Wednesday, October 2, 2013


noun \ˈsa-krə-ˌfīs, also -fəs or -ˌfīz\

: the act of the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim.

1225–75;  (noun) Middle English  < Old French  < Latin sacrificium,  equivalent to sacri-  (combining form of sacer  holy) + -fic-,  combining form of facere  to make, do1  + -ium -ium; (v.) Middle English sacrifisen,  derivative of the noun

Lately sacrifice has been coming up a lot for me.  Now as we enter into the dark moon phase here in the PNW, I am now faced with the daunting choice to give up things I really like in order to stabilize my family and create economic empowerment.  Some of those things include my plans for traveling to South America with my daughter at the beginning of next year,  which has me really bummed.  Other things I have recently sacrificed, like smoking, has immediately payed off and I am empowered.   Other things that I cannot publicly name have me a bit terrified. 

Looking at the origin of the word, sacrifice, I see that it is in sum, "To make holy/sacred."  Looking at it from this perspective changes the meaning of the act somewhat.  Rather than giving up what I love, I am making it sacred.  Indeed what I may be surrendering to is the transformation into a vessel that is more receptive to what is holy, maybe even capable of creating it and spilling it out into the Universe with ecstatic joy. 

.....conversation with Shadow
The antagonist continues to scream that there is no meaning.
That suffering is simply that.
But after a bit of tea and scone she quiets.  I tell her I see her point, but that doesn't explain why I love her.
She then admits that there are endless possibilities.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

The Hardest Truth I've Never Wanted to Face

I believe that good things will/should happen to me and those I love because we are good people and we deserve it.

But we are really no better than anyone else.

So countless people who are suffering at this very moment deserve so so much better.   Really, none of us deserve the pain, the fear, the lack.

So I cannot believe anymore that good things will happen to me and those I love because we deserve it.

I feel so lost and afraid and powerless without this belief.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Over a year went by and I posted zip


That happened. I could post about all the things that have happened in my life this year, like my dog died, I got a new dog, moved again, going to grad school online, blah blah blah.  I could also post some inspirational jargon on how I've had some evolutionary spiritual and practical realizations this past year or how I joined an insight meditation group and how this year is going to be really interesting and magical for various reasons.  I could reminisce about about the last time I made sweet sweet love with another human being or my last road trip and blah blah blah.  But, true to my nature, I would like to take this welcome back moment to rant just a tiny bit.

I admit that I go on facebook too frequently to be healthy.  Now that I have a supposedly intelligent phone, I find myself checking facebook while waiting in lines, and sitting in cars (not while driving, though.  I still have a few brain cells left.).   It's starting to skeeve me how mindless a behavior it is, much like thoughtlessly shoving a stale cupcake into your mouth.  It tastes like shit, but it's sweet in a false and empty way, like Splenda for your brain and heart. 

Facebook is this narcissistic universe where face shots are taken from good angles; where live sweet smiles with family members and thirty photos of each of the cool places you went; Instagram photos proving that you too, could have been a photographer; the 6 million photos of your children; your hipster brunch, and lets not forget the pics accompanied by long descriptions of what you had for dinner.  This shit is so boring that you wouldn't even put it into your journal, yet it is readily served for consumption to your several hundred "friends."

 (I realize that I am also included in the "you" I am speaking of.)

This parallel and virtual universe is where everyone is convincing themselves and others that their lives are much, much better than they really are, and that people care about them because they have 54 likes on their status update.  How many times do we see a status update telling us about your last herpes flare up and how you wish you never barebacked that guy on your fabulous trip to Thailand that we keep seeing profile photos of.  My case and point. Occasionally, we see a relationship status go from "in a relationship" to "single," and we shiver with delight about that girl's, who was such a bitch to us in high school but we couldn't resist accepting her friend request, life is not as perfect as it looks.  The only time we get a real glimpse into your authentic, inner subjective being is by your unrestrained political outbursts and the twelve petitions you post on the daily. 

When browsing our newsfeed, we can pretend that we are not feeling alone and disconnected to others, regretting some past choices and experiencing anxiety over future ones. That maybe we were meant for something more and have been procrastinating our real fulfillment because it seems like it may be too hard, or maybe we are undeserving of it.  That we judge ourselves and others and sometimes make decisions based on fear rather than love.  That we hurt, and if others saw this hurt they would reject us.

Facebook is an energy, a tool, and like any other tool and energy, it can be used to create something or destroy it.  Using discernment and self reflection, we can make a healthy choice.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011


Is that a word?  I haven’t written erotica since 1999.  I’m going to try some auto-biographical erotica now…

            We agreed to meet for the first time at the Brick, in Roslyn.  A measly 4 blocks from me but a good hour and a half drive for him.  Then there was that pesky 18 wheeler that skid and blocked all three lanes, stopping traffic dead on the 90 for an hour.  Oh, and it was starting to snow.  He said his van didn’t do snow.   It seemed like a lot of trouble to meet someone for the very first time.  Now I was feeling nervous, what if he got here and decided it really wasn’t worth all the effort?  What if he dies on the road because of the weather conditions?   What if he doesn’t come at all?  However, those kinds of thoughts are the enemy.  

            I walked out into the living room, which was warm and cozy from our stellar wood stove with its “magic heat” blower.   My mom was lounging in front of the TV.  She gave me a look then said, “Don’t wear that belt, the dress poofs out and makes you look pregnant.” 


            Okay, so I go and change my clothes and I’m actually glad she said something because I feel 10 times more confident and comfortable in some black leggings layered with a tanktop and sweater.  I laughed, relieved, and put on the feather earrings my friend C, in Venice gave me (she had an ex boyfriend that once told her he had a present for her and then dropped trow to reveal a glittery g-string barely covering his junk.  But I digress).  They are bright and long and don’t match.  They rock.  

            Not too much makeup, but a little smoke around the eyes; thick layer of gloss on the lips.  With the makeup on I can see a glimpse of the vixen-maiden from what seems like forever ago.  She smiles and winks at me.  I remember when She felt confident about Herself, obstacles would melt from Her path at the mere sight of Her.  Portals would open in the Universe and She wanted to step through them.  I remember it like it was a past life but even now She still comes and goes briefly.  

Okay…I get that so far this is nowhere near erotica, but give me a chance, I think I can get there…

            I have this body spray that smells like cotton candy.  I find it incredibly yummy and I know its good because My daughter and her friends are always sniffing me and telling me I smelled nice.  When I was in LA and saw my old FWB he confirmed its appeal.  I made sure that I didn’t spray too much.

           It was still snowing when I left the house and I loved walking in it.  The first snow of the year.  I still had a couple hours before the date, and I wanted to meet some friends at the Eagles first for some shots of Fireball and good conversation.

Fast forward a couple hours…

            It’s about 9:30 and I’m at the Pasttime when I realize that people don’t have great cell service in this town so I had better go to the Brick and see if he’s there.  As I’m walking down the white, sparkling sidewalk, I see a man get out of a van and begin to head towards the Brick.  I think it’s him.  He’s cuter than I thought he’d be.  He was one of those that had a ton of really old pictures on his profile.  I mean ones from highschool.      He is part of the poly scene in Seattle that I tapped into on OKC.  I still haven’t made it to any of their meet and greets, but I corresponded with him and one of his partners.  Then I spoke to him on the phone for awhile.  I have never met anyone who has read more Pierce Anthony novels than I.  May I say that I was a little more than intrigued?  

I realize now that I am switching tenses.    I should just pick one and stick with it.

            I waited a minute then took a deep breathe, then I pulled open the doors and walked in.  A friendly chat with the bouncer who always waves me through saying, “Oh I know you,” makes me feel all special and local.  I scan the room and see him standing there staring at me.

Fuck! I switched tenses again! So fucking amateaur…

            When I’m nervous and have to speak, I go on autopilot. 

            I said, “Hey, you look familiar.”

            He said something which I don’t remember because I was on autopilot but I do remember that he was wearing a warm smile behind a nicely trimmed beard, blue eyes and dark, thick hair.  I bought him a drink to show that I was truly flattered that he made such a treacherous journey to come and meet me.  We sit down to talk but the band is loud.  After our drink we decide to go to his van and smoke.  It’s a conversion van, with a bed in it!  This is so extremely cool because I cannot and will not bring anyone home.  It began to dawn on me that I was going to possibly get laid tonight.  He shows me that he brought tequila and grenadine and all this stuff to make me drinks.  He remembered that I like tequila.  I can tell that he likes to give, and I see darkness there too.  I reach into my coat pocket and instinctively finger my knife.  Always there in case I get myself into a compromising position.

            During our conversation we start to slowly touch hands, intertwining fingers, caressing each other’s palms.  He comments that he appreciates what a sensual creature I am.  “And by the way, you’re gorgeous.”  

            I think that my response gave away that I’m incredibly self conscious.  Every compliment that he offered had me giggling or trying to return the compliment without seeming like I thought he was fishing for compliments.  I’m too much in my head ALL of the time.  Even when having sex sometimes.  I focused myself and tried to stay present.          
            What interesting things he had to say! He had read practically all of the the same sci-fi books that I had and way more.  He even sheepishly made a Supernatural reference that I totally got.  I didn’t feel embarrassed about all of the goddess mythology references I kept making.  Oh Aphrodite isn’t light and airy at all, She is the primal force behind desire… or, I theorize that the resurrection of Jesus is actually based on the Sumerian story of Innana’s descent… Our kindred inner nerds were totally bonding.  As we explored each other’s heads with our conversation, our hands continued exploring the outer perimeters of our bodies.  

            He felt nice, but I never know if I’m really attracted to a person on a base, physical level unless I kiss them.  I think it’s a truly chemical thing.  One taste and I know.  Whatever chemical reaction happens they taste good, with a pheromone-sweetness on my tongue.  

I can’t remember if we kiss at this point or not! Holy shit that is so fucked up…we went to the van, and then to the pastime and had another drink. Then back to the van…I know we kissed in the van, but was it before the pastime or after?...

            I think that we did not kiss at this point, and go to the Passtime for a drink.  This time he buys mine.  I know many of the people there, and I think this is the first time they’ve seen me on a date.  However, they have seen me get down with another woman in there before.  My date got up to go to the bathroom and a friend at the bar says, “Oh, someone’s gonna get some tonight,” and fist-pounds me.  I make it blow up.  We left and head back to the van.  My friend S said we could park in the alley in front of her house if we want.  We did.

Every act of consenting pleasure is an act of worship under Goddess…

            I sat on the bed in the back of the van and he leaned in to kiss me.  I noticed that yes, he is sweet.  I am more of a lip nibbler and he liked to circle and flick his tongue around the tip of mine.  Neither of us are tongue thrusters, not that I mind receiving the thrust I just don’t like to thrust myself. 

Yes I am trying to be erotic, and yes I know I was close and then just went into nerdy…

            Tilting my chin back, I exposed my neck, my most erogenous as well as overlooked zone.  He leans back a little to glimpse the skin on my throat, then begins to lay the most tender kisses there.  His lips were so soft and cozy that if it had not been for the beard, I would have thought a woman was kissing me.  A warmth ignited deep inside my pussy that began to spread up and throughout the rest of my body, and I knew I was very, very wet.  

            My sweater came off and I freed my arms from the straps of the tank top underneath.  He leaned back against some pillows to get a better look.  I leaned forward to kiss him again and as I did he accomplished that coveted in high school – one handed -bra unsnapping move.  My breasts rewarded him by tumbling forward into his mouth.

            My nipples used to be incredibly sensitive.  Since breastfeeding, however, there is nothing more ecstatic than having them sucked.  I think it’s because my daughter didn’t eat very much and I produced so much milk that sometimes when I laid on my back my nipples would shoot mini fountains.  Oh they would ache so bad and then get real hot and spill.

            Eyes rolling back in my skull, my sense of time and reality began to shimmer and fairy dust dazzled and glistened on skin.  He was intoxicating.  I felt between worlds, submerged, even lost.  My leggings had tiptoed off somewhere with my panties, and soon he was kissing, nibbling and licking the inside of my thighs.    His fingers converged upon my wetness and it delighted him.   Beginning to explore inside me now, he curved his index and middle fingers up towards himself, hitting my g-spot perfectly.  His tongue found my clit, lightning shot through my spine, my back was arched in rapture and I was calling out for Earth and Sky.  The climax detonated and I catapulted to the Underworld, to the Heavens.  From there I softly floated back into the van.  When I came to and regained awareness of where I was again, I just started to giggle. I always giggle  after I cum but I also realized that I had orgasmed in a record less than two minutes.  It usually takes me at least 10.


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Opening Erishkigal's cage


           Inanna was the Sumerian Goddess of the Heavens.  Over time she began to hear this annoying, scratching noise.  It gradually became louder and louder, even though she tried to drown it out with mead, with music, with love; it would not subside.  Soon it became deafening, and the only way to alleviate the pain it caused was to quest after it.   Putting on her royal jewels, her crown, and armor; Inanna went in search of the source of this catastrophic sound.

            Eventually she came to a deep crack in the ground, it was too narrow for her armor, so she had to remove it.   It was tight, but she made it through.  However, soon she came to another passage that was even tighter, so she removed her crown, and was able to slide through.  After every dark passage was another, smaller, more terrifying one.  At the seventh passage, Inanna had to strip bare in order to squeeze through.

            Inanna stood naked in the middle of a dark cave.  On the floor, in the middle of the cave, lay her twin sister, Queen of the Underworld, Erishkigal. She had the head of a fierce lion, and was ripe with child. Erishkigal was screaming in agony as she was in the throes of labor, yet no birth would take place.  Only the continuous pain of birthing.  When Erishkigal saw her sister of the heavens, she fixed on Inanna the eye of death, and Inanna was immediately turned into a rotting corpse, of which Erishkigal hung on a big, rusty hook that jutted out of the stony, wet walls.

            Inanna had friends up above who worried about her.  One God scraped the dirt from under his fingernails and created two beings to go find Inanna.  She hung there rotting for three days before the little dirt beings found her.  They immediately approached Erishkigal, still crying in pain, and began to ask her what hurt.

     “My sides! My sides! How they ache and pull!” she answered.
     “Your sides! Your sides! How they ache and pull!” they repeated.
     “My heart burns and bleeds!”
     “Your heart burns and bleeds!”
     “My belly! How it turns and heaves!”
     “Your belly! How it turns and heaves!”

For every pain that Erishkigal voiced, the dirt beings acknowledged and repeated back to her.  Every time they did this, the pains would subside.  Erishkigal stood up, feeling good for the first time in a long time.  She was so grateful that she granted them any wish.  They wished for the release of Inanna, and she agreed.  

Inanna arose from the dead, feeling not only her own power but her sister's.  She was no longer only the queen of heaven, but also of the dark and deep.  She was whole. 
            We are all multifaceted and duplicitous in nature.  There are the parts of ourselves that we keep in the light, show off to others.  Then there are those parts that we keep locked away in dark dungeons, so far down deep in our subconscious that we, ourselves do not remember that they exist.  We ignore them or try to battle them, slaying them over and over yet they never die.  Eventually their cries are impossible to ignore, and they can even raise their terrifying heads into the light, to our own horror and the horror of the people who are close to us.

These monsters are parts of us, and need nurturing too. 

My Erishkigal is terrifying.  Hateful, Grotesque; an Ogress crying toxic tears.  She is rage compounded by many lives.  She is wounded and bleeding from betrayal.  She is bitter from disappointment.  She loathes the people who hurt us, even if I’ve forgiven them.  She wants vengeance, violence, to beat them into bloody pulps.  “They need to be sorry!” she screams in my head and scorches my heart.  She would swallow the world whole, for her appetite is insatiable.  When she is particularly unhappy, her rage turns inward, “You aren’t good enough!” she screams, “You can’t do anything right, you fat, lazy, stupid bitch! No one could ever love the likes of you!”

This dark moon that approaches lunar Samhain, is the time that I dig for those oversized, rusty keys and unlock her cage.  I do this when I’m alone, because I would never want to unleash her on my family.  When she screams in pain I acknowledge why we are hurting.  I thank her for taking on the wounds that don’t heal and I wipe the blood from her brow.  For a moment I hold her and tell her that I love her.  In all of her grotesqueness I love her.  Then I set her free.  She is rude and eats everything in the house.  She watches horror movies and bondage porn and gets off on the blood, humiliation and submission.  She curses the world and fantasizes about destroying it.  Eventually, she gets tired and falls asleep.  Before she leaves, she whispers something in my ear.  She is satiated, for the time being, and her screams no longer keep me up till the wee hours.  I feel stronger, peaceful and powerful.

The wild woman is the one who dares, who creates, and who destroys...Anyone close to a woman is in fact in the presence of two women; an outer being and an interior criatura, one who lives in the topside world, one who lives in the world not so easily seeable.  The outer being lives by the light of day and is easily observed.  She is often pragmatic, acculturated, and very human.  The critatura however, often travels to the surface from far away, often appearing and then as quickly disappearing, yet always leaving behind a feeling: something surprising, original, and knowing. ” ~Clarissa Pinkola Estes, WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES

Friday, August 19, 2011


My best friend, her family and her partner started this great band and the concept of a "love bubble," which is a lens through which to experience life and the wonders of this world.  Self described as, "urban, island, folky, rock n roll for the inner child," this music can be enjoyed by both young and old.  Now the concept is being made into a tv pilot, so the love bubble can expand even further!

This is their latest single, Room 28


Joey the Dogg

Magic World

Sunday, August 14, 2011

1 week before I complete my thirty-sixth revolution around the Sun

It is one of those numbers.  Things in three's are mysterious.  3 + 6 = 9.  "By the power of 3 times 3, as I will it, so shall it be!"  Fractions with three as the denominator repeat endlessly when turned into decimals.
Nine years into my second destiny (if I start it at 27 when Saturn returns).  I look on my first destiny as if it were a past life.  That person is still held deep in my heart, a wounded child.  She tantrums and sometimes I yell back, but then I know she just wants love.

Leo's have a lot of pride.  The other side of that is insecurity.  A big problem for me.  However, take a Leo, take all her money, pack a thousand pounds on her, prove to her that all her love, willingness to give everything of herself, her will and passion aren't enough to fix everything, I mean, other people.  Give her a miraculous, but helpless being to care for every moment.  My present ego does not run rampant any longer.  All facades have crumbled.  It woke me the fuck up.

So what about this year?  This year was the first time in this second journey that I feel like I have reached a destination.  There is respite, there are rewards.  There is that moment of triumph, elixirs, rejuvenation, new powers gained that will help me in the next level. Kind of like a video game.  The cool graphic and the fireworks. But life.

I live here in Roslyn, I dreamed of leaving LA and moving to a place just like this and manifested it.  That feels like Power.

My best friends in LA just got this big deal to make a pilot tv show for children.  They hired me to help them write it even though I have zero experience writing screenplays.  We spent many nights on skype unto the wee hours of the morning writing it.  They present it to the investors tomorrow.  They are paying me for my help writing it, which is great because MomsRising is laying me off at the end of this month, and my only options for jobs in this rural town are housekeeping or cashier or office temp.  Bleh.  The thought of those jobs is shitty.  Although it's pretty funny if that's my first new job after receiving my bachelor's degree.  I really thought MomsRising would hire me, basically making my life (or so I thought) by providing a full time job that I can do from home with the best benefits known to any American.  I never, for one second, imagined that my friends would want to "hire" me as a writer when they know like a million writers and have access to actual screen writers.  They must love me.  If they decide to keep me on as a co-creator of the show, instead of work-for-hire, then I can't even imagine what life on a day to day basis would be like.  Maybe I would be able to buy land and start my sustainable community.  Other future possibilities are grad school, which I'm applying to at the end of this year ( I have to take the GRE. bleh.).  At this point, I could end up just about anywhere, doing just about anything. 

On the romance front, well, nothing much has changed.  I'm still single.  Well, I have to admit, something has changed.  I'm admitting to myself that I would like a partner.  Or maybe not even a partner; I desire what I have now made an acronym/equation for - M(PARL).  That is - Mutual Passion, Mutual Admiration, Mutual Respect, and Mutual Love.  Did I leave anything out?  I was trying to think of the variety of ways that could show up in my life and bite me on the ass (from past experience I know Goddess thinks She's Funny but She has a very sick sense of humor) but I think I covered everything.  Haven't cast for it though.  Any love spell tends to blow up in my face.

My beautiful daughter is back and sweet chaos is now a whirling maiden in my home.  She has so many desires and she can fire them off at me one after another all day long.  Once again I find myself gazing out the window and dreaming about the solace of a cheeseburger and fries.  I'm ecstatic that she has returned to my loving arms, and also realizing that she can trigger some unhealthy coping mechanisms.  In the next few months, I will need to exercise extra due diligence in nurturing myself and practicing self care.  However, I don't think the dog days are just over yet, in fact, when I'm done writing this, I'm taking her fishing.