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| Subject: Crazy Good | |
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Author: Kristen |
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Date Posted: 22:10:18 10/03/04 Sun The Blow Your Cover Game: ‘Crazy’, I hear. He didn’t . He did. Stopped. Dead. Cold. Sick. Mad. Gone. I cannot find my way back from this hit. I cannot LOVE myself, not there. Fumbling. Their attention asking for something. It's still on me. NO, I cannot disappear right now. It would be rather rude to get up and walk out the door. Actually it just plain would look bad. Blind to their faces. I look away. Here it comes. Sensation designed in waves of what feels like wells of ocean. Liquid force upward rising, hot and vibratin. Burning against denim between my thighs. My pussy undulates eminates, I choke on heated throat sticky, dry stuckness. Throat find pussy and water in between. Like river rapids, blocks bubbles and pop, disappear into one widening stream. My diaphragm joins in. Contracts and releases. Hunching forward. Arching back. In my belly, a huge vacuum pulls the skin’s surface backward into inself and my spine feels massaged lengthwise. Between my legs, under my armpits, heat. I get hotter. Shit its hot in here. Sweaty. And uncomfortable headache in my third eye. My eyes do their thing, leak release. Sob. Then light enters, my third eye softens and I raise my head to the ceiling. I can breathe deep here. Remember the humor of it all. Open eyes. Now. Here and now. The friendly faces of seventeen others look my way. The room is burnt orange and glazed. They appear much much closer in this new world. Me and them. Us. Still coming... Vulnerable, skinless and scared. N.: ‘What was the zinger? Unconscious terror of that word, that description, the one I DIDN’T want to hear. The one that had me weepy, being confirmed. But N asked me. I fog myself. Muster up some bullshit about wanting to be held or having everyone’s attention felt good. I am getting sleepy. After The Course: Familiar options, familiar choices, familiar aloneness. The Next Morning. 7am: Call to sponsor. She laughs, I giggle, ‘No, I only left program again for yet another reminder of how dumb it is to ‘. Between phone receiver, and silk pillow, she is quoting Rumi, ‘Try something different.Surrender.’ I muse. Usually bitterly responsive, I am today not angry, just pondering the idea. Making room for it. Today: Work. A long day, three hyperactive sugar loaded kids. Prayer works. Orgasm helps. God is here, in this place between my legs. I find myself appreciating them dearly, not my legs, the kids. I am tolerating and generous, flowing the day through to quitting time, enjoying the parks, tv shows, games, fights, diapers and tears. And driving home 280 was especially picturesque. Tonight: I am recognizing that she (I) who have been flirting with death, going completely nuts in a vicious addictive cycle that has been exacerbating daily with each new recognition of the need to give it up, seemed for a brief while suspended from action. All was calm. All was clear. I thought with clarity.. Considered. Intended to write here and followed through. Played with the idea of calling 2 particular people whom I picked up charge and telling them I want to be closer to you. Then let my fear detract my plan to connect with those individuals, but went to the writing instead. Eating dinner alone, James Taylor sang a tune about creating a world where childrem could grow up free. I sat and listened, feeling grateful to our forefathers of the sixties for I actually AM one of those children that generation dreamed of freeing. You did it I said to James aloud. Thanks. Alone in this big house, getting a little choked up even. I feel totally held in grace. The evening alone has been filled with an ongoing stream of gratitudes. Said goodbye to my parents as they went off for 3 weeks to Italy leaving me to housesit and relax. THANK YOU. My thank you’s one by one seem tell a story of how deeply i longed to have the tenderest me run this show. How that tenderest me has been the nectar sweet under the pretty flower with sharp thorns and bristles. How the tender me wants nothing but to be felt and how this group of people I find myself running with now are where I am, wanting the same. How grateful I am that I get to have the experience of watching myself. That somewhere some other humans like Buddha said this is pretty cool. Lets choose to have fun while we’re here. I just had a different definition of fun. I have had to E X P A N D my limited definition to include discomfort and insanity. I realized tonight that tenderest me has been a back seat driver, trying desperately to get heard. And now knowing there is a room, a home and universe, a reality where the eyeball sensitive me gets to play without being blinded. And that what it is to be human, while inexplicable to my little self, is obviously worth this kind of effort AND this kind of surrender. That I can be and am on a road toward living more and more from my desire even if at times it looks like I am back peddling. I am probably just like the planets that retrograde. It felt today like I was carried. And that something great took me in ITS arms. Held me safely and around me was powder blue sky. Oh and I have been in orgasm ALL DAY. [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
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