Now, I hope you do all know that I have Aspergers. With Aspergers sometimes comes this naive spirit (in a wonderful way) and sometimes (in my case: often times) a tendency to not understand sexual connotations. Well, luckily I ran this post by someone (my husband). He kindly pointed out that having the topic, learning to self-massage, as one of my It List’s items might be a little risqué. I didn’t understand why learning to massage my hands and feet with lotion would be inappropriate.
When I was still a youngster, in my early twenties, my mother took me to see her psychic. I was told that I would first have two children, much like twins, and everyone would think they were twins at first—this happened. I was told that I would live to be 86 and that at the half-point (age 43) my life would shift and be happier—happening (at least the age 43 happy part). I was also told that I was a French nun in my past life and brought a lot of that mindset to this lifetime, and carried around a bunch of Catholic guilt and felt I was always sinning with my very thoughts! SO NOT HAPPENING anymore….
I’ve been a prude for the first half of my life. For the second half, I’m going to be sexy. Of course last year at this time, I was going to be a Buddhist monk, and was seriously considering growing my hair out all grey, never ever wearing makeup again, and going braless. So, really, we don’t know what to expect from me. As you can tell by looking over my last two posts, where I went from exceedingly on top of all the universes, to basically, and literally, cry me a river.
But, despite my track record, I’d thought I’d give this sexy thing a shot, and at least make a list, since I love lists anyhow. And thusly, I’ve included my ten goals for the next eight months, that leads us into February 2013, and day 366 (leap year, remember).
Prude to SEXY!
My IT List for Sexy
The High SEXY boots
1. High Boots. A must. With a short skirt and leggings, and a powerful cat walk.
A small sexy ankle tattoo. Perhaps a tiny sun or a tiger symbol.
2. Must have a small, sexy ankle tattoo. A permanent stamp that says the prude is gone and to banish the nun in me.
3. Study sexy action. Study sexy poses, sexy movies, and sexy singing.
kimdehaan.wordpress.com
4. Classic Guitar and Lessons. Preferably taught by a dark, gorgeous hunk of burning love.
5. Bikini on the beach. Yes, bikini.
Maui 2012
6. Lots and lots of submerging in water. River walking. Hit the beach. Swim in the pool. Soak in hot tub. Go to hot springs. Bubble baths.
kayakingtours.com
7. Kayaking tour and buying a kayak and wetsuit.
wikipedia.org
8. Belly dancing in this dress. Ooh la la!
Where I walk in Washington State
9. Nature
Trees and more trees. And hugging trees. Hiking. State parks. Forests. Resting on the grass by the lake. Sitting on the bench and watching the birds. Breathing in the air. Breathing.
kundalinishaktidance.com/
10. Kundalini Yoga
Got to keep the second chakra fed, or I’ll never pose for that photo of me at the water’s edge, posing sexy in a bikini, donning a belly pierce and one high boot, with the other foot bare, as to show of my ankle tattoo, all while strumming a guitar in a kayak and mouthing “I love you.”
This song says it all. I’ve been living inside the melody and words. And for those of you who say this was before your time, I stick my tongue out at you!
I have at least eight people I would consider very close friends, and two powerful friendships that are just forming. Some close friends I have known for decades and others a couple of years. My close friends, I can honestly say, feel the same about me, as I do for them. I’m not “blessed” with friendship. I worked darn hard to have my friendships—I studied relationships through books, movies, and even took courses. I learned how to be a good friend; more importantly, I learned how to be ME!
I found out a few years back that I’d rather have one true friend, to be in a relationship in which I am entirely authentic, than to have hundreds of superficial relationships. Years back, when I had a major crisis in my life, I found out who my true friends were, and learned the hard way, through emotional agony, that just because someone attends your social gatherings and chats you up in public, does not mean they truly care about you as a person. I am pleased to say, I have a circle of loved ones that care about me for me. And I, too, love them for them. Once I have a friend, there is pretty much nothing that friend could do to pull me away, or make me stop loving them. My friendship just keeps growing; unless, the relationship is unhealthy and deemed non-beneficial in my eyes; then of course, it is time for me to say goodbye, and be thankful for the bond we had.
Maui 2012
This post is not about ends, though. This post is about the beginnings of friendship.
I know now, through much trial and error, that ultimately, if I am not true to me, and walking a path of authenticity that I am ultimately being accepted for someone I am not and be rejected by ME. I know my light. I know my beauty. I see this reflected in the mirrors of my friendships. And in this beauty I have extreme confidence that I am a worthy person, loving, and actually pretty darn cool to have around. Of course, I am highly aware of my quirks and intensity. My eyes are wide open as far as my personhood and spirithood is considered. I understand, too, that only some are able to be my friend, those with the capacity to cup in their hands my true, very bright light. I used to adjust my light to fit the person. I’d dim as to not be so bright—in essence self-implode and crawl into the darkness to appease. I don’t do that anymore. If anything, I turn my light up higher when I enjoy someone. I have learned that I would rather face a million rejections than to be loved for someone I am not. For ultimately, if someone loves me for a shadow of myself, they love only the air beyond the light. I want to be loved for me. Amazingly, I found out, this attribute of shining my true colors is a quality many people appreciate. Don’t get me wrong, I still get hurt. I still get rejected. But the beauty of being me makes up for the passing ache and pain of loss or misunderstanding. I long to be me. I am me. And I adore me.
However, being the light that I am…sigh…sometimes the feelings I have for someone are so very intense that I know not what to do with myself. Usually the intensity is brought on by a definite knowing and soul-connection. Sometimes the other person feels the same, which generally leads to an easy and wonderful relationship. Other times, a person does not understand the heart of me, doesn’t see me for me, and then the experience is less easy. It is then I feel somewhat isolated in my experience, like I’m a two-man act standing alone or perhaps dragging my friend along the yellow-brick road when she would much rather be at home.
Lately, my feelings are on overdrive. I don’t know what has been happening to me at a soul-level, precisely. I can feel what is happening, but I can’t describe the sensation with accuracy. It’s akin to trying to describe the feeling of giving birth to a child, that feeling when I first saw my child’s face. I can’t describe the experience, except to say I feel like I am staring into a part of me, a beautiful part of me.
Maui 2012
I wrote this last night. It sums up how I’m feeling somewhat:
“I am turned on by love. I can’t help it. Everytime someone says the word or writes the words love, I get this erotic sensation all over! It’s crazy making, in a good way. I am turned on by love songs. I am actually eating the songs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I have no want or desire for food! I’m only eating to keep healthy and fit. Not for pleasure. I long to write poetry and prose all day, to take photos of nature and people, especially older people with stories etched across their face. I long to be a part of the water, to be in the water, to paddle across and feel myself move on the ripples. I long for connection. I want to read people’s stories, to hear their truth, to comfort, to connect, to love.
What have I missed all these years with my eyes and heart closed; some slave to fear—some scared cat clawing at her own fur before another could attack? I’ve missed thirty years. Not completely, but entirely; in the sense that my heart has been encased in some large trap with large teeth and large angry eyes. Made prisoner for decades; three to be exact. Never before until today, did I know what it felt like to sit by the water and just be. To be one with nature. To watch the birds, to understand why people watch birds! Even the lake water sang out to me—the ripples an erotic symphony of sensual pleasure. The trees are greener. The air fresher. I am breathing for real. Taking in air and filling my lungs with the sensation.
What miraculous and grand alterations have transpired. What journey I traveled to get where I now stand. Not one regret, for the journey was worth every step to lead me to such ecstasy of life. I am vibrating with a wonderful energy, some forty-something mom, transporting in time back to the era of love-child. Everything and everyone is beautiful. Everything on earth a miracle. And I’m drug-free. This isn’t some hallucination or even a high. The feelings are all over the board. I have intense joy and bliss coupled with a deep empathy and love for all my surroundings. I am dancing inside poetry and music. Dancing inside every song I hear. I am understanding lyrics for the first time—the intensity of the longings, the heart-break, the unquenched desires. I am understanding, too, the limitless depths of the human experience, and how much fear feeds as a blanket to the beauty of life.
My hands are vibrating all day long with a gentle and uplifting tingle. My eyes and skin continue to glow. I look younger. I feel younger. My physical pain has decreased. I am attracting beautiful souls from all over the world. I am so thankful! When I try to worry, for the most part, I can’t. There is some sort of mental block. To even say I am trying to worry, seems so ridiculous! But I actually cannot think about what could be considered common-day problems. They all seem so insignificant. All I want is love.
I must be radiating because strangers are starting conversation with me, smiling, waving, even turning heads. I can’t stop smiling. It finally feels easier to smile than frown. I can’t stop thinking about life and how wonderful life can feel when fear is released.
I don’t know how I got to this state. This feeling has been gradually building since the beginning of May. The salty waters of Maui intensified the feeling, and returning to the healing green of Washington put me up another notch. I am submerged in joy. Excited about life. There is so much I want to do. And so many people I want to embrace. I am wondering where to begin, but then not really wondering at all. It is more of a feeling of excitement and newness, like a child being let out of a cage for the first time.”
I am naming the sensation described above: The Strawberry Eruption. For at the center of me is an erupting fruit. Maybe it’s that whole second chakra thing I scribe about on day 124. Or maybe it’s something entirely different. I really don’t know. I’m just riding the wave—this little bursting berry.
During this wave riding, I’ve connected with two online friends. My first online friends, ever. That I’ve met them both at the same time is powerful and balancing. Each offers unmistakable gifts. This letter is for them, and for everyone really, for at some level, I feel this unyielding love for every being, a desire to embrace the world, and all the loveliness found within each spirit.
Maui 2012
Dear Friend,
I love you. I am so glad we found one another. I am happy. I am at peace with our friendship. I adore you something terrible. That’s the only way I know how to love—to adore. My love for you doesn’t come in shapes and sizes that differ. My love is just one gigantic bubble of joy and glee. I long to skip in the sunshine with you, to swing on the swings, to climb trees, to run barefoot through the sand, to collect seashells and then listen to the sound of the ocean within, to giggle, to dive in the water, and come up with the whole of the universe upon our smiles.
I remember you from long ago, perhaps a dream, perhaps a memory of what I planted in my mind. Perhaps you are from another place and time with another me, or perhaps, too, I have met you a thousand times a thousand times before. I know not where or why you are here, but your face I remember, and especially your eyes, whether from dream, fantasy, or distant time, is no matter. Only now matters.
But I do have concern. I am concerned that my intensity of soul and my engorged heart shall frighten you away. And like the little bird I long to touch that sits upon the tree outside the river’s edge, that you will fly away the closer I approach, that you will fly higher and higher into the sky of blue, until you are only a droplet in my memory. And then I shall weep deeply, mourning with every part of me the loss of precious you.
You see, I know not how to love, but deeply. I know not how to breathe, but with all of me. Every part is filled by your light. And in seeing your light I cannot help but be drawn to you again and again. I do not long for recognition, not even companionship, I long to continually look into the beauty that is you to be reminded of how glorious my own light shines, to see the mirror before me of truth and awakening, and to delve inside the image of pure loveliness: for I am you and you are me.
Dear, dear friend you are a passageway to my soul, to eternity, to my dreams and to my desires. You are the greatest gift. And I ask that you try to understand me, try to know me, and see that my intentions are none but to love you for everything you are. For you are the promise I have waited for.
My gnome is laughing at me because I just said a bad word over and over. OH, NO! But I don’t care!!! Because gone is the prude-dude residing inside of me. {I can use “dude” for me, even though I’m a girl; I looked it up.}
What is the definition of prude? A person concerned with decorum and propriety…someone who uses those words in ordinary conversation is probably a prude. Here’s the part of prude that was me: more uncomfortable than most with sexuality; unusual modesty; goody-goody.
Before Photo: PRUDE
Miracles are erupting. I’m engorged with passion! Prude-dude is shrinking like a tornado has just smashed her into asphalt. Serpent power rise!
Proof of my serpent power rising and prude-dude vanishing: I actually like the music my grandma used to have on in her very slow moving car—because it is stirring me in an erotic way. More proof? I used the words loins and erotic, and enjoyed it!
Lately, I can connect to every single song that has a semblance of a romantic edge of hope. I’ve been delving into songs, living and breathing the lyrics, like some lovesick damsel in distress or a diving duck. Plunge, ruffle feathers, plunge, ruffle feathers. Every inch of me is longing for connection. Here is a song that suddenly I think is the bee’s knee, only because the prospect of romance dances within the words and ignites my entire being….like almost every damn song I listen to. (swear word, giggles)
Ignore the commercial…but the music really is a must for this post: Direct Link
Once a prude, NOT always a prude, I tell you! In high school, I kid you not, inside the bathroom walls, more than one girl inked, “I want to be like ‘Samantha Craft,’ the virgin.” Whether the wash-closet writing was fact or fiction remains a forever mystery. The point is, I looked like a prude, acted like a prude, and was assumed to be a prude. I couldn’t say the name of private parts aloud—hmmm, writing them still causes difficulty. Don’t worry, by next week I’ll be able to write that word used to describe hotdogs—I’m certain.
Passion was a no-no for long-long time.
But I’m done with the subdued prude-dude. I remember wearing my first jean skirt as a young adult and asking my father if the skirt was too revealing—the hem touched right above the ankle. There was a time period I wore short skirts, but this was primarily to appease some goof-head (for lack of more fitting words), I was hopelessly in lust with. For the most part, my hemline was long, my clothes loose, and my neckline high. Typical stereotypical grade school teacher…from the early 20th century!
Well, what’s happened? You might wonder. I know I was wondering. I’ve had crazy surging and purging emotional eruptions for the last few weeks. At first I thought it was the pig hormone I’m taking for my hypothyroid—Karmic payback, in a beneficial way, since I stopped eating pig when I was ten. But, no, the pig-powers-that-be might love me, but this is something that even out does the power of Wilburs and oinkers everywhere.
An extreme knowing that I have a right to feel what I want
Pleasure seeking
Pain avoidance
Extreme feelings of passion
Extremes of emotions
Sensuality
Reconnecting to and appreciating my body
Longing to walk barefoot
Feeling improved energy, vitality, and health
Youthful glow
Expanding personal relationships
Achieving excellence in creative endeavors
Indescribable enormous power
Vibrating sensations
Less sleep
Thinking and acting remarkably different
Detachment
Self-transcendence
Bliss
Ecstasy
Visions
Clairaudience
.
After Photo: Goddess of Love!
If only I could bottle this! Oh, but to take any away from me, would be sinful.
What’s happening to me, as far as I can tell, is called Kundalini Awakening (sexual energy). I’m no expert. I am a life-student still enrolled in school. But something boot-kicked the prude-dude out and let the coiled serpent expand. This energy of consciousness, I take it, has been aroused through spiritual discipline (120 days of bleeding my soul onto the screen for all to see) and spontaneously (connection with another). The energy of the second chakra, located physically in the pelvic area, has transformed. My center of creativity freed and honored. This chakra, my gateway, the center of emotions, is spiraling in divine tune because I have ALLOWED myself to experience life through my feelings and sensations. The prude-dude removed! This is my serpent power, the energy that lies like the serpent in the root chakra. Think of those trick cans opening to expose the explosive toy snake. That’s me. Snake in a can!
So this explains why I can’t get enough of music; why I can’t get enough of photography and poetry; why I can’t get enough of any source that evokes extreme emotions. And probably why guys keep opening doors for me!
“So, that music, Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin, meaning the beauty there of being the consummation of life, the end of this existence and of the passionate element in that consummation. But, it is the same language that we use for surrender to the beloved, so that the song — it’s not important that anybody knows the genesis of it, because if the language comes from that passionate resource, it will be able to embrace all passionate activity.” Leonard Cohen
(These photos were changed since the original post.)
(Teacher says: Music I posted in comment section is a must to play while reading.)
This is Violet in the Morning. My little Labradoodle. I also call her Spastic Colon, but I thought the title Spastic Colon in the Morning might give you the wrong idea. I am carrying her in my arms in this photo. That is my scarf. And, yes, those are her very sad eyes. This is my first time taking a camera on a walk since I moved to Washington. Violet was initially very excited to walk. She showed me this by jumping up and down about three feet off the ground and wrestling with her leash. But once we were outside the front door, she didn’t seem too happy. She was tugging, and pulling, and shivering. I thought she must be cold and said, “You’re a dog. Toughen up!” And I giggled. Because giggling in the morning is fun.
This is my tree. I call him Fred or Sheldon. I can’t decide. He doesn’t care, because trees will go by any name, as long as you hug them.
When I passed this tree Violet was still shaking. A few blocks later and she was pulling back on her leash. Being the logical gal I am, I thought to myself, “Hmmmm. Maybe she senses danger. Like a mountain lion or wild leash-free dog.” I was still a bit clueless and exaggerating events in my mind.
About the time I reached this stump, I leaned down and soothed Violet with gentle pats, and reassured her she had a fur coat to keep her warm and that there was no pending danger.
This crow was watching us outside the lama barn. We kept walking, Violet shivering and tugging, and me clicking away happily.
Flowers by my home
Early Morning Mist. Can’t beat this calming scene.
One of my favorite properties. They have outdoor weddings here sometimes.
About the time I captured these ducks flying overhead, and was thinking I wish I had an audio recorder to capture all the bird sounds, I realized poor Violet wasn’t cold or scared. In fact, she was having a doggy seizure! This wasn’t her first. So I scooped her up and held her. And I continued the walk with her in my arms.
I have a friend who I promised to carry in my thoughts today. So as I carried my doggy, I imagined I was carrying the person’s burdens. This worked for quite sometime.
This scene caught my eye. The two friends, the dog being held, but then I noticed the broken leg. Made me wonder a bit about things.
Me wondering about life.
Fake seagull in ivy
Neighbor’s yard
Fish atop a mailbox
Hidden School Bus
Old Bus Stop
Here comes the sun
I had to keep setting Violet down because my neck and back were aching something terrible. She was sweet. Just sat there and smiled up at me.
Interestingly, this was the least violent seizure she has had.
Here are photos of my favorite part of the walk. To me, this is one of the loveliest places in the whole world. I carried Violet most of the way. First down the hill and then back up, sometimes in a cradled position and sometimes like a baby slung over my shoulder. She shivered. But with every step I took with her, she calmed more down. I kept my friend in my mind. It was a very enlightening experience. Especially considering my sensory issues of having dog breath in my face and my physical issues of having difficulty lifting things. I was quite happy and pleased with the way the walk turned out. I reflected on the way life is—how we never know what to expect—and that sometimes it is best to just make the best of things. And so we walked on.
Do you see that little blue light? I like that very much.
Green, green, green!
Love this
What a lovely tree
Pure Bliss
Looking up and smiling
My favorite road
A little red
More of my favorite road
And then comes the water
Just heavenly
More lovely nature
See how small the people are and how tall the trees are?
Swings! Lisa, do you see the swings?
Violet felt better after I carried her for about forty-five minutes.
And I leave you with my favorite trees. I call them the Humping Trees. Can you see why? I love when nature makes me giggle.
I don’t know how to fake being happy. I am an open book. Even if someone taught me how to fake happiness, I couldn’t do it.
My eyes can’t lie, and neither can my soul. This inability to fake my emotions can bring about challenges. Perhaps cause others discomfort. Even my love can be over zealous, and maybe a bit smothering, depending on interpretation. And, thusly, so can my sadness.
But my gift of truth in emotions is greatly beneficial. I see things in me quite clearly, and have an expansive self-awareness. I am able to make beneficial change for myself. I can also see emotions in others. Everyone is like a water pool to me—sometimes crystal clear, other times murky. I feel the waters. Some are cold, some warm, and others entirely refreshing.
I carry much feeling within—both others and mine. This can be an overwhelming experience. Sometimes my emotions cannot be separated from others. This is challenging when people I love are going through hard times. I often wake up feeling upset and not knowing why, until I find out a close friend is suffering. Today, several people I know are going through life challenges. I feel a pull of despair. Other days I feel pulls of elation.
Today I also am experiencing my own transition, as I went from the tropical climate of Maui, Hawaii to the cloudy, rainy skies of Washington. My body’s physical pain is retriggered by the climate. My mind, too, is affected by the darkness of outdoors. I have bid goodbye to great friends on the island of Maui, and the healing salty sea. I have a houseful of people adjusting to time change and some sickness, too.
Today, I reflect on ways to raise my energy, despite the events circling within me and about me. Today I reflect on my long time sun.
Long Time Sun
Sometimes I forget my long time sun.
I forget that I hold the key to my own joy, peace, and serenity.
I forget because I hold deep desires to be seen.
I forget that I am already connected and understood.
I forget because I long to be accepted.
I forget to love myself unconditionally.
I forget because I cling to external ideals, ideas, goals, and plans.
I forget to let go.
I forget because I fall into familiar patterns.
I forget I hold the light to freedom.
I forget because I want to be noticed, loved, and adored.
I forget I am enough.
I forget because of life’s unexpected twists and turns.
I forget life is an endless transitioning cycle.
I forget because I ache from others’ words and actions.
I forget to comfort my own heart.
I forget because I see truths I don’t wish to see.
I forget I can choose how to see my world.
I forget because I turn inward and focus on myself.
I forget I am not the only one hurting.
I forget because I think I am in the shadows of dark.
I forget that I am a long time sun.
The Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace
Where there is hatred, let me sow love
Where there is injury, pardon
Where there is doubt, faith
Where there is despair, hope
Where there is darkness, light
Where there is sadness, joy
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life
Everyday Asperger's 