Tag: wildly

young woman standing, giving direct eye contact draped in fiery orange shawl as if standing in flame.

In a Flame.

Did mother’s raise women for Warrior Spirit? and what of their sons? Or is the question..Do warriors raise themselves? Did father’s humiliate the confidence out of them? What of their circumstances? Does he realize himself independent of these? Is it deepening her understanding? of her true essence? Of their wounds and their purpose.

And what of me? What I am to do with all this fire? Is there a masculine with the strength to kindle it and softness to cherish it?

Can my warrior be feed by the masculine flavour with the same willingness my feminine is in support of Him? Does he understand the place I’ll land is both firm and ever-expanding? Where I can feel into myself and through his world. Into my humanness and divinity.

If he can’t, I find the inevitable threat of my glow, swords, tongue and sweat. The focus shifts to control, on containment and winning of whit. My wisdom is lost on him and me, dispersed in the chaos of life. Lost to everything declared he already knows and lost to what we both have yet to understand. I want to recognize his every invitation and answer with sincerity.

I want to recognize his every invitation and answer with sincerity.

To my horror, flux is invisible to him. He prefers I were a stone carved by his vision. I keep blazing about, hoping a flicker will grab his attention to what lives.

Speech becomes littered with demands, choices disguised as ultimatums. Shame and guilt the new display, a relentless administering of false power.

Does he see a woman in her struggle of humanness and divinity as a threat? And young girls as pleasure?

Here, I feel stuck towing a line I did not draw. I can’t seem to access my heart, my love of play, of him or self. Paralyzed, I perceive the choice as either /or. I unleash the very thing he condemns me for, or I submit myself and plea. In my protective fight, I lose.

In my protective fight I lose.

I lose connection to his heart, the possible dissolving of my ego. In my minimizing, I lose myself, we stomp the passion.

Sex is now dead.

Wrestle This..

I was there for the overwhelming muscle mass, the tight performance/ theatrical wear, and the tinge of fear vibrating in my belly. I was with a dear friend to share the experience.

What I got however, was much more.

I laughed hard. I admired the no-nonsense women in the crowd yelling playful and honest cut-throat antics. I had never been to a wrestling match or should I say show?

My Uncle used to watch it on TV. I couldn’t understand the appeal. I interrupted his programming with lots of questions and found the answers mostly confusing.

My Uncle: “No, it’s rehearsed.”
Me: “Grown man play pretend? in costumes?”
“They kinda hurt each other, it’s not real violence?

“looks real to me” peaking through little fingers.

Then shock. My hands slap the couch, I suddenly wide-eyed announce WAIT! as if the TV people would hear me cueing everyone to pause…. “other grown men know all this and watch it?”

I was very much a ” but why?” x5 child.

Here’s what I wasn’t prepared for some 20 years later.

DADDY VS. FEAR

The metaphor stung my eyes. A rush hit me in the gut. The next couple of seconds felt frozen, similar to my childlike imagination easily able to conceive the TV people pausing at my urgency. The crowd at it’s most unison for the evening, cheering on Daddy. I began to sink into the feeling of something very unfamiliar. I wanted Daddy to win. I lost touch with the fantasy of wrestling and grappled with this brand new desire. I had never experienced anything like it before. It simply had never occurred before. Oh my god! I want Daddy to win. Yeah… insert “Daddy Issues” which coincidentally became a crowd chant in opposition to Fear.

Heat started to rise up my body, I knew this is a healing sensation, take it in I told myself.

Transformation happens with an internal temperature rising.

I let it travel from my pelvis up to my head. My cheeks I assumed at one point flushed. I not able to chant with the crowd, part of me is frozen and I am attuned to my inner world. I am watching Daddy move, taking hits and coming back. I honestly can’t tell you if Daddy won the match. I don’t remember.

My body feels differently, though…
Are you fucking kidding? Daddy won!
I can’t help but smile with pride.

Wildly, Truly, Deeply,

Laura