a little inspiration

i need to buy tickets to her show in seattle this spring. like, tomorrow. i missed out last time she was in town and i refuse to do so again this time. about two years ago when i was just starting to journey into my presence as a sexual being, i remember posting a video of her and just watching again and again, in complete awe, how quirky yet sensual this woman is. her voice. her movements. her songs. her sass. it's all just present for all to see. of course, she is scandinavian and they are legendarily wonderful at embodying their sexuality, but that doesn't in any way lessen her victory of self.

seeing here again reminds me of how far i still have to go. i still am only a fraction of the way there on my red dress days, much less all the ones in between.

Lykke Li & Bon Iver doing 'Dance Dance Dance' in L.A from Lykke Li on Vimeo.

recovering a sense of saftely - pt 2

i want to preface this post by saying how much i love my mother. i know so many other amazing mothers and i can't think of one that i would rather have. i wouldn't trade you in for anything, mom {all of my posts automatically are emailed to her}. so, okay, i'll stop writing to her and start writing my piece.

.............................................................................

my piece. it's about recovering a sense of safety in another part of my life. and this topic is one i have been meaning to write more about. to reclaim it from the quietude of shame, which, looking back, has always been an symptom of my lack of safety.

it's late and i've just scratched all i've written because i am getting too caught up in telling a story and perfecting the words. here are the simple facts:

i have carried my mother's shame about her own sexuality for too long. i see now, how for so long i blamed it on my religious upbringing, having close family and community members being molested, a natural maternal protectiveness, etc. i have had many excuses, but now, i see how much i have inherited my mother's skittishness. internalized it. incubated it. and now i'm forced to face it down and own myself. whether on stage or in real life, i have a history of physically flinching away at the mere thought of being seen as a sexual being, or being witnessed as having the audacity to believe myself attractive {even in the humorous play, the man who came to dinner}.

shame. how much it burns. mom, how you have burned me with your own shame.

i could go into more detail, draw out all the symptoms and their parental causes, but i'm going to keep it simple, get to bed early and move on: mom, i give you back your shame. keep it. do something constructive with it, ideally move on from it yourself, but i've learned all i need to learn from it and it's time for me to be able to explore the full range of myself as an actor and a human being who is sexual in nature.

{eek...i still inwardly cringe from writing it here...what if someone reads this!?!?! which shouldn't discourage you from doing so :}.

so i affirm: it is safe for me to consider myself as a sexual being and it is safe for me to be witnessed doing so and to share that sexuality, deliberately and safely with another.

eat pray love

i just finished this magnificent book today. so wonderful.
the writer, elizabeth gilbert, is funny, grounded, and completely open and unapologetic. towards the end she even wrote about masturbation {this is a true story of her travels} which is something i give her a lot of props for in my head. her account chronicles the ups and downs of her spiritual and personal journey {one and the same in my view}, love life, sex life {or celibate life for most of her trip}, etc and it's all there is clean and simple words.

in a slightly tangential direction {i circle back, i promise}, one of the things that has most lingered with me after seeing gloria steinem speak last month {after the elegant lines and gestures of her hands} was a question i misinterpreted. the facilitator for the panel of feminists had asked: what do you risk to write? and she received answers like i risk to be seen. i risk to be heard. or not heard. etc. what i had initially understood of the question was: what is risky for you to write?

this is a question i want to answer and challenge myself to risk here in this space. on this blog. what are these risky bits of myself that i don't feel like i can advertise? the first and foremost answer i always hear is: my sexuality. my sexual development and confidence, that, quite frankly, has made leaps and bounds in these past 8 months of being with my current lover and dear dear friend, az. {yes, we shy away from boyfriend/girlfriend. yes, it's a serious relationship and yet at the same time, no, i don't necessarily see him as the man i will marry or have children with, but if that happened, i wouldn't feel sorry about it. i just feel pretty certain there are other long term partners for each of us.}

so, how can i present this journey toward a confident sexual being here in this space and how do i make it tactful, graceful, elegant and yet still be open and unapologetic? how do i let it be what it is truthfully, without editing and controlling the presentation too much for fear of its reception?

it's something i've been mulling over for the past month, so reading her story has been a good way of observing the way she navigates these waters. i've taken a lot of mental notes on how she discusses everything from sobbing on the bathroom floor with gobs of snot running out of her nose, to {non-judgmental} observations of her body while she slowly gained 25 pounds inhaling pasta in italy, to the physical and emotional transformations associated with crossing over into early stages of enlightenment. so easefully written. truthful and unadorned except for sprinkles of humor and vavacity that make me feel like she's one of my good friends.

well done, liz.

oh, and if you haven't seen her TED talk, you should do so here. she speaks as nicely as she writes.