Friends. I wanted to share something. And this experience echoes something I wrote about with Ana, in her quest for passion. I love how life often imitates art. Or do we simply create that life, which is first born from our art? Hm...
I had a moment today, an epiphany, a realization of something that has had me spinning in circles lately. I figured out ways in which I was self-judging or limiting myself. And it wasn't at all about what I thought it was about. Isn't that funny, the stories we make up? The real issue was somewhere deep inside, hiding, in places that I never (maybe only secretly) talk about. The big secret?
I come alive at night, in the dark, in the stillness, and write poetry. I've never been much of a poet. But in those quiet spaces, in the in-between, when I am not writing a novel...these words come out. And they are deep and filled with passion, romance, and some sort of eternal longing. Every so often this side pushes to the surface, and I always felt disconnected from it. Afraid of it, somehow. And the self-judging part...was in being ashamed of these words. "I don't write this stuff..." Push it back down, hide it. And a slurry of thoughts about how I would be judged would come to mind, if I were to share these private words from my soul. I wrote them incognito; short micro poems, under a pseudonym. On Twitter, into the wee small hours. Slowly, I found myself exposing this side on my regular Twitter account. Slowly uncovering myself layer by layer. And guess what...no one cares. It's not that shocking. I even got some praise, and interacted with some cool new people. Lots of people do this. I'm a jackass, we know this already, I learn things when I learn them. Moving on...
So all day, these thoughts whirled around, I couldn't wait to curl up with my laptop and blog about it. The fire was raging, my eyes were lit up, I couldn't wait to spit it out... But as I sat down, loaded up the website...the madness stopped. The furor, the urgency, dissipated. It felt strange, for a minute.
I wasn't thinking about it. Or much of anything. The circus...stopped. My breathing was normal, not agitated, not excited. I was, I am, completely relaxed. For the love of all that is holy...call News12, I am at peace with myself. For the moment, and it's a grand moment. I am living in it, breathing it in, relishing in the quiet, peaceful, love fest within myself. It's wonderful. I feel like a hot tub. Or like I'm sitting in one. Whichever. It's mellow and easy and lovely.
And now that I've identified this battle within...it's so easy to see where it's poisoned my thoughts and perceptions of so many things. And it's much deeper than writing some hot poems.
As women, in particular, we are trained from a young age about our sexuality. It comes at us from all angles: religion, school, parents, friends, peers...
So. Sex is bad. All through our growing up, in adolescence and beyond...don't dress like that, don't give it up, don't withhold it, on and on...society has taught women how to feel about their sexuality. Neglecting the very notion that we are designed for this very purpose, that it is our power, our birthright. Yet sometimes regardless of how empowered we think we are, there are pieces of this doctrine sitting dormant inside of us. Women are taught to feel ashamed about their sexuality. To hide it, not to talk about it, not to explore it, not to honor it. Religion teaches us that sex is for procreation only. And if that's your belief, then that's your belief, and I respect all of them. I am not religious. I am spiritual. I seek only to connect to the Divine within and all around me, within each other, and to nurture and explore that force, that connection, and to express it authentically, toward a better human experience, collectively. But that's just me. We all have our own paths to walk.
So, this idea, this negative connotation about sexuality, causes suppression. And I am not simply discussing having sex. When am I ever talking about 'just one thing,' I live in metaphor and double meaning. Such is our existence, open for interpretation. The whole human experience is allegory. But I digress... I am talking about sexual energy.
In denying the inherent nature of women, which is to create, we stifle ourselves. As women, we create and nurture LIFE within our own bodies. Sexual energy is the very force of creation. It's the most powerful force available to us. To apologize for your sexual nature, is to punish yourself for the very gift that makes you Divine and miraculous. In as much, knowing this, we must cherish and hold sacred our sexual energy, as blessed as it is. But not be ashamed of it. Not tuck it away, buried deep within ourselves.
Sex is not a bad word. It is not a "bad" act. It is not immoral or vulgar or sinful, although so many women still believe this, and are still ashamed to discuss it. Our sexuality is beautiful, it is connection, it is the ultimate in creative energy and life-force, whether that sexual energy involves a sexual act or not. (psst...it's all energy, anyway. That's another post, though.) Do you know why people crave orgasm so much? Because we stop thinking. We connect, spiritually, to the web of energy that connects us all. We reach for a moment into the infinite, we detach from ourselves. Years and years of "education" have placed iron gates of moral judgments between the ideas of sexuality and spirituality, but only to the detriment of women. But what if it's all the same? What if spirituality and sexuality are intertwined? So by extension, poetry or any writing or art that celebrates and expresses such...is not to be looked down upon or judged. It's just expression. Raw, honest, Divine expression, about our human experience. All of it. To know yourself is to understand your dark, as well as your light, and know that all of it, is beautiful and Divine. Because it is all you. Embrace it all, own it, accept it, and love through it. To subdue and condemn your unbridled expression is to quiet and suffocate your soul.
What we create from our souls...we create. That's it. We must let it be, celebrate it, nurture that creative spark, as it may reconnect us to our true and most beautiful nature, as women. As people, as highly spiritual creatures, living as human beings.
Over the past few nights, another woman inside has voiced herself, in all her passion and romance and soul searching, and dreams of soul-love. And I listened to her. I didn't judge her or shush her or scold her. I just listened. I value her, I appreciate her, I let her speak, I let her write. I love her. Because she is me, unmasked. And in that meeting, in that acceptance, in that forgiving... I am at peace. And loving all of me. <3