lounging with lovers

I lounge in bed with my lovers. Surrounded by pens, journals, pages typed and notes torn from drawing pads. My phone plugged into a portable speaker- changing music as it suits my mood. I write and edit and swim with my thoughts. Wearing creamy soft striped pajamas- very masculine, but tailored for the feminine- with red silk bra and cheery pattern panties underneath because it is always nice to feel sexy & smart, but even more so when it’s to make an effort for no one other than yourself: to remember you are always worth your power.

I never wear underthings that aren’t beautiful. It is a rebellion, perhaps, against my mom’s line that you should keep “period panties,” meaning having some old, not so nice panties available for the days you bleed. The purpose being that you don’t mess your good things during that shameful period time. I take the opposite tact: you should never wear less than beautiful underthings.

However, during your cycle, you should wear your nicest items. It is a time of rebirth and power. Your body is smashed with hormones and you can either let them bring you down through the patriarchal ideas that a woman’s body is turned against her and weak or you can embrace them … embrace the pain for the life and creative force it’s pushing out. Embrace the blood for its power. Embrace your swollen breasts and belly for all the feminine energy they represent. Never wear less than the best underthings for you- relish in the secret knowledge of the items you bear closest to your most vulnerable, but powerful parts. Envelope your breasts and yoni in the softest, prettiest, and best items you own. If your style be modest athletic or laciest of girly frills, embrace that and know the beauty you deserve. If someone else gets to see your secrets, the luckier for them, but do it for yourself. You deserve to be adorned as the goddess you are.

What can you do in the time that you say you don’t have?
What can you write?
What can you draw?
Where can you walk?
Who can you reach out to?
With all the time we spend scrolling our thumbs …
What could we be learning?
What could we be making?

What, simply, could we be asking of ourselves that instead we do not
even know we are seeking through all the places we won’t
remember each time we draw our finger across the screen?

Next time, next time you think, “I should go for a walk …” or “I should write something” or “I should ask invite so and so tho dinner,” don’t say, “But …” Don’t make an excuse, instead, open the door and move … pick up a pen and write … reach out to your friend and plan. Maybe it’s only 10 minutes or a wisp of the need to see someone, but it’s the onlies and just a bits that add up to the all.

This is your life, don’t stash yourself waiting for something better to show up because you are what you got.

to be loved

to be loved and to love,
simply as you are.

honored
for the inherent validity
of your humanity.

to be desired,
admired,
supported and safe.

to dare a bigger life.

to share a love
modeled on God’s
love for us,
is all that should be asked,
it is really quite simple.

breathe.

the
walls
are your
protection,
your isolation.
vulnerability, let go.
stop running and open your heart. now breathe out the pain.
/stay in the present, explore edges unknown, the places you find in-between your heart and mind/
your heart and mind will convene to create your intention.
a life well lived is in balance,
constant adjustment.
just let go
give in.
breathe.
live.

cup of tea

it all just stopped …
they put their guns down
made tea
set out some food
opened the gates.
we showed we do not hate …
instead just who we are-
working class brothers and sisters
far from home
alone
scared and scarred
just wanting to hold those
we love again

how many could be saved with a simple cup of tea?

generations at war

In high school, to protest the first Gulf War, I sat vigil on a median while it snowed. In civilian clothes, for fear of retribution, soldiers from Ft. Carson joined our silent vigil. Thirty years later, American forces never truly left and oil continues to be traded for blood. Thirty years later, the guise of goodwill and nation building lifted, the profiteers and pilfering politicians have learned nothing but to send another generation into battle- saving their own children to inherit their place in political office.

America’s leaders, what is right about any of this? Being there does nothing to make us a better country.

At 19, because I protested so loudly before I could even vote, I joined the military to serve our country. From an first generation American grandfather who was dropped behind enemy lines in WW2, I believed in an America that protected the weak and welcomed the stranger. I had yet to learn the history behind the glorified ticker-tape of the victor. I joined the Navy to serve a nation based on freedoms for all. I served, to be able to always defend those who embraced our rights through protest at any cost.

I realize now, how delusional that was because the wars we fight now and forever in our history have had nothing to do with defending our rights. The wars were and are about the money and those who hold the power of industry and militarization. Even the idea that we must embrace our freedoms at any costs is ludicrous. Those freedoms- those inalienable rights- should not have to be fought for in repeated fashion. Furthermore, those inalienable rights most certainly have nothing to do with those who live on the land of the Middle East or what is under the crust of its land.

I once thought I would want my daughter to share my journey, to serve the country I believed in enough to go to battle for, but that is no longer my desire. I will never encourage my daughter to join the ranks of our military. Instead my daughter will know of my journey of protest. Though it seems a fruitless battle in opposing further invasion and murder for oil. We will join arms and let our faces be seen and voices be heard. It may be of little use, but it puts us on the right side of history.

The unfortunate continued battles for our freedoms are not won on battlefields. They are fought in the war-room living rooms of America, planned out by the most common, but bravest of citizens. Freedoms are won in our streets, at counters, in front of clinics, in schools each day. Freedoms are won by artists and writers who move people to action. Freedoms are won in jail cells and court rooms. Bullets and wars are made to create diversion and division- to sustain the status quo. Freedoms are held by the fearless. Those who hold their ground in the face of others who would rather draw blood for perceived differences and the mighty dollar than to sit and talk about our commonalities.

My daughter may go to war, but it will be for those who do not have a voice. The immigrant, the child, a woman’s reproductive rights, our environment and natural resources. Our fights are many and growing each day, but they are not in the desert lands of the Middle East. Our fights are in the streets, homes, and classrooms of America. Our fight is to recognize we are no better than the next person. Our fight is to regain the humanity that is quickly being lost.

slowly

Slowly moves the ground
beneath the fallen acorn.
Times tells stories not in days, but years.
Roots appear
spread and hold to rise.
We see the tall tree-
branches splayed
to shade
and protect.

It is a masterpiece
not to be known
in a day,
its power in the time
we did not witness.

Power in the patience
of its roots reaching deep
to build the base
from which it spreads
great strength.

01/02/2020