It sounded like applause
Like the masses
Hopeful at last
Cheering a new deal,
  a new day.
Wheeled warrior, roses at your feet
  on your dog
Watching forever into the distance
There freedom:
  of speech, worship
  from want, fear
And the tide rolls on
To this future place
Where you are metal, stone
Reduced to words on a wall
Washed in perpetual applause
While distant boys die under fire
Still, get buried in earth
Despite your words, the hope,
  cheers
We did it again
Mothers in tears
Divided and conquered
  again
Again we fall, fall
Like water over stone.

copyright 9/11/2007

Shame Lessons in Three Acts

Act I: Smack Down

Creaking springs perpetual
Legs bent
Back and forth and back
As they ride by on their bikes
The five-year-old me says,
"She's a snot."
Not knowing, just a parrot
  on a plastic horse
Reporting the news learned
And the hand comes swift
Cracking hard
Leaving a burning red mark
That lasted longer
Than the one left on her cheek.

Copyright Sage 8/9/07

Act II: Streaker

The doorbell rang and rang
Rang and rang and rang
  for me, it seems.
Nobody else heard
  in that very full house
That early in the morning.
So I padded down stairs
In PJs, all wide-eyed
Eight or nine and the only one
  awake.
Too short to see through a peep hole,
I open the door.
A man in snow cap (little pom pom on the top)
  sneakers, Mark Spitz moustache
  holding his genitals out
An offering to  "suck my dick"
Before I could ask
He streaks off into the dawn.
I know I should tell
That this is
  important.
I pad to mom and dad
Wake them up to tell
And her fury and panic
Confuses me, spins me backwards
Was I sure
Was. I. SURE??
Suddenly I consider
  maybe I made it all up
  maybe I dreamed it in my mind
Maybe I am in trouble
And it's all my fault
At eight or nine
Early morning
Doorbell.
Door.
Man.
Dick.
I. Must. Have.
But why?

From then on, I doubt
  everything.

Copyright Sage 8/9/07

Act III: Sex

Daddy has a penis.
It is soft and wet
I feel it when I roll on top of him.
And I say what I feel
Young reporter that I am
Rolling all snuggly and warm
In bed with mom and dad in the morning.

But then I'm banished
Harsh voice reprimanding
Hit like cold, hard bricks
Aimed directly for my head.
They end up as gravel
  in my throat.
A wall around my thumping heart
Tower of cold, red brick.

And something bouyant, light, alive
  in me
Sinks like stone
Into a dark and hidden place
Bits of clay, rock
  are all that remain.

Copyright Sage 8/9/07

I cannot believe it has been a whole year since I posted here. Where did it go? Whoosh, like water swirling in a toilet. Whoosh. Gone. A whole freaking year.

i'll post more angsty poetry. Maybe tomorrow.

Perhaps God is the risotto, warm and salty on my tongue
Or the parmesean clogging up my intestines
No, God must be the overcooked tomato with its floppy translucent skin
Maybe the wealth of balsamic vinegar saturating every spinach leaf
  on my recyclable plastic tray
I'm wondering if God resides in the uneaten chunks of peppered onion
Or the condensation dots left from whiffs of steamy heat
Is God the slippery melange of sauce dripping off my fork?
Or the carbfest chocolate mint cookie wrapped in plastic.
Might God be the bleach white twist tie... or the plastic, itself deceptively simple
  to see through?
Could it be that God is the acid swirling, breaking it all down
  inside again and again?
Hidden except for those raging volcanic moments
  fist shaking epiglottis
Because something has to give, to be sacrificed
  on the steaming hot altar
And today, it will not be God.

It comes in waves...

Yesterday was power-walking
Morning and music, muscles moving
Tunes and tall trees, squirrels zipping
Smiles to everyone on the path
Then dancing in the light
Slithery songs, bouncy, punchy hip-thrusters
A leaping Lothario who liked my smile, took
  my hands, twirling, dipping me into sweet sixteen...
And suddenly I'm flashed backward, like a television drama
And I really am sixteen, maybe seventeen, again
Pudgy with glasses, ankle deep at the beach
Delighted and quite full of myself, splashing
Such innocent fun
Cool tide at my tootsies, friends laughing on the too-hot sand
Sun backward and boardwalk smells beckoning sweet
Feeling powerful, popular, relieved, relaxed
I twist toward the horizon ...

And today, like that  face-high wall of water
Crashing over me, leaving me blurry, half-blind
Shocked, rocked, at the mercy of
I woke up the same.
Serenity snatched like my glasses by the tide
Half-crazed and panicky
The sugar and salt smells swirling, suffocating
And I must gag myself with bananas and licorice
Chocolate bars and mayonaise, whipped cream (regular and soy!)
Cherries and french fries and bread with jam and more than that
It's still not enough
To retrieve my old plastic-framed glasses
  from the sea.
To quell the rage and regret
To bring back the music or the dance
To make me remember

And this is sometimes the way of things.

(Copyright 2006 - Sage)

It's kind of landed in a sad way today that I don't have close friends. I have a fabulous husband and children, nice work associates. I have acquaintance-friends I've made in different environments, but I really don't have an "inner circle." Characteristics of the inner circle include folks I felt safe enough calling up at a moment's notice for help. Folks with whom I could leave my house key or ask to get my mail when out of town. Someone who could take me to the doctor and back home after surgery if I needed it. Heck, someone to put down as an emergency contact would be THAT type of friend. I think I used to have that. I used to have best friends... And things happened over time. Change. Withholding. Busy-ness. Drifting. Preoccupation with grievance or distractions. Completely different schedules. Not making it a priority... Blah blah blah.

I miss having really close friends. And it occurs to me that the friends I've had are people like me. Fearful, food-centric, hedonistic, self-hating (with a lovely veneer of attempted self-love), self-absorbed, narcissistic, people-pleasers, intellectualizers, angry, and bad or worse at self-care and boundaries. Most have the never-ending grievance story about some part (or a large part) of their life being miserable because of thus-and-such or so-and-so... perpetual victim position. Most people I've attracted into my life have had problems and needed to vent a lot. Not a lot of upbeat, positive, passionate life-enhancing energy there.

What does that say about me?

Do I seem more upbeat, positive, passionate and life-affirming only in contrast to them? Or, do they find me to be LESS positive, passionate, life-affirming, and upbeat? Holy Mother of God. This is a significant moment of realization.

Now, I feel a little like Jonathan Livingston Seagull (even though I really do NOT like the whole anthorpomorphizing thing...). Maybe I am separating from the old peer group and headed toward the new? What does/will that look like?

I want people in my life who are joyful, committed to joy and growth and exciting, life-affirming action and results. I want people in my life who can be quiet and vulnerable, feeling and empathetic, yet passionate, full-on laughter-filled, available, honest and able to call me on my shit when I'm behaving in a way that is inconsistent with my purpose on earth. I want folks in my life that I can hang out with and not have business be in the way. I want folks in my life that inspire me to grow and challenge myself. I want folks in my life who are living THEIR life purpose, manifesting abundance, fun, celebration, delight. I want folks with whom I can be honest and dearly loved simultaneously. I want ecstatic, magical moments, dance, adventure, and warm full-on hugs and ease of BEing together.

I want folks that find me valuable AND who I find valuable. Mutual love, adoration, celebration, challenge, support, openness, and magic.

Ready? Set? HERE I COME!! :-D

I assisted at an erotic dance class today (floorshow + lapdance combo) and it was delightful to be in service to such a wonderful instructor and sweet, keen students. It was my first time assisting, though I have taken classes from the instructor before and loved them. I so believe in the juice and power of her work! Service was an absolute joy. Then, I attended the first bay area Journeyman III Academy graduation ceremony. It was short and sweet, with a fabulous graduation address by Deborah Addington. I am writing an article about it and JA III for a local BDSM newsletter to be published next month. Very cool! And my sweetie is back home from his road trip to get the car his mom gave him. Now, he has a slightly newer model car but one QUARTER of the mileage. Generous gift! Just wanted to share more news that I am seeking and finding and dancing delightedly in JOY today. Feels good and there is PLENTY of joyousness to share. May your week be divine!

A few days ago, I met with my TR momentum session mentor and later chatted with a couple of others whose experience was one of the momentum session = sales pitch for TR Mastery University. While I got that part of it, somewhat my focus MOVED the session I had to a higher spiritual level for me. I'll share it here...

So during the session, I got to hear myself arguing vehemently for my limitations. My mentor was clear and gave me his advice, and then tempered it based on my very emphatic, passionate arguments and reasons for choosing to sign my husband up for MU and send myself later (not to mention other limiting bull**** beliefs!). I have some very good, very honorable and responsible reasons for my choices... AND I got to have a deep and reverberating experience of HEARING myself - arguing for limitation and lack of ability and resources... It was an amazing, emotionally wracking learning for me.

I got to see all the little and not so little ways in which I have settled for minor treats and compensations, all the ways I've been trained by family, the educational system, our media, society , yes even my friends... to expect smallness from myself and from the world. Cheap toys, fast food, television, immediate gratification, wage slavery, exhaustion, depression... the list goes on. Well SCREW THAT!! No more.

I've been repeatedly tapping into this revelation during the last few days and hearing myself... putting myself into MASSIVE PAIN around it. I got to see a family history of thinking small, dreaming small, staying small... struggling and discounting any glimmer of dreams so they are "reasonable" and within the proverbial box. ENOUGH. I've HAD IT. NO MORE!!

So now I am opening myself up materially, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually.

I DREAM BIG!
I SUCCESSFULLY, MAGNIFICENTLY FEMIFEST MY GLORIOUS DREAMS!
I RECEIVE WEALTH EASILY, JOYFULLY!
I LIVE THE LIFE OF MY DREAMS!

I am committed to writing down details. ALL the details of what I deeply truly want. I receive delightful, positive, radiant abundance with joy and grace. My presence touches lives deeply, poignantly, and with lasting positive repurcussions for them and for me and for countless others.

ACTIONS:
I am getting up early - as close to dawn as possible. I've been walking listening to music, to Tony, to the birds before sunrise. I've been drinking lots of water and eating much more produce. No more dairy - it sucks. No more land flesh - it sucks too. Reduced sugars, reduced flours. I'm cleaning up my clutter. Making decisions. Visioning, jumping up and down, squeezing my fist and putting my body in that joyful position that my new buddy Bouncing Bob told me about during our physiology exercises. I KNOW what it feels like to be in energized joy. I take myself there in a HEARTBEAT! ****in' A Skippy, this is powerful, wonderful stuff!! I am femifesting. I am revealing myself to me. Hold on kids, it's gonna be an AWESOME ride!

Life.
Life will never be the same.

Not temperature... TURNAROUND! I plopped myself into a Tony Robbins seminar this past weekend and it was JUST what I needed to snap me out of my skrunky blue fog. YAY! And, I walked on hot coals!!! Ooooh, way amazing that was.

It was an enlightening, enlivening, energetic weekend and I floated into this week grateful and grounded in who I REALLY am! YAY!!!

Is it okay to feel dark and gloomy here in this sunshine happy flappy place where the pods are singing and bloggers are sitting zen and drinking herbal tea and breathing deeply of bliss and extended orgasms? Is it okay to say I binge and bloat and feel so utterly stuck and dirtied by my own materialistic weavings that I want to puke? Is it all right to say I want to stop the world and get off, crawl into bed and remember how to breathe again? Is it okay to admit to hating myself and detecting zero self efficacy and thinking I've reached my level of incompetence? Can I exit stage left and get directed to a good green room with a comfy couch and a soft pillow? Where's the love? Where's the magic? Where's the off switch?