affair

September 13, 2008 at 12:24 pm (beauty, friendship, history, longing, sexuality)

i feel like having an affair.  a passionate, secret fling.  i want to kiss someone whose kisses make me dizzy and soft.

the thing is, there is no one around to have an affair with…

i’m also not interested in getting a divorce or creating (more) disharmony with my spouse.

i tend to be the kind of woman who can tolerate intense amounts of sexual interest and attraction without giving in.  i am a portrait of restraint.  i can’t tell you how many times i said no to opportunity…mostly by pretending there was none.

i just want to feel awake again.  i want to feel my body come to life and i want the newness of a new lover.  i want something rousing and gripping and stirring to pour myself into.

i dreamt about an old lover last night.  we were kissing and melting and riding the bus all over town.  the thing is, that particular lover was not one of my favorites.  we were friends who slept together during a time when we were both angry and hurt about the failure of other, more important relationships.

we’ve managed to stay in touch loosely and though our love was not a great, soul shaking experience, there remains a tenderness and a longing.  i think we both felt like we met up at the wrong time and valued each other despite the awkwardness of our pairing.

the last time i saw him, he was living with his future wife.  we met up for drinks with some of the other boys we used to know.  i was wearing a hat and i remember in one sweet moment he asked if i’d take the hat off.  i had beautiful hair then, before it got wiry and silver streaked…

i was shocked by the request because it told me something about him.  he was still holding me in a special place of beauty in his heart.  our friends shuffled awkwardly (it was as if they knew this man was still carrying a torch for me to my own surprise and slight discomfort).  i pulled the hat off and felt sorry knowing that my shiny, wavy locks weren’t as pretty in that moment as they had the potential to be, or as they once were.

that was it.  we drove down to the beach in the dark and ran around before the boys deposited me back at the place i was staying.  there might have been an opportunity for more that night.  in fact, looking back there were many opportunities for more with this particular guy, but always i held the space of NO.

now i wonder why i’ve always been such a naysayer when it comes to sex.  it’s not that i don’t enjoy it.

don’t worry…i’m not going to have an affair.  for one thing there’s no one around and for another, it goes against my sense of what’s right and noble.

but still, i find myself daydreaming about it and this man in particular…

i wonder if he dreams about me too, with the long mane that was once my crowing glory.  if he does it may be because i stopped it and refused to indulge.  after all those are the ones i still think of the most.  the ones i didn’t have.

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the pirate ship

February 23, 2008 at 11:29 pm (archetype, friendship, history, sexuality)

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i lived in a house full of beautiful boys a long time ago. they were rebellious and rowdy and drunk. i played with them and bore the brunt of their frustrations. it was uncanny how many of these boys had pirate flags. the jolly roger hung from windows and walls at every turn.

when the sun dropped and the sky darkened, that house with big windows felt like a ship rocking on the water. we were drifting on the sea, waiting for a ship of riches to come along to pillage and destroy.

the boys didn’t frighten me. i grew up with rough and tumble brothers.

i thought of the boys as brothers. i wanted to be one of them with the rights and privileges young, handsome men have. i thought they saw me as one of them, thought they saw past the obviousness of my femininity and sexuality.

they didn’t.

my lover at the time was threatened by the pirates. he wasn’t one of them, could never be one of them. he didn’t want me getting drunk with them. it puzzled me that he felt threatened. these were my friends after all, though deep in my heart, there was lust for some.

i unknowingly toyed with them. i flirted mercilessly, all the while denying it.

how could i help it? they were beautiful and i had them all to myself.

those boys chased me, teased me, adored and spurned me. by the end of our time together i was a howling, wounded mess. abandoned by my lover, i had no protection.

though i knew they didn’t want to hurt me, they were often mean when intoxicated. they turned on me more than once, channeling their frustrations with women onto me. we brushed against some blurry lines.

IT WAS FANTASTIC.

years later i know where most of them are.

one, dear to my heart, (the catalyst that drove the lover away) came to my wedding and ate supper with my new husband and i. it flattered me deeply when he said to my new mate, “she had this energy…and everyone wanted to be a part of it.”

it was just me, wanting to be a pirate with the rest of the boys.

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death of sardanapalus

February 18, 2008 at 2:35 pm (destruction, history, innocence, power, sexuality)

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my family had a book of delacroix paintings when we were growing up. i remember being fascinated by this particular painting. i felt naughty looking at it for it hinted of things i didn’t understand…sexuality, the power of men over women, violence…

i couldn’t understand how the man in the bed seemed serene amidst the carnage. the women, so helpless, what had they done to deserve this?

it turns out, sardanapalus was under siege and when he knew defeat was inevitable, he ordered all his riches (including his women) destroyed. still, it puzzles me that he is so relaxed watching such horror unfold. imagine my confusion as a child!

as a young girl, i keenly felt the disparity between men and women. my brothers had masculine chores like taking out the trash and working on the yard. i was relegated to dishes and housework. i protested as soon as i was able. my family was politically liberal but my protests fell on deaf ears.

as a young woman, it bothered me that boys could behave a certain way and be cheered and encouraged. when i tried to pioneer, i felt resistance and sometimes even shame for being so bold.

i resented the physical vulnerability of being female and resented the attention that came from being pretty and charming. it took years for me to grow into my power. even now, i have moments of fear about being attacked, physically and or/psychically. i worry on behalf of my daughter, knowing that just being female means being a target of certain crimes and injustice.

it’s no wonder that for many years i distanced myself from anything too feminine. it just wasn’t safe.

is it safe now?

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tantra

January 22, 2008 at 5:54 pm (archetype, divine feminine, exploration, power, sexuality)

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i studied tantra yoga for a while, back when i was single and carefree. i briefly considered becoming an instructor, though i doubted my abilities on many levels.

my intuition was validated at a tantra teacher’s training in hawaii. there were a lot of nuts in attendance and though i have a high tolerance for nuts, i quickly realized that any work involving sexuality would be rife with the wounded and the weird.

there were a bevy of young beauties in attendance, powerful, goddess-women. the men on the other hand, were older, wrinklier, and creepy. the inequity was so clear. we were studying the oldest profession in the world, legitimized and cased in spiritual terms. these lovely ladies were out to capitalize on their youth and sensual gifts. they were business women.

the men were just hoping for some touch.

in tantra, everything hinges on the woman. she is the force of divinity, the queen and priestess. it is the woman’s unending sexual energy that heals and opens the masculine. i saw men curled into little balls of infantile catatonia. i saw men open to archetypal forces greater than themselves. one man had the glazed eyes of an addict as he scheduled sessions with any woman able and willing to accept large sums of cash in exchange.

the truth is, i had natural talent for the work. i learned quickly, the arts and techniques of using sexual energy for healing. i loved the power behind it, but didn’t know how to cope with the revulsion. i battled moments of fear with certain men, fear of losing control, fear of their primal urges, fear of the rage that needed healing. It bothered me to be intimate with people i had no affection for or attraction to.

i saw how easy it would be to build a business of sensual massage and healing breathwork. i knew exactly what kind of client would come. MEN. divorced and lonely with plenty of disposable income. men who’d been roughed up by the angry american woman. the emasculated, beat down, affection craving, kinky old men. i liked these men but i didn’t want to take my clothes off for them.

all that grinding and panting and chanting started looking unhealthy. it was as if some carefully controlled energetic component was unleashed and though it may have been the best healing ever for the person in question, i found myself in retreat.

in the end, it was simply too unromantic for this lady. though i may be rough and tumble in the dark, when the light is blinding i retreat.

some things are sacred after all.

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aging to new beauty?

December 28, 2007 at 10:52 pm (beauty, mystique, physicality, reflection, sexuality)

YOUNG GIRLS…ENJOY THE BLOOM OF YOUTH…IT FADES TO SOMETHING DEEPER AND MORE PROFOUND YET LESS VISIBLE…

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lately i’ve been thinking a lot about aging. i never thought it would bother me. it’s not that it bothers me exactly but when i see the quality of my skin and how it’s changing, i realize that the beauty of youth is quickly leaving me.

i’ve never been incredibly good looking, but i had at one time a pretty hot little body and enough charisma to make up for being a little rough around the edges. i come from peasant stock and as such, have the unrefined features of a field worker.

ok, maybe i’m being too hard on myself. there were a handful of time periods in my life where i got plenty of male attention. i looked good in my tight little outfits and had really beautiful hair. now i see that the beauty i had is fading. i’m relieved that i wasn’t too invested in my looks. i can see now how painful it would be to lose that if it meant a lot.

honestly, i found it strange to be adored for my body and looks. i was always suspicious of it and slightly insulted. i’ve always wanted to be known more for who i am than what the outer shell looks like. secretly i loved the attention. and i especially loved being cruel to those who favored me with it.

now that it’s all gone, i wonder if i appreciated it enough. isn’t that the way of life though?

we don’t know what we’ve got till it’s gone?

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