Portland, Oregon —- Reflection of Tree in Window with Words I AM May 2012
I AM
Hidden in window
Waves of reflection
I am
Watching
Helplessly
As he slips through parched fingers
Cool water
Evaporated
Into sky
I am
Longing for his sky
Same world
To break free
If only momentarily
From this prison of glass
by Sam Craft
Maui 2012
Return
Erotic Dancer
Moves like dripping sunlight between sheets
Swaying sensually
In the coming of last summer’s day
Amid the amber warmth of season gone
And fall’s approach
Embraced
In oneness
Scattered crimson crows through open door
A trail of breathing soul
Hopes
Prays
Winged-wind doth carry thee home
To me
by Sam Craft
Sam Craft
Today I weep to the music of the Carpenters, with a depth I’ve never felt before. And I dance, to ABBA, with a glee only known to the Dancing Queen. This is me, today. All over the fricken place!
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.)
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 