On Saturday, I celebrated my birthday with some friends. It was a
smaller affair than years past but I felt it more personal. Two of my friends asked
me what my wish was for this year. One friend, G, said "I'm a genie, what
would you wish for if you could have anything?" I stared blankly at her. I
said "I would like to get a clearer focus on what my career is supposed to
be." "Too vague" both my friends said. "Try again. Be
specific. Don't censor it or think like you can't have it."
"Uhhh..." "Is it money?" one asked, "uhh...I'd like to
have purpose too." "What does purpose mean to you?" "Where
I feel like I make a difference." "Vague." This went on an on
and at the end of it, I just said "I'm too fuzzy about the
specifics." And they were like that's why your life is fuzzy. My friend G
said "You know my goal is to make $800,000?" I looked at her like
what?! She said "The number is big yes but I own it. I want it. I will get
there. And if not I'll be in the vicinity." Her conviction and focus
were...just something I wish I had.
So your words ring very true here: "you are having great fear and resistance and collapsing. Giving
your power away. Believing a story about yourself that you are not good
enough. Feeling the pain of your own rejection." Yes, yes and yes.
In a purely fantastical world, I can't even reach very high.
The business woman, the wounded woman, the longing woman, the writer
woman. You can't have their feelings leak into each other.
Write ONE THING you need to do for each part of yourself.
The business woman needs to believe in something she wants. She need to
find out what she wants and pursue, pursue.
The wounded woman needs to have compassion for the journey it's taken to
get here.
The longing woman needs to not give her power away. How this exactly
works I'm not sure. But she cannot let the feelings of being small and
insignificant stop her from believing she can have what she wants.
The writer woman needs to write daily. End of story. Journal, whatever.
Where are you in your mother's words in how she
takes away your Desire?
There was a
song in college I found that completely held the power of my mother's words in
its lyrics. The sense of being dragged down and then just letting it happen. So
I am fighting to untangle myself from this belief...
She makes me
wanna die
Follow where
Mary goes
Cherish the
things she knows
Look to the
sun
See me in
psychic pollution
Walking on
the moon
And how
could you dare?
Who do you think you are?
You're
insignificant
A small
piece, an ism
No more, no
less
How do you give it to her?
In my thoughts that I am small, have something to prove,
born with original sin and trying to show otherwise. When she loves me, I'm her
star. When she wants to hurt me, I'm nobody and everyone is better.
So I do special/worthless with myself.
How is your
power, heart and vagina connected to your desire?
Well, it all feels disconnected and stagnant. My power feels
dissolved, heart feels closed and vagina feels neglected, alone and afraid at
the same time. So desire, the burn, the want for anything doesn't really feel present.
There's a minor ache in my chest, where the embers of some kind of desire still
burn...but like that conversation I had with my friends, it doesn't feel
convincing, powerful and alive.
What is your orgasm attached to?
It used to be
pain...like a voyeur watching a girl's needs and desires thrown to the side
while she acts as a holder for all of the man's needs. But lately...lately..my
body has started staying in my own body or it switches back and forth and wants
the passion, the pleasure of actually being with someone. Me being aware of my
own desire and pleasure. This is a first for me...
How does your desire, or lack of desire affect
your creativity, intimacy and spirituality
My
lack of desire has made everything stagnant, like a river caught, where all the
gunk is starting to rot and decay and the water is murky and unfresh. No
life-giving purity. It feels like there is no flow, or spark going through me
to energize me to action. So the lack of desire is like my mother just waiting
for someone to hand her the world and save her.
Make a list describing your mother
sexually, sensually, creatively…
My mother is the most asexual person ever. She never talks about sex,
thinks I'm a virgin, used to look at people who had sex as gross and never
really loved or acted passionately with my dad. She's like a 13 year old that
way. I remember once I saw my mother stop after pulling a freshly laundered
towel out of the dryer and just press it to her face and body and I just stood,
kind of shocked. She said "ahhh so warm." It was the one of the few
times I have seen her do anything sensory oriented. Enjoyed in the pleasure of
anything. Creatively, she can paint. But doesn't. She like art but does nothing
with it. She used to be more creative in Oman, but after we came here she
stopped everything. I have never seen her create anything really, other than
cooking. Even thinking creatively out of a problem is rare... as she mostly
either says something superstitious or "just give it up" or "I
told you so."
She never worked a job or knew what school was like here...she
never had to know. How to work hard, then even harder, thinking creatively as
you go to figure life out. She left everything to my dad. The only fire I ever
saw from her was her rage at the world or my dad.
So there was a ghost where my mother was concerned sexually, sensually, creatively…
No comments:
Post a Comment