Could I have a word?

Dear hearts,

Miss Mich is always thinking. You know that. All the mysteries of the world swirling around MM's little pea.

This somewhat cool afternoon here in the far far north has turned Miss Mich inward to her thoughts. What is the thing, the indefinable something that draws us to another. The Libertine has been searching for a new word to describe the attraction, the essence if you will of what it is that makes one want another.

Biologists would argue pheromones to explain the physical. Miss Mich is herself extremely sensitive to personal odour and scent. It doesn't matter how clean one may be, the underlying scent of ourselves is all pervasive and if it clashes....there is nothing you can do. Miss Mich has been forced, regrettably, to end certain liaisons based on scent alone. In contrast, Miss Mich can attest to the scent of The Libertine driving Miss Mich wild, and, once mixed with her own scent, it's a little like the denouement of Patrick Suskind's Perfume. Feather and fur flying, and at the end, not much left of us both. Ah, but such sweet capitulation.

An innate Knowingness. I'm giving it a capital letter. This is your belly speaking. Think of your intuition as the Captain. And the Captain knows where you are going and how you are getting there. Let the Captain navigate. I have said this many times and cannot reiterate enough. As much as your nose knows, so too does your belly.

One does wonder at preferred body types. The Bright young things and I have discussed this. The Songbird prefers the tall, lean, dark and brooding musician. The Baby is attracted to the well muscled, masculine, good smelling and slightly metro sexual boy, and as for myself, a little of both. We here at the cottage, unanimously, are lovers of the olive skin.

Golden brown Dear hearts. Golden brown, texture like sun...lays me down...

So what else? Our largest sex organ. Our brain. Meeting of the minds, Dear hearts. If we cannot engage the brain, the body will not follow. Speaking for myself, I need a good looking brain with a more than healthy libido. Nothing less will do. Miss Mich must confess to a certain inclination towards a good bedtime story. And The Libertine tells the best. Enough said.

I have just spent 388 words attempting to find the 1 word that best describes the best feeling one can have for another. Love seems to fall short. It is overused and undervalued. I love tomatoes...do you see what I mean. Although having said that, I really, really do love tomatoes. But they aren't my reason d'etre. The Libertine did propose Adore. There is the French J'Adore. I quite like it. But is it possible I'm just beguiled by the exotic flavour of another language?

There is Miss Mich's last attempt. The intelligence of the heart. Miss Mich in fact wears a ring with the inscription that one should trust in the intelligence of the heart to distinguish between good and bad. Miss Mich's legal eagle scoffed at Miss Mich, attempting to correct her by saying that the expression is in fact a paradox. I beg to differ. The heart has its own intelligence, there is no doubt. And whilst the basis for this intelligence is very much rooted in the emotional, the heart is not always the fool. The heart has a depth the mind will never have. For does not compassion stem from the heart and temper the judgement of the mind? Does the heart not have the ear of the mind, a whisper of advice before the final thought is processed? All the great thinkers and philosophers have needed and relied on the intelligence of the heart to transcend and arrive at their individual conclusions. The heart has the common good at it's heart, and that is the difference.

Dear hearts, I have not succeeded in finding that one word. That one word to describe the swirliness in your belly, the warmth that radiates out from your middle Chakra. The word that covers a blush, a skip, a faster beat of the physical heart. The smile that blossoms without you realising it is there. The pull, the yearning, the demand and the need.

I don't think there is one, because it is too much for our little language to bear.

Perhaps it is a colour, Dear hearts. Perhaps it is light. Whatever it is, I do hope you get to feel it, to experience it, because it is all I have written and so much more.

Enjoy Sunday and the search.

With love
Miss Mich