sac·ri·fice noun \ˈsa-krə-ˌfīs, also -fəs or -ˌfīz\
: the act of
the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the
sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim.
Origin:
1225–75; (noun) Middle English < Old French < Latin
sacrificium, equivalent to sacri- (combining form of sacer holy) +
-fic-, combining form of facere to make, do1 + -ium -ium; (v.) Middle English sacrifisen, derivative of the noun
Lately
sacrifice has been coming up a lot for me. Now as we enter into the
dark moon phase here in the PNW, I am now faced with the daunting choice
to give up things I really like in order to stabilize my family and
create economic empowerment. Some of those things include my plans for
traveling to South America with my daughter at the beginning of next
year, which has me really bummed. Other things I have recently
sacrificed, like smoking, has immediately payed off and I am
empowered. Other things that I cannot publicly name have me a bit
terrified.
Looking at the origin of the word, sacrifice, I see
that it is in sum, "To make holy/sacred." Looking at it from this
perspective changes the meaning of the act somewhat. Rather than giving
up what I love, I am making it sacred. Indeed what I may be
surrendering to is the transformation into a vessel that is more
receptive to what is holy, maybe even capable of creating it and
spilling it out into the Universe with ecstatic joy.
.....conversation with Shadow
The antagonist continues to scream that there is no meaning.
That suffering is simply that.
But
after a bit of tea and scone she quiets. I tell her I see her point,
but that doesn't explain why I love her.
She then admits that there are
endless possibilities.
Is that a word? I haven’t written erotica since 1999. I’m going to try some auto-biographical erotica now…
We agreed to meet for the first time at the Brick, in Roslyn. A measly 4 blocks from me but a good hour and a half drive for him. Then there was that pesky 18 wheeler that skid and blocked all three lanes, stopping traffic dead on the 90 for an hour. Oh, and it was starting to snow. He said his van didn’t do snow. It seemed like a lot of trouble to meet someone for the very first time. Now I was feeling nervous, what if he got here and decided it really wasn’t worth all the effort? What if he dies on the road because of the weather conditions? What if he doesn’t come at all? However, those kinds of thoughts are the enemy.
I walked out into the living room, which was warm and cozy from our stellar wood stove with its “magic heat” blower. My mom was lounging in front of the TV. She gave me a look then said, “Don’t wear that belt, the dress poofs out and makes you look pregnant.”
Fuck.
Okay, so I go and change my clothes and I’m actually glad she said something because I feel 10 times more confident and comfortable in some black leggings layered with a tanktop and sweater. I laughed, relieved, and put on the feather earrings my friend C, in Venice gave me (she had an ex boyfriend that once told her he had a present for her and then dropped trow to reveal a glittery g-string barely covering his junk. But I digress). They are bright and long and don’t match. They rock.
Not too much makeup, but a little smoke around the eyes; thick layer of gloss on the lips. With the makeup on I can see a glimpse of the vixen-maiden from what seems like forever ago. She smiles and winks at me. I remember when She felt confident about Herself, obstacles would melt from Her path at the mere sight of Her. Portals would open in the Universe and She wanted to step through them. I remember it like it was a past life but even now She still comes and goes briefly.
Okay…I get that so far this is nowhere near erotica, but give me a chance, I think I can get there…
I have this body spray that smells like cotton candy. I find it incredibly yummy and I know its good because My daughter and her friends are always sniffing me and telling me I smelled nice. When I was in LA and saw my old FWB he confirmed its appeal. I made sure that I didn’t spray too much.
It was still snowing when I left the house and I loved walking in it. The first snow of the year. I still had a couple hours before the date, and I wanted to meet some friends at the Eagles first for some shots of Fireball and good conversation.
Fast forward a couple hours…
It’s about 9:30 and I’m at the Pasttime when I realize that people don’t have great cell service in this town so I had better go to the Brick and see if he’s there. As I’m walking down the white, sparkling sidewalk, I see a man get out of a van and begin to head towards the Brick. I think it’s him. He’s cuter than I thought he’d be. He was one of those that had a ton of really old pictures on his profile. I mean ones from highschool. He is part of the poly scene in Seattle that I tapped into on OKC. I still haven’t made it to any of their meet and greets, but I corresponded with him and one of his partners. Then I spoke to him on the phone for awhile. I have never met anyone who has read more Pierce Anthony novels than I. May I say that I was a little more than intrigued?
I realize now that I am switching tenses. I should just pick one and stick with it.
I waited a minute then took a deep breathe, then I pulled open the doors and walked in. A friendly chat with the bouncer who always waves me through saying, “Oh I know you,” makes me feel all special and local. I scan the room and see him standing there staring at me.
Fuck! I switched tenses again! So fucking amateaur…
When I’m nervous and have to speak, I go on autopilot.
I said, “Hey, you look familiar.”
He said something which I don’t remember because I was on autopilot but I do remember that he was wearing a warm smile behind a nicely trimmed beard, blue eyes and dark, thick hair. I bought him a drink to show that I was truly flattered that he made such a treacherous journey to come and meet me. We sit down to talk but the band is loud. After our drink we decide to go to his van and smoke. It’s a conversion van, with a bed in it! This is so extremely cool because I cannot and will not bring anyone home. It began to dawn on me that I was going to possibly get laid tonight. He shows me that he brought tequila and grenadine and all this stuff to make me drinks. He remembered that I like tequila. I can tell that he likes to give, and I see darkness there too. I reach into my coat pocket and instinctively finger my knife. Always there in case I get myself into a compromising position.
During our conversation we start to slowly touch hands, intertwining fingers, caressing each other’s palms. He comments that he appreciates what a sensual creature I am. “And by the way, you’re gorgeous.”
I think that my response gave away that I’m incredibly self conscious. Every compliment that he offered had me giggling or trying to return the compliment without seeming like I thought he was fishing for compliments. I’m too much in my head ALL of the time. Even when having sex sometimes. I focused myself and tried to stay present.
What interesting things he had to say! He had read practically all of the the same sci-fi books that I had and way more. He even sheepishly made a Supernatural reference that I totally got. I didn’t feel embarrassed about all of the goddess mythology references I kept making. Oh Aphrodite isn’t light and airy at all, She is the primal force behind desire… or, I theorize thatthe resurrection of Jesus is actually based on the Sumerian story of Innana’s descent… Our kindred inner nerds were totally bonding. As we explored each other’s heads with our conversation, our hands continued exploring the outer perimeters of our bodies.
He felt nice, but I never know if I’m really attracted to a person on a base, physical level unless I kiss them. I think it’s a truly chemical thing. One taste and I know. Whatever chemical reaction happens they taste good, with a pheromone-sweetness on my tongue.
I can’t remember if we kiss at this point or not! Holy shit that is so fucked up…we went to the van, and then to the pastime and had another drink. Then back to the van…I know we kissed in the van, but was it before the pastime or after?...
I think that we did not kiss at this point, and go to the Passtime for a drink. This time he buys mine. I know many of the people there, and I think this is the first time they’ve seen me on a date. However, they have seen me get down with another woman in there before. My date got up to go to the bathroom and a friend at the bar says, “Oh, someone’s gonna get some tonight,” and fist-pounds me. I make it blow up. We left and head back to the van. My friend S said we could park in the alley in front of her house if we want. We did.
Every act of consenting pleasure is an act of worship under Goddess…
I sat on the bed in the back of the van and he leaned in to kiss me. I noticed that yes, he is sweet. I am more of a lip nibbler and he liked to circle and flick his tongue around the tip of mine. Neither of us are tongue thrusters, not that I mind receiving the thrust I just don’t like to thrust myself.
Yes I am trying to be erotic, and yes I know I was close and then just went into nerdy…
Tilting my chin back, I exposed my neck, my most erogenous as well as overlooked zone. He leans back a little to glimpse the skin on my throat, then begins to lay the most tender kisses there. His lips were so soft and cozy that if it had not been for the beard, I would have thought a woman was kissing me. A warmth ignited deep inside my pussy that began to spread up and throughout the rest of my body, and I knew I was very, very wet.
My sweater came off and I freed my arms from the straps of the tank top underneath. He leaned back against some pillows to get a better look. I leaned forward to kiss him again and as I did he accomplished that coveted in high school – one handed -bra unsnapping move. My breasts rewarded him by tumbling forward into his mouth.
My nipples used to be incredibly sensitive. Since breastfeeding, however, there is nothing more ecstatic than having them sucked. I think it’s because my daughter didn’t eat very much and I produced so much milk that sometimes when I laid on my back my nipples would shoot mini fountains. Oh they would ache so bad and then get real hot and spill.
Eyes rolling back in my skull, my sense of time and reality began to shimmer and fairy dust dazzled and glistened on skin. He was intoxicating. I felt between worlds, submerged, even lost. My leggings had tiptoed off somewhere with my panties, and soon he was kissing, nibbling and licking the inside of my thighs. His fingers converged upon my wetness and it delighted him. Beginning to explore inside me now, he curved his index and middle fingers up towards himself, hitting my g-spot perfectly. His tongue found my clit, lightning shot through my spine, my back was arched in rapture and I was calling out for Earth and Sky. The climax detonated and I catapulted to the Underworld, to the Heavens. From there I softly floated back into the van. When I came to and regained awareness of where I was again, I just started to giggle. I always giggle after I cum but I also realized that I had orgasmed in a record less than two minutes. It usually takes me at least 10.
Inanna was the Sumerian Goddess of the Heavens. Over time she began to hear this annoying, scratching noise. It gradually became louder and louder, even though she tried to drown it out with mead, with music, with love; it would not subside. Soon it became deafening, and the only way to alleviate the pain it caused was to quest after it. Putting on her royal jewels, her crown, and armor; Inanna went in search of the source of this catastrophic sound.
Eventually she came to a deep crack in the ground, it was too narrow for her armor, so she had to remove it. It was tight, but she made it through. However, soon she came to another passage that was even tighter, so she removed her crown, and was able to slide through. After every dark passage was another, smaller, more terrifying one. At the seventh passage, Inanna had to strip bare in order to squeeze through.
Inanna stood naked in the middle of a dark cave. On the floor, in the middle of the cave, lay her twin sister, Queen of the Underworld, Erishkigal. She had the head of a fierce lion, and was ripe with child. Erishkigal was screaming in agony as she was in the throes of labor, yet no birth would take place. Only the continuous pain of birthing. When Erishkigal saw her sister of the heavens, she fixed on Inanna the eye of death, and Inanna was immediately turned into a rotting corpse, of which Erishkigal hung on a big, rusty hook that jutted out of the stony, wet walls.
Inanna had friends up above who worried about her. One God scraped the dirt from under his fingernails and created two beings to go find Inanna. She hung there rotting for three days before the little dirt beings found her. They immediately approached Erishkigal, still crying in pain, and began to ask her what hurt.
“My sides! My sides! How they ache and pull!” she answered.
“Your sides! Your sides! How they ache and pull!” they repeated.
“My heart burns and bleeds!”
“Your heart burns and bleeds!”
“My belly! How it turns and heaves!”
“Your belly! How it turns and heaves!”
For every pain that Erishkigal voiced, the dirt beings acknowledged and repeated back to her. Every time they did this, the pains would subside. Erishkigal stood up, feeling good for the first time in a long time. She was so grateful that she granted them any wish. They wished for the release of Inanna, and she agreed.
Inanna arose from the dead, feeling not only her own power but her sister's. She was no longer only the queen of heaven, but also of the dark and deep. She was whole.
***
We are all multifaceted and duplicitous in nature. There are the parts of ourselves that we keep in the light, show off to others. Then there are those parts that we keep locked away in dark dungeons, so far down deep in our subconscious that we, ourselves do not remember that they exist. We ignore them or try to battle them, slaying them over and over yet they never die. Eventually their cries are impossible to ignore, and they can even raise their terrifying heads into the light, to our own horror and the horror of the people who are close to us.
These monsters are parts of us, and need nurturing too.
My Erishkigal is terrifying. Hateful, Grotesque; an Ogress crying toxic tears. She is rage compounded by many lives. She is wounded and bleeding from betrayal. She is bitter from disappointment. She loathes the people who hurt us, even if I’ve forgiven them. She wants vengeance, violence, to beat them into bloody pulps. “They need to be sorry!” she screams in my head and scorches my heart. She would swallow the world whole, for her appetite is insatiable. When she is particularly unhappy, her rage turns inward, “You aren’t good enough!” she screams, “You can’t do anything right, you fat, lazy, stupid bitch! No one could ever love the likes of you!”
This dark moon that approaches lunar Samhain, is the time that I dig for those oversized, rusty keys and unlock her cage. I do this when I’m alone, because I would never want to unleash her on my family. When she screams in pain I acknowledge why we are hurting. I thank her for taking on the wounds that don’t heal and I wipe the blood from her brow. For a moment I hold her and tell her that I love her. In all of her grotesqueness I love her. Then I set her free. She is rude and eats everything in the house. She watches horror movies and bondage porn and gets off on the blood, humiliation and submission. She curses the world and fantasizes about destroying it. Eventually, she gets tired and falls asleep. Before she leaves, she whispers something in my ear. She is satiated, for the time being, and her screams no longer keep me up till the wee hours. I feel stronger, peaceful and powerful.
“The wild woman is the one who dares, who creates, and who destroys...Anyone close to a woman is in fact in the presence of two women; an outer being and an interior criatura, one who lives in the topside world, one who lives in the world not so easily seeable. The outer being lives by the light of day and is easily observed. She is often pragmatic, acculturated, and very human. The critatura however, often travels to the surface from far away, often appearing and then as quickly disappearing, yet always leaving behind a feeling: something surprising, original, and knowing. ” ~Clarissa Pinkola Estes, WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES
My best friend, her family and her partner started this great band and the concept of a "love bubble," which is a lens through which to experience life and the wonders of this world. Self described as, "urban, island, folky, rock n roll for the inner child," this music can be enjoyed by both young and old. Now the concept is being made into a tv pilot, so the love bubble can expand even further!
36.
It is one of those numbers. Things in three's are mysterious. 3 + 6 = 9. "By the power of 3 times 3, as I will it, so shall it be!" Fractions with three as the denominator repeat endlessly when turned into decimals.
Nine years into my second destiny (if I start it at 27 when Saturn returns). I look on my first destiny as if it were a past life. That person is still held deep in my heart, a wounded child. She tantrums and sometimes I yell back, but then I know she just wants love.
Leo's have a lot of pride. The other side of that is insecurity. A big problem for me. However, take a Leo, take all her money, pack a thousand pounds on her, prove to her that all her love, willingness to give everything of herself, her will and passion aren't enough to fix everything, I mean, other people. Give her a miraculous, but helpless being to care for every moment. My present ego does not run rampant any longer. All facades have crumbled. It woke me the fuck up.
So what about this year? This year was the first time in this second journey that I feel like I have reached a destination. There is respite, there are rewards. There is that moment of triumph, elixirs, rejuvenation, new powers gained that will help me in the next level. Kind of like a video game. The cool graphic and the fireworks. But life.
I live here in Roslyn, I dreamed of leaving LA and moving to a place just like this and manifested it. That feels like Power.
My best friends in LA just got this big deal to make a pilot tv show for children. They hired me to help them write it even though I have zero experience writing screenplays. We spent many nights on skype unto the wee hours of the morning writing it. They present it to the investors tomorrow. They are paying me for my help writing it, which is great because MomsRising is laying me off at the end of this month, and my only options for jobs in this rural town are housekeeping or cashier or office temp. Bleh. The thought of those jobs is shitty. Although it's pretty funny if that's my first new job after receiving my bachelor's degree. I really thought MomsRising would hire me, basically making my life (or so I thought) by providing a full time job that I can do from home with the best benefits known to any American. I never, for one second, imagined that my friends would want to "hire" me as a writer when they know like a million writers and have access to actual screen writers. They must love me. If they decide to keep me on as a co-creator of the show, instead of work-for-hire, then I can't even imagine what life on a day to day basis would be like. Maybe I would be able to buy land and start my sustainable community. Other future possibilities are grad school, which I'm applying to at the end of this year ( I have to take the GRE. bleh.). At this point, I could end up just about anywhere, doing just about anything.
On the romance front, well, nothing much has changed. I'm still single. Well, I have to admit, something has changed. I'm admitting to myself that I would like a partner. Or maybe not even a partner; I desire what I have now made an acronym/equation for - M(PARL). That is - Mutual Passion, Mutual Admiration, Mutual Respect, and Mutual Love. Did I leave anything out? I was trying to think of the variety of ways that could show up in my life and bite me on the ass (from past experience I know Goddess thinks She's Funny but She has a very sick sense of humor) but I think I covered everything. Haven't cast for it though. Any love spell tends to blow up in my face.
My beautiful daughter is back and sweet chaos is now a whirling maiden in my home. She has so many desires and she can fire them off at me one after another all day long. Once again I find myself gazing out the window and dreaming about the solace of a cheeseburger and fries. I'm ecstatic that she has returned to my loving arms, and also realizing that she can trigger some unhealthy coping mechanisms. In the next few months, I will need to exercise extra due diligence in nurturing myself and practicing self care. However, I don't think the dog days are just over yet, in fact, when I'm done writing this, I'm taking her fishing.
Below are some pics from my mom and my garden. Also, in other exciting news, I went to Seattle and met EcoWhore. 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, Hobostripper, 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 Groovy Jews 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mave 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.
I 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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
Since I’ve been here (March 1st), 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?
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
…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?
Do we have any control over who we are attracted to?
The whole thing makes me want to (figuratively of course)…JUST DIE!
It 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
Dusk. One of those ‘tween areas. Hanging in between the reality of day and night, like a doorway to another place.
Sidestreet Reny 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?”
“A what?” The whole idea of this type of thing was foreign to me.
“The taco chop. Pussy Punch,” she laughed as I still couldn’t comprehend.
“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?”
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.
And we drank much more.
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 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.
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!
Okay, so where was I?I feel like I have to write faster, as the feelings are already converting into the intangible.The memories becoming soft, malleable, and elusive.Like smoke, when I try to grab at it, it dissolves and scatters.I’m sad today, and I must prepare myself for all the work that is ahead of me.But for now, I’m going to allow myself to languish in my memoirs just a little bit longer.
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?At first I was embarrassed.I get a little uneasy when people get very close to me.Just an example of one of the stored goods I keep in my social anxiety cupboard.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.As much as I fight against the internalization of this stupid societal norm, I still get nervous when someone actually notices my legs.
Ya and I returned to my campsite at seven, two hours before dark.I opened up the cooler that my mom insisted on packing for me.She said that if I let her do this, it would relieve her anxiety about me going camping alone.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.She also packed me a really cool retractable knife, pepper spray, an axe, and a swiss army knife.She told me not to hike by myself. I agreed just to make her feel better.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.I told her that I didn’t think they had those there.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.Gotta love my mom.
I built a fire and lay down for a bit in my car/tent.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.Doug was thin, maybe in his sixties, with grey dread locks that went every which way.
“Come on in!” I beckoned.
He wanted to find out if I was leaving the campsite like the other folks.Oh wait.I totally forgot to mention this part.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.Because of this, water has to be regularly released out of some of the lakes.The company in charge of all this is Edison.Apparently by noon the next day, my campsite was going to be underwater.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.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.Harboring it doesn’t make it any more extraordinary.It’s Michael.Michael told me that Doug was the man to talk to.
“Hey Doug, while you’re here, um, I’m a medical marijuana patient and I’m looking to find some medicine.Think you can help me out?” I don’t even know why I said it like that but I did.He told me he would be back in ten minutes and he was.He handed me an old jam jar with pictures of fruit on the tin lid.There had to be over an eighth in there.“I would love to contribute, Doug, how much can I give you for that?”
“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.Just bring some up to share next time you come here.”
“Then please sit down and share a bowl with me.”
He agreed to that and sat down.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.It only took a little nudging to get him to spill his story.Although he was raised in Oceanside California, he had spent half of his life sleeping on the ground in the mountains.What a people-less paradise it is in the winter!Blanketed in white, the hot pools melt the snow and remain always.He told me about how the bears played by his window because they liked his music.He straps on snowshoes and explores the forest, talks to the trees.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.He didn’t want to define the Divine, but he said whatever it is, it’s his best friend.He talks to this indefinable divinity, asking it to please share some of the goodness with other people.That is his only sadness, that other people can’t experience it.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.
We had sat and talked for so long that it was only a few minutes after Doug left that Mike showed up.For a trip that was about becoming closer to Goddess and Self, there sure were a lot of men at my hearth.Aphrodite is trying to show me some of her sons, I think.I keep seeing the playful Pan archetype.Undomesticated, ungroomed, uneducated, rough and without a drop of elegance.No bling, no bullshit, no games.Spontaneous enjoyment and the ability to be fully present in a conversation.No ego.No need to dominate or objectify, just a childlike curiosity to lightly rub one soul against another.These are the qualities that most men I come across lack.
She was giving me a breath of fresh air.Making sure I’m not using biology to close up my mind. This is an example of how different Aphrodite’s teachings are from Morrighan’s.M comes from more of a …pick yourself up off the fucking ground, realize your own power and kick their fucking asses like you know you can.. school of thought.Rage is after all, a cure for depression.And when put to good use can fuel great change.Not to say that Morrighan’s arms aren’t nurturing and loving.Celtic warriors prayed to Her to embrace their souls when they died in battle, and carry them to the afterlife.It is for Her that we reach in our most vulnerable and miserable moments.
I’m trying to keep these posts at about 1000 words so I will rest here for the moment…
Now I'm living in Portland, Oregon, from Roslyn, WA, after leaving Los Angeles, CA in 2010. Searching inside and out for a new paradigm is my major goal in life right now. The patriarchal, racist and classist world that we live in gives me complete and utter indigestion (literally); so I continue on my spiral journey, keeping my eyes open for other worlds and drawing inspiration from those who are also searching.
("Sloth Womyn," is a reference from, "The Womyn's Holy Book of Mysteries," by Z.E. Budapest.)
Posts
