I Dreamed My Mama Died

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.