Okay, I’m still here. I promise, the blog is not dead, just on hiatus. I’m a writer with no time to write. – what a total cliche. But I still have so much more to stay here – so bear with me. If you’re still here, still reading – I promise I will come back eventually.
In the meantime, if you would like to share your story - anonymously – here in this space, I would love to share it. Please email me at awakenings@awakeningsblog.com
For now – a video. Coming out is important. Living out is important.
I found this video a few days ago via the divine Dorothy Snarker, and although I’ve never been a Grey’s Anatomy fan, it stopped me in my tracks. As Dorothy says:
“In less than two minutes she brought up what is a universal revelation in the life of almost every gay and lesbian person. The lightbulb. Whether it comes quietly to oneself or jarringly in the open, it happens….The catch in her voice was the catch that comes from an answer you never even though to ask the question to but now can’t believe you ever lived without knowing.”
And she’s right, no matter if you use leaves and glasses or tasting a food you’ve never tasted or any other analogy, there is that moment of facing your truth, of slipping into your experience, of life fitting on a level you never thought possible.
For me it was like I was a multilayered puzzle – all the levels had to become perfectly aligned in order for the puzzle to be completed. I’d get the pieces so achingly close, but I could never quite ease them all into the exact positions necessary to bring it all together. The harder I struggled to make them fit, the more things would shift and the less likely it seemed that I would ever figure it out.
And then came the moment where I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes and everything effortlessly fell into place – exactly the way it had always meant to be. And I was stronger, and more sure and infinitely more aware of everything.
If I was an animator I could draw you a cartoon of exactly how it felt. Picture me, in solid form, surrounded by a whole bunch of other me’s …different colors and transparent to different degrees, all vibrating at slightly different frequencies and moving at slightly different speeds.
I walked through life with all those versions of myself hovering near, moving in and out, overlapping, and almost, but not quite ever, lining up exactly with my core. Then there was one day, one minute, one second where all those multi-hued layers slid into utterly perfect alignment – not even off by the smallest fraction of a millimeter – and all their beautiful colors made me glow from within. For the first time there was just one me, a same-but-not-same me (just with one heck of a big gay rainbow aura).
And even though it’s been far from perfect since then, and there have been plenty of times where my alignment has been knocked far out of wack, I know now – in a way I never could before – that the only way to bring it back to center is to live with utter and complete authenticity. That alignment wasn’t just about coming out and accepting that I’m gay – it was about what happens when you live your truth, and that involves choices in every moment of life.
And when I make the right choices – when I am true to myself and live with intention – I always see the leaves.
***
Dorothy also recently posted that ABC/Gray’s Anatomy has decided to unceremoneously terminate this lesbian storyline – currently the only one on primetime TV. Read more about it on her blog.
I gotta talk to you for a minute about Andrea Gibson. I’ve got talk about her, because I don’t know if I have ever, ever been so moved by the work of a single individual.
“Gibson is also among the nation’s most admired and emulated poets. Her verse is at once personal and political, concrete and abstract, feminist and universal, filled with incinerating verbs and metaphor and delivered with gut-punching urgency. You can hear the ache in her soul every time she utters God’s name, and even her inhales sound desperate. It’s not uncommon for audiences to gasp at some of her turns of phrase or rise to their feet when she finishes a poem.” MATT PEIKEN
She is a woman of uncommon passion, her performances lit by an internal fire that powers her through her poems with the force of a freight train, slicing through lines with the sharpness and precision of sword. She spits her words out like bullets – hitting me right in the gut, and in the next second changes course and breaths out her message with a gentle caress that makes her words drift to my ears like leaves falling softly to the ground. Every word carefully chosen, unflinchingly delivered, cutting through bullshit and convention with the energy of someone determined to create change but also with the tenderness of someone whose heart is so big she has to hurt more than most of us. She performs with ferocity and with compassion and with so much feeling that I am left raw and exposed by the power of her honesty.
I want you to watch these videos. I want you to close your eyes and absorb her words, her passion, her activism, her fire. I want you to feel her work with every fiber of your being. I want your toes to tingle and your heart to pound and for you to feel changed by what you hear. I don’t know exactly why I’m telling you this, why I think you need instructions or set expectations. I can’t quite imagine that you could listen to these words and not do all these things. I don’t know that it is possible to be fully present and aware and NOT be wholly moved by the spirit and soul of what this woman creates in the performance of her art.
Blue Blanket
I am moved by every single piece I have heard her read, but this one – this one more than any other – brings me to my knees. It slams into me and makes my breath feel tight in my lungs and my heart thud in my chest. If you have ever been violated, if you have ever sat and held a woman who has been violated while she cried or sat in horrified numbness, then you will feel this poem with every last cell in your body and the final line will remain a part of you long after you have finished listening.
I do.
Love poem and political statement all at once, this is just one the millions of reasons why it matters that love just be love, without restrictions, or inequality or limits on who and how and why.
“i never needed more
than the stars on your grin to lead me home
for fifty years you were my favorite poem
and i’d read you every night
knowing i might never understand every word
but that was okay cause the lines of you
were the closest thing to holy i’d ever heard
you’d say this kind of love has to be a verb”
Dive
Life dosesn’t rhyme. Paradox, irony, mirrored reflections – it’s all the beautiful grey between stark black and white, it’s the ambiguous spaces between absolutes where the brilliance of life resides.
“”it’s your worst sin saving your fucking life
it’s the devil’s knife carving holes into you soul
so angels will have a place to make their way inside
life doesn’t rhyme
still life is poetry — not math
all the world’s a stage
but the stage is a meditation mat
you tilt your head back
you breathe
when your heart is broken you plant seeds in the cracks
and you pray for rain
and you teach your sons and daughters
there are sharks in the water
but the only way to survive
is to breathe deep
and dive”
Say Yes
The world needs us right now more than it ever has before…this poem is hope – empowering, uplifting hope. This poem is the life I want to live.
For Eli
This is how I feel about war – not just the one we’re in now – but every last one of them.
““one third of the homeless men in this country are veterans
and we have the nerve to Support Our Troops
with pretty yellow ribbons
while giving nothing but dirty looks to their outstretched hands
tell me what land of the free
sets free its eighteen-year-old kids into greedy war zones
hones them like missiles
then returns their bones in the middle of the night
so no one can see”
***This blog post really has nothing to do with the sex scenes in this video, but still – you should enjoy them. I know I did.***
The latest episode of The L word ended with a series of particularly….um…shall we say inspiring scenes. Playing in the background was a song I’d never heard before, and the words ‘everything is perfect now’ were repeated over and over again. As often happens, the song somehow got under my skin, and so I downloaded it when I got home that night.
Everything is perfect now. Yes I thought, wouldn’t this be a perfect song to have playing in the background when everything comes together? If I were creating a movie soundtrack for life, this would play at that magical moment when the universe aligns and everything falls into place; when the sun is shining, the birds are singing and (of course) I’m getting a toe-tingling-earth-stopping kiss from the girl of my dreams. I played the song a few times and daydreamed about all those so-perfect-they-sparkle-around-the-edges potential future moments. But of course, as happy as thoughts like that are – they also create this vicious little melancholic cycle – ‘cause I’m not there yet.
When I connect with a song I often set itunes to ‘repeat one’ and let the tune play over and over and over again while I eat, write, sleep. As I do this, the music permeates my soul on a different level. It becomes part of the backdrop of my day and knits itself into the fabric of my conscious and unconscious mind.
And as I was lying in bed the next night, listening to the song for probably the hundredth time, it suddenly came to me…I had it all wrong. ‘Everything is perfect’ wasn’t about some maybe-moment in a far off future. It’s about right now. This moment. This breath. This now.
Not because my life is exactly as I want it, not because there isn’t loss or pain or confusion or fatigue or stress. Not because I’m not wishing or dreaming or yearning for things I don’t yet have. No, everything is perfect now because in this moment, everything is exactly as it should be, as it NEEDS to be, as it MUST be.
The point is not that everything is PERFECT now. It’s that everything is perfect NOW. As it is. Every blissful, joyful, transcendent, orgasmic bit of it. Every screwed up, fucked up, stressful, bewildering, heart wrenching second. Every profound and meaningful or random and pointless interaction. Every moment of bitter loneliness, and every moment of soul-connection. Every first kiss and every last goodbye. Every single emotion we are experiencing. It’s all perfect because it is what IS. Because what IS is exactly what needs to be. What has happened is exactly what needed to happen to get us here, and where we are is exactly where we need to be right now in order to move forward.
And what could be more perfect than that?
My spirituality has evolved considerably in recent years, and the core of my belief system is grounded in a soul-deep understanding of universal energy. That every person, thought, word, deed, object, circumstance, event and place is created from, composed of and guided by this energy. Some of you call this energy God/dess, or fate or karma or destiny or the source, but I believe with my whole heart that we’re ultimately all talking about the same thing. It’s that force that is beyond us and outside of us, but that is also deep within us and, indeed, is us.
I believe this energy to be infinitely wise and undeniably powerful. The times we get ourselves into the worst messes are the ones where we are fighting this energy with everything we have. Unwilling or unable to surrender, to let go, to relinquish control, we fail to accept and embrace. We are unable to exist from a center of gratitude and abundance. We struggle and doubt and wallow in self-pity because we are focusing outside the moment, beyond our reality. We forget that everything is perfect now.
Miller’s response was a perfect example of profound simplicity…”Now. What other time could there possibly be?”
Now is the only moment that truly exists. It might sound naively simplistic or annoyingly zen – but it is true. What is done is done, and what will be will, ultimately, be – but when it comes right down to it, now is where it’s at. Now is where we are. Now is all we have. Now is all there is.
Of course there are days when I want to pull up the covers and hide in bed, and days when I want run from demons relentlessly chasing me. There will be moments where I’m pissed and stressed and angry at the universe because things are not going according to my plan. I will still struggle, and I will still fall and I will exist in a place that is the very antithesis of enlightenment. When I’m in that space NOW feels as far from perfect as I can possibly imagine. But in those moments I just have to remind myself to come back to the moment, back to my breath, back to my own, personal, undeniable NOW and re-center myself around what is, and not what I would like to be. And as I give myself permission to relax into this, to believe this, to know this as truth, I am filled with peace, serenity, gratitude and joy.
Yes, it’s true. Everything is perfect now. How could it not be?
This is not an ode to any one particular woman, but to all women who love women. Enjoy.
[This is what I listened to while I wrote this, so of course I think you should listen to it while you read it. One of the sexiest songs ever.]
there is something
about a woman
something about the way
my hand slides
along the smooth curve between
her ribs and her hips
and settles along her waist
and curves around to the small of
her back
to pull her closer
something about the way
our lips meet
and pull away
and electricity pulses
and our eyes connect
to share a million secrets
and hands become entangled in hair
and bodies fit against one another
like pieces of a puzzle
something about the softness
and the firmness
and the perfect alignment
of parts
and about that magic spot
right
on the inside of
her hip bone
there is something about the
familiarity
of intimately knowing what
and where and how
and why
it all works
and that, in our shared feminine experience
there is undeniable connection
something about the
the way we meet as equals
and the safety of
exploration
and the vulnerability of
opening
and the freedom of
surrendering
and the bliss of
coming back to earth in
her arms
something about the feel of her arms and legs
intertwined with mine.
and the sound of her
voice in my ear
husky with desire
like the wind, or the waves
or a lullaby
before falling asleep.
there is something about
the way my body reacts
whole, instantaneous
passion awakened
need overtaking
and spiraling
and roaring
in my ears, in my heart
and in my very soul
till I am dizzy with my yearning for
her
and, oh yes
there is something about
the way friction becomes
something far more exquisite
than I ever fathomed when I was
sitting in physics class.
and there is certainly something
about the heat and the sweat
and the sound of her ecstasy
as she climbs and crashes
and the way she moves
inside of me
and of reaching down to feel
the slickness and wetness
of our desires
mingling together
and the almost unbearable
sweetness of the rhythm of moving
as one
and the scent of her on me
surprising me when I least
expect it.
something about the way there
is no ending or beginning
just the endless experience of
being
something about the stopping and starting
and whispering and laughing
and traveling to the edge,
and back
and back again.
This week started off on a good note when my new friend M (I told her this week she’s my L-word bitch) walked in the room and, as threatened, I jumped up on the couch and yelled out…
“You messed with the wrong bitch, bitch”
‘Cause like I told you, I’m crazy cool like that. And I’m sure that everyone else at the bar agrees completely….me, totally cool. Obviously, yes.
After that kind of kick-off, only good things can happen, right?
Okay, I’m not going to recap in chronological order, because I’m a little spacey and fragmented today (just today mind you, I am normally a highly concentrated individual with a sharply focused mind).
Most important development: Bette and Tina.
Oh.My.God. Bette and Tina. Tina and Bette. Bette getting topped by a newly aggressive Tina. Oh.My.Hot.
I’ve never been a huge Tibette fan, but you’ve got to admit those two have chemistry. After five seasons, I think we’re all just rooting for them to make it. Their sex scenes have always been undeniably fabulous (the scene where they were baby-making, and the crazy wild sex after Tina found out about Candace for instance…need I say more?)
But this week….Um Yeah. Just watch, is all I ask. Even you straight girls out there. Just watch.
[…as an aside, watching the L word when you’re ovulating but don’t have anyone to have sex with is dangerous. At one point during one of the above scenes my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I seriously thought I was going to have to leave the bar and find a way to relieve some tension. Ask J…I’m a quivering ball of sexual energy right now. Seriously…]
Okay, on to Jenny.
Confession Number One: I might lose some credibility by admitting this, but I think that the more outrageous Jenny gets, the more she grows on me – in a hate-to-love-her/love-to-hate-her kind of way. She’s utterly ridiculous and utterly delicious all at once. She annoys me and amuses the hell out of me at the same time – and I rather like that in a girl. (but seriously, those nails have to go. What lesbian has nails like that?).
There were many brilliant Jenny moments this episode, but the opening scene takes the cake. Jenny is directing the actresses playing Bev and Nina in Lez Girls in the scene from season one where Nina tells Bev (or Tina tells Bette) that she is ovulating. The two actresses playing Bev and Nina are clearly straight girls, and totally awkward and uncomfortable. Jenny, with that perfect look of calculated arrogance and studied ennui, is attempting to explain how the sex scene should go…*
Jenny: “This is what I want you to do — you are going to look at her — and you’re going to TAKE HER — and you’re going to THROW HER UP AGAINST THE SINK — BAM! And you’re going to look at her with passion and then you’re gonna and you’re going to take her, and you’re going to kiss her — with tongue. And then I want you to reach down and then I want you to finger fuck her and give her the best fucking orgasm EVER…” Bev: “Oh — you mean — with my hand?” Jenny: “Yeah … unless you have some other apperatti that i don’t know about?” …
I’m crazy impressed that they managed to work the word apperatti in there – because seriously, every sex scene needs some apperatti, right? It gets even better when Jenny tells them she’s going to hire a lesbian sex coach so they can learn to get it right. A lesbian sex coach. I love it, I love it, I love it.
Jenny: “You guys really don’t know how to fuck women, do you? You guys are going to learn how to fuck…”
She Bar Bitches
Confession Number Two: I am rather ashamed to admit this, but I kinda think that Dumbo is hot. Sure she’s a bitch, and her put-on ghetto-fied speech and mannerisms are aggravating as hell. But just to look at. Um yeah. Hot.
Lover Cindy though, I could do without. The loyal sidekick with her perfectly coiffed blonde waves and utterly vapid stare…ugh. Annoying. Automatic Straddle got it totally right when she called her Disco Barbie. Shane, however, gets props for trying to make amends, very adult of her. Shane’s hair though, needs some assistance.
Oh – who am I kidding. I’m as hot for Shane as anyone. Who cares if she has stupid hair, really. I can get past it.
Best quote of the scene: Dembo: “What can’t you do Shane…other than make my girlfriend come?”
Seriously? Lover Cindy was unsatisfied by her encounter with (um…cheesy seduction of) Shane? Highly doubtful.
The scene was made for me, however, by the Peach Pit reference. For a girl who went to high school in the early 90’s, 90210 references can only make a good show even better. Come on, didn’t you ever hope Brenda and Kelly would get it on in the Peach Pit bathroom?
Oh, and how many times can Dumbo say “It’s On”. Really?
Alice and Tasha.
Deep sigh, sniff, sniff.
As my new girl M. said (with a slight hint of panic) during the scene: “Where are you going Tasha? Where is she going? Is she going?”
I refuse to believe that this is it for Alice and Tasha, because anyone can see that they are perfect for one another. And Tasha has to stay on the show, because otherwise who would I swoon over? Because her cheekbones and her eyes and her smooth creamy skin and her smile and her beautiful flat stomach and those strong arms and…
Oh wait a minute –where was I?
Oh yeah.
Don’t go Tasha. Please don’t go. Didn’t you see Alice crying in bed? She is broken-hearted without you, and I know that beneath your tough exterior you are broken-hearted without her. You two are meant to be together, and besides, I have a serious need to watch you have sex again. So come back Tasha. I’m begging now. Don’t let me down.
Clothing:
All I have to say is Jenny and Tina – get some new clothes. Now, please. Those boots, Jenny? That bow, Tina? All those puffy shirts and strange dresses. Really? Yikes. Life is too short to dress that badly.
Alice gets a little more leeway to wear somewhat odd outfits, ‘cause she’s Alice, and she’s so dang cute I could never judge her for anything. But Jenny and Tina, you’re not anywhere near that adorable, and I have to hold you to higher standards.
Look at Bette, the girl has got it going on. She rocks her power lesbian wardrobe, and the lady can work a white tank top like nobody’s business. Shane has a look that works for her too (that black see-through shirt. Whew. It got to me. See ovulation comment above), but you two are struggling. Once Adele (see below) starts dressing better than you, you know you’re in trouble. Just try a little harder, is that too much to ask?
Adele:
I love to say I told you so, so I’ll say I told you so. That girl is trouble. Now that’s she’s gotten her Jennified ‘What Not To Wear’ makeover and has gone all Single White Female on us the storyline is beginning to take shape. I’m starting to get an idea where this is going, and I don’t like it one little bit. At least Max seems just as wise her tricks as I am – and I’m feeling fairly confident that he’s going to take care of business. You go Max, watch out for my girl Jenny – she’s a little clueless on her own, no?
Final Miscellaneous Comments:
I loved Phyllis’ comment that she didn’t want her daughter to think she was a ‘debauched promiscuous lesbian’. I get where she’s coming from, I mean I don’t want my daughter to think that either. But honestly, is there anything wrong with being a debauched promiscuous lesbian? I want to know; because there is a slight chance I might consider becoming one, at least if this ovulation business goes on much longer.
My other favorite line was the bit about the faux-protesters (lead by Dumbo herself) saying that they didn’t want their neighborhood “portrayed as a hotbed of lesbian sex and salaciousness”. Dumbo’s personal vendetta aside, all I can think is, damn – I wish my neighborhood was a hotbed of lesbian sex and salaciousness. Right?
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