Needs

We do not need more televisions, we need more communities.
We do not need more of a work ethic, we need more playtime.
We do not need more money, we need more lovemaking.
We do not need more time to clean our houses, we need more time to climb trees.
We do not need more degrees, we need more wisdom.
We do not need more make-up, we need more appreciation of natural beauty.

Divine Feminine

It is mid afternoon and I am lying on my bed. The breeze blows in through my open window and the sound of sirens overpowers the birds’ beautiful songs.

I am keenly aware of my menstruating body and its cycles of discomfort and ease. I am contemplating life. I am contemplating my femininity. I am contemplating our present, overly masculine society. My feelings fluctuate between a heavy sadness and a perfect tranquility.

My roommate walks down the hall with his heavy footsteps. I immediately enter a space of frustration. Not over his steps alone, but over the steps of every man…modern and historical.

For as long as I can remember I have carried a sort of vendetta toward the opposite sex; an unexplainable disdain for their very presence. I couldn’t possibly count all the boys I beat up as a young girl, usually for small offenses. He called me a name, tried to play with my toys, talked too much, didn’t talk enough, or looked at me funny. Whatever the reasoning, I enjoyed watching them squirm. I especially enjoyed laughing as they ran away in tears…soaked in shame.

The last time this happened I was eighteen years old and drunk. I was at a festival, walking down the street with a friend, and a guy behind me grabbed my ass. Without a thought I turned around and punched him in the face. He cupped his nose and mumbled “you fucking bitch” as he ran across the street. This time, however, a sense of guilt appeared in my psyche. Did he really deserve that? Did it actually teach him a lesson? Could I have gotten arrested for assault? I couldn’t be sure if what I felt was my own or the mass opinion of our society, finally creeping into my awareness.

I began to question the reasons I felt this animosity toward men. I had a close relationship with my father, I was never sexually or physically abused, and I had never witnessed my mother being hurt by a man. So why did I display this pattern of violence?

Now, lying here on my bed, I understand it more clearly. It isn’t just my own experience that drives me, but the experience of all women everywhere. The history of rape, violence, degradation, and persecution that lives in my very bones. The condition of our current society and ideas…including all its sharp, hard architecture, dominating mental views, and Christian “morals”. The bombs, the wars, the corporations, and the rape of the Earth itself.

Perhaps femininity, as we’ve always perceived it, is false. Maybe it carries with it strength, passion, and power beyond what men could possibly comprehend. The strength to overcome any obstacle, the passion to change the world, and the power to get others to join us.
I don’t hate men. I am merely pissed off about the extreme imbalance with which we are living. It is time for women to stand up in their Divine Femininity and bring the world back to its center. Bring us back to our true and inherent power.

Masquerade

I believe life is one giant masquerade ball. We are all dancers in an intricate, complex, joyful, and often extremely sorrowful event. Every song is a moment in time...fleeting and unique. We choose with whom we dance, when we dance, and when we sit in the dark corner alone. We decide when to wear our mask and hide our face, and when to reveal ourselves in full vulnerability.

The last 3 years of my life have included a great deal of sitting in the corner...watching the dancers from a distance. Before this, I was dancing joyfully and easily with a partner, until I became bored and curious. I chose a new dance partner...a masked man dressed all in black. We danced passionately and feverishly for the first few songs. Then he became tired and weary. Rather than choose a new partner and continue the dance, I followed him off the floor. We sat in the dark together for what seemed an eternity. He would leave the room for long periods of time and I would wait. Occasionally I took the arm of another man, but always returned to my corner. Waiting. Always waiting.

One day he returned and we danced joyfully for one brief song. I wanted it to last forever, but nothing ever does. Finally, we began to tango furiously. Then, during our final number, he pushed me violently to the ground and collapsed himself. The music stopped. The dancers froze in time. Life faded.

I lied there upon the floor, motionless, for months.

Then a tragedy occurred and all changed. The dancers slowly began to move again. All masks were removed. Vulnerability was revealed.

Now I am dancing once again. More with a group this time and more joyfully than before. Less dependent on a dance partner. More alive.

What have I learned from this experience? Every dancer has the right to choose their moves, with whom they dance, or whether they want to dance at all. They can lock themselves in the next room or collapse on the floor. I can chose to continue dancing. Continue living.

Dream

Last night I had a very vivid dream.

I was walking barefoot on a random lawn in Herkimer. There were willow trees surrounding the soft grass, a cemetery on the other side, and a small stream that separated the two. As soon as I stepped onto the grass, it started raining. I looked up toward the sky and the rain moved in slow motion. Then it began raining harder. I bent down and kissed the ground, then I took off all my clothes and ran naked. I proceeded to roll around in the wet grass, and then I walked over to the stream. I waded in the stream and then laid down. I looked over at the nearest gravestone and it had a picture of an oak tree with sheep under it. I thought that it would be a good stone for my mother. There were crystals everywhere and the water was warm and soothing.

I felt like I was in a space between life and death.

Use What You've Got

An artist is locked in a white room and told to create a mural. He is given a limited number of supplies and colors with which to work. He normally works with the highest quality brushes and paints and in a pleasant environment. The artist has two basic choices:

A.) Use the tools provided and create the best design possible. Enjoy the process and be in the moment.

or...

B.) Refuse to paint because of low-quality supplies. Create nothing of beauty and suffer psychologically.

Which choice would benefit the artist, and the world, more????

Sadness

A deep sadness that is difficult to explain. Loss. Change. Words that are a normal part of this human experience, yet so incredibly painful at times.

There are many days where I do not want to get out of bed. The dream world is far more interesting and pleasurable. There are other days where I believe the possibilities are endless. Where is the balance?

I cannot pretend to be a fun and bubbly person when I am not all the time. I am not most of the time.

I understand that I will lose all that I love and relationships are constantly in transition. I understand that life is not a land of gumdrops and rainbows. I still feel this way no matter how much I fight it or try to deny it.

I am not saying I feel this heaviness all the time...just a little more than half. Am I crazy or does our society just not honor our non-happy emotions? Are we supposed to be upbeat constantly? That is not who I am and I will not pretend. I am loving, compassionate, sometimes goofy and sarcastic, I have a temper, and I get down and out. Time to accept it all.

Fear

My greatest fear has come to pass. What now?

I once wrote an essay in Psych class answering the question "What do you fear above all else?". I wrote that I was afraid one of my parents would commit suicide. Seriously.

What does one do once their number one fear has transpired? Replace it with a new anxiety-producing, worry-invoking thought of what "could" happen? Feel relief that they survived the tragedy and move on with their dull existence? Suddenly and miraculously become fear-free?

I honestly don't know. I am afraid all the time in normal day-to-day situations. Afraid of talking to people, scared to drive, afraid of fucking up in a major, or minor, way. I, however, no longer seem to fear the "big stuff": an apocalyptic event, death of those close to me, death of myself (real or imagined).

We have such a short time to be alive in these bodies. Why let the inevitability of death bog us down? Why not look closely at the Grim Reaper and give him a nice wink? Why not jump out of planes and surf on waves?...take a gamble and possibly win?

So, back to my original question, what now?? I want to live life more adventurously. I want to take risks and jump into this existence full-force. See the world. Get covered in tattoos. Enjoy lots of sex! I want to laugh until I cry. Get my degree. Learn. DANCE. Scream. I want to honor my mother's life by doing what she couldn't....Living.