Tell Me What Another Is

No Safety in the Nest

2012-01-31T08:21:00.000-08:00

It was Christmas Eve morning and I was in my craft room being a busy bee, buzzing around sewing and getting some presents together. I finished up and was making my way to the parlor with an armload of wrapped gifts when it happened.

I fell into a five foot deep hole. I can't begin to describe the terror I felt, having the floor disappear beneath my feet like that, in the safety of my own home. It was so totally and utterly unexpected. I let out a blood curling scream as the presents I was holding flew and smashed everywhere. I kept screaming for awhile because I was so freaked out, in disbelief and shock. Plus I was hurt.

I knew H was outside. He was cleaning the fucking screen on the heater vent. He had seen me puttering away in my room and remembered that I had asked him to please clean the vent before we left for Italy. He thought to surprise me and was so proud of himself. The hole I fell into usually has a heavy iron grate covering it and he had left the hole uncovered while in the midst of taking care of his chore.

He never came and rescued me either. He actually heard my scream and ran to the street in front of our house, thinking someone had been hit by a car. Finding no one bloody and dying in the street, he returned to his task at hand. I just stood there in the hole hurting and sobbing. I was so furious. My injured feelings exceeded my injured body (and it was hurt). "Who would do this?" I sobbed over and over. I knew who did it, but I just couldn't comprend how anyone would do what H had done. I could have killed myself falling into that hole. I had crashed through the metal unit up to my knees with the floor now at about shoulder height. When enough time has passed and H still hadn't returned to save me, I somehow managed to lift myself out and crawl into the bathroom. There was some arnica cream close at hand and I was rubbing it into some of the obvious places where the lumps and bruises were starting to form, when H finally returned.

Besides "What kind of fucking idiot would do this?", I won't disclose all of the horrible things I had to say to H (I actually don't remember) but I rubbed furor into him while I rubbed the arnica into my wounds. He deserved it, and he knew he deserved it. I was pissed. I mean, what kind of fu@#%*$...

I ended up with a cracked rib and a small but deep gash all the way to the bone in my leg. Those were the worst of the wounds but I was fairly bruised and banged up all over my body.

Fast forward to last night. I was cooking dinner and looking for my spatula when I noticed a couple of things had fallen onto the floor under the shelve so I stuck my hand down there to retrieve them when it happened. The rat trap snapped and smashed my finger. Again I screamed, and H did come to my rescue this time. I was literally out of my mind furious. My body was shaking and I could barely contain my rage. I was definitely experiencing PTS from the aforementioned fall. The emotional threat I felt in both of these incidences was immense. I was yelling, "Who did this? Who set a rat trap in my kitchen without telling me? What kind of fucking idiot would do this?!" I felt utterly sabotaged.

There were several people in and out of our house while H and I were in Italy. There had been some scurrying rat sounds heard and so a trap was set....

Settling into 2012

2012-01-27T09:51:00.000-08:00

As I was lying in bed this morning before getting up to make green smoothies and coffee for my husband and me to start our day, I was pondering all of the varied tasks I might tackle and blogging came to mind. I see that I haven't visited here since August 17, 2011. That's over 5 months. Time sure does fly.

I've been to Burning Man and Italy since then. H and I had our 15/18th anniversary (together and married). My mama is still here (I was under the impression that she was going to leave her earthly form in 2011. I'm happy I was mistaken). It's been over seven months since my lover informed me that he didn't want to be my lover any longer. I guess those are the main highlights to the end of one year and the beginning of another in the life of She. I say, bring the year of the dragon on! Dragons and horses (moi) are supposed to share a powerful sexual chemistry (obviously LWINMYT isn't a dragon).

I finally gave myself a "Burner Name" this year. It took six years of over-anxious friends offering artificial names that never stuck. My full and proper name is SheWhoWillNotBeNamed and it's really just an evolved moniker of the name Rob Brezsny christened me with back in (1999?) SheWhoBeHot. I wish LWINMLT thought that I was hot but obviously he doesn't (well, at least I don't get him hot). Yes, I'm still fucking stuck on that. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll get over it in another five to ten years. I'm quick to let go of these things. NOT. Besides, he loves me and who needs sex when you have love? I seem to be on a roll. I guess I'm in the mood to rub it in (my own face). More on that later. But anyway, you can just call me She.

H and I came home from twenty lovely days in Italy to a torn apart bathroom that was supposed to be completed before we returned. I really wanted to soak in a hot bath. Of course. It's been a week, and at least now I have a toilet and a sink I can use in there. I think I'm supposed to wait another month for the painting to happen...sure, I'll just leave the contends of my bathroom stacked in the parlor until the handyman returns from another job.

Italy. What can I say about Italia? It was just about the perfect trip. I don't really like flying for long distances and I got sick on the flight home but besides that it was an incredible journey. H and I travel well together. We only had a few minor spats along the way. He annoys me when he is trying to explain the route of our destination and keeps turning the map upside down. I tell him that totally discombobulates my sense of direction but he does it anyway so I yell at him and he hates it when I yell at him. Then we kiss and make up. Those sort of moments. We visited Roma, Firenze, and Venezia (as well as the islands of Murano and Burano). We walked everywhere, with mostly churches, museums or ruins as our final destinations, with the intent of discovering whatever lay in our path between point A and point B. Sometimes we just wandered and got lost. We eat a lot and I drank a lot of wine. H drank wine but not as much as I did and never at lunch. I never drank wine for breakfast. We drank cappuchini (don't know why you always see it spelled cappuccino) because they always said "chini") day and night and sometimes cafe lattes. I learned to never shorten my order to a latte in Italy. The baristas in the states may know you are ordering a cafe latte but in Italy they just look at you weird because you are ordering milk. And the size of the coffee drinks in Italy make Americans look like gluttonous giants with our coffee drinking habits. The trip was all I could have asked for and I want to go back.

A friend asked me if Italy was on my bucket list. Travel has always been on my bucket list but it's interesting because there weren't many particular places I had in mind to travel to, I just wanted to travel. H was set on Italy and that was fine with me. And of course, once my sights were on Italy I was over the top excited and it turned out to be an awesome choice. I have held the idea of wanting to experience Buddhist countries as well as always being enamored with and wanting to travel to Persia since I was a young child. I always though of Turkey as being part of Persia (where not parts of Turkey part of the Persian Empire back in ancient times?). I should study my history on this part of the world. Anyway, I know that Persia was actually Iran, but just the same, Turkey is where my imaginings always went as a child, the markets, the architecture, the mosques, the heat, the smells, the magic carpets... The plan has been for me to travel to Turkey in June with K and his family but that may be off. I hope not, but there are likely changes up with his job and it may not be possible. I will be sorely disappointed if that's the case but time will tell.

I'm happy my mama is still here. I've been visiting her most days and reading Longfellow to her. We've both been enjoying it a lot, even though I don't read it very well. I'm so grateful for every moment I have with her. My heart will break when she is gone.

While H and I were in Italy, LWINMLT sent me a Rumi quote, "Lover's don't finally meet somewhere, they're in each other all along." It struck me how true this is for me. Since LWINMLT told me that he is not sexually attracted to me and therefore doesn't want to be my lover, my ability to orgasm practically vanished. Of course I understand this to be a part of my grieving process. I've been in a lot of pain around it (mostly covert rather an overt) but the anger and hurt is immense. Thank goodness that big love numbs the pain and the fact that I have a great life otherwise (mostly great). My orgasms, as with many women, are pretty throughly connected to my emotions and my ability to trust my partner and open to a deep vulnerability. The other thing that is related to the Rumi quote, is that whenever I orgasm, all of my lovers come rushing in. My orgasms open the door to EVERYTHING. While in Italy, I orgasmed in Roma. I orgasmed in Firenze. I orgasmed in Venezia. That made me very happy and it was a powerful release. It also made me sad because seeing that I carry my lovers around inside of me--whenever I orgasmed, all the grief I'm holding on to related to LWINMLT not being my lover would escape and wash over me. It's been obvious to me that I've been protecting myself from deeply feeling this loss, and it's been a real drag to not experience the vulnerable opening that allows the full pleasure of sex that leads to orgasm for so long. So, orgasming while having sex with H in Italy was nice because he is a generous, hot, and spicy lover and I prefer being open to receiving all he has to offer me. So it was very nice. And it was also like pouring salt on my wound.

But I'm happy. That's important to acknowledge. I have a good life. A good husband. Good friends. LWINMLT is one of them. I am blessed with family and friends and opportunities to learn to be a better lover, to love in ways that gently caress the tender underbellies of us all.

The Year of Death

2011-08-17T14:58:00.000-07:00

I hereby proclaim 2011 The Year of Death. The Grim Reaper has struck again.

I friend just told me that she has lost 25 friends and family members this year. It's only August. I haven't counted how many in my life have gone in the last 7 1/2 months.

Today, an 80 year old friend of a friend found her 24 year old grandson dead in the bathroom. He had fallen and hit his head. Besides my friend, he was the only person she really had in her life who was there for her. Twenty-four years old. A young promising life. That's the age of my youngest son. Can you imagine?

My 14 year old kitty might be dying. She's lost half of her body weight...I'm feeding her extra well and giving her kitty supplements but...

I've mentioned all the other death, dying, grief, letting go issues that I currently have going on in my life. Death is definitely my Rite of Passage this year, and the theme of Burning Man 2011. It will most definitely be my ritual focus.

Fuck you death. I never thought I feared you before. You got a grip on me. I bow to your power. All hail the Grim Reaper. Scary bastard.

The Moon, She is Glowing, Flowing and Growing

2011-08-16T02:07:00.000-07:00

Full Moon Tarot Reading

Question/Intention:

What do I need to know about my current struggle (with K and in general as K just represents a part of myself)? Clarity in regards to my current struggle.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm still struggling in regards to my relationship with K. But I am. I hate that feeling of having lost my power. At the same time, I'm pleased with my ability to give myself to love. There is certainly nothing for me to be ashamed of because I've opened my heart and allowed myself to be vulnerable. I'm the lucky one. And I know that my struggle is not just about K and I. I had so much going on in my life before this glitch in our matrix revealed itself. Death/letting go/emotional overwhelm was already up in a big way before K pushed me over the edge and Death continues to assert itself. People in my life have been dropping like flies. My mama is still dying. Dying is her life process right now and I'm more aware than ever how this life is a training ground for death and I'm grateful for every moment I have left to spend with her. But I continue to be triggered around K's and my relationship. Various stuff comes up that throws me off kilter. The hardest thing is the experience of separation, when we are out of sync with one another. I've really lost my balance. I'll be going along just fine and then I find myself falling into a void, as if I've lost my identify and I don't know who I am or what my role is. I don't know how to be his friend and not his lover. I don't want to be his friend and not his lover. It's like I was kicked off a train before I had reached my destination and it pisses me off. It's an awkward and sad place or me. Sometimes. Not always. Truthfully I'm quite fine, most of the time, but this tender hearted vulnerability has a grip on me.

I have been struggling with hope and fear. I have fears and hopes about my relationship with K that I've been afraid to admit, that I have not paid full attention to. Here they are, spelled out in this tarot reading.

These three cards represent:
Who I am, my heart.
What's going on for me right now.
The obstacle facing me, my challenge, what I need to integrate.

Who I am--The Two of Cups is upside down
What's going on for me--Ace of Cups is almost upside down also
My Challenge--Death (fuck you death)

Yes, I'm a water girl--Cups represent water. Emotions. Ya think?!

Twos represent balance and are ruled by the moon. My heart is receptive with a strong attractive force. That's a good thing. Of course I know this about myself and it pleases me. I'm what Jerry calls a "warm woman". Twos can also be very secretive and private, and I definitely am this way also. This aspect of self arrives when I don't feel very safe and trusting which I don't right now. I feel very vulnerable. The Two of Cup and the Ace of Cups are interesting polar opposites because the ace is an outward thrust, it's about putting yourself out there, which is what I see myself doing when I tell the truth about what's going on for me, like when I write in this blog. It's scary. The two of cups in more inward and represents all the deep watery emotions surrounding sex...bingo, this is so much of who I am and what I'm about. This is my heart. My heart = love and sex. This card often refers to two parts of the self, it also represents who we are in regards to another, it relates to our sexual relationship with another. For me, who I am is who I am in relationship with another. In this reading, it's about K. Consider the name of this blog. This card represents harmony and new love--new relationship energy (NRE) which is wild and sweet. It's about unconscious desires and a heart full of love. The outcome of this card (not this reading) is union. Well, maybe it is also the outcome of this reading. We shall see. I'm always seeking union. This is who I am. K tells me he isn't sexually attracted to me anymore and here I am, seeking union with him anyway. Again, my sexual loving relationships is how I play out who I am. With my K, with my husband, with Lover Who Is Not My Lover...

Funny it's about newness...? And I can't ignore the fact that it's totally upside down. All this good juicy energy that is trying to emanate from the Two of Cups is blocked. There is a reverse flow. My receptivity is blocked, my power of attraction is blocked. I seek union but it's not happening.

Aces represent gifts and the Ace of Cups is the gift of love. It's an outpouring. It is the beginning of love. NRE comes up again. The Ace of Cups says that the root of what I am going through right now is big watery emotions. Again, more newness, the beginning of something? I'm diving in gracefully. Whoa. Diving in gracefully? I don't feel graceful. I feel out of balance and awkward (sometimes I feel grateful moving through this, and I know I'm a harsh judge of myself). This is a feel good card--all about the feminine and being receptive to unconditional love. Well, if this is what I'm going through it's surely in disguise. I don't feel good and I don't feel unconditional love. Okay, that's not true. I do feel unconditional love, from both the love I'm giving and the love I'm receiving. That is ultimately true but not always my truth of the moment.

My obstacle, the challenge I need to integrate is the major arcana card--DEATH. So I have something to let go of? Really? What? Hope and Fear? K? My mom? K to love me the way I want him to love me? The Death card in tarot doesn't usually signify actual physical death but perhaps in this case it does. As a metaphor, the obvious death is of my and K's relationship, or the ending of the way I want it to be, or thought it was. Maybe it's a death of something else... This card seems to read pretty obvious and it's not in reverse. Just tipped to the left a bit--repressed. I don't want to admit that I might be in denial. I don't want to accept death, letting go, grief, loss. I'm a hanger on-er. This makes my heart hurt. Too much death surrounding me. But I know that death is always about rebirth. Something transformed always rises out of the ashes. Something is definitely changing. Am I the one dying and changing in some deeply spiritual way (of course) or is this challenge the obvious process I'm going through with K? My mom is dying. It's all connected for me. but I can't see the forest for the trees.

Here is the root of my reading, the foundation. My unconsciousness mind. My body. JUDGEMENT, another major arcana card. Pretty much reversed also, at least very repressed, held back. This card speaks of a decision I've already made but it's blocked. Goodness, isn't it enough that this card already represents the unconscious?! Judgement is about taking personal responsibility and owning myself and my life (I don't feel like I own my life right now), keeping my heart open and not judging others but holding them in understanding and compassion. Judgement offers the end of suffering (except that it's reversed so it speaks to my current suffering) It's another rebirth, just like the death card. It's also about telling the truth and healing wounds and NON-ATTACHMENT. Attachment is causing my suffering. I know that. This is my root. My strength. The other day I told K I wanted to talk and my plan was to be very frank and honest with him about some things that were very clear to me about our relationship. I was coming from a very open hearted space of self responsibility and feelings of love and compassion for both of us. Then I got triggered and decided not to talk with him.

Another reversal. The MAGICIAN is my recent past, what I've just been though. And it is almost reversed with a strong, masculine, overbearing push. Goals, passion, a sense of purpose, motivation. It's already gone, pushed out. Too quickly? Is this the sense I have about being pushed off the train before I reached my destination? I've lost my passion, my sense of purpose, my power. Did this sneak up on me during my on going relationship with K over the last 3 years or from being pushed off the train? This card is about intention. I thought that I had a strong intention but K didn't seem too. But that's not true. We both had/have the intention to love. But all this stuff that gets unconsciously attached to love...I think for both of us... I didn't want to force my agenda onto him. Honestly, I tried to not have an agenda with him. I tried to go with the flow and let our relationship organically unfold, evolve. He recently told me that he had a totally different idea about polyamory how it is for me. He said he didn't know what he was getting himself into (we never do, love has it's way with us, it's complicated.) Although two years ago he told me if he stayed in this relationship with any longer, that our bond would grow and he would get attached. But I guess he didn't. Not to me as a lover he wanted to claim as his own anyway. Not only do I feel like he pushed me off the train. He fucking derailed it! The Magician is a channel that brings ideas into physical form through intention. I feel like I failed. I was a lousy Magician with K. The Magician also initiates sexual energy. I stirred something up in K for sure, but was unable to maintain it with him. I have a lot of sexual energy but I'm a submissive lover. There was so much I once imagined that we could experience together sexually, but the fire never really got raging. The sex, when it happened, was good. Good enough. Mostly. Sometimes it was really good. I enjoyed it. I adored his cock. He used it well. He is a good lover. But it's not my style to take the reigns and he wasn't picking them up. I wanted him to. But his sexuality was so compartmentalized compared to the freedom of mine. He didn't want me the way I wanted him. I didn't want to put pressure on him so I backed off. I practiced being content with what was, of being low maintenance for him. I took what he gave me with appreciation. I wanted more but didn't let myself yearn for it or suffer from attachment of wanting more that he was willing to give. Not much anyway. I was basically happy and content. Or maybe in denial but I don't think so. My role as The Magician was to awaken his sexual intensity to match my own. That never happened. My Shakti power failed me with K and the Magician has left the house.

The Son of Cups is what I'm thinking about. Not reversed but pushed energy. Shiva. Male energy that honors the female. A nice quiet aspect of male beingness. The son of cups reminds me of K. and I do think about him a lot. It reminds me of my husband too and I think about him a lot. The Son of Cups also represents the lover. A lover's desire. I have lots of desire. And I think a lot about my desire and being a lover. I think about K's lack of desire for me. The Son of Cups brings the gift of himself/herself to his lover and I think about that, how I offered myself to K--how he offers himself to me. And I still carry sacred visions in regard to him, visions that come from the deepest part of myself. My heartsongs are very Rumi-est, and they allow for love to have its way outside of a rigid form. The Son of Cups also brings what's unconscious to the surface so he helps with my unconscious Judgement stuff. Put he is too pushed, not balanced. This card tells me to meditate more.

Another fucking reversal. This annoys me but it makes sense. I've been feeling so unbalanced. Topsy Turvy. Crap. This is my near future. Another two which is about balance but then not, because it's reversed. So I'm UNBALANCED. I know that. Look at her, she is holding twins. We all know what it must be like to manage twins. Not an easy task. Here are my two parts, always pushing and pulling me in different directions. She's handling it well here, but not really because this card is reversed. She would be grounded in all that nice earth energy if she were upright, but she's not. This is not a definite prediction of what's coming to me, but rather a warning of what it could be if I don't get my act together. This is not an "Oh yea" card, "Look at all the awesomeness coming my way!" This is a card that says I have a heck of a lot to handle and I better it my shit together fast if I want to pull it off successfully. Git yerself balanced girlfriend!

Ah, the Ace of Discs. How I see myself. Not necessarily how I really am...perhaps not how others perceive me but this is how I see myself in relation to who I actually am--the reversed The Reversed Two of Cups. Another ace which is about beginnings. I'm always beginning. I'm a big baby too. And I want to be held and caressed and physically loved upon. I don't like endings but I do like beginning. Discs are grounded but this card is tilted so this energy is held back, repressed--just a bit. I know I'm struggling with balance. No doubt . The Ace of Discs is an innocent but powerful creator, making ideas into reality. I do that. I try not to use my will too much to create because sometimes I get what I want that way but it doesn't always turn out so well. I try to create with love, with my heart.

The Lovers. Of course. And of course they are reversed. And of course, this is the position of my HOPES and FEARS. Lord have mercy on me. My unconscious projections. Good thing I've had all these realizations about owning and honoring my hopes and fears along with my emotions. Being a lover is on my mind and this card is about being in relationship with another. And then there is the question, "Are we going to be lovers or not?" I'm holding on this question in regards to K--I haven't wanted to let go of that possibility even though he's told me he isn't sexually attracted to me. I suppose we have things on hold for now...his words. I don't care (I do care) I still consider us lovers whether he wants to use his cock to make love with me or not. His loss (and mine). I'm equally afraid of both my hopes and my fears in regards to this question. What I hope for, I also fear. Part of me tells me to just move on. Another part refuses to do that. This card is reversed, for one thing, because I've made it so personal. It's not really about me loving K specifically, but I've made it about him. There is a lot of sexual energy in this card. I surrendered myself to K, sexually. I gave myself up to him and he didn't claim me and I was still waiting (patiently) for him to do that when he kicked me off the train. Ouch. And ultimately I know very well that it was the force of love itself that I surrendered to and that is a beautiful and amazing thing. Yet I still get lost in the fact that it was K who embodied the possibility for me to love. I'm sexually attracted to so very few men and I was able to go for it with him, to that place that lovers go. But he did not allow himself to go there with me.

Finally, a card that is not reversed! The Seven of Wands represents a person in my psychic space, my environment. Someone close to me. Let's see, who am I obsessed with? Who am I addicted to? Who am I in love with? My husband, K, Lover Who Is Not My Lover (who I've been choosing not to even see because my life is too complicated right now as it is and I can only spread myself so thin.) Sevens are about inner work and self reflection. All three of these men throw me head first into that boat! The Seven of Wands is about taking personal responsibility. It's about telling the truth. I trust that K has done that with me. At least to the best of his ability--he's told me how it is for him, and I respect that. I don't necessarily agree with him, not that I necessarily disagree with him either. But I do think there is more to the story. I challenge his truth of the moment. This care reflects a verbal exchange and also, sexual energy along with that deep purpose that I part of me seems to have lost. I know K serves a deep purpose in my life and I believe I also serve a deep purpose in his. The person this card represents is extremely significant in my life, it's not about superficial communication but soul connection.

I pulled several outcome cards. All wands, just like the person in my psychic space card. I need a major arcana card for a definitive outcome and one finally came after four pulls. I have some stuff to move through, that's for sure. This first one is the Six of Wands. And she's almost reversed, as usual. Of course, sixes represent decisive action! Ha. Six of Wands also represent personal power which I haven't been experiencing much of as of late. She is in command of the situation, self confident and balanced. She is a Shakti (sexual energy goddess) and she is victorious. Well, here she is all her glory with all that fine energy blocked! I sense too much male energy here and the need to surrender.

Here's the second outcome card I pulled. The Five of Wands. Not reversed! And why should it bother to be reversed since fives are all about struggle! But the Five of Wands is about fighting fair. There is a conflict that needs to be resolved but it is done with love and respect. Well, that's a given with K and I. Pressure is released in small, contained explosions (and the only explosions so far have been my tears) and my anger that gets released in my husband's direction because I feel safe with him. Each person's voice gets to be heard and each view expressed. Another card that represents the rebirth and harmony. Nice.

Interesting huh, my third outcome card is the Four of Wands (yes, these cards were shuffled well). 6...5...4...and it's upright too! Stability. Thank the good lord! Magic happens in the gap created by the 4! The Four of Wants is a rite of passage...this years theme at Burning Man! It's a joyful celebration. It's a passing from one stage to another. There is an integration with male energy in this card. There is thanks and appreciation and blessings from divine realms. Oh my. I'll take a double helping of that please.

And finally, my major arcana outcome card--JUSTICE. Setting things right. KARMA. If I've been hurt (I have been), it's time to let that go. It tells me that my efforts to understand my situation will pay off and that I am coming into awareness about my place in the scheme of these things. Yes, exactly, this is what I have lost and have been floundering around trying to find. My place with K. There will be sign from the divine to guide me. I feel so blessed and guided by the moon at this time! This card brings BALANCE, and a sense of peace. What I've been waiting for happens. What I need, I receive.

A pretty outstanding reading I'd say. And I admit...it gives me hope...and admitting that...fear.

My zen mama titties.

Hope and Fear

2011-08-15T13:55:00.000-07:00

My first Burning Man, 2006, the theme was Hope and Fear. I took on a personification of the Zen Mother admonishing my children to banish both hope and fear. It seemed that the popular viewpoint of the burning masses was to give up fear and rely on hope as their saving grace. I didn't buy into that party line.

I'll be arriving on the playa at just about this time, two weeks from today, and I'm bringing the t-shirt I wore that year--with the words, Abandon Hope and Fear All Ye Who Suckle Here written on the front, with holes cut out that expose my nipples. Easy access for nursing infants seeking solace from their mother's milk along with her zen wisdom.

Early Sunday morning, with the full moon still visible in the dawning sky, I began my ritual to regain some of my spiritual, earthy, wise woman, juju. Standing there with my outstretched arms, beseeching my moon mama/soul sister/wise woman mentor, the personal meaning of my current struggle with hope and fear dawned on me.

Not that my path isn't still confusing and overwhelming tricky to follow, but I realized with a deep visceral understanding, how important my emotions are to my particular spiritual path. I'm a water girl through and through. I feel things deeply. I create with my emotions, to my betterment or detriment. I knew in that moment, to an extent I've never been aware of before, my harmful practice of rejecting, hiding, not fully owning and experiencing my negative emotions. And I'm not a Polly Anna. I don't attempt to portray myself as Little Miss Cheerful while I'm secretly grinding my jaw in resentment. I'm not a person who fakes positivity to herself or others. But, I am aware that my mind and the stories it creates, also create negative emotions (depending on the nature of the story of course) and that wallowing in emotions makes the pain body bigger, and stronger, and that the pain body loves to hurt, and that indulging in negative emotions is like pouring salt on a wound, flaming the fire...and, well, I try to avoid doing that as much as possible. I know better than to repress, but repression hides, it's insidious, covert. That's its nature.

And all this managing of my negative emotions is directly related to my hopes and fears. A big part of my spiritual path is to not indulge myself in hope and fear. Of course I do a lot of both because I'm not a fully enlightened human being and that's what we humans do a lot of--hoping and fearing. But my practice is to accept things as they are and if I want things to be different, I hold the intention for them to be different while doing whatever practical (or impractical) thing I can think of to make them different. Living a fear based life isn't attractive to me and I tend to think of myself as not a very fearful person although if I give a true assessment, I'm pretty darn scared of a lot of things--such as being abandoned or not good enough, or being abandoned for not being good enough just to name a few. I try not to hope for things to be different because hope implies that things aren't perfect as they are. And I do hold this lofty idea that things are actually perfect as they are, even if I want them to be different--that's perfect to. And confusing. So things are perfectly imperfect right now and they will also be perfect if and when they change, and it's totally okay for me to want them to change and to work (or not) for them to change, as long as I'm not attached to them changing and that would include not hoping they will change. Like I said, confusing. There is a difference that I won't even attempt to put into words right now, between hoping things will change and intending things to change. Hoping bad. Intending good. Wink, wink.

All that said, I hope a lot. I really do. And standing under that beautiful full moon, I took some deep ownership of my hoping. I realized in that moment how much I needed to fully embrace my hopes, to love and cherish them. My fears too. So I held out my hopes and fears and I shared them with the moon and she shined her soft morning light upon them.

So right now, I'm attempting to fully honor and embrace every last one of my hopes and fears, and I intend, once they are fully experienced, when I'm ready, I will release them. And I know, that fully experiencing things takes time. It is a long process that involves a lot of experiencing and letting go, grasping back and tenaciously holding on until I release again. And so on the circle goes.

But I just gotta say, that Sunday morning with that beautiful full moon and her powerful juju--she shined her blessings on me. She loved me. She loved my hopes and fears, and accepted every part of me as only a mama, soul sister, wise woman mentor can.

Calling On The Full Moon to Return My Spiritual, Magic, Earthy Juju

2011-08-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'm depressed.
My spiritual path sucks.
But it's the only thing that makes sense to me.
I'm just going to ramble here...

I'm struggling with the balance of wanting what is and selling myself short.
What the fuck does that even mean?
I know that attachment does me in every time.
I know that when I release attachment I release my suffering.
But sometimes a girl just has to be where she is.
After all, there is no place else to be. Right?
Where is that fucking balance between accepting the reality of what is and wanting what I want?
And there are two realities of what I want, that I'm not sure I'm capable of writing about in a clear and coherent manner.

Here it is, what I don't want. I have it. I must accept that this it is. I don't have to like it but I have to admit to its presence in my life. This is the part I'm always trying to deal with in a positive way. Utilize its present in my life by finding the value of it. I have it, so I might as well want it and use it for something good. Right? Sometimes it's difficult to want but bottom line is that I have to deal with it. I have to accept its presence in my life even if I don't accept it as a good thing. But here's the clincher--this acceptance thing. Bare minimum I can accept it as a non avoidable fact, at least for the time being. The next best thing is to accept it as a good thing. Accepting it as a good thing simply means that it's good because it's here. It doesn't mean that it's ultimately good although it may be. That factor is unknown. But it is good for some reason or else it wouldn't be here. Maybe it's here because it really is a good thing that will better my life and I just don't see it that way at the moment. Maybe it's good because I need to get rid of it or change it, and it's the experience of the particular process of dealing with it that is good.

If I'm attached to not having this thing, then I suffer. It's not the wanting of things to be different that makes me suffer, it's my attachment to things being different that makes me suffer. So acceptance and attachment (or non attachment) are two very separate things. This shit makes me talk in circles. It makes me feel mentally ill. This is my spiritual path? Fuck me.

I try to want/love whatever is here while it's here. That doesn't mean I need to keep it around. I can even actively work on getting rid of it. It's just that if I become attached to being rid of it, then I suffer. Is this process I'm trying to describe as crazy making for you as it is for me? And that's not even the difficult part.

Here's the difficult part. I struggle with keeping my balance in the reality of what it. I know (at least I believe from what I've learned up to this point in my life) from experience that I must allow myself to fully experience what is. What is, has two parts--first, it is this thing in my life that I don't want; second, it's my emotional reaction to this thing. There is the truth, the ultimate truth of whatever is, and then there is the truth of the moment. The truth of the moment may be that I'm angry, sad, depressed, wanting to throw a fit, scream, cry, feel sorry for myself, resist, deny the reality, hope for something different, fear that what I think is, actually is...on and on. The ultimate truth may be that all is love, all is good, all is perfect just as it is, yada fucking yada.

Here is my dilema: My spiritual path tells me to get to wanting what is, as quickly as possible. That's the best way to possibly deal with it. My spiritual path also tells me to fully experience my emotions and truth of the moment, whatever it is. I know that fully experiencing my emotions will best allow me to come to that place of wanting what is anyway. So why do I struggle with all of this so?

I think it's my different parts. There is the big ME and the little me. Both me. Both important. The big ME knows that there is only love and that all is good because love is good and that's all there really is. The big ME knows that's whatever is, is love, and it accepts this love in whatever way it manifests. The little me says, "What the fuck? I don't want this! I want love to manifest in this particular way. I don't want what I have and I want something different and I want it now! Get rid of this other shit and give me what I want and give it to me right NOW!"

I really don't know how to balance these two parts. I love that little me, as spoiled and unreasonable and clueless as she can be at times. She deserves to be heard but not perhaps indulged. But she wants to be indulged. She is crying and unhappy and she wants to pout, and throw a temper tantrum and, well, er, you better indulge her or she might burn the fucking house down. Get it?!

Besides, I'm making fun of her and she's not all that bad. In fact, she's not bad. Unruly and a bit undisciplined yes but she is a free spirit and wasn't meant to be tamed. Just taught. Truthfully, I do believe that she deserves to have what she wants. And I want her to have what she wants. Because ultimately I believe that that is why she is here. To get what she wants. Yep. I believe that. To get what she wants in the way she wants it. And that is okay too. Yes, she does get a little, er, a lot confused sometimes and that's why big ME, is a part of this whole story too. big ME is a good guide. And it's not like little ME getting what she wants is the whole story, but it is a big part of the story. I believe that this human journey is a lot about getting little ME what she wants. She can't do it without big Me. Besides, little ME isn't only selfish--all about meMeME. Little ME wants to do good in this world. It's little Me that allows big ME to even be here. Well, visa versa too. So it's all about my parts working in harmony. That's my struggle in a nutshell! This human journey is a tough nut to crack!

I think I sell myself short. I get lost between these two parts of myself. And that's who I am--these two parts. I've spent a good portion of my life over indulging the untaught little ME and that gets me no where good. Denying big ME gets me no where good either. Fuck. Do you understand why this is so fucking crazy making? I feel like I've lost my spiritual, magic, earthy, juju. I feel stupid and powerless. I feel pissed off. I'm angry at myself. I'm lost and confused. I'm furious. I'm sad. I'm depressed.

As a whole, I'm getting by, I'm surviving. I'm even doing pretty damn fucking good even though I'm angry, sad, and depressed. I'm also happy a good portion of the time. Content. Peaceful. But I don't no where to go with all of this. Little me is afraid to talk. Little me is filled with hope and fear. I'm tempted in wanting to banish hope and fear. I even thought to do a ritual to get rid of it. Big ME knows that hope and fear is a big fat path to no where that is screwing with little me's mind. But I'm also thinking that I'm just needing to fully embrace all of my hopes and fears. How do I embrace them fully and then let them go? That's my question of the moment.

I need some full moon magic to get my juju back.

My Girl Is Here

2011-07-30T23:25:00.000-07:00

An exceptional day. Love my lovers. Love loving my lovers. Life diving into life. Love diving into love. One of my lovers just called to tell me what a heart opening experience he had with us this last week. It was the same for me...for each one of us.

An exceptional weekend. An exceptional week. My girl came to be with me. Cloistered in the house together, receiving a few visitors. And out and about a bit...thrift stores to inspire our sewing. Food. Friends. Music. Our boy was here too. With his girl. Other family and friends. Life is diving into me right now. Love is diving into me. I am diving into life. I am diving into love.

Love to sleep, the three of us intertwined. Too warm to touch but too sweet not to. Back and forth from side to side, coming together, pushing apart. To the left and to the right. I love the close physicality.

The push and pull. Open and closing. Separating and coming together. Fear and love. Love and fear.

Feeling an outtasortness with K...but not really. A spot in me that realizes it's out of balance. Unsure but sure. Trusting...mostly. Noticing the edge and trying to stay aware while wanting it to dissipate. Yearning for the oneness. Resisting the separation...but not always. Feeling myself loving him. Feeling him loving me. Being the love. Being angry too. And sad. Appreciating. Wondering. Trying to live in the moment without hope or fear. Allowing what is. Allowing for what I want too. Wanting what is. Wanting him. Wanting myself.

Missing B.G...

I'm wondering about the whole concept of having a nice fuck buddy. I've never been able to pull it off...

Really grateful that my husband loves to fuck me. Loves to make love to me. Wanting him. Wanting all my lovers. Always wanting all my lovers. Always wanting.

Three Poems

2011-07-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

I've been sorting through old papers and just ran across three poems from twelve years ago...

This first poem was written to me by the first woman I every fell in love with on August 3, 1999. It was a fast and furious affair but she was a lesbian and broke off with me because I was married...to a man. One day shortly thereafter, we ran into each other, she with a group of friends, and me alone--this poem arrived in my email the next day:

bee one bee two

I have been known to break my own rules
I thought as I watched them
watch her
walking up to the counter
secretly I feel a sadness
emerge from my pockets
and out from my beenie it falls
over my eyelids
soft to the touch and unto my cheeks
certainly as it falls
it fills me with hope
still as I am...
immobile...
my day burdened
by the honey
from her hands.

Three weeks later I saw her at a community function and wrote this one on August 30, 1999

I saw her on Sunday
in red hair and tee shirt tugging at her breasts
watching discreetly, I wanted her to see me
it was understood that we would offer no recognition
but her face...
indelibly etched in my mind the remainder of the day.

The third poem was about a dream I had about my eldest son, Brandyn...12/19/99

His letter to me was written in blue ink
between the advertisements for feel better drinks.
What he needs to heal--
an understanding community
a change of mind
lots of love and he'll be fine.

Relationships As Pathways to God

2011-07-24T14:49:00.000-07:00

I'm reading John Welshon's book One Soul, One Love, One Heart: The Sacred Path to Healing All Relationships.

In the foreword Baba Ram Dass says:

As a psychologist back in the 1950s and 1960s, I saw specific relationships in terms of their ability or lack thereof-to fulfill whatever emotional or psychological "needs" the people involved seemed to experience. But over the past forty years, as my consciousness has become more and more identified with Spirit, i have come to treat relationships as pathways to God.

Ram Dass tells a story about love, truth and anger. It was a very difficult time for him and he was experiencing a seething hatred toward just about everyone until it burst forth and he actually threw a plate of food into a sweet young man's face. His guru, Neem Karoli Baba (Maharaji) witnessed this, pulled him close, and reminded him to love everyone and tell the truth.

A quote from Neem Karoli Baba:

The best form in which to worship God is every form.

So Fucking Fragile

2011-07-23T17:30:00.000-07:00

I've been so fucking fragile lately and I'm trying not to beat myself up too much for being such a wimp. The slightest thing just sends me off. I've been an incredible cry baby and when the tears start they seem to want to flow and flow. I'm watching myself take EVERYTHING personally. I tell myself not to go there but do I listen? It's all about ME folks so please don't forget that. I'm so self-absorbed. I loathe...have I mentioned before that I LOATHE playing the role of the victim? If there is any possible way that I can point the finger at someone for doing me wrong...I absolutely despise that position. Today I went wine tasting with my husband and a friend simply because I knew I would end up feeling abandoned if I didn't go. And one abandoned is obviously the victim and I just couldn't bear the prospect of that. Plus, staying at home crying just didn't seem to serve me. So I went and actually enjoyed myself. I'm so ready for this all to pass.

Raw

2011-07-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

I am raw. Tears flowing nonstop for over an hour and a half now. Trying to pull it together so I can go out and see my husband perform and enjoy the rest of the night.

Remember the Code

2011-07-20T10:06:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamed I was on a journey:

I was walking and leaving a "place". There was some code I was to remember. I had keys in my hand. On the way back to this place, (I had been somewhere) I saw some friends and I was tempted to not stop and connect with them but to continue on to whatever was so important. But I stopped and chatted for awhile and then continued on my way. I had forgotten the code. I started jogging to make up for lost time and then it started raining. I had a way to go so I stuck out my thumb and started hitchhiking. A few cars passed me by and then one stopped. There were two men inside. I had a large box which I put inside the backseat and then panic hit. I scanned the inside of the back door to see if it was rigged in a way so I couldn't open it from the inside and it looked weird somehow. There was no way that I was getting in that car. I thought I'd probably just watched too many scary cop shows and actually said that out loud--then I asked the one who was driving if I was safe with them--he shook his head and said no. I tried to run away but I was caught in that "secret saboteur" thing that happens in dreams where your legs don't work right you can't move very fast. I was on the ground. He got out of the car and caught me. I hoped for another car to come along, to see what was happening and help me. I remembered my "box" was still in the car and knew I was going to have to abandon if I got away. The box now actually had someone inside of it, like a small child or my baby self. I needed to protect it but I was in no position to do so.

I'm contemplating the "self" this morning. All this "dying" I've been experiencing. It's the death of a self that isn't really me. Or my mom. Or...

Of course all these selves need their due, but it's so easy to get lost in the drama of a dream when the real meaning is right there in the code. I was suppose to remember the code. I keep forgetting the code.

The Depth Of My Being

2011-07-19T17:08:00.000-07:00

Today I've been sewing and thinking about sex. I just finished working on two summer dresses! I tend to think about sex a lot and today the theme was how connecting sexually with someone is sacred to me.

I'm not a trained tantrica who can pretty much accept anyone as a spiritual partner and make the energetic heart-genital connection happen. And although I'm very sex positive and horny a lot, I'm not an easy going, friends with benefits, sort of woman--even though I have gone that route a couple of times and it was fun. Mostly I've been quite picky when it comes to sex partners--not purposely really, it's just that I'm sexually attracted to very few men. What I've learned about myself is that I need to trust someone and my heart needs to be very open to loving them in order for my yoni to want to open and receive them as a lover. Sharing myself sexually is a spiritual gift, given freely from my heart when the love is there, and when I feel safe that I will be cared for in what I know to be an emotionally and physically vulnerable space for me. It's not that I'm a particularly high maintenance lover either because basically I'm pretty easy going--but it's true that I do have issues of abandonment. Sex and unconditional love make a sweet partnership for me because it's a piercing that plunges into the depth of my being.

Sleeping In Their Bed

2011-07-19T10:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I must say that there is nothing like a good night's sleep without crazy dreams to give one an attitude adjustment! I slept so well last night. I often don't get up to pee but I usually have to at least sit up several times for a drink of water. Last night I was crashed!

But now I'm reminded of a dream I had almost a week ago that should be written down:

My husband. and I were out at a party with a bunch of people including K. and his wife B.G. It was very late and we (my husband and I) ended up back at K. and B.G.'s house. They were going to be out of town for awhile and we had arranged to "housesit" for them. We were actually heading home to our house but for some reason we were at their house and it was late and I was tired so I told my husband that we should just sleep there in their bed and go home in the morning. He agreed so that's what we did.
In the morning I was trapped in a hypnopompic transition, both in my dream body, sleeping in K. and B.G.'s bed, as well as in my physical body, sleeping in my own bed. I was agitated and confused, unsuccessfully trying to wake up while attempting to make sense of why I had decided to sleep in K. and B.G.'s bed.
What were we doing in their bed when they weren't leaving until that night, not the night before? How could I have been so stupid and confused? What was I thinking? Where were K. and B.G. now? Had they gone to our house to sleep because we were in their bed? That concerned me because my house, and particularly my bedroom was a mess and I didn't want them to see it because I was afraid they would judge me. My mind was wreaking havoc with me, I was struggling and quite distressed. I finally woke up (in my dream) and went rushing through their house, naked, to find them.
I found them on a blow up air mattress in their family room. B.G. was sitting up and looking at me somewhat strangely as if to ask why I had been sleeping in their bed. I tried to explain how confused I had been, and still was, and then she explained how she had come home late, in the dark, took off her clothes and fell into the middle of her bed between me and my husband before realizing we were there. K. and her were then trying to figure out what to do and she said they should go sleep on the air mattress. He had asked her very pointedly if she was sure that was okay with her and she affirmed that it was.
I left them and their air mattress feeling extremely out of sorts, trying to make my way back to their bedroom, very aware of my nakedness and feeling vulnerable, with their house now full of various friends as if a party was going on. When I got to their bed, I told my husband to get up so we could get out of there. I was embarrassed, confused, and just wanted to go home. I was extremely unnerved.

Emotions I experienced in this dream:

Embarrassed
Confused
Distressed
Vulnerable
Afraid
Agitated
Unnerved

The 23rd Psalm

2011-07-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;

Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me:

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;Thou annointest my head with oil;

My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

I visited with my mama this morning and was reading some of the grimmest passages out of the bible. At one point she says to me, "He's really scolding someone." Yes, talk about a fucking angry God. Sheesh. I wasn't sure she could be of any help but I asked for some guidance with the Psalms and she said the 23rd. My mama knows her bible.

I don't think anyone would ever confuse me with a Christian, bible verse loving, girl but I've always appreciated the 23rd Psalm as well as a few others (even though I rarely care to remember what book the verses come from or how to recite them verbatim.) I know the 23 Psalm has always offered my mother comfort. My grandmother too.

God damn have I been in the pits, or "the valley of the shadow of death" wouldn't be exaggerating none. I'm just having a difficult time snapping out of it. After visiting with my mom, I took myself out for a some shopping therapy. First I hit World Market for some wine and fancy pasta. K. got me a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for my birthday that I really enjoyed and I was hoping to fine another bottle of it and I scored. I also found a cheap bottle of white wine for the olive oil, garlic and wine sauce I'm making with two of my granddaughters for our veggie pasta dinner tonight.

Then I hit Costco and found a bunch organic raspberries and blackberries, a bottle of tequila and organic blackberry sorbet popsicles. I also bought myself more reading glasses because there is a reading glass elf in my house who steals my glasses in a similar manner as the infamous sock stealing elves who live in most people's clothes dryer.

I'm still depressed but oh well, at least I got out of the house and I am looking forward to the overnight visit with my granddaughters who I'll go and pick up in a couple of hours.

Plus my sweetheart is coming to stay with me for a whole week. OMG I'm so happy. I need her so bad. Or is it badly? I know my command of the English language is atrocious. Does my awareness of that make it better or worse? I swear, I am getting English for Dummies ASAP!

This writing is making my life bearable right now. Again, I'm sorry to be so pathetic. I can barely stomach my own victim hood but I just can't seem to pull myself out of it. If feels like someone took a crap on my karma. Now I wonder who that could be?

Plus what really sucks is that I can't figure out if my awareness of what a truly blessed life I live, is making me feel better or worse.

Old Lazy Days

2011-07-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

I've been awake for way too many hours already--tossing and turning for half the night in a half sleep, disturbed by thoughts that I am dying of cancer. WTF?! I don't do this. This is so not me.

Another friend died a few days ago and only 4 weeks after he was diagnosed with colon cancer.

My mama is dying. I know I keep saying this but she is still dying. The living part isn't so great these days but there are moments of sweetness that I'm clinging to. I was just talking with a friend who lost her mother recently and she said that even though it's difficult, it's also very life affirming. I get that. It feels like I'm preparing for a birth.

Another river of tears this morning. Grief has gotten a grip on my insides. So much loss everywhere I turn. What is wrong with me? Why am I judging all this loss so harshly? Why am I judging myself so harshly? I'm feeling so worthless. Pathetic is a good word to describe myself right now.

An old friend visited yesterday and it made me sad. He's not a friend any longer. I felt the loss. I used to care so much about him.

My lover doesn't want me (as his lover) anymore.

There is a hole in my life where my juicy women were.

I miss the old lazy days of lounging with my girlfriends and yakking incessantly. Girlfriends who didn't care about my worth, only my heart and loved me in spite of my foibles...and defects that weren't so slight.

Maybe I don't really miss those days.

But my defects are definitely looming larger than foibles.

On a brighter note, I'm cleaning out the motorhome and got the refrigerator all sparkling clean and cold. Preparing for Burning Man feels good.

I need my best friend to come and stay with me for several long lazy days of yakking incessantly and loving me in spite of my large looming defects.

Sex Sounds

2011-07-15T23:50:00.000-07:00

I've been listening to my neighbor in the back house making sex noises all day. Someone is fucking her really well. I actually think that it's the house sitter that is making these noises as my neighbor's car hasn't been around in awhile and I saw a young woman I don't know going into her house.

Whoever it is, her noises are fabulous. It sounds like new relationship sex and someone is giving it to her very deep and very hard. Very slow and repeatedly. In and out. In and out. Plus, he must be loving on her pussy and pleasuring her with his mouth until she bubbles forth. Again and again. Part of me loves her sounds and they most certainly added to my horniness and where me and my husband took our sex play tonight.

Another part of me has been agitated by her sounds--this morning they reminded me of how K. isn't interested in having sex with me...but that awareness didn't stop me from opening the side door to make her sounds more audible. All in all, I am pleasantly pleased with her beautiful moans. I love the sounds of lovemaking!

Love is good. Fucking is good. Making love is good. Crying out in sex because that cock feels so damn good inside of your pussy, is an awesome gift. Being human is outrageous!

Watching Dan Savage with Bill Maher right now. Appreciating my life. Today I sewed a lot. Talked to my BFF who may be coming to stay with me for 5 days...(fingers crossed, hope and pray). Had a nice bike ride. Dinner with friends on the river. Friday night concert in the park and sweet connections with friends I haven't seen in awhile. Good wine with good friends at a good restaurant. Making love with my husband who now rubs my feet while I blog. Texting with another love under the full moon. Tomorrow we'll be in a boat, on the lake with kids and grandkids.

I am blessed.

Life is good.

The Gap

2011-07-05T09:35:00.000-07:00

From Chapter Six of When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron:

The most fundamental aggression to ourselves, is to remain ignorant by not having the courage and the respect to look at ourselves honestly and gently.

It's a lifetimes journey to relate honestly to the immediately of our experience and to respect ourselves enough not to judge it.

Here's the rub yes? Letting go of the judgment. It's difficult to want something and to have that thing pulled away from us and then to not judge that as "bad". Judgment of our experiences automatically colors and changes the experience itself to become not of that original thing but of the so called badness of that thing.

The next step is refraining. Mindfulness is the ground; refraining is the path..It's the practice of not immediately filling up space just because there's a gap.

In my relationship with K. I've practiced a lot living in the gap and I've been appreciating it. Learning to refrain has made me a better person although being a "better person" is not what this practice is about. But regardless, I'm more allowing, more mindful, more grounded. But also, and this is something that I particularly struggle with, being comfortable "in the gap", not repressing and not indulging, seems to slow down the dynamic movement in a relationship. It does allow for a natural evolution but issues that arise in intimate relationships need to be "pushed" sometimes in order to not to become stagnant, or boring or...lost?

I'm in a relationship with myself, first and foremost. But I'm also in a relationship with K. and I don't want to repress or indulge our issues but I do want to communicate in a timely fashion. Mind builds castles from lack of communication and those castles can trap us, and devour our relationships. K.'s way of being in relationship has taught me to slow down and allow for the gap, to move into it and experience it fully. But K.'s tendency is to allow strong emotions to pass so he doesn't have to fall into the gap with them and sometimes it feels like I over allow for that with him. It's as if he backs away from the gap and represses so he never has to fall in.

So what does that have to do with ME, being in relationship with him?

Freedom Dance

2011-07-04T17:44:00.000-07:00

Just back from celebrating with friends in the mountains. Went to a lovely music festival and shared some love with some good people.

I'm experiencing a lot of freedom today. And I love my freedom. Certainly, I still have many chains that bind me to the illusion of pain and suffering but dang, my wings have taken flight, once again. I am still sad and disappointed over what has transpired between K. and I, but we are processing through it and I'm a lot clearer than I was a few days ago. Plus I'm not taking things so personally in regards to what is up for him cause ya know, we all have our issues and he's working through his just like I'm working through mine. Just like we all are. I totally support his process even if I don't necessarily like or agree with the way he chose to present this to me. But I know he did the best he could, that it wasn't an easy thing for him to do, and that he didn't want, doesn't want, to hurt me. I know he loves me. And I love him. Love is good.

The bottom line is that I am so glad that this all transpired just the way it has and I know there are many more chapters of this story. Also, I've been hovering of the brink of the abyss for awhile now and K., simply gave me the push I needed to take a great and fucking scary fall into myself. And I thank him for that. I think about the only other thing I'm going to say here right now is that K. is not having an issue with perceiving me being old, fat, and smelling bad. Ha. Praise the good lord for that! Always sweet music for a girl's ears. ;) If that was his issue I'd just have to say fuck him and move on...well after I had another good long cry of course.

I think I will try to describe what's going on for us, for me, in regards to all of this, by sharing some quotes from When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron. In regards to allowing myself to fully experience my emotions:

When things fall apart and we're on the verge of we know not what, the test of each of us is to stay on that brink and not concretize. The spiritual journey is not about heaven and finally getting to a place that's really swell.

Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.

Nevertheless, when the bottom falls out and we can't find anything to grasp, it hurts a lot...Love of the truth puts you on the spot. We might have some romantic view of what that means, but when we are nailed with the truth, we suffer. We look in the bathroom mirror, and there we are with our pimples, our aging face, our lack of kindness, our aggression and timidity--all that stuff.

How we stay in the middle between indulging and repressing is by acknowledging whatever arises without judgment, letting the thoughts simply dissolve, and then going back to the openness of this very moment. That's what we're actually doing in meditation. Up come all these thoughts, but rather than squelch them or obsess with them, we acknowledge them and let them go.

After a while, that's how we relate with hope and fear in our daily lives. Out of nowhere, we stop struggling and relax. We stop talking to ourselves and come back to the freshness of the present moment.

So yea, anyway, continuing my practice of staying in the freshness of the present moment. Acknowledging my hopes and fears in regard to K., and moving on in this beautiful dance of freedom.

Happy Freedom Day everyone!!!

Life is Strange

2011-07-01T12:56:00.000-07:00

Take care of myself day. Made pancakes for my grandbaby and then we walked to his swimming lessons. Walking back home I decided that a good self pampering was in order, you know, treating myself the way we indulge our lovers to let them know how special they are to us. And it's a given that we need to be good lovers to ourselves, first and foremost so... I decided I needed a pedicure and manicure, a new blouse, and to make an appointment with my hair stylist. I stopped by her shop but disappointingly, her first available appointment was next Thursday. "Oh darn, Rose." I said, "You know I always do this last minute and I really want my hair done by my birthday which is this coming Wednesday." She's seeing me today at 3:00! Then I got home and my lovely landlady asked me if I've been losing weight. I told her "No!" Then she said, she doesn't know what it is but I look so sexy and beautiful. Life is so strange.

When Things Fall Apart

2011-07-01T09:49:00.000-07:00

My husband texted and told me that he thought I should read When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron and my husband is a smart and intuitive man so after making myself a cup of coffee and checking on my straw bale garden (which isn't doing very well) I sat down and read the first chapter, Intimacy With Fear. The tears are back.

I already knew that I'm a courageous woman. Duh. Pema says, "When I was first married, my husband said I was one of the bravest people he knew. When I asked him why, he said because I was a complete coward but went ahead and did things anyhow."

My journey with K. has always been a spiritual journey. Sexual too,yes. But my sexuality and spiritually are so intertwined there is no separating the two. So when he said he was no longer sexually attracted to me, I interpreted that and him saying that he is no longer attracted to being on this intimate spiritual journey with me. Telling a lover that you are not sexually attracted to him is one thing. Breaking up with them is another. I'm very unclear about what it is he wants.

My heart calls, always urging me on to persevere through difficult situations such as this in my intimate relationships.

When things fall apart...I think I need to experience the crumbling.

So much more in this first chapter but I need to dry my tears and wake my grandson up and make him pancakes. He has swimming lessons in an hour!

Love and Fear

2011-07-01T07:59:00.000-07:00

Awake again too early after hours of tossing and turning. Good solid sleep evades me. My mind is restless. My heart hurts but the numbness that saves has settled in.

It's like the rug as been pulled out from underneath me.

Yesterday was a good day all things considered. I worked my last day of the summer at the college and I'm so relieved to put that behind me for awhile. I picked up my grandson after work for an overnight visit and took him to see Green Lantern in 3D. It was tough for me to sit though but he really enjoyed it and I feigned pleasure afterwards as he went on and on about his favorite parts and asked me about mine. A couple of the themes in the movie were will versus fear and running away from the things we love which gave me something to occupy my mind while the silliness ensued on the big screen before me. I also pondered love and fear and how it's impossible to do both at the same time. I've surely been vacillating back and forth between those too polarities a lot these last few days. After the movie we enjoyed a nice dinner on the outside patio where my husband plays music every Thursday night and then stopped by for a visit with my son and two grandkids who are here for the summer from out-of-state.

I'm realizing how much I've been depending on my relationship with Lover Who Is Not My Lover Two (really not resonating with calling him this and think I should stop.) He's been standing in the center of what has become an important part of my life, and now he's no longer comfortable in that position. This place I've found with him and his...has served mostly as an extension of my joy, but as I'm becoming more aware of now, has also been a refuge from the storm.

It's not like I don't have my husband to depend on. He is my rock, my heart, my home. My life depends on him. But ya know, I'd found another comfortable place to rest my head and now the pillow has been pulled out from underneath. I feel liked a toddler who is being weaned against her will, "I know this will be hard on you and I want you to know that Mama still loves you, but no more nice warm milk from the soft tit. Here's a hard cup to drink your cold milk from." My immediate reaction was wanting to rest my head on R.'s shoulder and have her hold and comfort me but she isn't around.

My mama's dying has been hard on me. My mama isn't dead. She is dying. She is living in both worlds. My eldest son is going through an especially rough time right now and his immense pain is breaking my heart. Then my daughter's cancer. My friend dying of prostate cancer. And I really miss my Lulu who is in Guadalajara with her father for the summer. I worry about her. When K. hit me with this it's like my house of cards came tumbling down. I'm a strong woman too. I can shoulder a lot of burdon. I keep on keeping on. But I feel on the verge of crumbling.

And I have a damn good, happy life...

Exhausted with Dispassion

2011-06-30T06:10:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted and want to sleep but here I am awake before the sunrise and have been for a couple of hours. When I got up yesterday morning I looked a hundred years old with my puffy eyes and wrinkles. Of course I had spent the whole day before crying. No crying yesterday. I felt mostly sad but actually had a pretty fine day. All that writing helped me move a lot of emotions through my body.

It was strange, after writing about all that self loathing body image stuff I actually felt good being in my body yesterday. Better than I have in a while. Last night I was invited out for drinks and dinner with seven women friends that I rarely see. One friend who has been living in Burma but is in the midst of moving to Ecuador was here visiting and another was here from Brazil. I was sitting at this table with all these adventurous, creative, smart, sexy women and I realized I was there in my own adventurous, creative, smart, sexy self. I was subdued no doubt, not quite on my game, but I was present and happy. As crazy complicated as we women are, being in each others presence makes things so easy and obvious sometimes. I was with my tribe.

I'm noticing that I feel quite dispassionate and it seems as if I've closed down my heart in order to not feel the all the mixed emotions. Sadness. Anger. Confusion about things that just aren't sitting right that I don't have the energy to sort out.

A Nice Snuggle

2011-06-29T17:37:00.000-07:00

Writing here these last couple of days has been so helpful in processing such intense emotions. I've felt so relieved ever since writing that last post--really released a lot. Plus my husband sent me a very touching email after he read it. My pain upsets him and his words were very sweet and soothing. I haven't cried all day since first reading rootsdown's comment to one of my previous posts early this morning. Boy have I havee been triggered in a place that has some gnarly and tenacious roots shooting down into some dark woundedness.

My heart is very vulnerable and open at this moment. My feelings are vacillating between love, fear, anger, sadness, annoyance, hurt...love.

I worked all day but had a nice break for lunch and took a long walk. On my way home I stopped by Lover Who Is Not My Lover's office--not to be confused with Lover Who Is Not My Lover Two. He was on a business call so I curled up on his couch and took a little nap. When he got off the phone he came and took my boots off and curled up on the couch with me, intertwining his legs with mine. We shared a soft and gentle space, catching up on one another's lives a bit. I haven't seen him in awhile and wanted to connect, plus I needed a friend to snuggle with. I didn't tell him about this drama I'm going through right now and really didn't want to talk about it at that point so I was relieved that he didn't ask about K. because he usually does.

Feeling Smeagoly

2011-06-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

The truth is that the sexy me as been feeling trapped and stifled inside all the fat I'm carrying on my body right now. My clothes don't fit, and I've been feeling uncomfortable in my body. Standing in front of a mirror has been miserable. And once again I'm faced with the reality of how much I depend on the men in my life to help me feel validated and sexy. Fortunately, I've had a lot of affectionate men over the years that have been willing to accommodate that need. I get my fair share of compliments and expressed desire directed toward me that it keeps me afloat when my inner Golem attacks. But I have a tendency to want it from one particular man (needing it from my husband is a given) and that currently would be LWINMLT.

I have a fond memory of a lover who always dated big women. I paled in comparison to most of the women he was attracted to. Talk about carrying lots of extra fat around on their bodies, they had it going on. What I really loved about being in bed with him was the way he viewed and touched my body, especially my belly. He would grab a hold of my tummy fat and I could sense the extreme pleasure and satisfaction it gave him. This man was young, smart, talented, and handsome with a firm sexy body so that made it all the better.

Sex with my husband is like that. He has always been loving and accepting of my body along with being verbally validating. I was comfortable in my body with him from the get go because he made it so obvious how attracted he was to me. Of course, I was quite thin and feeling very sexy in my body when we got together so his validations just added to my already positive body image.

Within my eight year relationship with the father of my youngest child, I never received any sort of positive verbal validation or proclamations of love. But I knew he was highly attracted to me sexually and he wanted a lot of sex. He said that I was the only woman he had very been with that wanted as much sex as he did and he did proclaim his love for that! Our sex life was great and it kept me in that relationship longer than I should have otherwise stayed. Finally, when I was in the process of leaving him, he started offering verbal confirmations about how much he loved me and loved my body. Too little too late.

As I write here now I'm reminded of how private and protective I felt about my relationship with LWINMLT when we first became lovers and it's really the reason I stopped posting on this blog. Of course I've written some about our relationship but not a lot. There is more I could say along the lines of my body image and having him as a lover but I find now that I'm still feeling private and protective of that intimate dynamic. I realize there are things I should disclose to him personally.

Bottom line is of course, I'm so much more than my body. So much more than my sexuality. So much more than who is loving or not loving me. I know this. That said though, my love relationships, my sexual partners, and my body image, are all tied up in whatever it is I'm doing here in this life. I feel most comfortable in a thin body. I feel more at home, attractive, creative, in touch with my true essence, when I'm not carrying around extra weight. And I feel so much freer. And of course, even if I am carrying around extra weight, when I'm feeling good about myself and my life, when I'm managing my stress level, staying balanced and in the flow, and connected and happy in my relationships with those I love most, then I'm more able to stay in touch with these feel good parts of myself, regardless. And I'm not even hitting on the other aspects of getting older that have nothing to do with being fat or thin. Getting old is not for sissies, I've been struggling here and it's like LWINMLT pushed me over into the abyss.

I know that a big piece of what's going on for me right now is my age old abandonment issue with my father who left before I was born. I identified with being broken and worthless for a good portion of my life, all based on the fact that I wasn't worth it for him to hang around. I have healed so much of this woundedness on my own over the years, and also within my relationship with my husband. But I find that I'm still bringing men into my life to help me dig up more of the pain, to be worked through on an ever deepening level. I feel very abandoned by LWINMLT. Not totally abandoned. He is still in my life. But the way he chose to deal with this issue of falling out of sexual attraction with me really hurts. I am just so sad. A let's put sex on the back burner until we figure this out approach, would have felt a lot more reasonable to me. You know, a temporary sexual hiatus while we assess what's going on and see how things evolve. I still would have cried and felt like shit but it would have been a much better route for me. I want to talk more about his insights (or lack of) as to why he isn't sexually attracted to me, if there is a why to get to the bottom of. I'm left wondering how deeply this goes. Is he repulsed by the sight of me? Does touching me disgust him? I don't really think this is the case but that's where my pain body takes me. I do want to know just exactly how long has this been going on. I've worked with lots of couples and I know there are a variety of reasons why this happens in a relationship. Sometimes it's lasting but more often it's not. I had my, I'm fat and therefore not sexually attractive button pushed but that may not be his reason. Maybe it's my wrinkles, my stretch marks, my age, my smell...all of the above, none of the above. I didn't ask him because I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn't bear to hear more details that might push me over the edge at that point. We were in a public place. I wanted his story, his truth of the moment, but dealing with something like this takes more than one setting, public or private. Maybe he doesn't know the reason, as it is often hidden from the conscious mind. There are many components to sexual attraction and sometimes it's just not there with another and there is no need to bother with the reason. I'm sexually attracted to very few people. But the fact that he was attracted to me and now isn't, speaks to something that has come up within our relationship. And relationships change. There are no real binding contracts, even in a marriage. People get divorced all the time. And we aren't married. But we are going on 3 years together and I want more than this. I want better than what I was offered. I think I deserve better

I feel like I've been thrown out with the trash. Or maybe it's more like I've been set out on the curb for a thrift store pick up. "Surely someone else will be able to use her. She's not all that bad." I know that's not really fair. Or real. But it's the way I feel right now.

Disappointed

2011-06-29T05:23:00.000-07:00

Five hours of sleep after being up for 39. I've been lying awake for a couple of hours watching my ego make up stories. I am so triggered. Why did you ask me if I feel old? I'm pretty flipped out about being old right now. I'd like to crawl out of my skin. I haven't cried in 6 hours. Hopefully my eyes will be a bit less puffy today. I need to be to work at 7:00. I don't know what I'm feeling right now. Sideswiped. Depressed. Confused. Dumb. Mostly numb. But Aphrodite is waking up. I notice her in the background with her "Fuck you, how dare you!" attitude. She is prideful. And pissed. Mostly I'm just tired and my heart hurts. I'd like to go to sleep and either not wake up at all or wake up having this all be an awful dream. I'm so disappointed.

The Consequences of Falling

2011-06-28T12:37:00.000-07:00

The rain is falling as if the sky is shedding tears in sweet companionship. I'd call a girlfriend except I know I couldn't talk. I can cry though. It seems as if that's all I can do. I can't sleep. I laid awake all night, the tears flowing silently until the uncontrollable sobbing would erupt.

A couple of weeks ago I found a lump in my breast and it was quite sore so I made an appointment for a Well Women Health Exam. I wasn't too worried about it but having it checked out seemed the prudent thing to do. I've been feeling extra vulnerable in my body lately. Fucking menopause. My daughter had a cancer tumor in her leg. A friend died of prostate cancer. The appointment was early this morning. After crying all night with no sleep, I walked into the clinic like a zombie, where they hit me with a slew of paperwork that needed updating. As soon as I sat down to work on the stack of papers they called me back to the exam room with a quick stop at the scales for a weight in. As if that wasn't enough to make me feel like shit, I was told to strip naked and given two small pieces of rough paper to protect my modesty. I couldn't even figure how to unfold the damn paper covers and that got me crying again before my health care practitioner made it back into the room. Bereft of any ability to cope with her professional incompetencies, within a few minutes I had her running out the door for backup protection from the crazy lady. When she returned, I was fully dressed except for my bra. In the end I pulled off my top and allowed her to do a breast exam (I already had enough negative body issues going on that I was bound and determined to forego cutting off my nose to spite my face.) But I declined her offers for other medical interventions including their mental health services. Fucking bitch.

Lover Who Is My Lover is no longer my lover so I'm confused as to how to refer to him here. I already have one Lover Who Is Not My Lover. Maybe I should call him Lover Who Is Not My Lover Too, or Lover Who Is Not My Lover Two. I am not a Well Woman, that's for sure. My heart is broken. Not really looking forward to dealing with this lost. Fuck. For the last few days I've been listening to k.d. lang's song, The Consequences of Falling, obviously preparing myself for this, and every line speaks to my experience and what I have been dreading. "...if I'm alone with this, I don't think I can face the consequences of falling. As it turns out, I am definitely alone in this, LWINMLT, is not in love with me. Well, to be more exact, he is no longer sexually attracted to me. Wow, typing that sentence sent a pang through my heart. I've been dealing with the not in love part pretty well up until this point. You know, just letting what is be what it is, accepting the sweet love that is there and not making up too many stories about the rest. But I really don't think I can face his new disclosure.

are you breathing
what i'm breathing
are your wishes
the same as mine
are you needing
what i'm needing
i'm waiting for a sign
my hands tremble
my heart aches
is it you calling
if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face
the consequences of falling
are you thinking
what i'm thinking
does your pulse
quicken like mine
are you dreaming
what i'm dreaming
i can't read your mind
one step towards you
two steps back
feels like i'm crawling
if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face
the consequences of fallin

Well, those questions are answered. He is not breathing what I'm breathing. He is not needing what I'm needing. His pulse does not quicken like mine. Fuck. I got my sign. I don't have to try and read his mind. I'm alone in this and I don't think I can face the consequences of falling in love with this man.

In case you've never had the man you love tell you that he isn't sexually attracted to you, I can share with you first hand that it feels really shitty. Damn, talk about a body slam. As if I haven't been slamming my own body enough as it is. I'll be 57 years old in one week and I gotta tell you, I've been in a wretched place with my body image and this whole menopausal pack on the fat phase. Slam dunk K. You know where to hit a girl where it hurts.

Not that I blame him. I mean, what was the poor man to do? If he's not sexually attracted to me anymore, what else is there for him to do but tell me? He obviously didn't relish disclosing this little (huge) piece of information to me and it was a truth I was not happy to hear. But the truth is, I'm not sexually attracted to my own self right now. I'm quite aware that I'd be more physically attractive if I were holding less fat on my body. But you want love to see beyond that. I'm fairly full of self loathing. And now to add to that, my feelings are hurt. My ego is bruised and busted.

I told him I never trusted "us". I guess I've always held some trepidation. I definitely hold some post traumatic stress from when he contemplated breaking it off with me two years ago. How could I fully trust my relationship with a man who never told me that he was in love with me? At the same time, our friendship was deep and I had grown to trust his love for me and I was holding big appreciation for his presence in my life. I hold confusion about the difference between "loving" and being "in love" with someone anyway so I just accepted his love for what it was, without needing to put a label on it. He is kind. He is truthful. He is a good man. A sweet lover. I had let go of many of my attachments about how I needed to be in relationship with him and I was simply allowing myself to be happy and content. Comfortable. Mostly. But I suppose that I was secretly hoping that he had fallen in love with me and would come around, sooner or later to figuring that out. I feel like a fool. When he told me that he wanted to have a "candid" talk, I knew, in one way or another, what was coming. Although after my immediate tachycardia I told myself not to jump to conclusions. I imagined a number of different possible topics. Maybe he even wanted to tell me that he was in love with me, that he was "dreaming what I'm dreaming". I didn't imagine hearing his words telling me that he was no longer sexually attracted to me. I've never had a man tell me that before. It stings.

It's weird, as k.d. says, "one step towards you, two steps back, feels like I'm crawling". K was a wonderful lover to me in many ways and I'm feeling pretty fucking devastated to lose this aspect of our relationship. To face this reality, that he isn't physically attracted to me, doesn't want to make love with me, doesn't want to fuck me. WTF am I suppose to do with this information? It makes me angry too. My sexuality is a huge piece of my identity. Who and what I am. Jesus fucking Christ. Talk about the ultimate rejection. God fucking damnit. And the truth is that I constantly held myself back from him sexually too. It was obvious that he didn't desire me as much as I desired him and I chalked it up to a difference in our libidos, and the fact that he holds his sexuality differently than I hold mine which is always in the forefront. His is more compartmentalized. I was always hungry for him but I learned to control my cravings, waiting for him to make the first move, always stepping back, never wanting to pressure him. I consistently felt like I was crawling in our relationship. And the crawling wasn't bad. I wasn't complaining. And I'm not complaining now, about how it was. I accepted him for who he was, how he was. Instead of wanting more, I practiced wanting what he gave me and I was pretty much satisfied with that. But I don't know how to begin being satisfied with this. I am complaining about this.

And I never got to get my tramp stamp tattoo and surprise him with it when he took me from behind and fucked me. He told me that's how he wanted to discover it. I waited too long.

I've always said that we fall in love with who we fall in love with, and then we create a relationship from there. Our lovers are real people, acting out their own karma, living their lives and trying to get their needs met to the best of their abilities, just like we are. When we love another, we have the choice of either loving the real person or loving a fantasy, a made up story that we create in our mind about who and what that person is and how they will meet our needs and make us happy. But real people don't always come through for us the way our fantasies do. They improv in the roles and scripts we make up for them. I'm so let down. I invested so much of heart and body to this man and he never fully claimed me in my totality. I knew that. And I knew not to trust that he wouldn't do what he just did. Why am I so insistent on falling in love with unavailable men?

I'm alone in this and I don't think I can face the consequences of falling...

Fuck.

Portentous Portals. Powerful Passings.

2011-06-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

Portentous portals. Powerful passings.

Birth and Death.

My friend Rudy died a couple of days ago and my heart cracked open. I have been so touched by this beautiful man and the sweet love he offered me for so many years. He was not a close friend. But he was. We didn't know each other well. But we did. I never spent long hours talking with Rudy, getting to know the intimate details of his life. Nor him mine. And yet, our souls recognized each other from the beginning, and when our eyes met, we fell in love. We fell into love. That's the effect Rudy had on me--I would fall right into this big puddle of love and get soaking wet every time I saw him. He validated my beingness. With Rudy, I remembered that I was love.

Rudy was a well known person around town, big in the jazz scene, he played the alto sax, and was a professional photographer. Everyone loved him. How could they not? Rudy had a wide open heart. Sparkling eyes. Infectious laugh. Rudy hugged and kissed people. Rudy gave big love and was loved big in return.

When my husband texted to ask if I had heard of Rudy's passing I remembered that I had dreamed of him the night before. I walked into a party and he was there, off to my right with a group of musicians. Our eyes met and he smiled at me as we exchanged that simple acknowledgement of friendship. He had come to say goodbye. What a gift. That sweet, sweet man.

Oh precious one, your presence in my life has blessed me. I cry, already missing your sweet face and embrace, and that love offering of a smile that bore the fruit of happiness in my heart.

It was Ryland's birthday. He is one of my son's best friends and was born in one of the bedrooms in my home. I lit a candle for him and Rudy. A flame to celebrate Ryland's birth and Rudy's death.

I'm dealing with my mother's passing. It's up big for me. I don't know when she will be gone, but she is going. I've had two death dreams of her passage. One by water and one by fire. Yesterday I went to an audition for a local celebration of death that will happen in October. Through spoken word I performed my dream of my mother's death by water:

Mother Carry Me, Your Child I Will Aways Be

It was assisted euthanasia. Like a water birth, and I was the midwife. Only this was her death.

We were in a large pool in a creek. The water was low and I was allowing it to fill up, like in a swimming pool, or a bathtub, until it would cover her and take her under. And I would let her go. I would stay with her and hold her hand until she went under the water and drowned.

But all of a sudden the water was deep and it took her when my back was turned.
She was gone. And I wasn't holding her hand. The water was rough and murky and I couldn't see under it's surface. I was walking around searching for her with my hands in the water, trying to find her. But all the while I was afraid that I would find her, her body, floating in the water, dead.

I stepped down into another pool where the water was calm and clear. I saw her lying there, convulsing and bleeding on the gravel floor of the creek bed. It was like she was lying in front of the hearth in a living room. A sacrifice on the altar of her watery grave.

The sight of her scared me at first, seeing her there. Still alive. Struggling. With her blood swirling in the water above her head like a spiraling halo. I ducked behind a corner to hide so I wouldn't have to witness her death. But I turned back and went to her. I couldn't let her die alone. I reached down and took her hand as I crawled between her and hearth. It's not so easy, lying on the rocky bottom of a creek bed, holding on to someone you love as they die.

I maneuvered myself in next to her. And I was holding her hand. She looked at me. As our eyes met, I told her, "I found you mama, I'm here." It's not so easy speaking underwater.

I held her head in my hands and kissed her as she died.

Mother Carry Me, Your Child I Will Always Be

I miss you mama. Already. And you are still here. I miss every moment I'm not with you. I regret every moment lost to my inability to be present with you in love.

I love you mama.

I Was Frustrated

2011-03-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

I just woke up from a dream about MLWIML. It was morning and we were in bed, waking up together, trying to make love but we kept having interruptions. We were at my house, and his daughter was there with us--she was about 5 years old. It was one of those situations where the adults are in bed, cuddling, kissing, really wanting to fuck, but a child keeps asking for attention. She didn't need much. She was happy and dressed, entertaining herself with various things but she didn't know my house well, or what she was allowed to play with, so she kept coming in to my bedroom asking very sweetly, a question about this or that, wanting to know if it was okay for her to play with something. I got out of bed to help her and then came back and we started back up again and then MLWML got a bad pain in his head and I tried rubbing it for him. He kept talking really softly with his head under the coves and I couldn't understand what he was saying. There was a radio on making racket and that was annoying. I wanted to turn it off but I thought leaving it on might be better so his daughter wouldn't hear our lovemaking sounds. Time after time we'd start kissing, pressing our genitals together, feeling the sexual energy rise and then something would happen to distract us. I was frustrated. Happy but sexually frustrated.

Jayananda Krsna Das

2011-03-25T13:23:00.000-07:00

My fifth child.

We named you after a very sweet man. A sanyasi. Devotee of Krsna. Disciple of Swami Prabhupada. A friend. He died of cancer many years ago.

You were born just 17 months after your sister. She was incredibly calm and gentle around you.

I was so in love with you. In love as a lover loves her beloved. I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I just wanted to hold you and stare at you forever. Everything else was a distraction. There was no greater pleasure than simply being in your presence and attending to you. I loved all of my babies and experienced great joy in caring for my newborns--each one of them. But with you it was different. The love I experienced for you was profound.

You scared me a lot, doing newborn baby things that I had never experienced before. You projectile vomited for weeks. You had blood in your stools. You came down with a strange "diaper" rash that spread to your armpits and the folds of your neck. I cared for you with herbs and other natural remedies and you healed.

And then I got very sick. I had no pain but I knew I was dying. The doctors, and I went to many, couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. My life force was slipping away. I had no energy. No strength. No blood pressure. Well, my blood pressure was so low that they always thought they missed it and would take it over several times. This always happened. They couldn't believe it was so low.

I had no desires. No desire to live and non to die. But I felt okay with dying. Except that I had 5 children and a new born baby to care for. I thought it wouldn't be in their best interest, to leave my children, so I attempted to live, not with any great effort but with a calm and detached resolve.

I laid in bed and nursed you and slept. I changed your diaper now and again when your father was busy with other things. He cared for your older siblings and the house. He cared for me and he cared for you. I eat little bits of food and drank fluids because I knew I needed to in order to continue making milk to feed you. This continued for a few months until slowly I came back to life.

That was 29 years ago. March 24th, 1982--the day of your birth. My vernal equinox baby. My aries fire child. Happy birthday my son. My sweet boy.

My Sister and My Mama and Another Dream

2011-03-03T01:37:00.000-08:00

Another dream but first a little background.

My sister was born on my mother's 39th birthday. Her third and last child. I remember when she went into labor and my step-dad took her to the hospital. I was seven years old. A few days later my mom came home with a baby girl. There were five of us kids at that point. My step-brother and step-sister, my brother and me, and now my little half-sister.

My step-father was a wheeler and a dealer. A deacon in his church. He was also a swindler. He could sweet talk anyone. Except for me. I didn't like him from the get go and I think he resented me for that. I had his number but I paid for it.

My mother once told me that they never paid for groceries throughout the four years of their marriage. I remember the grocery store and those Saturday afternoon shopping trips with my mom pushing the grocery cart up one isle and down another. It's a cheap furniture store now. There was the meat counter where she picked out hamburger, chicken and pork chops. We eat meat every night and they were big meals with several courses. She was a good cook. And we always had dessert too. It was my job to set the table. I can still see her signing the credit slip for the groceries, never paying cash. The store owner went to our church and was friends with my step-dad. At some point, when my mom's relationship with my step-dad had soured, she had a meeting with the owner of the grocery store, requesting that he stop allowing her to charge groceries. She told him that he would never be paid for the groceries we bought on credit, week after week, year after year--that my step-dad would never make good on the bill. He told her not to worry, that her husband was a "good boy", that he trusted him whole heartedly. She felt like she had done her part, she had warned him and he chose not to heed her warning. She kept charging groceries and he never got paid. Years later he told her that he wished he had listened to her. He couldn't believe that my step-dad would cheat him.

My birth father, who I had never met, tried to make contact with me, my brother, and my mother once, a couple years after my mom had married my step-dad. Knowing that my mother was a church going woman, he called one church after the next in our hometown, looking for us. When he finally found us, the pastor told him it would be best if he didn't contact us, that my step-father was like a father to us, that we were a happy and a stable family, that my father should leave well enough alone. I spent my whole childhood yearning for the father I had never met. My birth father was a wheeler and a dealer who swindled people too. Interesting, the men my mother chose considering what a kind, upstanding, hardworking, honest man her own father was.

My step-dad would drive our whole family up into the mountains on Sundays to a prison work camp where we would sing gospel songs to the prisoners. Then he would bring one of the prisoners home with us for Sunday dinner. I remember my mom complaining that she didn't like it. She didn't think it was safe. Another thing we did was read the bible every morning before school. I think we read for an hour but maybe it was only a half hour. Each of us kids would sit by ourselves, reading our bibles. We did this when I was eight years old and I remember the passages too, not really by heart but some of them from Genesis and John, "And the earth was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters..." and "In the beginning there was the word and the word was with God..."

He was an odd man. Two weeks after my mom and him were married (after two weeks of courtship) he told her that they would no longer have sex, that the time they would normally invest in this pastime, would now be spent in prayer. That didn't last long but the proclamation disturbed my newlywed mother.

He was also mean. And abusive. He beat me with a skinny leather belt when I misbehaved. I misbehaved a lot. The skinny leather belt wasn't his only method of punishment but it was one of his favorites. I received the brunt of his physical abuse while my brother received his verbal/emotional put downs which caused him to stutter for many years. Well, come to think of it, I got a heck of a lot of the verbal/emotional abuse myself. I remember one night at the dining room table when my step-day chastised me for eating with my mouth open, like an animal. He said that if I was going to eat like an animal, I should eat where the animals eat and he made me take my dinner plate and eat under the kitchen table. My mom didn't allow me to stay there for long. I remember her coming in and pulling me up from the floor and sitting me up at the table.

My step-dad saved the sexual abuse for his own children. My step-brother who seven years older than me and a strong supporter of keeping it all in the family, passed it down line to me. At the age of ten, my mother divorced my step-dad. She was in the hospital recuperating from a hysterectomy after being diagnosed with cervical cancer. During one of my step-father's visits he informed my mom that he had gotten his secretary pregnant. Two weeks later my mom had moved me. my brother, and my little sister out of the house and into the new home she had purchased (with no money down) for 11,000 dollars. Besides having no money for a down payment, she was also unemployed (she had been working for my step-father in his carpet store). Things were different back in 1964, but even so, years later when a bank manager was reviewing her loan, he looked at her, shaking his head in disbelief that her loan had ever gone through. My mom always did what she had to do to take care of herself and her children. In her own quiet and shy way, she made things happen if they needed to happen. A while after her divorce, a minister who was a friend of the family, told my mother that my step-father had visited him shortly after their breakup, asking to be castrated, based on the biblical tenant of..."If your right eye offends you, pluck it out..." So there she was, my mom, a forty-two year old, newly single with a pending divorce, freshly out of the hospital, unemployed, new home owner, with three kids, ages fourteen, ten, and three years, to support.

We weren't an emotionally close knit family. My mom worked 8:00 to 5:00, five days a week, came straight home to make us dinner, and took care of her home on the weekends. We loved each other enough. I fought with my brother and was a bully at times to my little sister. None of us had much interest in the others but my mom dutifully went to at least some of my brother's Little League games and to our school functions. My little sister looked and acted like my mom--dark hair, dark skin, shy, and high strung. She was a mama's girl and the baby of the family. Matter of fact, my brother was kind of a mama's boy himself, in a different way. I was not. I was a rebel. Although I was also a caretaker in my own right. After my brother moved out of the house at the at the age of eighteen and then two years later I moved out at the age of sixteen, my sister had her mommy all to herself and I think she liked that. I think my mother liked that too. They were like two peas in a pod and remained that way for years.

A funny (or not so funny) thing is that my eldest daughter and my sister are SO MUCH ALIKE, it's uncanny. As adults, I could never tell their voices apart on the phone. There was 15 years between them in age and both of them thought the universe revolved around them. They never liked each other but my sister set the precedent by never being was kind to my daughter since the time she was a very little girl. She seemed jealous of my daughter's close relationship with HER mother and saw her young niece as an interloper. She didn't appreciate my daughter invading THEIR space. She didn't appreciate me or any of my children taking any of my mom's attention away from her. She and my mom were best friends. I was not best friends with my mom. She was just my mother and we weren't all that close. But we weren't not close. We loved each other and enjoyed a greatly improved relationship once I moved out of the house at sixteen. I loved my mom and I knew she loved me. She was a good mom and helped me out a lot. But my sister was her baby and they were extremely close. Some might say that my mother was codependent with my sister, always bailing her out of trouble. Not that she never bailed me out, because she did. That's what moms do. But it was different. That seemed to be the nature of their relationship until my mom's Alzheimer's started really kicking in and she couldn't be there for my sister in the ways she had been before. And even though my sister thanked me profusely, time and again for my role in caring for our mother, I think she ended up feeling very isolated and perhaps annoyed with some of the decisions I made in regard to our mother's care during that time even though I ran everything past her while she still showed some interest in being involved, even at a distance. I was here in the thick of it, and she wasn't.

This is the point where I'm sure my sister's story diverges greatly from my own. Well, actually, I suspect there is a great divide with most of my story versus the way my sister would tell it. But she isn't telling it here. Well, maybe I won't tell anymore of it either. Perhaps I've said enough. For now. Or maybe I just don't want to put anymore of this story to print. It feels private I suppose. And I notice that I feel protective or her, and of our mother. Of both of them. It's just a story after all. It's my truth but it's not THE truth.

But I will say this. It's been over a year since my sister has come to visit my mom. She lives only a little more than two hours away. And before that, it had been almost a year since she had visited her, when she came for a short visit on the birthday that they share. I feel sad for my sister. I feel sad for my mom. My sister has a child also, my niece, who is eleven years old. She hasn't seen her grandmother in all this time. And it's possible that she may never see her again. My sister may never see our mother again. She will most certainly never see the mother she once knew. The mother that she abandoned. I angry about that too.

Actually, I think I will put a little more of my story to print...As we've grown older, I've also grown to appreciate my brother and my sister more. Up to a point, before this current great divide with my sister. The feelings were mutual too. At least I think they were. My brother and I have become good friends over the years and we enjoy one another's company. It's not that we are super close and see each other all the time, but there is a mutual respect and we do visit fairly frequently and don't let too much time go by before we connect with a phone call. We've spent most Christmas Eves together over the last thirty years, along with some graduations, weddings, and a few other holidays and birthdays sprinkled in. He usually makes a point to come and visit me when he comes to town to visit our mother. We genuinely like, as well as love each other.

I've had good times with my sister also. When she lived in San Francisco and other parts of the bay area, we visited her often for many years and she always put us up. We also connected during her frequent visits with our mother and there were many shared, sweet moments and laughter. It warmed my heart getting closer with her over those years. I miss her.

So, this morning I had a dream. After my husband left for work, instead of getting myself up and ready for work, I fell back asleep and dreamed about my sister.

I was in a big city with someone. I don't know who. It wasn't my husband. It might have been my boyfriend. It seems as if he was there in the dream somewhere. We were in a room in a run down hotel and I was somewhat afraid. For whatever reason, I didn't feel safe.

Then I was walking, maybe with him. I don't know were I was going. Maybe I was going to visit my mom--then I was walking by her house, the one that she bought in 1964 for 11,000 dollars. This was our family home that I grew up in, that she sold in 2007. I looked up into the drive way and there was my sister, sitting outside with a group of people who turned out to be her children. She was there, at my mom's house with seven or eight beautiful, gorgeous, lovely children. She was stunningly beautiful herself. And graceful. I was so touched. My heart was so happy to see her. I went up to her. I didn't hug her but I was just over the top pleased and amazed to see her and her incredible children. So that's what she had been doing all this time, in her absence--giving birth and raising these exceptional kids. I just couldn't get over it. She, on the other hand, was not happy to see me. And these children who had never met me, only knew me through their mother, my sister, and her stories of me--whatever they were, I knew they were not nice stories that held me in a good light. My sister was angry with me. Hostile, in a mellow, but intensely energetic sort of way. But I noticed her beauty just the same. And our mother's house was intact, still full of her belongings. And there were two men there, gay men it seemed, who were the caretakers of my mother's home and all of her belongings and they weren't overjoyed to see me either, but they were friendly enough, and accommodating in a mildly territorial sort of way. They were aware of their places ultimately, and knew better than to act in a way to usurp me.

Some of my sister's children I did know after all. A few of them had light complexions, with blonde hair and blue eyes. They were familiar to me and we had met before (even though I didn't know my sister had any children). They recognized me also and were excited to see me also (but not showing it too overtly). The other children had dark hair and swarthy complexions, dark eyes with long eyelashes and they were very exotic looking. I just couldn't get over their beauty and I was just totally in love with every single one of them. They were fairly standoffish to me. Nice enough. But not really. They were being protective of their mother.

I left my mother's home and crossed the street to another hotel/motel type place where I was going to stay. As it turns out, my sister was staying there with her kids also and I saw one of them as I was walking by one of the rooms. The door was open and there he was, this beautiful young man in his late teens or early twenties, very striking and I spoke to him, still so excited over their existence and that they were my nephews and nieces. He said something back to me, something along the lines of, "Cant you just let it go and leave us alone." It was almost as if I was sort of stalking them. At one point he stood up to me, as if I was a bully of sorts and he was rallying for his mother's cause. I spoke back strongly to him, in protection of myself to make him back down, which he did. I was just so amazed at his beauty. I think my boyfriend might have still been with me, or was with me for the first time at this point...

I woke up so tired, almost paralyzed. It was an intense dream.

Death By Fire

2011-02-18T04:56:00.000-08:00

Another dream about my mama. This time it was fire. And I was in it with her. I must haven chosen to burn up with her. But then I changed my mind. I left. Kinda snuck out. And there was someone else in there besides her and me. It seems like it was one of my children, maybe my daughter or my granddaughter and eventually she came out also but I can't remember. It might have been another part of me. I had decided that I didn't want to die. But then this other part of me came back and got me. I was wanting her to go back in. I could see into the fire room where my mama was dying. Burning up. She was crying out to me because she was alone and afraid. I called back to her and she could hear me. She was relieved. I told her "It's okay mama, I'm here." She asked me to stay with her. She wanted to come out of the fire too but I told her it was too late. I knew it wouldn't be good for her to try and stop the process now. I felt guilty too, like I should still be in there, burning up with her. It was okay that I changed my mind, wasn't it? I mean, death is something we can back out of, right? I decided I wasn't ready to die but I felt like I was backing out on her, like we'd made this pack together and now I'd abandoned her to do it on her own. My mama was dying. She was burning up and didn't want to be alone.

I Dreamed My Mama Died

2010-11-16T03:27:00.000-08:00

It was almost like an assisted euthanasia. It was time for her to go. We were in water, a large pool like area in a creek. But the water was low and I was allowing it to fill up like in a bath tub or swimming pool until it would take her under and I would let her die. And I was going to stay with her and hold her hand as she went under the water and drowned.

But all of a sudden the water was deep and had taken her when my back was turned and I wasn't holding her and she was gone. And the water was rough and murky and I couldn't see under the surface and I was walking around, reaching down in the water with my hands searching for her but not whole heartedly because I was afraid to find her, floating underwater dead. But then I stepped down, into another pool of water on a lower level and the water was clear there. It was like another room in a house and I saw her lying there under the water, convulsing and bleeding in this spot on the gravel floor, almost as if she was lying in front of the hearth in a living room--a sacrifice on the altar of her watery grave.

The sight of her scared me at first, seeing her moving, struggling, still alive with her blood swirling in the water above her head like a spiraling halo. I turned and slipped back behind a corner so I wouldn't have to witness her death, but then immediately returned and went to her. I couldn't let her die alone. I leaned down and took her hand and she flinched like I had hurt her, being too rough as I tried to crawl between her and the hearth and lie next to her. It's not so easy, trying to lie on the rocky bottom of a creek, underwater, holding on to someone as they die.

But I managed to situate myself, and I held her hands and she looked at me. Our eyes met and I told her "I found you mama, I am here." It's not easy to speak underwater. I took her head in my hands and kissed her as she died. My mama died.

I woke up from the dream and gasped as I realized how intense it was. I told my husband that I dreamed my mother died and that I was with her. I wondered if she had really died and had come to me, to say goodbye and I sat up to look at the time. The clock said 2:07. I wondered if the call from her assisted care home would come soon, when one of her caregivers went in to check on her and found her there in bed, dead. I hoped not. I knew the call could still could be coming. It will come eventually. Or maybe I will be with her when she dies. I hope I will be with her. I pray that I will be with her. I need to be there for my mama when she dies.

I kept going over the dream, reliving it in my mind, over and over, trying to remember every nuance. I didn't want to forget a thing. I decided to write it out so I wouldn't forget it. I opened my computer and saw my youngest son on face book. Two-thirty in the morning and there he was. I told him about my dream and he was glad it was only a dream. Only a dream. For now.

Daniel Lanois - The Unbreakable Chain

2010-10-03T11:44:00.000-07:00

I was listening to this while I worked out in the gym yesterday. It always pierces me on such an incredibly deep level. My prayer is to someday break the unbreakable chain. But prayers don't break the unbreakable chain. Tears don't break the unbreakable chain. Maybe grace will.

Missing Mama

2010-10-03T02:20:00.000-07:00

My mama asked me where her mama was.
I wanted to avoid her question so my phone rang.
I told her I was saved by the bell.
But when I was done she remembered and asked me again.
So I told her that her mama, my grandma, had died many years ago.
My mama got very sad and she cried, tears running down her face.
But I didn't wipe them away and neither did she.
We just sat there together and let them flow, her missing her mama
and me knowing how much I was going to miss mine.
She told me it was good that I told her, because now she knows where her mama is.

Our Visit

2010-10-03T01:00:00.000-07:00

I took off my shoes and crawled into your bed fully clothed,
cuddling up close while you slept.
You'd left your door open for me,
knowing I'd arrive as you slumbered.
Late to bed as you often are,
you didn't stir until I curled up next to you, my arm around your belly.
Rousing from dreams you asked if I needed coffee.
I said I needed more sleep and that your bed was comfortable.

We dozed together in the early morning light of your room.
My hand found your cock and I stroked it. We flirted a little.
The energy rising in my belly, I wanted to feel you inside of me,
but we made love only after you dressed.
You made me coffee and we walked, and talked,
and you showed me pictures of great places in Turkey and Italy
and we marveled together at the ruins of grand architecture.

And you read to me about enlightenment from your current favorite book.
Two friends enjoying one another's company, we blathered about love
and fear, relationships and sex, freedom and wanting others to think well of us.
Time flew and I had leave earlier than I wanted, earlier than you wanted,
but it was good. Both the coffee and your love.

Two Lovers

2010-10-01T00:03:00.000-07:00

Basking in the afterglow of last night.
I need to make love with you like that.
And afterward, coming home to him.
Waiting for me, knowing where I've been.
Wanting what he always wants from me.
But particularly after I've been with you.
He greets me softly, asserting his need.
Hoping I've the energy to receive him.
I open to a sweetness that bonds us three.

Like A Ton of Bricks

2010-08-18T23:44:00.000-07:00

His words hit me like a ton of bricks.
The stark, unyielding truth.
Unencumbered by unreasonable pride.
A sharp slap of critique
Refused to leave me unaware.
Awakened to an embarrassment
I'd rather not know.
It mocks me now.
Heartache that he wanted me to know.
And no place to go for solace.

True Blood and Twilight

2010-07-17T16:21:00.000-07:00

Mistress Matisse writes about vampires, blood, True Blood, and Twilight, in the Control Tower here.
I'm definitely a True Blood fan myself. Gimme some of the Bill and Sookie love anyday.

My Own Fodder

2010-06-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

Inspiration for writing comes with a cost. I become my own fodder. And the story of my life unfolds. On one hand, I'm a messed up, emotionally immature person just like everyone else. A flawed human being trying to find my way. On the other hand, I have my models that I emulate. My heroes that I aspire to follow. The ones that serve others with open-hearted gracefulness. The creative, successful, happy ones with love that sorta oozes out of them. I glean from each one, picking and choosing the qualities that serve me best. I copy them. I pretend. I fake it until I make it. And over the years, I've found that I have made it in some ways, that I've arrived--if not setting any records, I've at least crossed the finish line in a respectable time. I've discovered that in some things, I'm my own best model, that some of what I've learned has become second nature, that I've gained a fair amount of emotional maturity and wisdom myself. And with this, I know how little I know. And I know how I'll never really "get there". This is a life long journey.

Here's the fodder for this writing. Recently I experienced a trigger that set off some post traumatic stress (PTS). I panicked. I blew things out of proportion. I listened to the stories my wounded ego was telling me. I felt the emotions that had been released in my body. I didn't really believe the stories but I still laid around with my feelings hurt, feeling depressed and sorry for myself. To top it all off, I was embarrassed. I'll be 56 years old in one week and experiencing these uncomfortable emotional gyrations annoyed me. I felt silly--that at my age I should be over having these these ridiculous reactions. I should be more mature. More enlightened. And I knew it would all pass soon and I would be relieved of my ego running amok, but soon wasn't soon enough.

The original trigger was Lover Who Is My Lover not wanting to spend time with me because he was too tired. I understood his tiredness was legitimate, and regardless, he certainly didn't owe it to me, to choose to spend time with me in that moment. But my feelings were still hurt. After all, I was exhausted myself and I still wanted to spend time with him. But underlying my disappointment that he wasn't giving me what I wanted, was another tender spot, which his denial to meet my needs of the moment uncovered.

There was a large gathering of woman that I had not been invited to. Many of my women friends were there and I was not. This particular gathering has been going on for many years and I have never attended. Over the years, I had been invited several times but it just never worked for me to go. Eventually the invites stopped coming and I'm not sure whether my lack of participation offended the hostess or more likely, I'm simply not in her mind much as she is a person I seldom run into. It's probably a bit of both. Whatever the case may be, it's never been something I've thought too much about, it wasn't a big deal to me...until recently, when I got the inkling that I wanted to be a part of this gathering. The obvious problem is, I haven't been invited.

One thing that is so ridiculous is that I'm so not left out. I have an abundance of friends and I'm invited to more gatherings and parties than I can reasonably attend. I really have the good fortune to get to pick and choose between many options. My life is abundant with friends, gatherings, and being a part of. I'm included and loved. It's not like I'm sitting at home alone, bored. Ha. I was the other night!

I mentioned PTS and sometimes it kicks in. There have been times in my life when more often than not, I was sitting alone at home, bored. As a young girl this happened to me a lot. I was alone and felt friendless much of the time. I was often left out. I had a fairly sad childhood and I was emotionally neglected. I had an over abundance of unmet childhood needs. So this trigger happened and I was overly upset. I knew I was experiencing PTS and that my reaction outweighed the circumstance but there is was and no reasoning with the emotions I was feeling. I felt abandoned and that was that.

So I sat with it. I slept with it. And I woke up with a lingering, depressed sense of it. And then Lover Who Is My Lover called and we talked for a few minutes and I noticed it was gone. I didn't tell him what I had been experiencing because it felt silly, my truth of the moment that wasn't true at all. Besides, it's awkward to talk about those things on the phone sometimes.

But later in the day I thought that I should share this with him, allow myself to be vulnerable and tell him about my silliness and the role he played as my trigger. Part of me found it necessary to expose myself because I'm hesitant to do so. I have a little PTS around telling him my emotions and causing him stress with my drama. We have a little past here...but I don't want to buy into my fear of telling him the truth. I want him to know me as I am, even though it sometimes scares me to reveal myself. So I wrote him and told him my wounded ego story. And he hasn't responded back yet. And so now I notice that fear of self exposure, about being an imperfect person with flaws and PTS. Well, welcome to the human race. Welcome to me, Lover Who Is My Lover.

Boundaries Based on Lies

2010-06-23T01:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight Pema and I gave our first talk in a monthly series of Conscious Relationships, Conscious Sex talks called Sexuality as a Spiritual Path. I think it went very well. Twelve people showed up, 8 women and 4 men. Today I read from a book called, The Enlightenment Imperative, given to me by my friend Lena. It's written by, The Syntropy Group and edited by Mary Beth Brangun & James Heddle. It's my opinion that the book isn't very well written. The words are static and there is no fluidity to the reading. When I finish with a short paragraph, I never know what I've read. I have to back track and break it down. But the information is good. I like what they say about sexual maturity as "...an attitudinal maturation that recognizes and affirms the many forms that loving, openhearted, mutually affirming, and nurturing relationships can take." I will write more on this later but for tonight I'm tired and need to curl up next to my husband and sleep. And dream.

I worked on my Solstice Image Box some more tonight and added my second image. It's an old Eastern Indian art picture of Radha Krsna that I found in my storage that I planned on burning in the solstice fire. But then the image called to me, so I saved it. Tonight, after the talk it seemed even more fitting, representing my passion for all that polyamory means to me--an opportunity for transcending the constraints of my wounded ego, boundaries of jealousy and possessiveness I have built, based on lies. This divine couple represent celebration of the erotic and the cultivation of love, open-heartedness, kindness, compassion, and the shared pleasure of lovers which is the foundation of spiritual evolution.

Celebrating Summer Solstice with Squirrel

2010-06-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, part of my summer solstice celebration was cleaning out my storage unit. I sorted through a lot of clutter in the heat of the day and found much to give away--actually, I've decided to have a yard sale and add the proceeds to my traveling fund. My passport is neatly tucked away and my accounts are growing. This process of digging in and sorting through, felt very cleansing and I found a few objects to use in the little little summer solstice celebration I did with Lover Who Is My Lover's wife. B. made up a lovely altar and we created some ritual. It was very nice. I made an image box for the year--my plan is to add an image each day of the year. While digging through my storage I found a box full of old tarot decks and animal medicine cards. As I was looking at the pictures I resonated with the squirrel card and knew instantly that Squirrel was my image of the day.

Squirrel energy is a great gift. It is about gathering and planning ahead, being prepared. It's about loving myself enough to gather the goods that will meet my needs in the times ahead. It's about honoring the future by readying myself for change in the present.

Squirrel energy is also about lightening my load of the many possessions that no longer serve me. It's about getting rid of clutter. Not only the clutter in my storage unit but also the clutter in my body and mind. There is a delicate balance to gathering. Collecting what is most valuable to me currently while preparing for my future and to keep the energy of what I'm gathering circulating so I'm not hoarding.

One valuable lesson from squirrel is about preparing for anything by observing the obvious. It's about accepting reality as it is, and responding to what life offers me. It's about protecting what I gather and keeping it in the safest place--an uncluttered mind and heart. It's about gathering what is most valuable--wisdom and caring, peace and love.

Credit is due to Jamie Sams & David Carson, who wrote, and Angela C. Werneke who illustrated, Medicine Cards--The Discovery Of Power Through The Ways Of Animals, for these squirrel ponderings, as I've basically paraphrased what they have written. Here's a direct quote, a poem from the book:

Squirrel...
You have gathered
Nuts by the score,
Exactly predicting
If you'll need more.

Teach me to take
No more than I need.
Trusting Great Mystery
To harvest the seed.

My Gogo

2010-06-18T00:11:00.000-07:00

Today is my Gogo's birthday. She is 34 years old. Happy Birthday daughter. I hope this year brings you an abundance of all good things.

Peace and love.

Govinda Jaya was born June 17, 1976. She was a bi-centennial baby. She was my second child, born at home with her father, David, and her older brother, Brandyn in attendance. We called Brandyn, Damodara at the time. The name means, he who is bound by the ropes of love. He was four and a half years old when he saw his sister be born.

Govinda's name came to us during my pregnancy when we were listening to some devotional music. It was the Hindu chant, Govinda Jaya Jaya, Gopal Jaya Jaya. Radha Ramanahari, Govinda Jaya Jaya, which means: All glories to Govinda (Krsna). All gories to Gopal (Krsna). All glories to Hari (Krsna) who is Radha's (foremost gopi--cowherd girl, girlfriend, from Vrndavan) lover. Inspired by the music, my friend Debi, who was living with us at the time said "Govinda Jaya" that's a good name for the baby! I immediately agreed, whatever gender.

Govinda Jaya was born at approximately 7:00 in the evening. We forgot to look at clock immediately, obviously caught up in the moment. She was born en-caul, with the amniotic sac still intact, but after birthing a big bubble of the sac, we popped it. I had hear that being born with the amniotic sac still intact, encaul, was an auspicious sign but I've since learned that being born en-caul is different than being born with a caul (born a caulbearer child) which is considered significant and auspicious in several ways.

My labia was torn during the birth of her head and it was a deep tear, way up close to my clit. I never had it sewn up. The only way I could pee without excruciating pain for several weeks was by getting into a bathtub full of water, which diluted my urine enough so as to diffuse the sting.

I nursed her for awhile and then an hour or two after she was born she had her first bath, totally submerged into a full bathtub of water. Govinda never cried at birth but her first cry came when she was removed from her bathwater. She had a bath nearly everyday and everyday this was the only time she ever cried.

It was a sweet birth. Quiet. Peaceful. Our home and family was full of love. For a while.

Happy Birthday love you to Govinda Jaya Devi Dasi.

Love, Mom

Have Mercy

2010-05-19T19:27:00.000-07:00

All this jealous energy! Goodness. Breathing. It's good. Yes. I ask for this, right? It brings to me blog. That's good. Jealousy inspiring my writing I see. Okay.

He asked her if she wanted to be his lover? I think that's what he said--or meant?

Who wouldn't want to be her lover? She is beautiful. Sexy. Smart. Sweet. Salty. And those breasts. Nice body. I like her. A. Lot.

And then his dream. Hummm.

But then right after he reveals all this he tells me he doesn't know if he'll have time for me this weekend.

Okay.

Fuck.

All is good.

But sometimes I feel insecure. Just want to know I'm loved.

But then, I know that.

No doubt.

Just want to know he's in love.

With me.

Don't know that.

Maybe nothing to know.

Lord. Have mercy on me.

Pleasure--by Shewhobehot's Disciple

2010-03-08T10:43:00.000-08:00

I was christened with the name SheWhoBeHot by Rob Brezsny. My friend wrote this in 2002.

I got asked to write about pleasure, so being a thorough person, I did lots of research on the subject by talking about, dreaming about, fantasizing about and making pleasure with a variety of partners in order to do justice to the topic. What is pleasure? It can be so clear; at moments it's an excruciating ache of desire, the wanting of someone that is so potent I can do nothing but move restlessly about until I am with him. To be near a man, to feel wanted, to see his eyes soften as he looks at my body, that is a delicious pleasure. There are other times where I can't connect--the timing is off. I can't find my own or another's rhythm and no matter what I think I want it isn't going to happen. This is rare and usually linked to tiredness or having something on my mind that I can't express yet.

One of my lovers said to me that nothing beats his fantasies; we were a part of a foursome at the time, and we were all telling each other, during our more cogent moments, about what turned us one. I was taking sips of water from a glass he was holding for me and with my mouth full and wet, was lovingly and slowly sucking his cock, so go figure. He must have very potent fantasies. In fairness, I know that there are moments when I am pleasuring myself that my visions of what I want to have happen to my body are so specific and fully imagined that I am not sure that a real person could measure up.

Several weeks ago I was at an event where I saw another lover--it was his birthday and I hadn't had the time to find a gift for him, so as I kissed him hello, amidst the streams of people coming into the bar, I whispered to him that I hadn't gotten him a card or present so he'd just have to settle for a blow job later. I smiled sweetly, and spent the rest of the evening in a heightened state of pleasurable anticipation. He was in the band we were all gathered to dance to; and there were moments where I was able to catch his eye and mouth a silent reminder not to forget his present. He would flush and grin and I would dance away deeply excited and happy to be offering such a great guy something racy and hot and sexy.

I have the very good fortune to be in a triad with my best friend and her husband. I love them both very much. My love for them is not predicated on being physical lovers, rather it has to do with the way that we hold each other's spiritual and emotional evolution as the most dear and precious thing. I have felt blessed to be able to witness sexual love between the people I love best in the world. I feel that I have been in the presence of God and Goddess, sun and moon, earth and rain at the moment they join and become one. I have watched their faces innumerable times as they reach orgasm, and seen the beautiful vulnerability wash across their features like the shadows of clouds racing across a field. I have had the experience of being on top of a man that I adore, riding him as hard as I can and gazing into the eyes of my best friend while she watches me dissolve into my own orgasm, smiling at me and urging me on. Moments where I have been so opened, where I have been torn apart by what I need; when I am speaking unspeakable words because my body is insatiable and needs to be bruised and pounded and bitten and ravaged all in front of two people, not one. Expressing my sexuality in the context of including the feelings and gazes of a third and sometimes fourth person has changed me permanently. I have grown so aware of the ways that I have judged myself. Where I have felt undeserving of pleasure in the past because I was not thin enough or tall enough or tan enough or pretty in the right way. I know now that all of my fears are projections. It is hard to hang onto feeling insecure for long when there is more than one other person present who is happy for my pleasure and who is expanding too because of it. Something gave way in me and I am dedicated to my pleasure in ways that I did not think were possible in the past.

I was with a lover not long ago, lying under him on his bed, both of us fully clothed, and kissing deeply. We were playing a repeating game, like we were in high school and not going to get naked and fuck. Kissing him took on a mythic quality, how much sexual energy can be channeled into the mouth from the dull shock of genitals muffled by layers of cloth. The feeling of my own flesh contained and constrained by denim and seams made me feel crazed with lust. At that moment he looked at me not knowing what do do with all the energy either. I don't know what it was but he grabbed my throat with one hand, really hard so that I could not breath. I was staring at him as well, and I knew even as my body wanted to respond with panic that I was not in danger. I felt overwhelming trust and in that second of knowing how deeply I trusted him, I had the most explosive orgasm. My body was entirely in his keeping--there was no where to go but into ecstasy. I loved that feeling of abandoning myself to waves of love, the electric energetic language that I have always known how to speak except I can only really remember how at certain moments of my life.

I am on a quest. I want to have sex with friends. I love knowing that someone I am with likes me and opens to the joy of being pleased by me because I like them and want them to be happy. My heart is open and my request of those I undress for and play with is so simple. That they should want me, like me and feel glad that I am there. It seems so easy. Sometimes it is, and when it is--it's not the friction of two bodies that brings so much joy--but the simple and direct meeting of two hearts and minds that adds so much depth to the pleasure. I know what it feels like to be with someone who cannot accept my gifts, it's because their heart is closed in some deep and very sad way to self love. I was in that place myself for many years, looking outside of me for someone to fix my hurt places. I finally fixed myself by choosing to court pleasure. I have become dedicated to allowing myself to feel and express the pleasure that is intrinsic to my being. Once I decided to open to loving myself in this way, my experiences have brought me so many opportunities to heal myself of what I once believed to be permanent damage. My body and heart are an eve growing vessel for the expression and creation of pleasure. I wish this for everyone.

Grief Bubbling Up-I Am Not Alone

2010-02-07T09:53:00.000-08:00

I am a contradiction of emotions and yearning.
Happy. Sad. Wanting. Content.
Tears come easy these days.
Grief bubbling up.
I push it down.
Love. Fear.
Each moment a choice.
Fear. Love.
Overwhelmed.
Seeking balance before I topple.
I'm so good.
But not doing so well.
I need to rest.
What would that look like?
Major decision for this day-
Should I pull the covers over my head
and cry before I crawl out of bed?
The water's already on for my coffee.
Husband takes care of me.
I need to ask him for a really good massage.
I give thanks for family and friends.
Their sweetness sustains me.
I am not alone.

Maiden, Mother, Cougar, Crone

2010-01-15T08:40:00.000-08:00

Maiden, Mother, Cougar, Crone

Let me back up.

The Triple Goddess--Maiden, Mother, Crone, corresponds to the three phases of a woman's life.

The Maiden represents the first stage of a girl's life. Youth, purity, independence, courage, and the innocence of virginity are qualities possessed by the maiden.

The Mother represents a young woman who has reached puberty. She is fertile and possesses a hot, fiery sexuality. She is in a cycle of growth and ripeness. She holds a lot of power in her position of giving life and protecting her young.

The Crone represents an elderly woman in the last phase of her life. She is wise, full of experience and adds immense value to her family and community as she transforms all her experiences in the journey towards death.

But wait, something is missing...like a whole phase of a woman's life! And this isn't a short inconspicuous phase either--it could encompass 30 years or more (let's say ages 45-75). One particular woman in her 70's comes to mind and she is one hot, sexy...cougar!

Yes, I am aware that some woman take issue with this label. The cougar has been so bastardized that we've learned to shun her. (I'm reminded that bastard is a word I'd like to reclaim but I'm getting ahead of myself in more ways than one.) The word cougar has become almost a synonym for "pathetic"--as in pathetic older woman, desperately holding on to her youth without the grace to know it's time to let go (of sex) and fade into the woodwork--or sink into her rocking chair with her knitting and grandchildren. Please, I've nothing against grandchildren (or knitting). They are both glorious. But not the point here.

The words of Laurel Thatcher Ulrich come to mind,

"Well behaved women rarely make history."

Or one might say that well behaved women rarely get fucked." Excuse me, I digress. Cougar has entered the room and we shrink from her. If we don't shrink from her we at least shrink from the mass medias portrayal of her and the label--uttered with disdain, "Cougar!"

But I'm on a mission to take ownership of the Cougar label--much in the same way that Eve Ensler (Vagina Monologues) reclaimed the word cunt, which has been considered one of the ultimate insults. When this one-woman performance turned into an Valentine's Day ensemble, (originally with such well know performers as Glenn Close, Susan Sarandon, Whoopi Goldberg, Winona Ryder, etc.,) Glenn Close didn't think she could bring herself to say the "c" word. But she did and Eve has created an army of dedicated, and devoted cunt converts who have open and frank discussions about their cunts.

Cunt. Pussy. Vagina. Twat. CootchiSnortcher. Pal. Peach. Down there.

Eve said, "I was worried about what we think about vaginas, and even more worried that we don't think about them. . . There's so much darkness and secrecy surrounding them--like the Bermuda Triangle. Nobody ever reports back from there." Speaking these words and the stories that evolve around them has created healing in the lives of both women and men and I think talking about Cougars has the potential to do the same.

I'm was worried that we aren't thinking, or at least not thinking enough, talking more, and taking significant action to help reclaim this "invisible" phase of a woman's life. But I've discovered that lots of women are thinking about it, and talking more about it too. A few weeks ago a friend told me that her goal for 2010 was to become a Cougar. I responded with a resounding, "Yes! We need to start a Cougar club!" And that's when Cougar stepped into her rightful place between the mother and the crone.

Maiden, Mother, Cougar, Crone

So what exactly does the Cougar phase represent? It's obviously going to be somewhat different for each woman as our experiences throughout life are so varied. And just like some women have extended (or shortened) maiden and/or mother phases, some will have extended or shortened cougar and/or crone phases. But here are my ideas, and my personal experience.

Today's women (I'm speaking of my contemporaries here--educated; living in first world countries; independent, free thinkers) are living very different lives than women from previous generations when the triple goddess concept was perhaps better suited to the actual history of women. Comparatively speaking, we live lives of luxury and abundance. We have indoor plumbing and machines (washing machines for instance--I have a friend who has a whole theory on this) that do much of what was once strenuous physical labor. We have knowledge of and access to nutritious food and exercise. We have birth control that has freed our bodies from the "sex=continuous reproduction" equation. Women can now enjoy sex for the sake of pleasure alone without it resulting in pregnancy. Even with my own choice of birthing so many children, I was 50 years old when my sixth and youngest child turned 18. When women today are faced with an empty nest, they are often more interested in fucking on the dining room table than knitting in their rocking chairs and sharing wisdom. I sure am. Truthfully I want to fuck just about everywhere, plus knit, and share wisdom. Why limit myself? These phases are very fluid and while I'm still somewhat engaged in being a mother to my grown children (and being a grandmother) I personally experience the Cougar phase as a return to--a reclaiming of sorts, of my maiden self--with more experience and wisdom to appreciate it. I might have more sag and bag, wrinkles and fat to contend with but that's where grace comes in. There is a lot of lifespan left to embody Cougar wisdom.

So,what is a Cougar? First off I want to say what a Cougar is not. Being a Cougar is not all about preying on younger men. In fact, being a Cougar really has nothing whatsoever to do with wanting a younger man/men. But then again, it just might. Thing is, it's an option. The Cougar knows she could go after a younger man, (any man for that matter) and that if she chooses to do so, she could take him to her bed and give him the ride of his ever so lucky life. And for any woman who chooses to do that, I say more power to her. I support that. I support whatever a woman chooses to do with the power and wisdom of her sexuality and being a Cougar is about being in touch with that. And if being celibate in her Cougarhood is right for a woman, kudos to her for knowing that that is her power medicine and taking it.

Cougars aren't desperate. Nor are they trying to be sexy. Cougars are sexy and they know it.

Veronica Monet recently posted a question on facebook asking people to share the shamanic meaning of Cougar. That question moved me into the shadows of my middle age. One of my shadows is the struggle with my body image. With peri-menopause encouraging my body to hold on to fat as its most valued commodity, I'm currently struggling with trying to be comfortable in and liking my body regardless. Extra fat along with all the other natural signs of the wear and tear of aging are difficult to cope with. Especially when these are coupled with a strong desire to express myself as a sexual being. I want my old body back. A return of my once thin and supple body with its smooth skin sans wrinkles. I once thought I would accept this aging process more easily, gracefully, but I admit it's a struggle. I'm making a connection with my struggle to age gracefully with my lack of connection to Cougar wisdom.

The film Cheri comes to mind. I saw it back in August. Now she was a Cougar! Cheri, set in late 19th Century France, is the story of Lea, a renowned and aging courtesan living in luxury who is contemplating retiring. Cheri, a spoiled young 19 year old, is set up by his mother to become Lea's lover, in the hope that she can teach him about women and help him mature. Their affair begins, they struggle with one another, eventually falling deeply in love and spending many years together. Ultimately though, Cheri is married off to a young woman, his social equal, a suitable mother for his children. They are both devastated by the turn of events and the story has a very tragic ending. Their lives were eventually ruined by their inability to conceive of a plan that would facilitate their love while also allowing them to pursue the necessities of their separate journeys. Nor could either of them conceive of happiness without the other. At her age, Lea could not offer Cheri all he needed and yet, indeed he needed her. Their souls were mated. Like I said, it was a tragic ending. So stupid. So sad. I wanted polyamory to come to the rescue. Hello.

So this missing phase...Gillette has written about Jung's Quaternary Theory. My extremely limited understanding of this theory is about how it relates to an imbalance of the Trilogy and how our psyche seeks the balance of the Quaternary. Without this balance, the fourth aspect becomes part of the shadow and is demonized until it is fully integrated. In the Christian tradition, the Devil is the missing fourth aspect of the trilogy--Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Gillette goes on to wonder if the sensual older woman, the Cougar if you will, is the demonized fourth aspect of the maiden, mother, crone trilogy.

In another post Gillette says,

"We no longer have children to take care of 24/7. We don't have to worry about becoming pregnant. We are free in ways we've never been. We're (probably) more self-empowered than we've ever been. We're wiser, more experienced, more centered in ourselves. We're probably happier than we were when we were younger because of those freedoms and awarenesses. All our experience makes us better lovers than our younger selves. And yet, we're supposed to cut this most basic aspect of ourselves "off" because society no longer thinks it appropriate for those our age to want sex? Could it be that the juicy, sensual, sexual women past her culturally acceptable version of "sexy" is scary in her freedom from cultural constraints? What, oh what do we do with The Wild Women who refuses to go down?

The news is that we aren't "trying" to be sexy...we ARE. Our partners know this. We know this. We women of this certain age at this certain time are changing the definition of who we "are" as we age. The movie was set during the late 19th century. Lea was a sexy, sensual women in her 50's in the film. And an outcast living on the edge as she had always done as a Courtesan. Once you are an outcast, you have little to lose, nothing to conform to. I think it's time to integrate ourselves as sensual women instead of being outcasts any longer."

This concept of "outcast" speaks to me. It relates to my struggle in attempting to age gracefully. It's a displacement of sorts that Gillette seems to speak to. The "juicy, sensual, sexual women past her culturally acceptable version of "sexy"..." Here I am--feeling oh so juicy and sexy and beautiful in the midst of my aging body and I may be confused at times and not always in touch with my beauty but I do know that I'm damn wet and not willing to submit myself to the phase of the crone. Not yet. After I dry out a bit.

Maiden, Mother, Cougar, Crone

Maiden represents the first stage of a girl's life. Youth, purity, independence, courage, and the innocence of virginity are qualities possessed by the maiden.

Mother represents a young woman who has reached puberty. She is fertile and possesses a hot, fiery sexuality. She is in a cycle of growth and ripeness. She holds a lot of power in her position of giving life and protecting her young.

Cougar represents a middle aged woman in the prime of her independence. She still possesses the hot, fiery, sexuality of the mother but is no longer fertile which frees her sexual encounters to be for pure pleasure without fear of pregnancy. She uses her power without ego and pursues her desires with gentle assertiveness, self-confidence and the strength of grace. Her actions are free of guilt, her heart is pure and on purpose. She is balanced in body, mind and spirit.

Crone represents an elderly woman in the last phase of her life. She is wise, full of experience and adds immense value to her family and community as she integrates and transforms all her experiences into the journey towards death.

Antsy Wanting

2010-01-12T08:25:00.000-08:00

Feeling antsy today. Been enjoying decluttering and organizing, and doing a little simple redecorating in my house which has been lovely but today I want to go on a vacation to a warm sunny place and relax and have sex with my husband and Lover Who Is My Lover-alone and together-and be double penetrated until I'm overflowing and fully taken and claimed and then sleep curled up around both of them. I want a deep, intense massage and to soak in a hot tub and swim in the warm ocean and lay on the beach and read. I want to do yoga outside, ride a bike and dance and dance and dance. I want to listen to music and meditate and eat fresh food and laugh with girlfriends. I want to play, and hike, and see new things and meet interesting people and have stimulating conversations.

Think I'll go clean out a cupboard.

Cougar

2009-12-29T09:46:00.000-08:00

I'm excited to write this post and can hardly wait until the words start spilling out. It will be called, Maiden, Mother, Cougar, Crone. For now:

Cougar - Leadership, courage, power, swiftness and balance.

Celebrating Life

2009-12-23T01:19:00.000-08:00

My shoulders are sore and tired.
I finally washed all the dishes.
Have most of my Christmas presents finished.
My house is messy yet again.
I've been bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.
Started another cycle on day 25,the day before Solstice
when heading into the longest night of the year.
Deep red flowing blood. Lots of it. This is day three.
Happy to see both of my birthday boys today.
Worried about the other two.
Need to visit with my mom tomorrow (today, it's 1:26 am)
and give her a manicure so her nails are clean and pretty for Christmas Eve.
Excited about the way the grandkid's presents are turning out.
Missing my eldest daughter.
Thankful for the one who is around and being sweet.
Pleased to be seeing my brother and his family
and glad they are always willing to make the drive in the dreaded Tully fog.
Wish I would hear from my sister.
Wish I would hear from my eldest son.
Happy to be spending a mellow Christmas day with H.,
and then being invited for Christmas dinner with my sweet ones.
Boxing day brings some party time with Lover Who Is My Lover and his family, friends.
Giving thanks.

Her Giggles

2009-12-17T00:35:00.000-08:00

while the two of you were fucking
her giggles made me smile
i was pleased for you
but had lots of energy in my chest
that made it difficult to concentrate
while trying to read my book

unzipped last night

2009-12-16T10:52:00.000-08:00

last night
in the garage
your unzipped sweater
with a bit
of your black
long john shirt
just peeking out
from underneath
showed off
your neck
and part of your chest
you are usually
zipped up
so tight
it unzipped me

To Waste A Moment

2009-12-07T22:42:00.000-08:00

Maybe my inability to write stems from my need to retreat into knowing nothing. Humility demands respect. Sharing too much of what goes through my mind feeds the ego, as if what I have to say is actually significant. I've been attempting to get out of my mind more and simply live my life.

I've been wanting deeply again. Strong desire. Yearning. Overcome with love-lust. I woke up a week ago in the middle of the night crying. Grasping. But still, for all intents and purposes, I'm fairly content. I've been refusing to stay long in stories that cause me pain.

A friend shared with me that she's going through a difficult time. Recently returned from traveling abroad, she finds herself depressed, realizing that there is a limit to what she will be able to experience in this life. She is grieving the lost of the perceived unlimited possibilities of her youth. She is happy in her life. And yet...

I don't want to squander a minute of my life regretting--to waste a moment hesitating to love.

xox

2009-12-06T22:47:00.000-08:00

Wanting to blog. So many feelings and so few words. Love is up big for me. Tenderness. A yearning for compassion. Big acknowledgment of the need for kindness in our relationships. Loving H. and Lover Who Is My Lover. Loving his wife, her boyfriend, and his wife. Loving Lover Who Is Not my Lover and his girlfriend...Ren and D.. Pema and her Loverman...She and He and She, and She and He...She and He and She and He and She and He, and She. She and He.

I'm not joking. These are all love relationships I have on my mind tonight.

Messages to Obama: Escalation in the Afghanistan War

2009-12-03T08:22:00.001-08:00

Poly Is Hard

2009-11-15T16:22:00.000-08:00

First and foremost, do the right thing. When Silver goes off to Portland with Tom, I kiss her goodbye, and wish them both a good trip, and take care of her cats while she's gone. Sometimes it feels good, and sometimes it doesn't, but I (try to) act like the person I want to be, not the person I feel like at the moment.

Matt wrote this back in 2006 on his Sex With Matt Blog. I read it back then and then happenstanced upon it again today and decided to post it.

Click here to read the whole Poly Is Hard post.

Here's the link to his blog.

Cunning Minx Interview at Poly Living

2009-11-14T16:10:00.001-08:00

Check This Out--Pleasure/Pain

2009-11-08T11:16:00.000-08:00

Here is a nice little article written by Mistress Mastisse about the euphoria of being on her side of the whip.

Just As Happy

2009-10-19T08:22:00.000-07:00

The other night I was talking with Lover Who Is My Lover and his wife about polyamory and she brought up the aspect of ego satisfaction in regards to having multiple lovers. A married friend of hers has a continual string of lovers and she is wondering how much of his falling in love and engaging in sexual escapades is related to boosting his ego. He's not so young anymore but is still in high demand with young beautiful women who are willing to take him for an exciting ride. With most of these women, the ride ends with him moving on and leaving them brokenhearted. She was curious about H. and if this ego boost was part of the appeal in his having multiple lovers. I told her that I thought not and that although H. appreciates our sexually open relationship, he would probably be just as happy being monogamous.

Humm. Why did I say that and is it true I wondered? I started thinking of all the lovers H. has had in his life. He's had a lot to be sure, many more than I have. I was always monogamous in my relationships before we got together. Plus I started thinking about this whole ego satisfaction thing and how people identify as sexual beings and how our lovers help us validate our self worth through their desire for us. Well, this is definitely true for both H. and myself. It's not like either of us go out looking for lovers to validate our worthiness and desirability but once in relationship and in love with another, hell yes, it's big. For instance, H. desires me all the time. Not only does he tell me that regularly and repeatedly, it's the obvious truth of my experience with him for the 16 years we've been together. That has worked well for me, comforting my ego in a very satisfying way. I desire H. sexually of course but not to the extent he desires me. We share a very deep and profound (and hot) sexual relationship, yet my sexual desire for him waxes and wanes. I'm more sexually moody with him than he is with me.

I get to experience the other side of not being constantly sexually desired by Lover Who Is My Lover. In that relationship, I seem to be the one who is pretty much always available and ready for sex and I pretty much consistently hold myself back with him. It's a bit of an ego buster for me but one I'm willing to rise above. In fact, I'm fine and happy just hanging with him, not always needing to take it to a sexual place, BUT it's usually a step back for me, not my first and natural inclination. The sex is nice when it happens and our time together is sweet when it doesn't happen. It's a pretty good deal compared to what I've gone through with Lover Who Is Not My Lover. And it's not that there aren't quite a few men out there willing to validate my sexual self if that's what I was looking for-- ones who are willing to adore me and fuck me at the drop of a hat. But I have no desire for those types of relationships and I shy away from "glommers" who offer me too much attention. I've never been the type of woman who is capable of taking much more advantage than a drink or two at a bar from an admiring man. I've had a few big (fat wallets along with their fat cocks) opportunities too. Some I've later been a little sorry I passed up. But once I've offered my heart to someone, sex and love get all tied up in a convoluted mix. I get attached and have a tender heart.

Where was I? Oh yes, the idea of H. being just as content being monogamous as he is in our sexually open relationship. So I asked him. I asked him what he would do if I told him that I wanted to be monogamous and wanted him to be monogamous too. His answer was that he would think that I had lost my mind because I would never say that to him. "But play along with me here honey" I said. "What if I did ask you that? People change, it's possible. What if I really wanted, for whatever reason, for us both to be sexually monogamous with each other, would you be willing to make that agreement with me?" He said that it was impossible for him to give me an answer, that he would need to experience the heart energy and all that was motivating me to make such a request of him, that it was just too unreal (and surreal) to go there without a lot of contemplation. I understand. Although I know what my answer to him would be if he were to make the same request of me. Been there. Done that. Here we are.

When I made the comment about H. appreciating being in a sexual open relationship, but that he would be just as happy being monogamous, Lover Who Is My Lover said that that's what it is like for him. Well, as I thought about that comment it triggered me a bit. Damn, where's the fucking passion boyfriend? I don't want to be expendable. Extraneous. Superfluous. Was he in essence saying, "Well, it's pretty nice having you around and all but I'd be just as happy if you weren't"? He's said similar things to me too. Once he told me that if he was ever to get into another polyamorous relationship that he'd like to be with someone who lives fairly close, but in another city. He's also told me that I'm like his wife in so many ways that he's thought he might prefer being in a relationship with someone who is totally different than her. For Christ's sake. Hello? What I am anyway, 'Rent a Girlfriend'? Not that you're seriously considering it or anything but you'd kinda like to turn me in and try out a different model?

When I say these things out loud (or type them here in this blog) they sound kinda awful. Way worse than they really are. Actually they aren't bad at all unless I make a story out of them. Essentially, I'm joking even though I'm serious too. I mean, I know these things are both true and not true. It's all a grain of salt in the big picture. I've made it clear to Lover Who Is My Lover that it's important to me that we have a honest and open relationship. I want us both to speak the truth to one another and I've told him that I want to hear his "truths of the moment" whether these truths turn out to be the ultimate truth or not. I consider him my good friend first and foremost and I want him to know that he can speak his mind and share his heart with to me without editing out stuff that might hurt my feelings. I mean, I'd rather have my feelings hurt and hear the naked truth of his thoughts and what's up for him than have him withhold his truth from me. I love him and I appreciate that he trusts me enough to be open and tell me the thoughts that cross his mind. I mean, it's not that I'm of the opinion that what he thinks is strange anyway. For instance, if I'm really like his wife in many ways, I think it's normal that he might sometimes wonder or wish that he had a girlfriend who was totally different. Whatever. I mean, as much as I like him (I do like him a lot along with being in love with him) it's not like I wouldn't appreciate having another boyfriend who possesses qualities that are different than his. But I don't want to replace him, I'd just take ANOTHER boyfriend. But then there is the whole issue of having the time and energy for another boyfriend. Besides, I already have Lover Who Is Not My Lover to deal with!

But I really didn't so much like hearing that he would be just as happy being monogamous. On the one hand I can appreciate this about him and even more so because even with this inclination he is still choosing to be in relationship with me. And I also know that that one line isn't the only line in the story of who he is, what he's about, and what I mean to him. He's made that obvious and he treats me well. If he wasn't a sweet lover I wouldn't be with him. But at that moment, no other lines followed and it served to raise the idea in my mind--that I am possibly irrelevant. Non-essential. Impertinent to him. I know that is not the truth but I'm a flawed human being with a tender heart, along with being a woman in love, and sometimes I take comments personally and out of context.

With all that said, I'm just as happy too.

A Landmark Year

2009-09-25T17:05:00.000-07:00

I'm realizing that this has been a landmark year for polyamory in our lives. H and I are celebrating our 16th/13th anniversary in October. Sixteen years since we first dated and fell in love, and thirteen years married. We got engaged one year in. I wanted to behave responsibly for once and I liked calling him my fiance.

We always said we wanted a sexually open relationship but we fell into monogamy by default. We met and fell in love fast and deep. We were extremely busy getting to know one another, bonding, playing, working, raising kids, and having great sex, that we didn't have time for other lovers. But we talked a lot and knew that theoretically at least, we were not sexually exclusive with one another. And as the date of our actual marriage grew closer, we talked more about how we might handle our commitment to being sexually open.

So three years from when we met and fell in love we were married and then fast forward another 3 years to when we threw theory out the window and started practically applying polyamory. That was a little over 10 years ago and we had been together for almost 6 years. Fast forward another 10 years...

Besides a few, fun, loving, sexual encounters with friends here and there along the way, H. and I experienced a 5 year sexually loving relationship with one of my best friends. We were a happy little triad until we weren't. During this same time I fell in love with a young woman, a lesbian, who didn't know what to do with the fact that I had a husband. Our affair was brief and intense and never physically consummated. I had also fallen in-love with Lover Who is Not My Lover and had an on-going, complicated, sexually charged, but basically non physical relationship with him for a little over 4 years. After a long dry spell for both H. and myself, M. came along and she and H. have now been lovers for over a year and a half. I met Lover Who Is My Lover two years ago and we've been dating sexually for a year now come October.

This has been the first year of H.'s and my life together where we've both have had other significant lovers on a regular basis and from both of our perspectives, it's been good for us. It hasn't always been easy. Things aren't perfect--not exactly the way I, or he, would prefer them to be--but to quote myself once again, "We get in relationships, and fall in love with real people, not the made up persona's of our fantasies." I love my boyfriend. He is a good man and a good lover. And his wife is a gem. I love my husband. We've made a sweet life for ourselves. I like who I am, where I am going and what I am doing. I am happy--pretty much--most of the time. And nothing is keeping things from getting better. Lover Who Is Not My Lover is still in my life too and our relationship is sweet and evolving. I feel very blessed to actually be living a polyamorous life. Finally. It's what I've wanted for a very long time. I give thanks.

Women's Sexual Freedom

2009-09-21T10:55:00.000-07:00

I've obviously been out of the writing mode. I pushed myself to come into my blog today just to write something. Anything. Okay.

The first thing that comes to mind should be fairly simple to write about--women's sexual freedom. Ha. Simple. Yeah right.

I just watched Deepa Mehta's internationally acclaimed 1996 film, Fire. It made quite the stir in India where fundamentalist Hindu groups attempted to have it banned and did succeed in forcing several movie theatres to close their doors. Mehta received death threats and other actors in the film were also threatened.

Fire is the first in a trilogy of films by Mehta, the other two are Earth and Water. I haven't seen Earth yet but Water was extremely powerful as well and it caused a stir with the right-wingers also.

Fire, places us in the midst of an extended, modern day, urban, Indian family that consists of an elderly invalid mother, her two sons and their wives, all living together under one roof. There is a manservant who also resides in the home who helps with the family's "take out" food business, their video shop, and caring of the mother.

The elder brother, Ashok, is portrayed as a "pious" religious man, devoted to his guru. Because his wife, Radha, is unable to bear him children he has refrained from sex with her for 13 years but forces her to lie next to him while he masturbates. The younger brother, Jutin, secretly rents pornography out of the video store and is devoted to his Chinese lover, to the neglect of his new, young wife, Sita.

The sisters-in-law, strike up a supportive friendship within this unjust and monotonous existence that provides some relief from the obscene and condescending behavior of their respective husbands, a friendship that eventually evolves into sexual love.

The manservant is eventually caught in his nasty little ritual of watching porn and masturbating in front of the bed-ridden mother who is also unable to speak. He is aware of Radha and Sita's love affair and his resentment towards Radha (whose demands that he be forced to leave the house were overruled by her husband) leads him to disclose this information to Ashok. Shamed, Ashok kicks him out of the house and spies on the two women, catching them in bed together. The women decide to leave together and Sita goes first, waiting for Radha, who believes she owes her husband an explanation. Things go poorly between Ashok and Radha and when her sari catches fire in the kitchen he leaves her on her own to be enveloped by the flames.

The religious and cultural significance of this act is immense. Agni (fire) bears witness to the chastity of Hindu women and has been left to decide the fate of women in literal "trials by fire" since time immemorial. In a ritual called Agni Pariksha, women are forced into a fire. If she burns, it proves her guilt. If she emerges unharmed, she is innocence (chaste). This reminds me of the Salem witch trials (although the verdicts are reversed) which forced the accused woman into a lake. If the water refused her and she floated, she was deemed guilty. If she drowned, her death proved her innocence. In Fire, Agni bestows his mercy on Radha, deeming her innocence by releasing her from his flames and she escapes to meet her lover Sita. No wonder this infuriates the homophobic, sexually repressed religious right. Their God has now been portrayed as condoning homosexuality. The realistic portrayal of traditional, yet abusive relationships such as these that Radha and Sita were suffering from are considered more acceptable than the unconventional love and reprieve they found in each other's arms and hearts. In the end, even though Radha emerges from the flames unscathed, the viewer is left to wonder what will become of these two women left on their own in this culture. Their path won't be easy.

Is the path ever easy for a woman's sexual freedom? Even in this culture from which I have emerged? American culture is also sexually repressed and women have been raised to cow tow to the unenlightened needs of their men. Not that women's perceived needs are anymore enlightened. I view traditional, unquestioned, monogamous relationships as a symptom of this malady.

A friend recently mentioned that she thinks I don't respect monogamous relationships. I admitted that generally speaking, no I don't. That doesn't mean that I don't respect a person's choice to be monogamous. I've written before about many "valid" reasons as to why a person may choice monogamy. And I myself am certainly not the one to decide what reasons may or may not be valid--except for myself of course.

My friend also mentioned that she didn't think that monogamy and sexual freedom were necessarily mutually exclusive. I agree. But there is one particular situation that strikes me as clearly not a choice that leads to a woman's sexual freedom. Although there may be many "valid" reasons as to why a woman (or man) may choose monogamy, the threat of her partner ending their relationship if she chooses to have sex with another, is not a "valid" reason--in regards to sexual freedom. Of course she has every right to make this choice and I can most certainly respect that choice. What I am unable to support or respect is the notion that this choice is not a surrender of her sexual freedom. It is a choice that supports his fear of her sexual freedom, along with her fear of losing him. I'm just calling a spade a spade, not judging the rightness or wrongness of this choice.

Perla Batalla sings Suzanne live in Spain

2009-09-20T18:07:00.001-07:00

Saw her sing this today at Chico World Music Festival. Beautiful!

Dan Savage on Menstruation and Vaginas

2009-08-24T21:16:00.001-07:00

More On The One-Penis-Policy

2009-08-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

Mistress Matisse has, it seems, received a lot of fallout from her One Penis Policy, column in Seattle's Stranger, that I linked too a few days ago.

It's just that I resonate with so much of what she has to say about relationships in general and polyamorous relationships specifically. Here's a quote from her new post today regarding this fallout:

"...Frankly, I think that type of attitude should not be dignified with the name polyamory.

If the original piece pissed you off, what I’m going to say now will really inflame you: Just because two people are engaged in a certain system of behavior does not make it “all right, because it’s their choice.” There actually is such a thing as a bad personal choice.

So yes, I do think there are better ways and worse ways to run a relationship. Outside of consensual D/s, I think it’s inherently better to have as few “rules” as possible for other adult human beings that one is having an equal partnership with. I think that’s being controlling – not in the sexy way – and I think it negatively impacts both people involved.

I think if there’s an obvious inequity in the relationship, it should at the very least be openly discussed, and it should be a goal for both people to bring about a change to that.

And I think the basis for the One Penis Policy is basically insecurity and sexism.

Now, feeling of insecurity and sexism are both pretty common (to both men and women), and neither of those things makes someone a Bad Person. But they are traits that can be changed, and being less insecure and less sexist will make someone a better person.

Still Juicy

2009-08-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Back from Juicy Women.

Molly likes to stretch out on her yoga ball. She loves the way it opens her yoni. The other day while she was stretching her husband came over and started eating her pussy as she rocked back and forth. They enjoyed this for a good long time and then just as they started fucking a friend showed up at their front door--which they had left open, seeing that they hadn't planned on having sex and weren't expecting any visitors! Molly was mostly out of view although her husband was not after he dropped down, allowing his shirt to cover his genitals. He smiled and said hello to the friend as she returned his greeting and explained she was just picking something up and was quickly on her way.

Lena has been feeling intense sadness, isolation and loneliness. As she told us her story we witnessed her pain and held her in our hearts. By the time group was over she felt much more connected and happy.

Rosemary is on a pretty even keel. She's happy and content with her husband...mostly. She's happy and content with her lover...mostly. She'd like more contact with her lover. More time to relax into their relationship and more time to relax into sex. When they finally do spend time together she is just starting to open up to herself about the same time they are saying good-bye. This makes her edgy and this edginess spills over and interferes with her sexual availability with her husband.

Randi is back, once again with her married lover. They keep breaking up and getting back together, breaking up and getting back together...They are totally in-love and caught up in New Relationship Energy. They are having sex just about everyday and she is having the most incredible orgasms of her life. They want to be together but he doesn't want to deal with the pain of breaking up his 30+ year marriage and all the social consequences he will suffer. Randi is willing to have a polyamorous relationship with him but he can't imagine that. This leaves them sneaking around and cheating.

Pema is still with her guy. Loving him. Confused about where it is all going. Not having her needs met sexually as she is still choosing to be monogamous with him although they are living many hours apart and hardly ever see each other...not that he meets her needs sexually when they are together. She's tired of putting energy out for others, drained, needing to be rejuvenated, loved, filled.

Ana is still in love with her long distance guy and slowly letting him go. He isn't ready to commit to the intensity of their love affair, plus he has an intense sexual issue that he has no clue how to deal with and the timing is simply not good for them to be connecting on a frequent and intimate basis. She is sad over this but is enjoying her life full on. She has another lover who is in a committed relationship with a woman who won't have sex with him so he and Ana are taking their sexual pleasure with each other. She says he is a really nice man who has an awesome cock and beautiful body but that she still needs to teach him a few things about pleasing her.

Condoms That Generate Desire - The Greatest Condom Ad Ever by Durex

2009-08-14T14:30:00.001-07:00

A Love Story

2009-08-12T23:51:00.000-07:00

I remember Pema always saying that men are much simpler than women are when it comes to love, that their needs in love relationships are less complicated than a woman's needs.

When it comes to love, I am a complicated woman. To be sure. I yearn to be claimed, possessed by the men I love. If I love a man who is reluctant to claim me, who is not overcome with passion to possess me and who does not act on this passion, I suffer endlessly. My heart breaks. I become distraught with dissatisfaction.

But be sure, if a man in his self-righteous sense of importance, perceives my time and attention as anything less than a gift, my availability as something that is in anyway owed him, or somehow his right--if he suggests a possessive claim on me, my desire for him diminishes. My passion fails. I balk at his arrogance and lose interest.

And jealousy? Well, a little jealously can be a good thing as it suggests attachment to the love bond, an acknowledgment of the significance of the relationship. But beware, feeling a little (or even a lot) of jealousy momentarily is one thing, while acting on it in some obvious and overt way is extremely unattractive and off-putting.

All this a fine line for a man to walk. A very fine line. I understand. Like I said, I am a complicated woman.

And then again, it's just a story. A good story. A true story. But nevertheless, just a story. Not to make light of it. No, not at all.

One Penis Policy

2009-08-12T17:11:00.001-07:00

Mistress Matisse writes about One Penis Policy in Seattle's, The Stranger, Control Tower.

The Contrast of Here and There

2009-08-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke feeling jealous of how some people have really managed to pull it off--jumping into their whole polyamorous, extended family, busy, adventurous, love filled, complicated lives, with peace and grace.

Breathing and practicing appreciating the glory of what I have created myself. Damn, sometimes it's difficult not going to the grass is always greener place.

Looking for some inspiration today in handling the contrast of where I am and where I want to be.

Dan Savage on Masturbation

2009-07-28T10:32:00.001-07:00

I Know The Way You Can Get

2009-07-27T23:38:00.000-07:00

I Know The Way You Can Get

From: 'I Heard God Laughing - Renderings of Hafiz'

I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:

Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.

Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.

Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one's self.

O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:

You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.

You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.

You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.

I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love's
Hands.

That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.

That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!

All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!

Margaret Cho - Eat Me Out - Atlanta, GA - June 7, 2008

2009-07-27T21:40:00.001-07:00

It Takes A Village

2009-07-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

"The secret to a happy marriage is that you have to fuck a lot of other people. It takes a village."

Margaret Cho: Beautiful

Talking Equality

2009-07-24T09:25:00.001-07:00

Wet and Juicy

2009-07-15T20:17:00.000-07:00

Met with my juicy women last night.

Lena is still healing her heart over her young boy toy lover who turned out to be more trouble than he was worth (plus he cost her a lot of money.) He was extremely high maintenance, drank too much and didn't fuck her enough. She has also sent her potential internet lover down the highway after he moved across the country due to his on-line infatuation with her that didn't pan out to her liking. He was totally gaga over her, had money he was willing to spend on pleasing her, but reminded her too much of her "suffocating" mother. She is now heading off on a little vacation to be with one of her lovers and his wife for week and then is off to another city to visit with another lover.

Molly is feeling pretty settled down with her husband once again. Things have calmed down for them a lot. She continues to support him financially while he carries out his househusband duties. She swims in the pool after a long day at work while he serves her wine and cooks her dinner. They've been enjoying their sex life again.

Pema says she is actually feeling mostly good and balanced in regards to her relationship with her lover who is back living with his wife for the time being due to financial necessity. At the same time, talking about her situation brought on tears. She's reached her limit on giving (with her adult children as well as her lover) and is needing to be on the receiving end for awhile. While she is still unsatisfied with the dynamics of their sex life, she has established some new personal boundaries within their relationship to take better care of herself. Plus, she is back to whoring again so she has some income that is making it much easier to cope with her life as it now stands.

Randi is back with her married lover. They broke up and had spent 3 weeks apart when the universe threw them back into each others arms. He missed her dreadfully. She was miserable without him. They are seeing each other everyday and fucking like bunnies. She is having the the most incredible orgasms that she's ever experienced in her life. He had originally planned on leaving his wife (who he hasn't had sex with in over 20 years) fairly quickly but when it came right down to it, the fear of dealing with his social network and the supposed reaction of his grown daughter got him very confused and procastinating. Randi is putting thoughts of all this on hold for awhile and is choosing to simply focus on her love for him and the great orgasms she is having.

Rosemary's adventures continue with her husband and her lover although there has been some fall out with her lover from her sharing some of her truth and emotional turmoil. He in turn shared his own emotional turmoil about some things that weren't working for him and they have been trying to sort it out. They are still seeing each other but at his suggestion, not as often. The love is there but some of their wants and needs aren't currently matching up in the way she would prefer. Time will tell how their relationship will evolve. Rosemary feels pretty accepting and willing to find a way that works best for both of them.

Ana is grieving the supposed loss a man she connected with on such a deep level that she had opened to the possibility of combining her life with his and living monogamously. Needless to say, that didn't pan out and the difficulties of their union seem to be insurmountable. With her traveling a lot and him tied up with business and traveling out of the country, he hadn't contacted her for a couple of weeks. She sent him a "pathetic" text. He called her. He loves her. She loves him. It's just not gonna work. In the meantime she had a date with a professional athletic. They had an awesome time but he had the smallest cock she's ever fucked and she realized that size definitely matters to her. Also, Randi hooked her up with a new fuck buddy, a married man with a great body and beautiful cock whose wife hasn't had sex with him in 2 years. She's been enjoying this experience and is looking forward to more.

Is-ness

2009-07-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to bed contemplating Is-ness. Thank you Pema for inspiring this. My contemplation continues this morning--the is-ness of my life in general and the is-ness of my intimate relationship dynamics in particular.

I live with the intention of being aware. I strive to be conscious of the stories my ego is telling me--stories about my relationships that create emotions that I must deal with on a daily basis. A good part of my days focus on, and circle around, my connection with others--family, friends, lovers, clients... And then there is my relationship with self and the intricate connection between how my relationship with self affects my relationship with others and vice versa, how my connection with others affects my sense of self. My relationship with others serves as a mirror as I gaze into it to see what's going on inside myself.

So I have all these stories about my relationships, about others, about myself, and I'm constantly letting go of the stories and attempting to just be with what actually is. Being with the is-ness, the actual day to day reality of these relationships, others, self. So I assertain what is real and then make choices to deal with this reality to the best of my ability. Being with the is-ness and not attaching a story to it is quite challenging because there are many layers to the stories and they are quite insidious. It's kinda like not throwing the baby out with the bath water.

Is-ness lies behind the stories. I can make all sorts of feel good/feel bad meaning from my stories. There are so many different perspectives to buy into and I'm quite good at that. In my open-mindedness I sometimes try on all the different perspectives (stories) and find something worthwhile in each and every one of them. But what lies behind the stories, the actuality of what is, is what I'm attempting to zone in on and then base my choices from this place.

So what is for me right now? I'm noticing that many of my choices in life are interconnected to the choices of others. I'm looking at another's choices and pondering how their choices affect me. These choices may work well for me, or not, but seeing that they are another's choices there isn't much, if anything, I can do about that. What I'm left with is being with what is. Being with the is-ness of another's choices and dealing with the consequences in the best way possible to create my own happiness. Sometimes this process is like making lemonade from lemons. Sorry for the cliche but ¿dónde está el azúcar?!!! Whether it's another person and the way their choices affect me, or just life circumstances in general, what else is there to be done?

Recently I told my truth. I told it without blame, and even though I was upset and wanted things to be different, I made no request to effect that. My motive was simply the intimacy of sharing my truth and exposing my vulnerability to another. I just spilled out my truth of the moment (which isn't necessarily the absolute truth but rather the truth of my thoughts and feelings at that moment in time.) While I am a big advocate of the truth, I realize that speaking it doesn't always get us what we want. That's not what speaking the truth is about anyway. It has other advantages which often do lead to getting what we want in the ultimate, if not immediate sense. This time around, speaking my truth served to get me less of what I wanted rather than more. My intention with speaking my truth, as is always my intention, was to create more intimacy and understanding in my relationship with another. Did it work? I don't know. The jury is still out. I hope so. I wouldn't say that I'm experiencing more intimacy just yet but I do think there is more understanding. And my past experience in life and truth telling is that intimacy grows from understanding. I'm hoping that another's response to my truth has put their actions into more alignment with their own truth. We will see how things evolve from here. In the meantime I will deal with the is-ness of it all.

Sometimes people don't respond "well" (in the way we would like them to) to our truth. The consequences of truthtelling are not always the results we would hope for. One of the things I'm noticing is that perhaps I've fallen as a bit of a victim to a common phenomenom in the truthtelling of intimate relationships--which is wanting the other person to tell the truth, but only if the truth is something I want to hear! The thing is, truthtelling often opens the flood gates so we better be ready to get wet. I wasn't really ready for the response I received to my truth and I didn't want it. I lost my equlibrium a bit for sure. I think I have it back again now. The truth, be one the giver or the receiver of it, often brings up much trepidation and fear, especially when we are dealing with heart stuff. Others don't always take care of our heart in the way we need our heart to be cared for and in the preoccupation of figuring out how to best care for our own hearts, we sometimes neglect another's.

This Rumi poem comes to mind:

There is field beyond right and wrong, I'll meet you there.

All the stories, besides being quite entertaining, are often for the purpose of making someone, or something, right or wrong. I'm not much into playing the blame game so I practice letting so of my stories and playing beyond judgment in my relationships (I don't always succeed)--meeting the other in this field of is-ness. But the is-ness must be dealt with! This keeps me from living in denial, losing myself, and dishonoring my experience. Forget the story. Forget the meaning I make of the story. But don't ignore what is! Another's actions (choices) are simply that. Right/wrong, mean-spirited/kind-hearted, sensitive/insensitive, mindful/clueless, doesn't really matter so much when you get right down to it. This stuff simply is and what I do with it, how I be with it, the choices I make in the face of this is-ness is what matters.

One thing I will do is to keep speaking my truth because utimately, even though I know (fear) that revelation of my truth may be the catalyst that takes all I perceive I want away from me, I know that ultimately what leaves me, wasn't mine to begin with. And I'm not going to withhold the truth to protect an illusion.

Episode #15 (new episodes twice monthly)

2009-07-14T09:37:00.001-07:00

Birthday Lovers

2009-07-13T12:42:00.000-07:00

Some current pictures surrounding my 55th birthday celebration--

My 54th year was interesting to say the least.
I've moved into my 55th with lots of love and acknowledgment from my friends. Also with some emotional trepidation. This is the year of the Lovers--#6 for me. A friend offered me this reading:

Starting with a poem by Anais Nin

The value of the personal relationship to all things is that it creates intimacy and intimacy creates understanding and understanding creates love.

Yes, understanding is what I'm going for. Understanding of self. Understanding of another.

The Tarot Lovers is about the Art and Craft of relationship. I just set up my arts and crafts room...hummm.

The Lovers journey is about the journey of the twins. This represents whoever I'm in relationship with and what those relationships require:

A child like innocence. Now that's sometimes hard to come by. I feel a bit tainted and cynical--but not totally. Just somewhat glib now and again as I move throughout my days.

Curiosity and playfulness. Yes, I have that--sometimes. I'm also tired. Tired of the struggle. Wanting things to be easier.
Loyalty and commitment. This I have and it seems very natural and easy for me. Once I love you, I love you. I don't tend to give up on relationships.

The gift of spaciousness--the allowing of space for contemplation, introspection, and the need for being alone.

The lover's need for not being limited, restricted, barred or restrained in their relationship. This feels like a huge challenge for me. Very BIG.

Another quote from the I Ching--Book of Changes:

But when two people are one in their inmost hearts, they shatter even the strength of iron or bronze; and when two people understand each other in their inmost hearts, their words are sweet and strong like the fragrance of orchids.

The Lovers represents two kinds of love. Love as passion and love as compassion. This archetype reminds us that whatever type of love relationship we enter into, sincerity is the only proper basis for forming relationships of any kind.

The lovers is the most peopled card in the entire Tarot. This year is about establishing relationships and perceiving what's working and what's not working. It's about using my people skills and choice making. This is a powerful period for making choices about improtant relationships in my life, especially those I would like to deepen and expand. My desire to not be barred or limited in my relationships is strong. This is related to family and friends as well as lovers.

Pictures:

1. My solstice freedom ritual which was the start of my birthday celebration.
2. A Rumi poem--Fish don't hold the sacred liquid in cups! They swim the huge fluid freedom. I'm swimming.
3. My new haircut
4. My hair burning in fire sacrifice.
5. Sunflowers growing in my friend's garden.
6. More Sunflowers.
7. I've been enjoying lots of margaritas. This was dinner the night we saw the Neville brothers in Tahoe.
8. A wish.
9. Charles Neville. I love a man playing the sax. It is so fucking sexy. And Charles always gives me lots of eye contact at their shows. Such a treat.
10. Aaron Neville singing his heart out.
11. Papa Funk--Art Neville.
12. Concow Lake.
13. One of my grand babies asking lots of questions about angels.
14. I am not a well behaved woman by society's standards. Thank God.
15. Lake Alamanor.
16. The steps I must take to be a lover?
17. July 6th birthday rose.
18. July 6th Feather River
19. July 6th on my friend's property.
20. July 6th...my friend's property.
21. My birthday prayer--Keep me wild lord, keep me wild.
22. My birthday skirts. High Sierra Music Festival.
23. Beauty. Prayer flags. Always prayer.
24. Grace Heart.

Passionate Kisses!!!

2009-07-12T23:46:00.001-07:00

Is it too much to ask?
I want a comfortable bed that won't hurt my back
Food to fill me up
And warm clothes and all that stuff

Shouldn't I have this,
Shouldn't I have this?
Shouldn't I have all of this, and

Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from
you

Is it much to demand
I want a full house and a rock and roll band
Pens that won't run out of ink
And cool quiet and time to think

Shouldn't I have this,
Shouldn't I have this?
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from
you

Do I want too much?
Am I going overboard to want that touch?
I shouted out to the night:
"Give me what I deserve, 'cause it's my right"

Shouldn't I have this,
Shouldn't I have this?
Shouldn't I have all of this, and
Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from you

Passionate kisses
Passionate kisses, whoa ohh oh
Passionate kisses from
you

Drunk More With Love Than With Wine

2009-07-09T14:54:00.000-07:00

From the last chapter of Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

The intrusion was startling. Hot and slippery as our skins were, we drifted over each other with barely a sensation of touching or pressure, but his presence within me was solid and intimate, a fixed point in a watery world, like an umbilical cord in the random driftings of the womb. I made a brief sound of surprise at the small inrush of hot water that accompanied his entrance, then settled firmly onto my fixed point of reference with a little sigh of pleasure...

"Not yet. We've time. And I mean to hear ye groan like that again. And to moan and sob, even though you dinna wish to, for ye canna help it. I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break, and scream with the wanting, and at last to cry out in my arms, and I shall know that I've served ye well."...

The rush began between my thighs, shooting like a dart into the depths of my belly, loosening my joints so that my hands slipped limp and helpless off his shoulders. My back arched and the slippery, firm roundness of my breasts pressed flat against his chest. I shuddered in hot darkness, Jamie's steadying hands all that kept me from drowning...

"No," I said. "Jamie, no. I can' bear it like that again." The blood was still pounding in my fingertips and his movement within me was an exquisite torture.
"You can, for I love ye." His voice was half-muffled in my soaking hair. "And you will, for I want ye. But this time, I go wi' you."
He held my hips firm against him, carryng me beyond myself with the force of an undertow. I crashed formless against him, like breakers on a rock, and he met me with the brutal force of granite, my anchor in the pounding chaos.
Boneless and liquid as the water around us, contained only by the frame of his hands, I cried out, the soft, bubbling half-chocked cry of a sailor sucked beneath the waves. And heard his own cry, helpless in return, and knew I had served him well...

...giggling helplessly, drunk more with love than with wine, we made our way side by side, on hands and knees up the second flight of steps, hindering each other more than helping, jostling and caroming softly off each other in the narrow space, until we collapsed at last in each other's arms on the second landing.

Being Here

2009-07-09T08:41:00.000-07:00

I woke up so sad this morning. My heart hurts. I'm depressed. Didn't want to get out of bed so I just pulled the cover up over my head and cried. There is nothing for me to do. It's not about doing. It's just about being. Being here with these feelings.

Matisse and Monk

2009-07-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

Mistress Matisse has a link to a new podcast up today. She and Monk talk about Polyamory, BDSM, and the "not-so-good idea of comparing your partners." They also talk a little about Monks wife, Tambo.

Making Love

2009-07-07T00:34:00.000-07:00

How she likes to make love.
A piece by Mistress Matisse.

Two Partners

2009-06-30T15:25:00.000-07:00

Mistress Matisse has a post on polyamory today which doesn't get very specific and how to find her archived posts. She mentions her two partners, how long she's been with each of them (5 and 10 years) and how she doesn't use the terms primary and secondary much anymore.

michael jackson billy jean

2009-06-27T20:00:00.001-07:00

This was always my favorite Michael Jackson.

Flow Charts and Planning Calendars

2009-06-24T22:19:00.000-07:00

You know, one of the challenges of polyamory is not jealousy or health issues...

Mistress Matisse posted a blog about flow charts yesterday.

Keeping everyone on the same page is a BIG issue in polyamorous relationships. Plus, there may be unlimited love to go around but time is finite. Organization helps everyone make better choices about where they want to be and with whom, at any particular time. Routine and structure (with spontaneity and flexibility encouraged to suit people's individual styles) helps poly relationships flow smoother. Planning calenders seem to be mandatory and everyone setting aside the time to get together and schedule in commitments and dates (whom will be with whom, where and when) is essential. Everyone needs their fair share of time and attention from their lover and also, down time to be alone and/or with other friends, family, and other life callings.

This post about flow charts is where it all starts. It's about getting important information out to all the significant players. If this, that, and the other thing, needs to happen, or is already happening, everyone needs as much advance notice as possible. It can be difficult to remember who told what to whom and who's wanting what when. Flow charts serve to keep us all on the same page. Once the flow chart is in place and everyone is filling in the pertinent information, it's time for the planning calendar to come out.

Do I keep a flow chart? No way. Do I have a planning calendar, yes indeed. Could my system be improved for efficiency? Most certainly.

The Neville Brothers - Amazing Grace / One Love

2009-06-23T22:23:00.001-07:00

Let's get together and feel alright!

Neville Brothers - Tell it like it is

2009-06-23T22:14:00.001-07:00

Aaron Neville sings with Greg Allman and Bonnie Raitt!

Not Rocket Science

2009-06-23T17:15:00.000-07:00

As my friend Pema recently said:

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that being in relationship with you is all about going deep. The soul knows what it's getting itself into.

That said, I'm not an incredibly high maintenance person that makes unreasonable demands on my partners. I mean, going deep just comes with the territory of truth, love, sex, and freedom--yes?

I really don't like discovering that I'm the only one who actually jumped in and now I'm left swimming back to shore alone.

Well as long as I'm out here in the middle of the ocean I might as well dive down deep. I've donned my mermaid tail for strength and I'm curious to see what treasures I may find.

Plus, just to make sure my intention is clear. I am more than willing to jump off into deep uncharted waters--I'll do just about anything for the adventure of love and enlightenment. And I'll brave the storms that come along too. But let it be known that I want a good part of my adventures to be relaxing on the warm sandy beach of a calm ocean.

Runners Make Me Want To Run

2009-06-23T10:31:00.000-07:00

Runners make me want to run. And I don't mean joggers. Runners meet my abandonment wounds head on and trigger my own shut down response.

I was going to write more and link again to Gillette's post on Runners but when I went to her site she had a new post today called Leonian Grasp and Flow with Runners directly underneath. I think I'll just leave it at that.

Passport To Freedom

2009-06-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

I was planning on going to a summer solstice party that my friends have every year in Butte Creek Canyon but Pema came by to visit and then we went to see D. and B. and they ended up feeding us dinner and we drank wine outside watching the incredible cloud formations in the pre-dusk sky.

Pema and I came home, Jerry showed up, and the three of us watched a film called The Boy In The Striped Pajamas, about a young boy in Nazi Germany. Intense.

Pema left, Jerry went to bed and I started gathering things for the completion of my Solstice-Freedom ritual. I had saved my hair that I just cut off with the intention of burning it. I didn't have a specific plan for my ritual, besides something simple, but it got more and more elaborate as I started collecting stuff and carrying it outside. I ended up dressing in ritual garb and making up a nice comfy bed to sleep outside.

I didn't want to get too much into my head. My body was pulsating and the energy was flowing nicely. I lit some various candles and burned lots of incense. I anointed myself with amber/rose oil and drank cognac. I listened to some music--Bonnie Raitt singing I Will Not Be Broken was really speaking to me. I brought out my passport, a book of Rumi poetry, and the novel I'm currently reading called Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon.

Bonnie Raitt-I Will Not Be Broken:

That was then this is now
Found my way back here somehow
I knew you'd have to let me go
I told you once I told you so

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be...

Someone other than who I am
I will fight to make my stand
Cause what is livin' if I can't live free
What is freedom if I can't be me

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But I know where I'm not going
I will not be broken
I will not be broken

I won't let you near it
I will let my spirit fly
Fly
High
Oh take me down

Take me down
You can hold me but you
Can't hold what's within
Pull me round
Push me to the limit
Maybe I may bend
But we both know I'm not going

I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be broken
I will not be... no no baby
ooh...

From the Outlander:

Nor was the physical the only dimension where the two men varied. There was nearly fifteen years' difference in their ages, for one thing, which likely accounted for some of the difference between Frank's urbane reserve and Jamie's frank openness. As a lover, Frank was polished, sophisticated, considerate, and skilled. Lacking experience or the pretense of it, Jamie simply gave me all of himself, without reservation. And the depth of my response to that unsettled me completely.

The Essential Rumi--Coleman Barks

What is this giving up? A peace that saves us.

In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems
You dance inside my chest,
where no one see you,
but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art.

I intended, felt my passion, let go, prayed, read, slept, dreamed. In the morning a light rain fell on me.

P!nk - Sober

2009-06-20T19:03:00.001-07:00

Bonnie Raitt - I Will Not Be Broken (live)

2009-06-20T14:36:00.001-07:00

Sing it Bonnie.

Are You A Runner?

2009-06-20T14:15:00.000-07:00

Gillette has a nice post on Runners today. She writes about three basis communication patterns that people use in their relationships.

1) There are those who do not want to address strong emotions. They withdraw, walk away, leave the person with strong emotions alone. I have decided to fondly call them The Runners. No insult implied. Simply is what it is.

2) There are those who address strong emotional issues straight on in the moment. Often, since buttons are in the height of tweak, communication and working with the challenges can get...intense.

3) There are those who address strong emotional issues straight on but after they've had some time to process theirs first to find out what's going on at a deeper level for them. When they figure themselves out, they are able to come to the discussion with information that is useful for all concerned.

I've never been much of a runner. I've spent a good portion of my life in the #2 pattern of communication. The older and wiser me tends to operate mostly in the #3 pattern but I think the #2 mode is still an okay place to communicate from. When I am able to remain honest, raw and real in this mode it can be a powerful place to communicate from. Witnessing my mind grasp on to ego stories and acknowledging that this is going on the moment can serve to connect me with my partner on a very basic wounded human level. This is a piece of who I am. Honestly speaking my fears and the truth of the moment is a powerful dynamic of intimate relationships. And although I actually prefer to communicate in the #3 mode, sometimes while moving from the #2 opportunity I devolve in #1 running mode. Not good.

My Freedom Ritual

2009-06-19T12:39:00.000-07:00

Let Freedom Ring.

Today I'm celebrating my freedom. That is nothing new or unusual in and of itself as I have a fairly intent focus on living authentically free most days. But I've been feeling a bit trapped lately, unable to break free of the chains that bind me, and when that happens I know just the ritual to free my spirit. I've performed this ritual several times in the past. It used to happen about every 10 years or so but it's only been 3 1/2 years since the last one.

So my energy has been a bit stuck and I've been feeling the calling. When my emotions get all kinked up in my body, it keeps the love from flowing freely. When this happens I know it's time to get serious about letting go of what I think I want and move into wanting and rejoicing in what is, whatever it is. It's about trusting the universe. Trusting myself. Trusting others. Trusting love.

My intention:

Letting go so love can flow.
Releasing old stagnant energy.
Cutting out ego stories.
Freeing myself energetically from everything that isn't true.
Setting down my burdens. Why carry all this extra weight?
Being bold.
Exposing myself...Go ahead, bite me in the neck...Hard...Leave your mark on me...Make me bleed...Bruise me. Hurt me if you must... I can take it... I like it even... To a point...It's sexy when you're strong like that... I know when to stop you if you don't know when to stop yourself.
Admitting my desire for tenderness.
Letting go of distrust.
Releasing into trust.
Owning the power of my femininity.
Having the strength to be vulnerable.
Untangling myself from the lies.
Willingness to tell the truth.
Down sizing.
What am I hiding from with all this stuff (hair)?
Making things simpler.
Taking it in stride.
Going with the flow.
Planting a seed.
Allowing.
Reveling in my nakedness.
Revealing.
Choosing.
Graciously receiving the choices of another.
Claiming my independence while acknowledging and fully embracing my interdependence.
Opening to the love that springs forth from freedom.

The Slippery Cleft

2009-06-19T10:06:00.000-07:00

Oh fuck. Finally. I've been waiting for this.

In answer, I put my hands behind his neck and pulled him down on top of me. I guided him to the slippery cleft between my legs. "Holy God," said James Fraser, who never took the name of his Lord in vain. "Don't stop now," I said.
--From the Outlander.

Yeah, what are you thinking? Don't stop now.

The Human Journey To Love

2009-06-17T20:29:00.001-07:00

I've been contemplating my emotions again and here's what I've learned so far:

Emotions are a whirling, spiraling, energy that course through my body. Feeling my emotions and allowing them to freely run their course, without judgment is one of the greatest and most difficult of lessons that I have been learning in this life. It's a master level course.

Emotions are at the core of what being human is all about. Attraction between two souls ride on our emotions and allow us to create relationships and bond with each other. Emotions are the creative force of the universe. Desire travels on emotion, moving energy from the ethereal mind through the physical body to create in the material world.

Felt emotions evolve us, heal us, teach us to love. Love is the greatest of all emotions but we cannot experience the flow of love without the flow of the other emotions also. That's the basis of what being human is all about--feeling our emotions and integrating our animal nature with our divine nature.

Love and fear are the emotions that sit at each end of the human spectrum. We vacillate back and forth between these two extreme experiences. Stuck emotions (emotions we don't allow ourselves to fully feel/experience) devolve us, poison us, and send us to the fear filled end. Each and every emotion that arises within us must be allowed and fully embraced (not tightly held on to, but not ignored or pushed aside) as it holds within it the potential for our healing, the fulfillment of our greatness, which is ultimately, to reside in, and create from, a space of love.

Emotions are spiraling vortexes--this is actually what a chakra (energy center in the body) is. Spiraling waves of energy located in different areas of the body. We must focus our intention, and continually practice allowing this energy to move freely through us, to consciously and purposely feel it. As we open to these spiraling vortexes of energy and allow our emotions to run clear, our minds clear and we open to the miracle of our vast human potential. We open to the power and pure joy of love.

It's not an easy process, a road less traveled by many, but a journey that must, eventually be taken by all.

My GoGo

2009-06-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

I was 21 years old when you were born. My second child. A girl. I started doing yoga when I was pregnant with you. And listened to Indian chanting throughout the day. I had a daily ritual of making chapatis that puffed up perfectly and I'd eat many of them with a tall glass of milk.

Your name arrived before you were born without any knowledge of your gender. I actually knew you were a girl just because I knew. I never had a sonogram that told me so. A cassette tape was playing and a devotee was singing Govinda Jaya Jaya, Gopala Jaya Jaya, Radha Ramana Hari, Govinda Jaya Jaya and there was your name, Govinda Jaya, boy or girl didn't matter. Govinda, meaning He who gives pleasure to the Cows and to the senses. Govinda Jaya, meaning All Glories to God.

Everyone was aghast and fearful that I was planning on giving birth to you at home, with no midwife, and only your father and older brother (who was 4 1/2 years old) in attendance. Throughout my pregnancy and up until the time my labor started I had convinced myself that I would feel no pain with your birth. Well, it actually hurt a lot. After about 12 hours of labor you were born in the cull (your water sack never broke) which is a very auspicious sign. My labia tore quite a bit but that was the only complication we had to deal with besides having to wait for several hours for your placenta to deliver. You never cried, just opened your violet-blue eyes and looked at us and then latched onto my breast and sucked for the longest time. Your newborn baby feet where just like Krishna's with red soles that looked as if they had been dipped in kumkum powder. When you were done nursing we gave you a bath which amounted to floating you in warm water. You loved the water and cried for the first time when we took you out. We anointed your body with tilaka, sacred clay from the Ganges River while reciting various names of God (Vishnu) to honor your body as a holy temple and protect you. As soon as the first mark of tilaka touched your body your crying stopped. This became a daily ritual and the only time we ever heard you cry for the first month after you were born. We would give you your daily bath, you would cry when taken out of the water, but as soon as the anointing with tilaka, along with the reciting of the names of God would start, you would stop crying and lie there peacefully until the ritual was complete.

Here are the names of God that are recited while the body is anointed with the tilaka:

forehead: om keshavaya namaha
belly: om narayanaya namaha
chest: om madhavaya namaha
neck: om govindaya namaha
right: belly om vishnave namaha
right: arm om madhusudhanaya namaha
right: shoulder om trivikramaya namaha
left: belly om vamanaya namaha
left arm: om shridharaya namaha
left shoulder: om hrishikeshaya namaha
upper back: om padmanabhaya namaha
lower back: om damodaraya namaha

Happy 33rd Birthday Govinda Jaya. My second born. My first girl child. My daughter. I love you.

Poly Is Not Hip

2009-06-17T02:25:00.000-07:00

Mistress Matisse recent twitter post:

Poly will never be truly hip, because it requires striving & caring deeply about ideals. Being hip requires caring earnestly about: nothing.

Stepping Out--Alone and Powerless

2009-06-16T19:08:00.000-07:00

From Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

...I thought of myself stepping out, alone and powerless, to confront the mob of solid and virtuous citizens, avid for the excitement of punishment and blood to alleviate the tedium of existence.

People are gregarious by necessity. Since the days of the first cave dweller, humans--hairless, weak, and helpless save for cunning--have survived by joining together in groups; knowing, as so many other edible creatures have found, that there is protection in numbers. And that knowledge, bred in the bone, is what lies behind mob rule. Because to step outside the group, let alone to stand against it, was for uncounted thousands of years death to the creature who dared it. To stand against a crowd would take something more than ordinary courage; something that went beyond human instinct. And I feared I did not have it, and fearing, was ashamed.

Thinking of polyamory as a lifestyle choice and the possible implications of this lifestyle when it comes up against the social construct of monogamy which is often carried out as a bred in the bone mob rule mentality.