult to work on this when you’re all the way over there.” 

“I can move the chair,” I said, standing up. 

He reached out and lightly held my hand. 

“Don’t you realize when a man is trying to get closer to you.” 

“But men don’t make passes at a girl wearing glasses,” I retorted. 

He asked, “What if it’s a boy in glasses?” 

He held my hand with a gentle, but steady grip; I looked at him from across the desk. There was a definite look I hadn’t seen him give me before. I felt a slight butterfly tremor flow through me. I took a small breath in and asked, “So, where should I sit?” 

"Where do you think?” he asked softly. 

We couldn’t seem to break our eye contact. It’s nature; the chemical interaction between a man and a woman attracted to each other. Ever since the kiss yesterday, I wanted to find some reason to touch him. My body swayed slightly at the thought of sitting on his lap. 

I moved around the desk while he kept claim of my hand. When I sat on his lap, he let go of my hand. My head was turned so my right ear was near his mouth. I could barely breathe; he whispered, “Now you’re right where you belong.” 

I gave a small nod in agreement. As I sat there, I felt an odd sense of relief; relief that I wasn’t ignoring my own feelings. A whole new emotion flooded my senses into overdrive. The sexual energy could have lit the whole room, even though no words were being exchanged. 

“So, you wanted to show me the letters?” Henry asked. 

I picked up the first template and a couple of letters. I read it out loud while he slowly caressed my back. 

“You seem tense. I should find a way to relax you,” he teased. 

Feeling his breath on my neck was sending waves of longing through my whole body. As his fingertips explored my neck, stomach and sides of my waist through my dress, I felt myself ache with a deep desire I hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

After reading a letter, I leaned back onto his shoulder. 

“Whatcha thinking about, honey?” Henry asked. 

I smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his neck, as I caressed his chest through his white cotton shirt. 

I felt jangled up, and knew I needed to leave the office soon. I intuitively knew he was a man who felt he should be in control. However, my attraction was stronger than I realized. I knew I had to control myself from going further. If a woman was too forward, I felt certain it would be an automatic turn-off for him. 

I was vibrating like a tuning fork and trying to decide how I could get up and leave. Fortunately, I heard Leo and Art’s voices when they entered the outer office. I could hear Art say, “I’ll need to ask Henry about that.” 

I quickly stood up, grabbed the letters from the desk, and took two steps from the desk. Art opened Henry’s office door. 

“Didn’t you learn how knock?” Henry grumbled to his brother. 

Art replied with a smile, “Knocking’s only needed for bathrooms and bedrooms.” 

“I was just leaving. Thank you for going over these letters with me,” I stated. I walked out of the office and closed the door behind me. 

I sat the letters on the desk and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I splashed cool water on my face to try to calm my reeling mind. After drying my face, I realized I needed to go outside for fresh air and a short walk. 

I can’t believe myself. I’ve never ever done something like this while at work. 

I’m walking outside lost in thought, and suddenly felt my soul being hugged by another soul. I had already walked around the building at least three or four times when someone tapped my elbow. “Hey, you alright?” Art asked kindly. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” I answered. He started walking next to me. 

“Most fine folks don’t walk laps around buildings.” “I just needed some fresh air to think,” I replied. 

He nodded, “Henry can cause most people to run for the hills from time to time. But, overall, he’s good.” 

“I wasn’t upset by anything he said. He seems so serious at times,” I replied in a concerned way. 

“He worries,” Art stated, “so the rest of us don’t have to. He’d worry even if we did.” 

I nodded, “Some folks feel like they have to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.” 

We stopped walking. Art looked around quickly to see if anyone else was outside. When he saw no one around, he commented, “Those are the people who should enjoy life when they can. Henry has no peace at home.” 

“It’s strange how right and wrong seemed so clear cut when I was young. Why is that?” I asked. 

Art smiled, “We all knew so much less as kids. What’s right for most? Things unknown don’t necessarily cause troubles.” 

I touched his arm and smiled, “Thank you for your wisdom.” He smiled back and whispered, “Don’t forget, 10pm.” 

I didn’t realize where we had stopped to talk. Henry had watched through his office window while Art and I had this confidential talk. Henry could only see the body language, of me touching Art’s arm, not realizing that it was in the spirit of friendship.




To be continued...