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I had a chat on Monday night that changed the way I see everything. It was one of those moments where my heart beat wayyy too quickly, I knew too much, and I felt disgusted because I thought I’d left these goddamn moments of panic behind.
I took a few more sips.
I finished the bottle.
I filled a tub.
I let myself thrash in the throes of fury, violent intentions, and painful hurt.
I took my time.
Finally, I laughed.
And somehow, with the burning of pictures and crazy wild yoga and sweaty hot walks, I’m actually feeling lighter than I had been, before I knew what had really been going on.
So while I’d like to say fuck you, I’d add a thank you as well.
Turns out, I’m one lucky bitch.
Crazy how that happens.
8 things I know that I know
1. People will tell you who they are, without saying so in as many words. Believe what you see and hear. But trust actions over words.
2. I can trust my body to know how I really feel about my life.
3. Yoga, meditation & space are essential for my self-care.
4. Focusing on the problem isn’t the solution.
5. Compassionate communication is a vital skill for all of life.
6. When I feel loved, safe, supported, acknowledged & appreciated, or any one of those at one time, I flourish and love pours forth.
7. Pleasure serves me much better than pain.
8. Family matters.
Nurture, compassion, soul, soulful, soul love, soul shine, hug, held, witnessed, protected, safe, safe, safe, folded into, relaxed, supine, child’s pose, shavasana, kisses, massages, hot stones, rub my feet, please, please, please, soothe, comfort, still, quiet, tranquil, easy, flow, ease, melting, being, nourishing, serenity, solidarity, wholeness, buzzing quiet, whispers, love, care, fading, silent, savor, expand, laugh, weep, gently, shhh, peace, peace, peaceful, chilled air, trees, gurgle of a creek, crunching leaves, cool damp ground, wanton, wellbeing, giggles, waves, undulating, feeling, sensing, claiming, knowing, silence.
Dark, twirling, film noir, kohl eyeliner, full moon, witches and spells and brews and potions and devious sparkles in eyes, hands extended, palms up, i will receive, i am open, i will hear, i will listen, i am quiet, i am yielding, receptive, alive, curious, rooted, interested, yes yes yes, i want to grow, i want to feel you, i want this wildness in me, hazy glow, lightning, melancholy and ecstatic, creative and flowing, still and knowing, birthing newness, dying embers of the past, it’s fading away, i’m not sad, let it go, i am ready, i am old, i am new, i am open, do you hear me? i am open, this is me, asking for you, gentle, soulful, just slow down, remember to touch, to taste, to feel, to really feel, i said to fucking feel, let it glide over you, resting nowhere, flowing out, opening up, kissing those places briefly, briefly, fleeing, running, it’s behind us now, a new sun, a new earth, a brighter day, it’s here.
i am craving water.
What if my unruly communication is a cry for attention?
What if I distracted myself from the obstacle and flaunted what I’ve still got?
What if I lived the answer instead of obsessing over the question?
What if I treated myself the way I wish to be treated?
What if I knew the way I wish to be treated?
What if I created the intimacy I’m convinced will free me?
What if I invited him in, instead of kicking him out?
What if I closed my eyes and let my body lead the way?
What if I quit my job right now, bought a ticket, and asked to learn from the woman who inspires me?
What if I thought it normal to follow my desires and intuitions and thought it odd to seek guidance elsewhere?
What if I knew and allowed that to be enough?
What if I could see it as it lies in front of me?
What if I dared to act on my impulses, the ones that scare me, the ones that risk familiarity, the ones that haunt me?
What if I really believed all you need is love?
What if I found a way to live in the feeling of love I’ve flirted with before?
After a nice dinner with my man, his brother and his girlfriend, we found ourselves discussing dirty words.
One of my favorite topics.
The girlfriend, whom we’ll call Sandra Dee, said she wasn’t a fan of the word titties. Or, pussy. The conversation kept going, until I had to ask what word she preferred instead of pussy. She didn’t know. And she’d never heard of using “kitty.” Then, she cocked her head to the side, and tried to remember another word she didn’t like that started with the letter S.
“Snatch!” I screamed, like I’d just won $500,000 on a game show.
“That’s it!” she said. “I didn’t even say which body part it related to,” she laughed.
Well, apparently, it’s the first word that comes to my mind.
And then my man kissed my ear and whispered: That’s why I love you.
I believe in singing loudly.
I believe my cat and I communicate pretty damn well without words.
I believe in the power of Girl’s Night Out.
I believe I’m rich as almighty hell because I receive epiphanies on a spontaneously frequent basis.
I want to learn to hula hoop.
I am Chakralicious!
I require lots of bright color in my life.
I realized that I buy books because what I really desire is support.
I’ve been wearing a mask of sexuality that was intellectualized, and I’m giving myself permission to re-create myself authentically, sexually. Bodily. Sensationally. Tantrically.
It’s permission to have sex with all of me.
Right after I wrote a post about Calm, and being over Bleary Eyes, I spent a week feeling more exhausted than I can ever remember being.
I proved to myself that breathing, naps, meditation really do produce calm and wellbeing for me.
My life is about to change, a lot, and for the better, on January 8, 2010.
My life is already kick-ass, so this is going to ROCK.
Questioning my beliefs and what works for me in my life led me to realize I’m an intuitive empathetic person.
Life made a lot more sense after that.
I’m writing this blog because I am flexing my voice.
I want to express myself in a more public way, and I’m quite good with being low-key and low-read at this point.
I just want my voice out there.
That’s my only intention – the direction, the feel, the look, the focused content can all come later.
It’s also about accepting imperfection.
Because perfection is SHIT.
I am thankful for the wisdom of yoga, of all these life tools I’ve been exposed to, and the personal transformation I’ve seen in such a short time.
Right now, I’m learning about enough.
I have close to 70 books on my To Be Read List, yet I always want more.
The lesson is being content with what you have.
The less you want, the more you got, so don’t you cry for more…
But I also believe in asking for what you want.
How it will make you feel.
With no regard to how you’ll acquire it.
Not so long ago, my aunt thanked me for a book I’d sent. Her words: it fed my soul.
I couldn’t pinpoint a book I’d read that had reached my soul. As a book whore, this concerned me. Within a month, maybe more, I realized I simply hadn’t found my literary soulmate yet. I knew when I’d found her though: those first pages of Henry and June. Yes, it was her lusty adventures. Oh, GOD, was it her writing. I doubt it would matter what she wrote about, her style of writing felt soul-familiar. But when she talked about love, I knew. Love as creation. Feelings as guides. Writing as breathing.
She had a harem. They weren’t all aware of each other. That’s a bit more stress than I’d like in my life. But I love how she made sure that she was loved in every way that she needed. Her artistic side, her passionate side, her practical side, her mystical side. She embraced every aspect of humanity, within herself and those around her, with an awareness, energy and love that is staggering. And inspiring.
Perhaps it’s because we’re both Pisces. Or because I grew up playing All you need is love over and over again. But her words – her life – feed my soul.
In my early 20’s, in the throes of college, I felt impatient to know how to live as an adult. Back then, I thought I’d magically know how to handle situations when this ‘adult’ stage appeared. I had no idea how much work would be involved, or what sort of work I’d even have to do. I started this thing that lingers even now – buying books to help navigate the way. As in, life as an independent study, complete with homework.
Now near my 30’s, I’m pretty damn grateful for all that musing, reading, curiosity. And pretty amazed at how much more there is to unravel, experience, feel, ponder. In my 20’s, I aimed to seduce, and seduce well. For love. For friendship. For saucy stories. For life. Somewhere in the mid-twenties, I aimed my seductions at myself. I must confess: much sexier.
Apparently, to understand seduction is to understand oneself, as a whole person, not just the intended target and their lingerie preference.
Over this decade-long study, I’ve found some highly enlightening books. I’ve had epiphanies that involved tears of relief. I’ve failed assignments and I’ve rocked them. I’ve been proud of taking care of my own needs rather than seducing someone else to take care of them. And I’ve still never found that memoir that laid out this whole adult thing exactly as I needed it. And that’s because: I’m writing my own damn story. It’s been in me this whole time. But that doesn’t mean my amazon wish list is any lighter.
It does mean that the story’s ending is in my hands.
And that’s fucking amazing.