tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77959177564934475842024-03-13T23:16:41.843-07:00....snapshots of a spiral pathmy thoughts as I walk the labyrinth of lifeSloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-58196071122507964672013-10-02T15:30:00.000-07:002013-10-02T15:36:12.738-07:00Sacrificesac·ri·fice<br />
<i>noun</i> \ˈsa-krə-ˌfīs, <i>also</i> -fəs <i>or</i> -ˌfīz\
<br />
<br />
: 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. <br />
<br />
<b><i>Origin: </i></b> <br />
1225–75; (noun) Middle English < Old French < Latin
sacrificium, equivalent to sacri- (combining form of sacer holy) +
-fic-, combining form of facere to make, <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/do">do</a>1 + -ium <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/-ium">-ium</a>; (v.) Middle English sacrifisen, derivative of the noun <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
<br />
.....conversation with Shadow<br />
The antagonist continues to scream that there is no meaning.<br />
That suffering is simply that.<br />
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.<br />
She then admits that there are
endless possibilities.<br />
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Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-35428120689295729652013-09-28T17:35:00.000-07:002013-10-02T15:35:41.172-07:00The Hardest Truth I've Never Wanted to FaceI believe that good things will/should happen to me and those I love because we are good people and we deserve it.<br />
<br />
But we are really no better than anyone else.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
So I cannot believe anymore that good things will happen to me and those I love because we deserve it.<br />
<br />
I feel so lost and afraid and powerless without this belief.<br />
<br />
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<br />Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-12458799896312385182013-01-03T14:14:00.000-08:002013-01-03T14:14:57.154-08:00Over a year went by and I posted zipYup.<br />
<br />
That happened.<br />
<br />
<br />
...so 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 <i>really</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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."<br />
<br />
(I realize that I am also included in the "you" I am speaking of.)<br />
<br />
This parallel and virtual universe is where everyone is convincing themselves and others that their lives are <i>much, much</i> 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. <br />
<br />
When browsing our newsfeed, we can pretend that we are not feeling <i>alone </i>and <i>disconnected</i> 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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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<br />Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-22841755518491111262011-11-16T12:00:00.000-08:002011-11-17T22:03:55.305-08:00SEXCAPADES<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Is that a word? I haven’t written erotica since 1999. I’m going to try some auto-biographical erotica now…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Fuck.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(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).</i> They are bright and long and don’t match. They rock. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Okay…I get that so far this is nowhere near erotica, but give me a chance, I think I can get there…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.<br />
<br />
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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fast forward a couple hours…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I realize now that I am switching tenses. I should just pick one and stick with it.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuck! I switched tenses again! So fucking amateaur…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> When I’m nervous and have to speak, I go on autopilot. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I said, “Hey, you look familiar.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Supernatural </i>reference that I totally got. I didn’t feel embarrassed about all of the goddess mythology references I kept making. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh Aphrodite isn’t light and airy at all, She is the primal force behind desire…</i> or, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I theorize that</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the resurrection of Jesus is actually based on the Sumerian story of Innana’s descent… </i>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">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></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every act of consenting pleasure is an act of worship under Goddess…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Yes I am trying to be erotic, and yes I know I was close and then just went into nerdy…</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>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. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">BEST BLOW JOB EVER!</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lQlIhraqL7o" width="560"></iframe>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-75346285305083145632011-10-25T11:11:00.000-07:002011-10-26T08:16:54.849-07:00Opening Erishkigal's cage<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://th09.deviantart.net/fs71/150/f/2011/234/6/d/horror_by_queenmakila-d47j98f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://th09.deviantart.net/fs71/150/f/2011/234/6/d/horror_by_queenmakila-d47j98f.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">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.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 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.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 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.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> 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.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “My sides! My sides! How they ache and pull!” she answered.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “Your sides! Your sides! How they ache and pull!” they repeated.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “My heart burns and bleeds!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “Your heart burns and bleeds!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “My belly! How it turns and heaves!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> “Your belly! How it turns and heaves!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">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. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">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. </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>*** </i></div><div class="MsoNormal"> 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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These monsters are parts of us, and need nurturing too. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">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.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">“<i>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 <b>criatura</b>, 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 <b>critatura</b> 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, <u>WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES</u></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-22484024431174712622011-08-19T12:07:00.000-07:002011-08-19T12:07:18.173-07:00MISTA COOKIE JAR AND THE CHOCOLATE CHIPSMy 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!<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">This is their latest single, Room 28 </div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Joey the Dogg</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/gj0GOvaT7OI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">Magic World</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ih3k4BCLEmE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-51562083700630415342011-08-14T12:13:00.000-07:002011-08-14T12:13:37.931-07:001 week before I complete my thirty-sixth revolution around the Sun<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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36.<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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</a></div>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.<br />
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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. <br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-57892493924550956892011-07-24T23:11:00.000-07:002011-07-24T23:11:21.459-07:00Gardening and other exciting stuffBelow are some pics from my mom and my garden. Also, in other exciting news, I went to Seattle and met <i>EcoWhore</i>. She was every bit as awesome as she comes off in her blog. It was a momentous occasion for me, because it was her blog, <i>Hobostripper</i>, that inspired me to start writing again. She is someone that I think a lot of people would benefit from reading. I also met another fan of hers, who was very cool too, a poet who told me all about the <i>Groovy Jews</i> House in Seattle. She also said that if something terrifies her, that means that she should probably do it. That made me feel really good for some reason.<br />
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On the witchy front, I did an abundance spell with some of the local community here and really good things have been happening to everyone. Not like windfalls of money or anything but more like sprinkles of prosperity. I wished for myself to have the obstacles removed that were in the way of my heart's desires. I ended up getting in a fight with my x and having all of these triggers come up. They were things from when I was a small child. I had a good cry and then felt like I was brand new. It was really good. Then I got notice from MomsRising that they couldn't keep me on as an intern after August 30th. Now I have to find a new job, but even though I'm bummed about losing that job, it might just be in the way of my heart. So now I will be forced to not be complacent, get off my ass, and look for new horizons. I'm okay with that.<br />
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I've been dating a little bit, and its been fun. Both men and women. There is one very pretty grrrrr in Ellensburg but it seems like we are both gravitating in different directions. I've found someone that I think I really like, and I'm a little surprised because it is not someone that would ever catch my eye...I mean, the kind of person that you go by in the grocery store and don't even notice. But once you make yourself look, well, his heart is like a kaleidoscope of radiant gems and syrups. My own juices are flowing with the bright heat of summer, and love is floating with the fuzzy cotton tree seeds in the wind.<br />
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Oh, and I packed in 5 miles to Goldmyer HotSprings in Washington. Below is a photo of me channeling Aphrodite in the hottest pool. Behind me is a mine shaft and so one can wade to the back of that cave and sit on a bench. It really felt like being in a womb.<br />
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So... back to the garden. I wish I could take credit for this but it's really my mom. She doesn't know it, but she's a green witch. If you put a garlic clove in her hand it will begin to sprout. I can take credit for the compost though, and I did help plant the seeds. However, I'm not the ones keeping them alive. Tonight I made a salad from the lettuce in the garden. It's important to clean the leaves very carefully, as there are slugs and other critters. I mixed the greens with feta cheese, red chili powder, and an ripe, juicy peach. The peach tastes just like summer to me. Mixed with some balsamic vinegar and olive oil, a little salt, and it was juuuuuuuuuust right.<br />
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Okay, here are some pics of the garden...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lettuce, sweet peas, cucumber, tomatoes, mint, marigolds</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">corn, mint, and a whole bunch of herbs that I don't know yet</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My compost. Just a Hole with a black trash bag to cover it. Lots of plants like to grow around my compost</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">adorable white wildflowers growing around my compost</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have a pear tree in my yard!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I planted these Petunias, wildflowers, and Marigolds on my deck and got my little gnomie from a store in town called, Mr. Higglebottom's</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-43121327573162241262011-07-14T10:56:00.000-07:002011-07-14T10:56:28.174-07:00Cle Elum Lake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MXD8m-m879Q/Th8tqrh4N5I/AAAAAAAAANs/BJrqmcV3WGA/s1600/P7050003_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MXD8m-m879Q/Th8tqrh4N5I/AAAAAAAAANs/BJrqmcV3WGA/s320/P7050003_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-40042769506024025392011-07-01T10:28:00.000-07:002011-07-01T10:28:04.248-07:00Mave UpdateMave finally got strong enough to fly into her/his tree! The parents were wildly happy even though they are still upset with me. I think all is well and this little crow might make it. It was really hard taking care of Mave because she needed to eat every 1/2 hour and pooped a lot. I'm happy I was able to do it, though.Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-26552623976191483172011-06-21T11:18:00.000-07:002011-06-21T11:27:05.702-07:00The Dark FledglingI love crows and ravens. They are indeed iconic to me, especially after my work and time spent with Morrighan in my first years as a witch. Since last summer I have been working with Aphrodite, which is very interesting (She has a sense of humor and likes to surprise me). But Morrighan is really the Mother that came into my life, stripping all the facade away, which hurt a lot, but exposed my authentic Self. She then worked diligently with me to carve and polish the rough and raw into something magnificent. I'm more happy and whole than I've ever been in my life and that is the power of Goddess, my friends.<br />
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All Spring I've been seeing dead baby crows everywhere that get blown out of their nests and then eaten by something. In my back yard there is a nest at the top of one of the 6 tall pines that make up the property line. 3 days ago, I found a fledgling crow caught in my trampoline net. It was bleeding but not broken. I know everyone's attitude up here is, "leave nature be," and I know that you are not supposed to interfere with wildlife but I just had to help this little bugger who just isn't quite ready to fly back up to the nest. So I took it in, tended it's wounds, fed it, and named it Mave.<br />
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Mave is a bit too old to imprint, I think. She (I have no idea what sex Mave is, actually) doesn't seem to like me but she takes food and water from me and begs incessantly from my window ledge, which is now covered in shit. Baby crows need to eat every half hour and I've been feeding her a high protein diet of egg, chicken, soaked dog food, quinoa, spinach, and crushed eggshell. I must admit this is cramping my social life, especially since my daughter is visiting her dad right now so it really is the only time I do have a raging social life, and the Blue Moon Campout is taking place 15 miles up the road.<br />
Every day I take Mave to the back yard for a couple of hours, where her parents scream and yell at her to fly the hell back up to the nest, but she doesn't. I don't think she can. She has improved a lot and is already looking stronger just after these past few days. I'm certain she will be flying within (hopefully) the end of the week.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sCS5fTwY9LU/TgDgDPGZ22I/AAAAAAAAANo/esx31chzF3o/s1600/P6180073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sCS5fTwY9LU/TgDgDPGZ22I/AAAAAAAAANo/esx31chzF3o/s320/P6180073.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-21536971458195769762011-05-27T10:26:00.000-07:002011-05-27T10:27:12.960-07:00An environment that nurtures...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WK_X8mASue8/Td_eRXPD0NI/AAAAAAAAANg/zgaTmZ6PPRk/s1600/P5180059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WK_X8mASue8/Td_eRXPD0NI/AAAAAAAAANg/zgaTmZ6PPRk/s320/P5180059.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">The quietness has allowed me to listen to myself. Not just my soul but my body too. I’ve been working for a long time to increase communication between my physical body and my mind/emotional body. Throughout the blog I think I’ve documented some of the crazy diets I’ve put myself through, as I was always chasing the body I had before I became a mother and gained 100 pounds. Up and down on the weight teeter-totter I went, until my body began to believe it was the apocalypse and just stored everything it could and waited for the end. Add depression and being an emotional eater to that and suddenly I was 130 pounds overweight. I noticed my daughter has this mechanism that tells her when she’s had enough and is full. Did I have this too? That is when I changed my attitude and instead of trying to lose weight, I would try to increase communication to my body. I did a spell. I asked my body to tell me loud and clear what it needed. Guess what happened? Every time I would go binge on fast food I would get extremely ill. Then it would simply be eating late that would trigger morning after vomiting. Certain foods gave me a hangover worse than if I had gotten sloshed the night before. My insides just hurt. My body was screaming and crying and super pissed off. I felt sick all the time. What had I done?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Since I’ve been here (March 1<sup>st</sup>), I’ve lost about 15 pounds. More important, I feel better than I have in a couple years. I am certainly not dieting in any way; I’m actually eating anything I want. If I crave a cheeseburger and fries, I have it. I drink more alcohol than I did in LA. Even beer which I gave up when I realized my sensitivity to gluten. There are some things that I’ve added to my diet, which are kefir or kale smoothies with flax seed. Increase fruits and vegetables and water. Take vitamins. These were things I had already been doing before I moved, though. So why now?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well part of it is certainly the increase in physical activity. Having to chop and fetch wood for example is a new daily activity. I also make a point not to drive in town. Not just for health reasons but also to save gas and lessen my pollution. So I’m walking to the post office, the store, the bar. And then there is the vast wilderness to explore. My feet are taking me to places that are bewitching with beauty. And I go out sometimes to the bars which are actually fun here and listen to good live music and dance. I don’t watch tv anymore. I mean I have one and I have a dvd player, a wii and Netflix; but I never got cable. Instead of cable, I bought a trampoline and have learned how to hoola-hoop for the first time in my entire life. I guess the main reason I feel healthier is because I’m happier. I’m having fun. I’m inspired by my surroundings. That fullness that I mentioned in my last post, it’s enough. I have confidence now that my body will naturally revert to a healthier version of itself – whatever that looks like—if I just continue to strive for wholeness and happiness. </div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-81267452990057935082011-05-25T20:35:00.000-07:002011-05-25T20:38:17.763-07:00I can't believe some things about myself<div class="MsoNormal">I saw my x-husband on Skype today and boy, did I act absurd. He lives in Iowa and luckily I only see him once every couple of years. But now there is technology and our daughter wants to use it to talk to her dad.</div><div class="MsoNormal">So there he is looking exactly the same...no better. And there I am looking tore-up as usual and he insists I get on and talk to him. I say no but then he is able to talk me into it. </div><div class="MsoNormal">There is something about him that takes my brain away. Blood rushes to my skin and I start biting my lip or twirling my hair—a dead giveaway. I can’t even hide my uber-embarrassing feelings about the creep. He knows exactly what’s going on too and says things like, “Why you being so shy to the camera? You and I both know you ain’t shy.” And then I’m just staring at his handsome face, all rugged with a beard starting to grow and my thighs get damp. Fuck. Why is this happening? We divorced in 2004. All of those years and years that have gone by and all of those horrible things he did, some of which I am still paying the consequences for after all of this time. I consider my relationship with him the darkest time of my life. I fucking hate him. So why would I get all goofy and wet at the mere sight of him? </div><div class="MsoNormal">He has remarried and is totally getting on with his life. Me…well, I have barely dated anyone since we split much less marriage. I’ve raised our child by myself with my mother as a co-parent. I spend all my time trying to heal my emotional wounds. I've done all this evolving and my heart feels okay. I thought that there would be no way I would feel any attraction to this man any more. I mean, I would have to be a masochistic idiot to do so.<br />
Still... I watch so many of my friends break up with their partners and move on to a next one so effortlessly and naturally. I never really thought about why I wasn't as well. </div><div class="MsoNormal">…I don’t want to even type the words…but am I, you know,…still stuck on my x? Because that would be lame. What the fuck is wrong with me?<br />
Do we have any control over who we are attracted to?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The whole thing makes me want to (figuratively of course)…JUST DIE!</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-13474700352591542402011-05-25T12:34:00.000-07:002011-05-25T16:55:21.740-07:00Settling inIt seems like the world is spinning much faster up here. I’m still thawing out from the coldest Spring I’ve ever encountered (what will I do when winter comes?), but She has finally gotten up out of Her Winter slumber and is busying herself with decorating the mountainside with wild flowers, daisies, daffodils, hyacinth, tulips and many others that I can’t begin to name. Yesterday I went on a walk with my daughter and her friend through the woods (actually they took their bikes so we called it a bikike,) and found myself in bright, colorful meadows amidst pines and cottonwoods. The cottonwoods smell so very sweet. My daughter’s friend said smiling that they smelled just like her grand-pops tobacco pipe before he died.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a08042qBU2k/Td1ZH64tGSI/AAAAAAAAANY/5cv6SKRKDV8/s1600/P4070078_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a08042qBU2k/Td1ZH64tGSI/AAAAAAAAANY/5cv6SKRKDV8/s320/P4070078_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I can really understand now the difference of an environment that is nurturing, and an environment that is depleting. I couldn’t hear myself amidst the noise and energy of 5 million people and the industry it takes to sustain them. I had to check out a lot, because to be so present in that place hurt. In Roslyn, WA there are only 900 people. When I hike up on the ridge, and I see the little town like a tiny mole in the midst of so many trees and mountains – and I can see how slight and insignificant we humans really are- and it makes me feel really good for some reason, comforted actually; I am able to hear Her voice resounding as loud as any civilization.</div><div class="MsoNormal">When people stress me out, which they inevitably do no matter where you go, I go into my backyard and simply listen to the wind in the trees, or marvel at the sky which has no flatness to it up here, but more like a fishbowl quality. Sometimes the clouds drop down to touch the still snow-peaked mountains. When I come back I feel fed. I am full.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-08v-nbb73Yo/Td2WcY7uYQI/AAAAAAAAANc/Sv5HJ-aAVv4/s1600/P4070053_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-08v-nbb73Yo/Td2WcY7uYQI/AAAAAAAAANc/Sv5HJ-aAVv4/s320/P4070053_.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-55614180807492252962011-05-19T09:08:00.001-07:002011-05-19T09:11:09.401-07:00Scorpio moon exposes shit smell of people; Mother Nature blazes heights of beauty<div class="MsoNormal"> The moon is beginning to wan now after blazing in cold fullness in Scorpio. Scorpio, frigid, cunning hag who digs through the dumps of our souls and spreads all the stinky garbage around. Then we have to run out, chase her away, and clean all the shit up.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Things that I knew weren’t really working but I was trying to pretend they were working are REALLY NOT WORKING in a way that is impossible to ignore.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I have these friends up here that I love like family, but they are super moochy and entitled and kind of expect their friends to pick up the slack where they refuse to tug. And I was navigating that really well. Trying to help but also assert my boundaries. And then he insulted me in my own backyard the other day. Now I feel like I want nothing to do with them but I know I have to somehow work it out. And then someone else I thought was a friend was rude to my daughter. She was walking home and said hi to this woman I thought was my friend and the woman said, “Sorry, I just really don’t want to hear children right now.” When my daughter told me this I think my heart caught on fire. I wanted to call her and tell her that maybe my daughter didn’t want to see her sad, alcoholic ass standing in front of the bar smoking every day but at least she has the manners to not say that. And then I would like to punch her in her mouth. But I don’t. I know that she was probably drunk when she said it, not that it’s an excuse. But don’t come fucking eat dinner at my house and then be rude to my daughter. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Oh and someone hung a noose from their big tree on the main road. Which was really embarrassing when my sister came to visit from LA. I might make a sign that says, “This noose is ignorant and disrespectful to the tens of thousands of women, children and men that were unjustly tortured due to the tradition of lynching.” Out of cardboard and red paint and stick it on their fence one night. People are starting to suck.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> But the forest and sky and rivers – all walking distance is vibrating extreme shades of green. Flowers and trees are radiating blooms, hummingbirds flit about the new feeder I put out. It is breathtakingly beautiful. Her voice is so present everywhere I look. I saw a Bald Eagle sore silently over me the other day as I walked down to the river. It is nourishment. So I will listen to Her voice, as it is strong enough to drive out the shitty smell of people that lingers in my chest.</div>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-68281930050066680602011-05-03T13:56:00.000-07:002011-05-03T13:57:15.499-07:00Intro to Taco Chop<i>taco chop: When one woman approaches another woman and delivers a swift, hard, upper-cut, “karate chop” between the other woman’s legs. Also known as the, “pussy punch.”</i><br />
<br />
The rolling sky had darkened to that mysterious cyan that is found in the coldest part of colossal ice. It was too dark to see the brightly painted corrugated tin roofs that populated the tops of houses that are nestled up against the mountain. Yellow, pink, blue, green, their cheerful demeanor faded into dark shadows with the thousands of pines looming behind them. It is a horizon that I’m not used to. So different from the sky in Los Angeles with it’s flatness. The sound of waves crashing on broad, golden beaches replaced with the roaring of wind through ponderosa. Was it nighttime? I checked out the color of the sky, not quite dark. Dusk here must last for over an hour. <br />
<br />
Dusk. One of those ‘tween areas. Hanging in between the reality of day and night, like a doorway to another place.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIDumAAozVk">Sidestreet Reny</a> began to do their thing and I noticed that for a very small town, (not more than 900 people), there were sure a lot of lesbians running amuck. Moving to the music while also observing those moving around me, I noticed a very sturdy looking woman in a hoodie and a ponytail walk up to another woman wearing overalls and deliver a blow straight to her crotch. The recipient of the seemingly sudden pubic violence doubled over in pain, only to rise again with a face contorted with giggles. A new friend of mine saw the expression of surprise and dismay on my face and quickly grabbed me by the arm. “You’ve never seen a taco chop, have you?”<br />
“A what?” The whole idea of this type of thing was foreign to me.<br />
“The taco chop. Pussy Punch,” she laughed as I still couldn’t comprehend.<br />
“It’s a game the women up here play. Only women are allowed to play and you can only do it to women who have agreed first that they are playing. Can I give you one?”<br />
I raised my eyebrows. My new friend, T, assured me that she would be gentle. “Okay,” I relented and braced for impact. There was a gentle pat on my pubic bone. I opened my eyes and thanked her for so kindly initiating me. And then we danced.<br />
<br />
And we drank much more.<br />
<br />
<i>Young, cute butch eyeing me. Short hair, streaked with blue. Couldn’t be over 25. We flirt, intelligently at first, the way women do even when totally wasted. I end up moving with her on the dance floor. My Venus rises as does my blood alcohol level. Everything seems like it’s bubbling up out of the uneven wooden floor of the tavern. </i><br />
<br />
I think my brain caught up as I began realizing myself back into cognitive realization and found myself with hands all over this little one’s breasts, flicking my tongue all over the back of her neck, scraping my teeth against her soft skin. She turns her head to the side and we touch tongues and lips together. A feeling of overwhelming intoxication is replaced with a concern for the spectacle I might be making of myself. It’s my first night out in my new town. There goes the low profile I was meaning to cultivate.Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-32895111448180230522011-05-02T18:05:00.000-07:002011-05-02T18:14:46.390-07:00Restarting snapshots<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l4ZV-78yZXk/Tb9W9xbjD_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/lFuSV7Md2no/s1600/me22010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l4ZV-78yZXk/Tb9W9xbjD_I/AAAAAAAAANQ/lFuSV7Md2no/s400/me22010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602292080713076722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />YES, it's been awhile and I left you all hangin' with the Mono Hot Springs post. I'm sorry I suck. However, I just moved from the carnival that is Venice to the Cascade Mountains of Western Washington and I have SO MUCH to write about! Just preparing to get my ass in gear. Stay tuned to hear about the famous Roslyn TACO CHOP and the little girl ghosts I heard (I moved to a haunted town). Plus I'll tell you what happened that night with Mono Mike last summer and some of the political bullshit that is currently enraging me. And of course, all that witchy shit I do will be updated here. Yesterday for Beltane I had a little party and turned my street lamp into a May pole. Much more debauchery to come!Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-77364735719585509372010-12-20T20:04:00.000-08:002010-12-20T20:05:12.270-08:00Free/ low cost healthcare for kidsAre you or a family member or friend in need of health coverage for children? An easy-to-use tool for finding and sharing resources is here (English and Spanish links available): http://moms.ly/efW8HvSloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-70076355865538545632010-07-24T16:57:00.001-07:002010-07-24T17:09:54.176-07:00Aphrodite, Adventure, Amplification. part III<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TEt_nt11aOI/AAAAAAAAAMs/AOLrfRQ9ngo/s1600/mono2010b.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TEt_nt11aOI/AAAAAAAAAMs/AOLrfRQ9ngo/s400/mono2010b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497628090432841954" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">Doris Lake</span>
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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Okay, so where was I?<span style=""> </span>I feel like I have to write faster, as the feelings are already converting into the intangible.<span style=""> </span>The memories becoming soft, malleable, and elusive.<span style=""> </span>Like smoke, when I try to grab at it, it dissolves and scatters.<span style=""> </span>I’m sad today, and I must prepare myself for all the work that is ahead of me.<span style=""> </span>But for now, I’m going to allow myself to languish in my memoirs just a little bit longer.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Did I mention that when we were sitting on those flat stones by the river and hot springs, that every time a piece of sand or mud got on my legs, this guy would scoop up some of the cool river with his hands, and so very carefully trickle water over my chunky gams to clean me off?<span style=""> </span>At first I was embarrassed.<span style=""> </span>I get a little uneasy when people get very close to me.<span style=""> </span>Just an example of one of the stored goods I keep in my social anxiety cupboard.<span style=""> </span>I also haven’t shaved my legs (or anything else) for quite a few months now, and even though this is quite natural in many places domestic and abroad, in LA it is pretty much taboo.<span style=""> </span>As much as I fight against the internalization of this stupid societal norm, I still get nervous when someone actually notices my legs.<span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">Ya and I returned to my campsite at seven, two hours before dark.<span style=""> </span>I opened up the cooler that my mom insisted on packing for me.<span style=""> </span>She said that if I let her do this, it would relieve her anxiety about me going camping alone.<span style=""> </span>In the cooler were a dozen eggs, ten boiled potatoes, ten pre-cooked chicken tenders, two bunches of bananas, a package of bacon, cans and cans of beans of every kind, a gallon of orange juice, a pitcher of homemade ice tea, tortillas, a Tupperware full of precooked rice, a steak, chips, home-made garlic salsa, saki, chocolate…I had enough food for a month, and I was only camping for two nights.<span style=""> </span>She also packed me a really cool retractable knife, pepper spray, an axe, and a swiss army knife.<span style=""> </span>She told me not to hike by myself. I agreed just to make her feel better.<span style=""> </span>She also told me to wear extra underwear when swimming in the river, lake, or hot pools so that little fish and worms (ew!) wouldn’t be able to swim up my vagina.<span style=""> </span>I told her that I didn’t think they had those there.<span style=""> </span>She told me not to be so sure because on her island in the Philippines, there is a tiny fish that swims up men’s urethras.<span style=""> </span>Gotta love my mom.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I built a fire and lay down for a bit in my car/tent.<span style=""> </span>Suddenly I heard a whistle and I looked out to see Doug, the camp host standing at what could be considered the entrance to my campsite.<span style=""> </span>Doug was thin, maybe in his sixties, with grey dread locks that went every which way.<span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">“Come on in!” I beckoned.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">He wanted to find out if I was leaving the campsite like the other folks.<span style=""> </span>Oh wait.<span style=""> </span>I totally forgot to mention this part.<span style=""> </span>The precipitation up in the high sierra’s this year has been 200% more than what they have had in any wet season for the past 5 or so years.<span style=""> </span>Because of this, water has to be regularly released out of some of the lakes.<span style=""> </span>The company in charge of all this is Edison.<span style=""> </span>Apparently by noon the next day, my campsite was going to be underwater.<span style=""> </span>He said I could find another one but since I was planning on leaving the next day anyway, I just agreed to be out of the site by 10 in the morning.<span style=""> </span>I was glad he was there because my stash was low and the guy I met earlier…oh I might as well tell you his name.<span style=""> </span>Harboring it doesn’t make it any more extraordinary.<span style=""> </span>It’s Michael.<span style=""> </span>Michael told me that Doug was the man to talk to.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">“Hey Doug, while you’re here, um, I’m a medical marijuana patient and I’m looking to find some medicine.<span style=""> </span>Think you can help me out?” <span style=""> </span>I don’t even know why I said it like that but I did.<span style=""> </span>He told me he would be back in ten minutes and he was.<span style=""> </span>He handed me an old jam jar with pictures of fruit on the tin lid.<span style=""> </span>There had to be over an eighth in there.<span style=""> </span>“I would love to contribute, Doug, how much can I give you for that?”</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">“Oh no,” he shook his head, “I don’t want anything, people give it to me all the time so I wouldn’t think of selling it.<span style=""> </span>Just bring some up to share next time you come here.”</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">“Then please sit down and share a bowl with me.”</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">He agreed to that and sat down.<span style=""> </span>He told me that he is the only person that stays in Mono Hot Springs year round, because the road becomes impassable from November to April.<span style=""> </span>It only took a little nudging to get him to spill his story.<span style=""> </span>Although he was raised in Oceanside California, he had spent half of his life sleeping on the ground in the mountains.<span style=""> </span>What a people-less paradise it is in the winter!<span style=""> </span>Blanketed in white, the hot pools melt the snow and remain always.<span style=""> </span>He told me about how the bears played by his window because they liked his music.<span style=""> </span>He straps on snowshoes and explores the forest, talks to the trees.<span style=""> </span>He told me that when you live in the now, magick unfurls itself all around you and you can’t help but be in awe, you can’t help but have happiness.<span style=""> </span>He didn’t want to define the Divine, but he said whatever it is, it’s his best friend.<span style=""> </span>He talks to this indefinable divinity, asking it to please share some of the goodness with other people.<span style=""> </span>That is his only sadness, that other people can’t experience it.<span style=""> </span>When I asked him if he ever writes down any of his experiences he emphatically shook his head and told me that he quit reading and writing, and that he hasn’t picked up a book or newspaper in over ten years.</p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">We had sat and talked for so long that it was only a few minutes after Doug left that Mike showed up.<span style=""> </span>For a trip that was about becoming closer to Goddess and Self, there sure were a lot of men at my hearth.<span style=""> </span>Aphrodite is trying to show me some of her sons, I think.<span style=""> </span>I keep seeing the playful Pan archetype.<span style=""> </span>Undomesticated, ungroomed, uneducated, rough and without a drop of elegance.<span style=""> </span>No bling, no bullshit, no games.<span style=""> </span>Spontaneous enjoyment and the ability to be fully present in a conversation.<span style=""> </span>No ego.<span style=""> </span>No need to dominate or objectify, just a childlike curiosity to lightly rub one soul against another.<span style=""> </span>These are the qualities that most men I come across lack.<span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">She was giving me a breath of fresh air.<span style=""> </span>Making sure I’m not using biology to close up my mind. <span style=""> </span>This is an example of how different Aphrodite’s teachings are from Morrighan’s.<span style=""> </span>M comes from more of a …<i style="">pick yourself up off the fucking ground, realize your own power and kick their fucking asses like you know you can.. </i>school of thought.<span style=""> </span>Rage <i style="">is</i> after all<i style="">,</i> a cure for depression.<span style=""> </span>And when put to good use can fuel great change.<span style=""> </span>Not to say that Morrighan’s arms aren’t nurturing and loving.<span style=""> </span>Celtic warriors prayed to Her to embrace their souls when they died in battle, and carry them to the afterlife.<span style=""> </span>It is for Her that we reach in our most vulnerable and miserable moments.<span style=""> </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal">I’m trying to keep these posts at about 1000 words so I will rest 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center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TEng5ER-ngI/AAAAAAAAAMc/_3ymsMtLaGA/s400/mono2010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497172091188715010" border="0" /></a><br />...Through the portal I went, nodding to the old guardians as I drove through. These Redwoods seem to grow right out of the sun baked rocks. I threw the car into second and as I came down the steep, one lane road, I could begin to hear the song of the river.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The River She is flowing…flowing and growing,<br />The River She is flowing…<br />Down to the sea…</span><br /><br />From the High Sierra’s to the sea was a whole lifetime, more like many. I set up my camp, which was easy because I can put down the back seat of my hatchback and make a bed. I use a strawberry shortcake bed decoration that was given to my daughter as a mosquito net and drape it over the lifted back hatch door, making myself an open airy little house. I could feel that my LA rhythm was much too fast for this place so I opened a bottle of organic, Spanish white wine and lit a bowl of blackberry kush. Time to slooooooooooow…<br /><br />Dusk began to drape Herself over the mountain and the three-quarter moon poured silver light into the mix. I decided to head over to the natural hot springs for an twilight dip. I brought Yaboo! and we walked up some wet, tall grass and came to what’s called, the rock pool. It’s a natural pool up against a flat rock face. I could see bubbles in the pool where hot water pushed itself up from deep cracks in the Earth’s crust. Warm water trickled over the edge of the pool and onto my feet. I slowly sank into the water and sighed deeply. I rested my head against the rock and gazed at the moon grazing the tops of the pines and redwoods. I called to Ya and noticed out of the corner of my eye a man standing on a wide flat rock across the river and up a hill. Yaboo! Didn’t like the hot water at first, but as I began to massage him, his body leaned against mine and he relaxed with pleasure. Mosquitos were biting so I spread some of the dark, mineral rich mud on my bare arms and face to keep from getting eaten alive. When I returned to the campsite, I had enough energy to build a little fire and lay down on a blanket in front of it. I watched as the fire danced itself into smoldering coals. Too tired to even make dinner, I crept into my car/tent and fell into sleep.<br /><br />In the morning Ya and I went hiking. Four miles of climbing rocks, sometimes having to lift him over the bigger ones, as his body doesn’t allow him to jump so much anymore. We experienced the serene and wild beauty of the Ansel Adams wilderness. We found a reflecting lake and swam in its cool depths to ease the bright heat. We are both pretty out of shape so by the time we got back, we were very sore. Time for another soak.<br /><br />This time I passed the rock pool and kept going, looking for a pool closer to the river so that I could cool myself off when I needed to and so that Ya Could swim and fetch sticks. I came upon a perfect spot where a hot pool and the cold river met and mixed. However, there was a man sunbathing down there nude, and I felt like I was maybe intruding. But I was so weary and didn’t want to hike around looking for another spot. So I decided to just try and be quiet and give him his space as he was sleeping. I noticed that his body was long, lean and practically hairless like a boy. He had burnt sienna colored skin and grayish hair that fell a bit past his shoulders in the back. He was laying on his stomach.<br /><br />Soon, Ya’s gleeful splashing woke him and lifted himself up on his forearms and asked me if he was bothering me by being naked.<br /><br />“Oh no,” I shook my head and smiled, “please just enjoy yourself and don’t mind me.”<br /><br />I gave Ya another massage. I could feel the guy watching me and then he said that he could tell that I really loved my dog. We began to small talk, and I had to use much self control and concentrate on his face with all my might. He said that he liked my <a href="http://neopaganink.blogspot.com/2009/01/snake-apple.html">tattoo</a> and if it were an Adam and Eve thing. I told him that the Bible stole the symbol of the snake and apple from an earlier religion and that the apple stands for women’s fertility and the snake is for women’s power, the power to shed skin and rebirth, as well as the ability to reach into oneself and find the wisdom of Goddess, of Nature Herself. His dark eyes took everything I said in like sponges. He smiled really big and the deep lines engraved into his face disappeared and he looked just like a teenager for a moment. Something about his smile was so familiar…what was it?<br /><br />I felt really hot and realized that I needed to cool off in the river. I threw my baseball cap off and let my hair out of its bun. As my hair spilled down my back, his eyes widened and..BOING!…up sprang his penis, all engorged with blood and pointing right at me. He jumped up and scrambled over to his jeans, which he pulled up over himself in less than a second.<br /><br />His cock was kind of beautiful, and big, and I couldn’t help noticing that his balls were tight with very little hair. I reminded myself that I find sperm repugnant and haven’t had more than a five minute conversation with a male person in months. Yet, it seemed that I had been conversing with this guy for over an hour now.<br /><br />“I’m sorry…I have a thing for long hair.”<br /><br />I just started laughing. “No worries, man, I take it as a compliment!”<br /><br />We sat and talked for another hour and he showed me around the hills, pointing out all of the hidden springs that only the locals know about. I was starting to feel tired, and told him I was heading back. “Can I come visit you at your campsite tonight?” he asked.<br /><br />I pondered for a second. “Okay. Come when it gets dark and I’ll be making dinner if you’re hungry.”<br /><br />He smiled really big again and again there was something in his face that I recognized and understood, even though I still can’t describe why or what…Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-29479941814386044252010-07-22T13:31:00.000-07:002010-07-22T13:50:21.642-07:00Aphrodite, Adventure, Amplification. part I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pashnit.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=30155&stc=1&d=1153962197">
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name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">So much has been transforming lately, I really don’t know where to start.<span style=""> </span>I guess I’ll start with the thing that I can’t stop thinking about since yesterday.<span style=""> </span>The think that has me lost in this perfect moment to the point where I forgot to put my gas cap back on my car after filling up.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>On Monday I left my house in L.A. and drove six hours up into the High Sierra Mountains looking for healing…and maybe something else?...at Mono Hot Springs, which border the Ansel Adams Wilderness.<span style=""> </span>I brought my beloved Yaboo!, my black lab that has been my constant companion for the past 12 years.<span style=""> </span>Last week when I brought him to the vet for a deworming, he was diagnosed with Lymphoma.<span style=""> </span>His glands were really swollen and the vet said that he was dying.<span style="">
<br /></span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TEirYtIwuzI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Nw02KDoHCZY/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TEirYtIwuzI/AAAAAAAAAMU/Nw02KDoHCZY/s400/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496831786127244082" border="0" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="">“Are you going to put him on chemo-therapy?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“No.” I couldn’t stand to put him through that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“Then your only option is to give him these steroidal medications.<span style=""> </span>They will help his body fight it for a little while, but then they will stop working and he will deteriorate quickly.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“How long does he have?” Tears began to well up in my eyes.<span style=""> </span>This was unexpected, even though I had noticed how I had to help him into the car lately, or how he smelled weird even after I gave him a bath.<span style=""> </span>I just thought it was old age setting in.<span style=""> </span>Not cancer. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“Oh, there’s no way to tell.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“A couple years?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="">“Oh no,” she looked at me with pity.<span style=""> </span>“A couple of months at most.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>So let’s just say that is the reason I took off to the high sierra’s.<span style=""> </span>To take my furry angel to soak in the healing springs.<span style=""> </span>So much happened there.<span style=""> </span>I felt things there that I have never felt before.<span style=""> </span>I spoke directly to the awesomeness of nature and She spoke back to me!<span style=""> </span>I saw things and met sages.<span style=""> </span>I have so many stories from just the three days I spent there, but for now I am going to focus on that thing that put a smile on my face when I first opened my eyes this morning.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pashnit.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=30155&stc=1&d=1153962197"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 800px; height: 600px;" src="http://www.pashnit.com/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=30155&stc=1&d=1153962197" alt="" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><i style="">I am rising up like a phoenix from the fire…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>I guess I have to preface this story again.<span style=""> </span>In the beginning of the year, I began to transition patron Goddesses.<span style=""> </span>Of course, the Roman Diana is the patron Goddess of my tradition (Dianic Witchcraft) but it has been Morrighan that has been teaching me since around 2005.<span style=""> </span>My name became Boudica for a while even.<span style=""> </span>I needed these sister warriors to help me figure out what to do with this anger that I have been carrying for many lives now.<span style=""> </span>At Imbolc, I felt something new entering.<span style=""> </span>Boundaries were dissolving around me.<span style=""> </span>My skin began to become looser and detach.<span style=""> </span>New cells beneath were dancing to become.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><i style="">I am opening with sweet surrender to the luminous love light from within…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>Aphrodite and water.<span style=""> </span>But wait, I am fire grounded in Earth, not water.<span style=""> </span>And Aphrodite is so…well…<i style="">fem</i>.<span style=""> </span>Like, I don’t run around in lingerie getting fed grapes by chubby angels.<span style=""> </span>But then I came upon some Aphrodite myths.<span style=""> </span>I read about how she punished a disrespectful woman by making her lust enormously after a bull.<span style=""> </span>The woman ended up having a friend make her a female bull suit so that she could hide inside and get fucked by huge bull cock.<span style=""> </span>Maybe Aphrodite wasn’t so nicey nicey after all.<span style=""> </span>She does seem to have a wicked sense of humor.<span style=""> </span>So I started a relationship with her.<span style=""> </span>I began to slowly realize that Aphrodite (or any of her many names) is extremely ancient and primal.<span style=""> </span>She is desire, the most powerful force in the Universe.<span style=""> </span>It is Desire that thrusts life into motion, propelling our genes to proliferate themselves, to get us out of bed every morning, to bring us to our knees in despair.<span style=""> </span><i style="">She</i> has been there since the beginning.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>Woah, wait a minute.<span style=""> </span>Do I want to be messing with such powerful and primal stuff?<span style=""> </span>Should I call this power into my life?<span style=""> </span>I was wary at first, but I began to call her in during Imbolc.<span style=""> </span>Summer Solstice I invoked her.<span style=""> </span>I invoked her again last week.<span style=""> </span>I started to feel different, I began to not feel hungry and I am ALWAYS hungry.<span style=""> </span>Before I left on my trip I purified and blessed myself.<span style=""> </span>I thanked the water and asked that my body be Aphrodite’s temple.<span style=""> </span>I promised to worship at Her temple and bring offerings every day.<span style=""> </span>I asked Her to enter into me and spend some time with me to help build Her temple.<span style=""> </span>This is different than invoking because usually you invoke in a circle and then devoke before opening.<span style=""> </span>Always know how to banish what you conjure, that is the rule I was taught.<span style=""> </span>But this is different because I was asking Her to walk with me throughout my days and nights.<span style=""> </span>I felt different immediately.<span style=""> </span>I don’t know how to describe exactly how strange I feel mentally and spiritually, but one of the physical manifestations is that I feel like there is clay in my stomach and I have to force myself to eat.<span style=""> </span>I have a ton of energy though and no headaches.<span style=""> </span>I’m extremely conscious about my health because I don’t want to desecrate the temple.<span style=""> </span>It’s harder to escape out of my body and into my mind, as my body’s voice is much louder.<span style=""> </span>I crave self care, I even went and got reflexology for the first time in my life.<span style=""> </span>Have you ever had someone masturbate your foot?<span style=""> </span>Oh Lordisa!<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style=""> </span>As I passed through two very gnarled redwood trees on the one lane road 7000 feet up the mountain, I distinctly felt that I was entering Her domain.<span style=""> </span>And it was paradise.<span style=""> </span>Little did I know that She had a surprise for me that I would never expect…but I am going to have to continue this story on my next post…</p>
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<br />Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-89668963938791791382010-07-13T13:37:00.000-07:002010-07-13T15:56:52.735-07:00Tested and FailedMy feminist ethics were tested the other day, and I failed miserably.<br /><br />Dear Woman who was being verbally abused and frightened by her irrational and irate boyfriend,<br />I was such a douche (and I mean that in the sense of bearing false advertising and being quite useless) and I'm really sorry and I really hope that guy didn't and doesn't hurt you.<br /><br />Here is my confession:<br /><br />Last Sunday I was in my house and heard random male screaming out somewhere on my block. I didn't pay it any attention, as Venice seems like the last haven for every homeless mental patient that our society has conveniently forgotten. There are plenty of crazy men screaming at any given time in this city and I have become de-sensitized to it.<br /><br />My sister was walking over to meet me for our twilight bike ride on the beach so I went outside to wait for her. About 40 feet away, down my sidewalk, there was a couple arguing. The woman was telling the guy to give her her car keys, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs an inch and a half away from her face. He was accusing her of cheating on him. I stepped out into the sidewalk and glared in their direction, just to let them know that I was there. But then I sat back down on my front steps. This couple was a young, good looking couple. They reminded me of multiple past relationships that I have had (x husband included) where this very same scene played out, in almost the exact same way, and also in public. In fact, this scene has not only been played out by me, but by almost every female friend I've ever had, including my sister, who walked up to my steps at that very moment.<br /><br />I said, "Is this shit the same fucking yelling I've been hearing for the past 20 minutes?"<br /><br />"Yes," She shook her head, "I've been behind them almost the entire way to your house."<br /><br />"Do you think I should intervene?" I'm cautious because honestly, I don't want to get shot or stabbed, and intervening in random folks' business is a good way to get hurt.<br /><br />She pauses. I'm trying to gauge the situation by running scripts of past experiences where a guy has crossed the threshold from verbal abuse to physical. I think that she is too. She answers. "Yes."<br /><br />Fuck. I walk out onto the sidewalk again and take a long look. The dude is around 20-23, black, wearing a white v-neck and pinkish-orange shorts. The woman has long dark hair, is young too. White, or hispanic/white maybe. Wearing jean shorts and a black tanktop with flip flops. Both of them are gorgeous. They were standing in front of a black Mercedes. Honestly, if the dude was wearing a crisp blue shirt or a white tanktop with some bright color bandanna or laces, I wouldn't say shit.<br /><br />"Are you okay?" I call to the woman.<br /><br />"Oh, yes. He's just..." She has that look on her face that I know so well. That embarrassed, -<span style="font-style: italic;">I can't believe this is happening so I'm going to pretend it's not</span> - look. Still, she instinctively walks towards me.<br /><br />The man turns towards me to follow her, as she is walking towards me. Fiery eyes are now fixed on me and he shouts, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!?" I was surprised he didn't call me a bitch.<br /><br />"Well, you've been yelling in front of my house for the last 20 minutes so now you've made it my business. So, why don't you just give her back her fucking car keys!" I wasn't yelling, but I hardened myself up. In the back of my head I thought, <span style="font-style: italic;">Shit, I am waaaay too out of shape to take this guy on.</span><br /><br />"HER CAR KEYS!!!????" He was practically jumping up and down. He turned back to her and screamed again. "HEEEEEEEEER CAR??!! SO WHAT!? I DO NOTHING TO CONTRIBUTE?! BITCH!? (there it was.) I AM SO SICK OF YOU TAGGING ONTO A NIGGA'S COAT-TAILS! I HAVE SACRIFICED AND SACRIFICED, AND THIS WHOLE TIME YOU'VE BEEN GOING BEHIND MY BACK!!!"<br /><br />She responded, " I didn't <span style="font-style: italic;">do anything!</span>"<br /><br />She looked at me and shook her head in exasperation. "There was this stupid game on the boardwalk..."<br /><br />"IT WAS A LIE DETECTOR TEST!! AND WHEN YOU SAID YOU NEVER CHEATED ON ME, IT SAID YOU LIED!! YOU LIED!"<br /><br />"So what?!" she laughed, "It also said that you were gay!"<br /><br />Both my sister and I burst out laughing. This infuriated him intensely.<br /><br />"THIS IS CUZ I'M BLACK, HUH!"<br /><br />My sister says, "um, hello?, I'm black."<br /><br />"NO YOU'RE NOT!"<br /><br />My sister and I burst out laughing again. There is no ambiguity about her race.<br /><br />"AND I HAVE TATTOOS!!"<br /><br />"So what?" I rolled my eyes. "I have tattoos too. The reason you're scary is because you're screaming and acting crazy!" Why on Earth was I trying to reason with this guy? He is obviously trapped within his own reality. His behavior was unacceptable for my 7 year old, much less an adult. I began to get angry. This guy was going to make me miss my twilight bike ride too. What is the quickest way I could control the situation? These selfish thoughts led me to break my cardinal rule.<br /><br />Suddenly, my mom appears from around the back of the house. I knew she would eventually hear the yelling, and I was just glad she wasn't coming from inside where she could get her gun. My mom <span style="font-style: italic;">always</span> has a weapon. This time it was a large, pointy spade. When she saw the irate boyfriend her lips curled back against her teeth and she gripped the spade tighter. I grabbed her by the arm and told her it was okay, to get behind me. In the meantime, the guy had gone back to screaming at his girlfriend. Why wouldn't he just stop?<br /><br />He was going on and on about how he was all alone, how his family is 5000 miles away and he's trying to fulfill his dream...how even though he was in three movies, it just wasn't good enough for a gold digger like her. She kept asking for her car keys, and he kept trying to get her to go into the car with him. She refused and said straight out that she didn't feel safe getting into the car with him. He then screams and punches a tree, then runs to the car and takes off. She tells me that she bought that car before she met him. I remember when my x husband punched out the front windshield of my new Corolla. This guy goes racing up the street, stops about 50 yards away, then hits reverse, screeching the tires the whole way. He double parks it, and then runs out of the car back towards us. I was baffled. I was done.<br /><br />"I'm done." I said, "Give her the keys right now or I'm calling the cops!" That is my cardinal rule. Calling the cops. Having been sexually assaulted by a cop before, and the general treatment of people of color or the poor by the police brings me no faith in the LAPD. I swore that I would never call the cops on someone unless my life was in danger. He wasn't listening to me. "Fine! I'm calling them right now!"<br /><br />"911 emergency..."<br /><br />"yes, I'm at xxx address and there is this guy who is just being really aggressive to his girlfriend and won't give her back her car keys."<br /><br />"Okay, calm down." What the fuck? I was calm. I walked a few feet away so that I could hear better, as the guy was still screaming at his girlfriend. My goal was to scare him into giving her the keys by calling the cops. However, I didn't think it through because he was imploring her to leave with him <span style="font-style: italic;">because</span> I was calling the cops.<br /><br />Suddenly, I noticed that both of my neighbors had arrived home and everything started moving really fast. Two roommate bachelors, white guys, mid 30's. Not very likable or unlikeable, but I never really talk to them. I was vaguely aware of what they were doing while simultaneously on the phone with the police operator, who had a condescending tone in her voice already.<br /><br />"Ma'am, what do you <span style="font-style: italic;">mean</span>, being really aggressive?" there was that tone again.<br /><br />"I mean, he's not hitting her but he's yelling and screaming in her face."<br /><br />"What is his race?"<br /><br />What the fuck? I thought of Oscar Grant. "Um...I don't think that's important, I think you just need to send a car over here now."<br /><br />"Ma'am! I can't send anyone out until you give me a proper description. Now I need to know his race!"<br /><br />"No."<br /><br />She made one of those exasperated breathing noises. She began to say something about a gang of young, male, mexican perps with white T-shirts tagging in the area or something, but my attention was now on one of the neighbors I recently mentioned. <br /><br />He had money in his hand and he was holding it out and booming in a loud voice, " I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY TO GO AWAY AND TAKE THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE." His tone was also very condescending. He was treating them like hood rats.<br /><br />"Ma'am! Can you at least tell me what he is wearing?"<br /><br />"Pink shorts!"<br /><br />Now both neighbors were yelling. At both of them. The one who looks like James Spader says that he doesn't want this shit in his front yard and they need to get the fuck off.<br /><br />The tall neighbor with a missing tooth turns to glare at the woman. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT TOO FOR BEING SO PASSIVE AND JUST STANDING THERE! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, HUH?"<br /><br />He was shaming her, and I guess she probably looked to me for support, but then saw that I was on the phone with the cops. Her boyfriend was not yelling at her anymore, but pleading with her to go. She let him grab her by the hand and lead her back to the black car.<br /><br />"Well now they're leaving because you took so long with this race bullshit!" I screamed into the telephone before hanging up.<br /><br />So she left with him. And I let her go. After she had stated earlier that she did not feel safe getting in the car with him she ended up doing it anyway. And I am partially responsible for that. I should have just had her come inside and offered her a ride home. Why didn't I do that?<br /><br />My mom looked at my sister and I and said, "Who knew that the neighbor was such a passive aggressive asshole?"<br /><br />My sister looked at me and said, "Why did you call the cops?"<br /><br />I shrugged, "C'mon, let's go on this bike ride before the police really do get here." I did not want to talk to them, but they never did come. Even though I gave them the address.<br /><br />Sometimes the Universe sends you a test. To see if you can walk your talk. And sometimes you fail (and by you I mean me).Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-7764609493331098602010-07-09T09:49:00.000-07:002010-07-09T09:51:33.813-07:00new healthcare benefits explainedMomsRising.org has this really great link where senators explain new healthcare benefits. Knowledge is power, people, so lets stay informed.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.momsrising.org/senators-answers-your-hcr-questions">http://www.momsrising.org/senators-answers-your-hcr-questions</a>Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-79831198713805308372010-07-07T22:35:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:56:32.294-07:00my little garden on my front steps<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDYfU2MgauI/AAAAAAAAAME/um0TzJnjqjg/s1600/plantssummer2010b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDYfU2MgauI/AAAAAAAAAME/um0TzJnjqjg/s400/plantssummer2010b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491611238630714082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDYfJ8iafHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/gvVyYDik9_U/s1600/plantssummer2010a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDYfJ8iafHI/AAAAAAAAAL8/gvVyYDik9_U/s400/plantssummer2010a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491611051354651762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDVkQUEa79I/AAAAAAAAAL0/ARfEwuAKEdg/s1600/plantssummer2010.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_utrPq-eXDI0/TDVkQUEa79I/AAAAAAAAAL0/ARfEwuAKEdg/s400/plantssummer2010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491405552076124114" /></a><br /><br /><br />Basil, Lavender, Italian dandelion, mint, & lettuce.Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7795917756493447584.post-77240059207570159472010-07-04T09:38:00.000-07:002010-07-04T10:15:17.306-07:00I can't write poetry but here goes anyway<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:47VyfT_wTXbiTM:http://www.villainouscompany.com/vcblog/home/public_html/cassandr/vcblog/archives/China_Kyling_Fireworks_Display_Shell.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:47VyfT_wTXbiTM:http://www.villainouscompany.com/vcblog/home/public_html/cassandr/vcblog/archives/China_Kyling_Fireworks_Display_Shell.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>
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name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:12.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:200%;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:200%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Inspired by the 4th of July. Where we light fireworks to symbolize bombs which we take to symbolize freedom.
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Happy birthday America, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Land of the free.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freedom to colonize what didn’t belong to me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freedom to get rich at the cost of Earth, people, soul.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freedom to make dominating others my goal.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freedom to grant liberty to any man.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Who is not brown, gay or poor, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Or holds a joint in his hand.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And if you’re a woman, your body is mine to control.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Just like the land that I took long before.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But Look!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What is that on the horizon I see?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A lion?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Sun?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A Labyrinth?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">A Goddess! </p> <p class="MsoNormal">She holds a scale in one hand.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The other hand is pointed directly at me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">She claims that She is America!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The Truth and the Struggle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freedom of Infinite Creation.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Like light from a prism, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Rainbows of people emerge from within her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Many rivers come.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Flowing with the blood of innocents.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Trees sprouting from its dark banks touch stars which fall upon me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I look for my gold and my armies.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">But they flit away on wings that whisper of false prophets.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I beg for the compassion that I never bestowed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And She grants it to me.</p> Sloth Womynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12334700336578451488noreply@blogger.com0