So Much Love

I believe in love. All kinds, every kind. Romantic love, brotherly love.  The love a mother has for her children. Self-love. Unrequited love.  Big, expansive make your head explode love.  The quiet hidden love no one will ever know about. Secret love. The kind of love that can make your heart swell and then shatter like glass in an instant. Lost love. Lasting love. Enveloping love. Emanating love. Penetrating love.  Love is an ocean. Love is a teardrop.

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Love is what keeps me going.  I am indelibly and permanently marked both by its presence and absence.  I can feel the love within and without.  The universe is a constantly flowing stream of love.  I used to think love was an essential human trait.  It was a commodity we alone possessed to dole out or hoard at our whim.  I know know that there is a bigger love.  Much bigger…it’s everywhere. Everywhere.

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You can connect to it. Tune into it.  But like a distant faint radio station, you have to listen carefully to be able to lock into the frequency.  Once you do though, it’s quite literally life-changing.  What if I told you-you are loved? You are loved right now for simply being who you are.  The person you are right now, with all your foibles and darkness is loved.  That you are perfect exactly as you are.  All the things that you regret, the constant black itch that keeps you awake at night does nothing to change the love that’s yours.  It’s immutable.

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We all feel, at times, disconnected from love.  Many of us carry the scars of past traumas.  Too many of us wrestle with the shadowy shame of our histories. Our past whispers how undeserving we are of love.  It tells us love’s abandoned us, and no matter how we search for it it will always be out of our grasp.  That it will always be just out of our reach…visible but impossible to have.  It says to give up, stop looking to have what is unattainable for someone as broken as you.  It turns love into the light of a sun seen from a distant planet…diminished and never warming.  The past is a liar.  Your wounds do not determine whether you are worthy of love.  You are loved not in spite of your hurt but because of it.  All of you. Every experience, beautiful and tragic created you.  There is nothing wrong with you.  You are not broken. You are loved. It’s always with you, you’re never alone.  I believe in love, and I believe in you. Happy New Year.

 

 

Gay, Gay, Super Gay

That’s me. Although that title’s pretty gay, it’s honestly something I never think about.  It’s a part of me, sure.  It’s always been a part of me though.  I’ve never been anything else.  I spend as much time thinking about it as I do thinking about my eye color.  I’ve been extremely blessed in that most of the people in my world don’t have any issue with it.  I’ve been accepted without any prejudice and with nothing but love.  This is who I am and for the most part they’ve never judged me.

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Couple of things make me think about it a little this week.  One, I was purposely misgendered.  I’m almost 6 feet tall and not exactly a delicate woman. On the “butch/femme” spectrum I definitely fall on the butch side. I’m obviously a woman but dress in more masculine style.  I wear my hair longish so that’s ambiguous.  Anyone who hears my voice, however, is going to know I’m not a man. People sometimes don’t look at me directly and will call me Sir.  Not a big deal and I normally won’t correct them.  When they get a better look at me I get a sheepish apology and I usually laugh it off.  Not a big deal.

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I was grocery shopping the other day and was checking out. The older lady running the register looked right at me and asked, ” Did you find everything you were looking for, Sir?”  I replied in my obvious girlish voice.  I caught her looking me up and down as she rang me out. I was dressed in casual attire. There is NO way I am not a woman, I have a rather…uhhh..ample chest which is  obvious.  As I was leaving she said, “Have a nice day, Sir.”   This has happened a couple of times in my life, once while the person was looking at my nametag on my substantial chest that said JENNIFER.  I don’t understand why anyone would purposely do this.  Yes, I’m butch. Maybe obviously gay ( I think so anyway)  but I am not a man. I don’t want to be a man.  Is it some sort of gender policing?  Why would some old battleaxe care if I wear a men’s shirt? I don’t get it.

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I am also puzzled by the people I work with who seem to think I’m straight.  I mentioned above that I’m pretty butch.  I also mention my girlfriend in passing. I’ve also used the term ex-wife, although I usually just say ex.  I’m not the type who feels the need to broadcast my sexual orientation, but I am not shy.  Like I said, it’s a part of me so I talk about it like it’s nothing special. I think I’m obvious, just see me walk… you’ll know. I live alone with a cat. I drive a fucking SUBARU.  Half of the people I work with think I’m straight. Am I not wearing enough flannel???  (Actual picture of shirt I wore to work today)

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I generally think the default is heterosexuality and you’re straight until proven otherwise.  I don’t a have a rainbow colored Mohawk (hmmm) but I think I look pretty damn gay.  A few people have asked me about my husband/boyfriend and I’ve gently mentioned I have a girlfriend.  No issues at all, and I don’t expect there to be. Why do I even care?  Because it’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been. It’s an intrinsic part of my nature. As I get older I’m trying to live honestly and authentically. I wouldn’t want anyone getting my eye color wrong either. They’re brown btw. 🙂

 

 

 

 

The Shadows That Follow Me

I started noticing them a few years ago.  We all see the little movements out of the corner of our eyes that startle us. I had those too, but at some point they developed more, I don’t know, substance.  Generally I’d see them at twilight or in the dim light of the bedroom.  They started out as just formless patches the light didn’t enter. Black blobs in my peripheral vision, there was nothing frightening about them.  There are a few scientific explanations for this.  I am a rational person so I never thought much about it. I certainly wasn’t scared of them.  I did not believe in the supernatural per se. Everything paranormal was just something that science couldn’t explain yet.

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Over time I noticed the blobs became more defined, taking on actually human shape.  Most were rather small.  I would always have more than one, generally 3 to 5. I would just see them sort of “milling” about around my bed.  The first few times this happened, I was completely freaked out.  I wasn’t afraid of them…I thought I might be having a stroke or some kind of brain event.  There had to be some physical explanation.  Normal healthy people do not see little shadow people in their bedrooms. Yet, I seemed to be both of those. I still only saw them at night for the most part, so I could still sort of rationally explain them as tricks of perception or light.

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One night I was alone, I’d recently separated and moved into a new place.  I was lying in bed just listening to music.  I have a salt lamp in my bedroom so it was not even dark, just sort of dim.  From my bed you can see the door in the living room that leads to my balcony.  I’m on the second floor.  I saw partially out of the corner of my eye and partially full on a solid black shadow of a man pass my window on that door.  There was no one on my balcony. I could have heard them, plus how would they even get up there.  This wasn’t a shadow in the normal sense.  This was far blacker than any shadow I ever saw. It had a solidity and presence to it. It was also an adult human size.  This was the first real time I was frightened.

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Once I started breathing again I started looking for logical explanations.  Could someone have gotten up there without making any noise?  If so, where had they gone?  Could someone walk by on the street below somehow cast a shadow on my door?  There was no plausible trick of light to explain it.  I could, also, at this point rule out anything physical.  I’d been through a health crisis a few months earlier and had literally been tested for every possible disease and illness.  I also know I’m mentally sound.  I’ve never hallucinated or had trouble discerning fantasy from reality.  Add to that, I’m sober as a church mouse. I had NO rational explanation.

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That was the only time I saw the big man, as I call him.Since then I see shadows of various sizes now, but none as large and ominous as he.  They’ve become more prevalent and more active.  However, if I ask them to leave me alone they will.  They always come back though.  I see them during the day sometimes too.  I’m not afraid at all. I know they’re not here to harm me, even the big man. I just don’t know what they want or why they’re here.  Are they trying to tell me something?  What lesson am I missing?  I believe that everything that happens to you is a lesson of some sort and these shadows are here to teach me something. I just don’t know what. I do know one thing. Someday they’ll speak to me, and I’ll answer.

 

 

It’s Never NOT Been Okay To Be White, Dumbass.

Where to even start with this shit.  It seems that most white people think they are being oppressed.  Stop laughing, no really.  Fifty-five percent to be exact think that there is discrimination against white people. I asked you to stop laughing.  They feel that being white makes them less equal…that minorities have more privilege and “get more” than they do.  It’s funny until you realize that these are the same people who put Donald Fucking Trump in the White House.

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How is this possible? Obviously, it’s patently untrue and provably so.  I could pull statistics out of my ass all the do dah day that prove that white people still hold the most power and privilege.  So, what’s the deal?  There’s one vital statistic that explains it easily.  When I was a wee Cranky Buddhist my Father told me “The average IQ in America is 100.”  I asked him what that meant. “Half the population is below that.”

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We Americans are easily suggestible.  While we like to envision ourselves as rugged individualists, we are as swayed by propaganda as easily as any other group. (Remember the Maine!)  We also believe ourselves to be benevolent and fair-minded. Why anyone in America can succeed if they work hard enough! Americans bought the idea that we have all been playing on an even field.  Any time you win, it’s because you worked harder and deserved it.  We’ve been told that everything we have, good and bad, is performance based. We all start with the same chance, if you fail, it’s your fault. loser

So,  most white people believe they’ve earned all the power and privilege that they have.  They’ve worked harder.  The social and economic success is a result of what can only be a superior work ethic.  White folks think they deserve to have it all, no one works harder or has had more success.  They are dominant in almost every area of American life and culture for that reason.   There is nobody prouder of America than a white American.  Why?  Because they see it as theirs.

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So, you have a base of not too bright Americans who are also, paradoxically entitled as fuck.  They’ve had the run of the nation for so long and that’s been great for them for the most part.  Things change.  Corporations and the rich are calling the shots now.  A kleptocracy is in charge. The wholesale looting of America is happening right now.  What better way to divert the attention of the yokelery than to play on white America’s insecurity about race?

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There has been a steady drumbeat of tales of threats to white people from the Right. Immigration, black crime, Muslims…nonstop shrill warnings of “others” coming for what we have. Your tax dollars going to welfare queens who drive nicer cars than you.  Black lives matter. Police unable to do their jobs. It’s constant stream of nationalist propaganda and it’s telling white America that they’re hated and under attack.  They’re afraid, afraid of losing what they feel is theirs.  Afraid of losing what they’ve worked so hard for, what they feel they won fair and square.  So they’ve become even more selfish and defensive.  It’s all built on lies.  Billionaires are picking their pockets and they’re blaming the wrong people. Blaming the people the pickpockets told them to blame.

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Sit Down and Shut Up…( I mean that in the most loving way possible)

So, thereabouts a week ago I was on Twitter and someone I follow made a quip about Matt Damon.  Roxane Gay (@rgay…check her out, buy her books, read her comics, buy her a baby elephant) said that someone close to him might want to tell him to be quiet. He’d been offering his “opinions” on the whole Weinstein/Franken/everyone you know harassment scandals.  If you don’t what he said, you can Google. (Go now, I’ll wait)  Needless to say, his opinions are shit, and pretty much universally seen as such.  Dr. Gay’s admonishment, if you can even call it that, was pretty darn mild.  Oh…dear…god…the shitstorm.

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Now, besides the VERY obvious racist reaction to a woman of color daring to comment on a white man’s behavior, there were a couple other things that made me twitchy.  The first being people accusing Dr. Gay of wanting to silence Matt Damon.  “Freedom of Speech!”  Why, hasn’t he a right to voice his opinions? Isn’t this America??  How dare anyone suggest that someone else at some point maybe tell him to be quiet!! He has rights too!!  On and on and the shit don’t stop till the break of dawn.   Many, many Americans have no idea what Freedom of Speech even means.  It basically means the government can’t silence you because they disagree with you.  Does it mean you get to say whatever you want, whenever you want?  Try it out for yourself.  Go to work tomorrow and tell your boss how incompetent you think he is. You have a right!  Guess what?  He has a right to fire your ass.  You have a right to speak…the world has the right to react.  Sure, go buy a tiki torch at the dollar store and have a “let’s pretend it’s not homoerotic” fireside march with your alt right bros.   You have the right!  The company you work for has the right to fire you for being a racist pinworm. I have the right to laugh my ass off when that happens. Rights are fun!!

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So, besides my ongoing pet peeve about the First Amendment (grrrrrrrrr) was something else that really kind of stuck with me.  The was a vocal couple of men who felt that “both sides” weren’t being told.  That we needed to have a conversation about the issues Damon was talking about.  That the “movement” was stifling dissent, comments, and feedback.  Obviously, a secret cabal, led by a writer not near as well known as Matt Damon was planning on silencing men! Men! Fight for your rights to speak! Protect yourselves from the Feminazi hordes. Build a bunker!

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No one is silencing men. Seeing as they have the dominant voice in the culture, that’s not even a reality <wistful sigh>.  However, there are not “two sides” to the question of harassment and sexual assault.  There’s no conversation we need to have. It’s very simple. You either treat people with dignity and respect, or you don’t.  What do we need to talk about?  The reasons why you feel like you don’t need to do that?  Yes, dissent and explain why you are exempt from what should be decent standards of behavior.  Because it was only a joke?  Because, even though she works for you, she looked hot in that sweater and you thought you had a shot?  Because you can ruin her career? Because she’s dressed like a “slut”? Because she’s drunk? Because no one’s going to believe her?  We don’t need to talk about this.There are no excuses. There is only one side…decency. Sit down and shut the fuck up.

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This easy to fix.  Treat everyone with dignity and respect.  There’s a word in Hinduism I’m sure we’ve all heard or seen on yoga pants.  Namaste.  In fact, it’s almost become a joke it’s so ubiquitous in New Age communities.  It’s a greeting that means “I bow to the divine in you”.  It’s a basic acknowledgment of the divine spark that resides in each of us.  We’re all one.  You respect that inner light we all have, whether it’s housed in someone of a different race, gender, orientation…it doesn’t matter.  Now, I want you to be quiet, sit in your chair and think about that.

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PS  if Roxane Gay is planning on starting a feminist cabal, someone give her my name. k thnx

 

So this is Christmas…

This is my third Christmas alone.  I had others when I was younger, but they don’t really count as I spent the day drinking or drunk.  I stopped celebrating, really, before I was divorced. My ex-wife didn’t like the holiday at all. She’d lost her mother and was estranged from the rest of her family.  The holidays just reminded her of all she didn’t have.  For years, I tried, but there was no chance I was ever going to erase that void.  I loved Christmas, which presented a problem.  Eventually, after years of disagreement and sometimes, fighting we just stopped doing Christmas.  I resented her for it.  I felt it was another thing I had to give up to make her happy, when she wasn’t willing to compromise for me. I see now that my insistence, for years, on celebrating a holiday that brought her pain was pretty shitty. I was a Christmas asshole.

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So, once I left my marriage, I swore I would do Christmas again. One of my dear friends got me a small tree and some gifts. It was very cute and festive.  That was my first one alone alone. .  I had moved out of our shared home a week before.  It’s wasn’t the same.  I felt I was celebrating because I was supposed to be, not because I wanted to. Celebrating the holiday really was impossible given the circumstances. It didn’t feel like Christmas.  It didn’t feel like anything really.

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I fully expected to be filled to the brim with Christmas spirit the next year.  I had weathered a very serious health crisis and had come out in not too bad shape.  I had met a wonderful woman and was excited about getting to learn more about her.  Things were definitely on the upswing. I was going to be alone, but I had been by myself for a year now so that didn’t bother me.  I kept waiting for the holiday spirit to come upon me, things were good! Now, as much as I enjoyed exchanging gifts with my gf (who doesn’t like giving/getting presents??) there was no Christmas miracle. My heart didn’t grow three times that day.  It felt like just another day, only with gifts. ‘Twas meh.

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So, here we are. I stopped pretending this is something I’m going to celebrate. When people ask me what I’m going to do for the holiday I tell them I don’t do Christmas.  I still exchange gifts with my girlfriend. (She still seems to like me a year later…weird!).  Other than that, it’s just another day for me.  I think being alone is what’s changed it.  When you’re with family or others you go along, whether you feel like celebrating or not.  I can celebrate how and if I wish.  I still listen to Christmas music and I’ll eat some cookies if someone makes them for me.  But I do that any time of year.  So, I guess my Christmas wish for you, is to do whatever the fuck you want for Christmas…be it a celebration or nothing at all.

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Make Men Afraid Again

I have a Sekhmet tattoo on my back.  Who’s Sekhmet?  She is the Egyptian goddess of warfare and battle.  She has a few different names… “(One) Before Whom Evil Trembles”, “Mistress of Dread”, “Lady of Slaughter” and “She Who Mauls”.  There’s a story that tells you all you need to know about her. Her father, Ra, sent her down to earth to deal with some mortals who were plotting against him.  She became consumed by bloodlust and was out of control just killing everyone.  Ra had to get her drunk on wine mixed with blood before she wiped out all of humanity. You did not fuck with Sekhmet.

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I also have a Morrigan tattoo. (sensing a theme?)  She was the Irish Goddess of warfare and strife.  Also known as the “Great Queen” or “Phantom Queen”, she was depicted as one goddess or as a trio of sister goddesses She decided who would live and die in battle, often sending a raven to the warrior as a harbinger of death. Her role was to not only to predict a man’s imminent, often bloody demise but to also decide the outcome of battles.  She would do this by morphing into a crow and flying overhead to instill terror into warriors, thus turning the tide of battle.  She was fear personified.

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So many other badass goddesses. Hel, Norse goddess of death and the underworld.  Anat, the Canaanite goddess of love and war who once dealt with a man who slighted her. “Anat seized Mot, the divine son,/ With a sickle she cut him,/ with a winnow she winnows him,/ with fire she scorches him,/ with a mill she crushes him,/ she scatters his flesh in the field to be eaten by birds.”  Most of us are familiar with Kali the Hindu Goddess of destruction and battle who, “Drunk on Raktabija’s blood, the Goddess Kali ran across the cosmos killing anyone who dared cross her path. She adorned herself with the heads, limbs, and entrails of her victims.”  These are not gentle benign deities. There is no soft acceptance about them. They will cut a bitch.

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So, what’s my point? My point is that what women have become is not what we were.  We’ve had our divine power taken from us. Our goddesses have been defanged and replaced by a calm placid mother. Christian men have created an archetype of womanhood that is something weak they can dominate. WE need to connect with the divine and each other. We need to take our power back. We need to be feared again.

What does that mean? Should you slaughter and wear the skulls of your enemies as a necklace? (eww, clunky and the smell..) I don’t believe in violence anyway.  Let’s start by being vocal and not taking any more shit from men. Someone creeping on you at work? Call them out. Stop being “nice”. This is a war that needs to be fought for every woman and girl. Back up another woman. Yes, your silence is complicity. We all have to be loud and protect each other. #metoo is a start.  Stand in your power. If you feel you have none, stand in a Goddess’s power. Be a fucking badass. Maybe cut a bitch if you have to.

 

 

 

 

I have a lot to say. Some of it might be bullshit.

The world is making me cranky.  Here I am all trying to work on gaining insight, and the world keeps distracting me by being a total shit storm. (Yes, I do curse like a drunken sailor on leave).  Normally I am able to avoid getting caught up in the world. I pay attention, but it doesn’t hook me. Well,  throw me in a cooler and fillet me later, cause I am hooked.

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Which of course, makes me cranky. Add to the fact that so much of what is going on today is triggering for me and millions of other women. Well, let’s just say that trying to walk the path of equanimity is getting to be very hard.  So much of the world is awful right now. Politics? Shitshow. Entertainment? Male power dynamic shitshow. Popular culture? A reality TV-centric shitshow.  We elected a barely functioning imbecile because he’s the guy who said “You’re fired!” on TV.  Fame has become more important than competence.

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So, what’s a girl to do?  I know this is all a lesson, and I should look at my reactions and emotions.  Okay. Honestly, meditation isn’t quite cutting it for me at the moment.  So, I’m going to vent. I am going to say some things that are not representative of who I really want to be.  But, it’s who I am now, and who I am is one pissed off Buddhist.  So, I’m not going to hold my anger in. I’m going to let it out, let it roam free. Maybe it will make someone else think, or laugh, or no one will ever read it.  Regardless, I’m not drinking that shit.

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