Double Dutch

Ever play double dutch on the playground? Imagine the ropes are going so fast and you're just stuck staring and hopelessly trying to catch the rhythm in order to jump in at only the right moment.

I mean, if this dog can do it, surely I can too. This is kind of how life feels in this moment. Like I'm the kid who does that dance with her hands in the air and that stance that says 'any minute now I'll take a leap'. 

I think it's time to worry less about my form, and just trip until my face bleeds. Not all realities are pretty. That includes mine. And I have to find a way to be ok with that. 

For the record, I was awesome at jump rope. Double dutch included. Anyone want to play? 

Actually...

That thing I mentioned, pointed out, bought, and/or loved? 

It's because *I* like it. 

It's because I want it (or lust after it) with ME in mind. 

I really am not a selfish person. (Am I?) 

I just want to be able to share what makes me happy without it having to become what someone else should have in a different color, or something that I 'can't' have because it has attributes close to what someone else would like. 

That's all. 

Goldilocks The Lion - This Ain't No Fairytale

Nothing is fitting. Not literally. Not my clothes specifically. They fit just fine. But like Goldilocks, I am having difficulty figuring out the best fit for some of the simplest things. Where to sit, sleep, and eat are just the icing on the cake.

It's a real problem, not knowing where you fit. I am rather glad this whole move/adventure didn't come with a warning that said 'You'll go crazy trying to figure things out' or I might have been frighted away a la Miss Muffet and her spider friend.

I'm learning a lot about the things I take for granted. I'm not only having to jive with new people, but new people are having to want to learn what makes me ... well, me!

The best chair, bed, and meal for this lion? The ones I'm invited to, am not confused about, and understand the boundaries around. I never realized just how important it is to me that I be included, invited, and filled in. I'm used to knowing all that I need to know. And now, I become lost and overwhelmed when sitting on the outskirts of interesting and complex relationships.

These are the 'good things' about being overwhelmed and 'lost' .... the discovery bits where I ultimately learn important things about me. Does that make it suck any less? HA! No. But, I will carry on! I've got this.

It's Not Easy

Being 'lion' is pretty damn difficult. No, I'm not going to rant or whine. Although, if I was and you didn't like it, I really don't care. Take that!

(no one said I had to be nice)

My world has never felt settled since I moved. There are a lot of realities that it sucks to face, and a lot of fantasies that are far from real. I've blogged before about how the move has been overwhelming, how the 'only thing familiar is me' and that it's been an incredibly difficult journey. I'm not about to say that it's not without its rewards. Just because I can't see the rewards very clearly doesn't mean I can't acknowledge that they exist, and with persistence, more will follow.

Sleeping is dark for me. It's when I think. I haven't felt this way since high school. Ewww. High school. Bleck. Whether just a nap or down for the count and a good night's sleep, I nod off with a fight against the things that make me sad or upset.

The two things I was pretty sure about when I moved (one of them being my job), are not even so solid any longer. (I lost my job!)

So here I am. Trying to muddle through and all that I expected is not at all how I envisioned it. Bitter pill to swallow, but I'll figure it out. Honest.

Empty Pages & Blank Canvases

Different. Everything is different. I wrote about it recently, and if you missed it... it's here.

Like previous posts, this is really for me. If you read it and somehow relate to it, then that's just a bonus.  But there's a disclaimer. If you do read on, you must know two things. 1.) I am not looking for coddling/sympathy/a tissue and 2.) growth comes with growing pains, and I'm ok with this. No matter how much 'this moment' may feel sucky .

Also, you should know... this will be long, and boring, and random, and scattered... Consider yourself warned. I offer no apologies.

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For my own sake, I will repeat this. I'm in a new place. I have made a lot of changes. My routine, my paths traveled, my usual lunch time unhealthy rituals, my space, my things... different.

I'm having trouble with a number of things. Years ago, I was terrified to communicate feelings, needs, fears.. I worked through it. Suddenly, I'm unable once again. It's a new place. I feel different. I have theories. Including that I'm having difficulty separating 'visiting' from 'now living with' my fabulous new roommate.

Plans, and options, and decisions, and unsure of what's for me and what isn't is just a lot of crazy in my head right now. I'm ploughing through a lot just to not miss out, and I don't know if that's the right choice anymore than I know if it's where I belong in that moment. But I do know that I've met, re-met, reconnected, visited with so many amazing people in a short period of time. And I feel blessed, and connected, and inspired despite the difficulty to sort out my head presently.

I've never been one to enjoy having choices all the time. This is confusing even for me, but freedom to choose is a beautiful thing... so is the freedom not to when you're me. Ordering brunch is overwhelming. Choosing clothing is terrifying. I nearly stayed home today and missed out on meeting wonderful new people because of feelings I couldn't (and still can't) explain. It was more than a dramatic 'but I have nothing to wear' moment. I knew wonderful, amazing, hot, leatherdykes would be present. I wasn't concerned with meeting them, with them not liking me, and least of all them judging me by my clothing. I was being introduced to someone I hadn't really taken the time to get to know fully. Me. And it was (read: IS) frightening.

I felt that I needed to write it all out. Try and process what I was feeling and maybe understand why. Again, I planned to hang back while friends went out to yet another fun, shiny, new-to-me thing. I fought tears while writing what is above. I chose to stay home - not to mope or feel sorry for myself, but to think. And even after declining, I realized I had had enough of 'alone and thinking time' and that other humans would be a good thing. This was actually kind of big for me. It shouldn't be so different suddenly, but it is. I wasn't sure how to say the words' I'm not going' when I first made up my mind for the first outing (that I was later talked into after a good cry in a crotch clad in leather) and I equally struggled to say 'ok, I want to go now' when I decided last minute to tag along tonight.

Cripes. If it sounds complicated and dramatic, you should try living it. Trust me, I'm not enjoying this. But neither am I allowing it to define me. Instead, I'm striving to deal with it in a way that is healthy and helpful and one that forces growth and understanding. Yuck to all that feel good shit when really, you just want (another) good cry!

Truthfully, I'm of sound enough mind to realize that life is full of opportunities. Regardless of my decisions to go or stay today, there would be opportunity to reflect. In the end, however, I'm grateful I connected with yummy, awesome people. I am inspired to find outlets to deal with the 'different' thanks to conversation with great folks tonight.

Interestingly enough, when I now think back to the hours since I first started to write this out, and my original thoughts along with the title I chose for where my thoughts were headed... the 'one of many answers' I arrived at tonight just seemed to fit all that much more. I contemplated more about 'loss' and how the massive amount of 'new' that I am feeling/experiencing feels much like I'm suddenly without identity.

I feel empty and blank. No, I'm not depressed, although it's not a shiny, happy feeling. And yes, it's hard to feel that way. I just feel like so much is 'new' and 'starting fresh' that even the very things I once overcame (like the inability to communicate effectively, the inability to make my own decisions) ... I'm suddenly relearning. I feel like I have an amazing opportunity to paint the picture of me that I most wish to see. But earlier at brunch today in a brief conversation about tattoos, I was reminded of why I don't yet have ink. I can't decide. It's a huge decision.

I don't want to change my clothes four times before going out. I don't want to feel or appear unsure of who I am. But I can't define what isn't created. And now is the time I am re-creating me. To be safe to be my authentic self. Words I was given today. Words that were as much soothing as they were confusing.

I'm complicating this. I always do. That remains constant no matter where I'm located. *grin* But I have to process it in ways that only I know how. And so, I will write it out. I will 'art' it out. Create it out. Cry it out. If I'm lucky I will have it beaten out. Fucked out. Loved out. But ultimately, only I can get it out. It's doubtful I can talk it out. I might like to try, and I might even be kind with myself when I fail to make the words work.

In the end, I know I'm ok. I know this is not the end of the world. I know I am not depressed. (I am supremely happy for that). I know I am happy to be exactly where I am. Both physically and emotionally. Because I know that I will have many encounters that will challenge me and cause me to create the me that I am destined to be.

My empty, blank self is exactly where it needs to be. I am happy. Change hurts.

Life, Death, & PMS

A lot has happened over a period of a few months. I've been counting down days, much to the annoyance of my friends no doubt, until I moved across two provinces. Small town girl, moving to Canada's biggest city. People move all the time. It's a part of life, right?

I anticipated this move being an important new chapter for me, and as I write this, I've lived in the Big Smoke for less than 26 hours. I still expect that I'm going to be continually blessed and blown away by the experiences and growth I will encounter. I am also very aware of the emotions that accompany transitions, and am being gentle with myself while I work them all out.

My move happened in four legs, the longest of which was over the weekend with friends. There was a moment where a melt-down moment was scarcely dodged, and my poor host didn't know what to do when her offer to hug me was met with me shaking my head no. Heck, that surprised even me.

It was just in the moments before that I was contemplating life and death. More figuratively than literally. I thought of the pruning of a tree, and how vital it is to cut things away, effectively killing parts of it, in order for it to have the fullest, most beautiful life. Perhaps it was in my own feelings of loss, that caused me to have a roller coaster of simultaneous emotion.

Loss is not a bad thing always. It's simply 'a thing.' To make the trek by myself, within a budget I could manage, and the timeframe I gave myself, I moved to Toronto with only what fit in my car - give or take a few things tucked among friends and left with my parents. In order for that to happen, I had to significantly prune away a lot of stuff.

While it is just 'stuff' and more 'stuff' is made and available to purchase every day, there's a process involved in choosing what's important, what can be done away with, and what makes sense to buy again. Maybe it's an easy process for some people, but it took a lot of thought and planning for me. I found it easy enough at the time, but now realize that it was a more taxing chore than I first thought.

I sold furniture, gave years of collected kitchen stuff and other things away. Put stuff on the curb hoping people would take it away for me. Donated a truckload to a women's shelter. Shared what food I had left with whoever would take it so I didn't have to waste it. Despite efforts to waste less, I created a lot of garbage. It was rather sad to look at. There came a point where even some perfectly-good stuff just couldn't be rescued. There was no time to find homes for any more!

My cats are living with my parents, where they're doing great and loving being loved. While I am certain that I am not homesick at all, there's a sense of loss that comes with no longer being able to jump in my car and quickly get to the home of my childhood. Very little is familiar to me when I consider my current surroundings. The way I drove on highways and through 'city' streets back home, is not at all like the way I need to drive to survive here. The climate is different, my commute is different, my office is different. Local people in my life are different.

Goals, needs, wants, actions, right down to the air I'm breathing. So much is new or changed. In a weak (and since regretted) moment, I let the Facebook world know I was praying for PMS. I wanted an excuse for the feelings I was overwhelmed with. A name to stick to the emotion that was annoying the hell out of me. Really, I just gotta call it what it is. Change.

In these few hours I've lived in my new city, I've had drastic extremes of emotions. I wouldn't give those emotions or moments of self-realization up for anything. I'll be the strongest and healthiest 'tree' in the city within the park.

Save The Usual Excuses And Apology

You know... where a blogger intros a new entry with: "It has been so long since my last blog" or "Sorry for going dark for a while, but..."

Blah. 

Just get over it. Or don't. 

*dusts off a few cobwebs & lights a lavender candle*

Hungry Lion

Not metaphorically. There are no goofy cliches.

I'm hungry. 

I'm contemplating food and my battle with it. Typically, when I set out to carefully consider things that make me tick, I'm happy for the self awareness boost. Not this time. I'm actually pretty overwhelmed. In fact, I always have been. Maybe I haven't said as much. Maybe I just sweep it under the rug. Or under the passenger seat where the empty fast food bags stay until I dung them out.

I feel it's a combination of habits I'm hitting a stubborn head with, and a subconscious need to somehow harm myself. I've never been one to self destruct. I never thought I was, at least.

I am thrilled that I have managed a time or two in my life, to make positive, healthy changes - even if they were short lived. If I was honest with myself and other people about each time I thought about going to the gym, and each time I had great intentions, it would be almost laughable. Barely a day passes that I don't tell myself that this will be a gym day.



The anxiety of making a change is equal to the anxiety of being unhealthy.



*returns to a previous post and takes own advice: breathe*

I'm a very transparent lion. In all areas of my life - but one. It's not usual I want to toss this struggle out there so publicly, but somehow I feel it's necessary for me. Maybe I need to get angry and cry about it, but right now I'm hungry and only for something that no self-respecting human should eat.

I'm happy being fat. I'm not afraid to use the F word. I'm not afraid to tell people that fat isn't a crime, and that I'm beautiful. But I am ashamed of the food I eat when nobody is watching. Somehow, I'm hoping that the humiliation of sharing what I want to keep to myself will make it matter to me somehow.

Feed The Plants

I'm remembering that time in my life where I hated to admit growth. Growth, change, maturity. All of these required me to admit to being less than something in order to see improvement. That feels rather high and mighty to admit to such a thing. Honest, I never felt I was all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips as much as it may sound. I truly was just believing that being anything less than amazing was a sign of weakness. 

Good thing 'amazing' and 'weakness' are subjective. 

Putting it all out there

While not a revelation necessarily, I'm thinking a lot about growth lately. While lingering in bed and enjoying the singing birds outside my window, it occurred to me that, although people grow, not everyone is as vocal about it. 

I'm over the moon tickled presently about conquering insecurities, and improving dusty corners of my life.  Until just recently though, I hadn't really considered where this new urge... this desire... cropped up from, and what has me wanting to be so transparent. 

Miracle Grow

Like plants, people and lions need encouragement sometimes to grow. Growth happens whether we tend to what's happening or not. Weeds and bad seeds grow and suffocate the lush, happy, life-breathing bits and pieces of us. Encouragement in the form of sunbeams, food, and water, along with a bit of selective removal of the crap we need to kill (or plant elsewhere) ... 

I'm guilty of feeding the wrong things, many times in my life, and recently as well. Why do I bother sharing? In the event my words are like miracle grow somehow to someone else, and a little weeding breathes life into your personal garden - that's why. 

Sunbeam naps are good... 

As much as you're convinced that you've arrived... that you've matured and are now done growing... you're wrong. Something grows. Whether it's the love you have for your cat, the hatred you feel towards your boss, the debt you're accumulating on that shiny new credit card. Just don't let the ugly, smothering weeds and nasties shove the green and happy out of your life. Some things are harder to kill when they take over. 

It's not everyone's deal, to share openly. And one should never feel pressured to change. I simply challenge you to spend a little time in the sunbeams. It's easier to see when a little light is shed, and the warmth of the life giving rays may give you the strength to tackle the weeds. 

Blame Spring...  If I go back through old journals or blogs, growth is always the theme. If you're interested in what I had to say in April of '08, this is one of my favorites. 

Overwhelmed & Ridin' The Waves

Lots of stuff feels overwhelming.  'Overwhelmed' doesn't need to be a bad thing. Imagine being overwhelmed with money? Or chocolate? (neither of these describe my state, but you get the picture!)

The flood of overwhelmed around me is a mixed set. Joy, love, belonging, confusion, exhaustion, emotion. At least when it's a sea of strong feelings in both directions, the waves are always an adventure! 

xxooxxooxxoo

ridin' the wave..... 

Vulnerable

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Suddenly, I feel vulnerable.
Both hidden away and transparent.
Overcome with unexplainable emotion.

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But what color are the feelings?
What flavour is the fear?
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Wherever it came from, 
I'll entertain it long enough to understand. 
And then, I'll send it packing after a cordial conversation. 
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On Trying, Adventures & Shared Inspirations

Recently, while hunting pies, I heard one whisper: "To not try guarantees not getting what you want"

Equally thought-provoking (and hopefully inspiring!) was this comment on a fierce femme's status: If you don't, you already know the outcome. If you do, well, then that is the adventure. (regarding 'do I or don't I?') 

And lastly, hot roller derby ex-glasses-twin pointed me to this fantastic truth recently: Nobody Ever Died of Awkward. You don't have to be fat, shy or insecure to get something yummy out of it. Just click the link already, and for goodness sake, leave more inspiration for one another in the comments!

Real is beautiful. Show Up and Breathe.

I love how conversations with wonderful friends inspire and evoke amazing feelings of truth and gratitude. I feel as though the most amazing blanket of peace is wrapped around me. My mind has never been so aware of how happy I am when I listen to truths and seek understanding. 

I've shared a lot as of late, here on my little spot to write and in conversation privately with good people, at how blown away I am regarding my strange ease into 'just being me.' Because I'll likely always reference my Jesus freak days somewhere, here's a memory that's strong in my mind right now. 

I recall preaching once, to a group of youth, about servitude, when it occurred to me that the most important step is being there. "Show up and breathe," I told them. 

Just breathe. 

Be present. 

Think as little as possible, and just 'be.'

Imagine. Here is this community and they seem to kinda like keeping me around. It isn't the first time. I'm trying to be humble here... when I know that I am mostly well loved in many circles. I hate talking about it honestly, but I pretty much feel it to be true, so there. I said it. 

And in other circles, I haven't been dishonest. I just haven't been the free running lion that I was meant to be. Thank the gods (even Jesus, I suppose) that I've found a place to run. (and oh, the ways that could be interpreted... rubs hands together...)

Will I ever speak of something other than community? And finding a place? Maybe. But for now, boy howdy am I ever happy. A measure of happy that seems euphoric and impossible to fake. 

I have been blessed and honoured with so many beautiful creatures who share pieces of themselves from the depths of their heart. I have witnessed more truth than I knew existed and as a result been all that much freer to just show up and breathe. 

Thank you. To you who have been honest. To you who have shown me your vulnerability. To you who have inspired me. To you who have listened as I vetted thoughts. To you who accepted me. To you who reads my thoughts and ramblings and to you who shares something additional and relevant. To you who chooses not to be afraid of a little lion. 

<3

Shy, Insecure or Just Plain Scared?

Ever met a skinny gal who says she's fat? Or a smart boy who feels he's dumb? Or the prettiest face you ever saw that, when it looks in the mirror it frowns in disbelief?

Of course you have. We all have.

Interesting how we only need to have a thought or an experience to cause us to believe one thing that we may then go on to believe forever. That is, until we re-examine it later (if we ever get around to it)

My logical self understands and often preaches the need to say kind things, true things and happy-making things about ones self. But what about the things we believe that maybe aren't necessarily mean or hurtful, but perhaps just not entirely true? Do we think about those self-labels much? Do we even care? Why am I ask 'us' so many questions? This is about me, dammit!

I've been challenged a few times regarding the word shy. Some of those challenges were issued by myself, of all the people! I've tried explaining myself as 'outgoing but shy' and 'sometimes a social butterfly with a major side of terrified' ...

So I started re-living moments of 'shy' in my head and tried to pull something out that makes sense. This is what I'm toying with:

• I'm not good at flirting with a purpose (this, I believe is well known and established). But if someone who I have an established relationship with of some level shoves me in that direction, I'm still hopeless, but turned on by the shove and ridiculous attempts. 
• Being direct and speaking what (or who) I want terrifies me. 
• Like many people, rejection is a gross reality and fear. I haven't experienced much of it out of fear of even trying. I'm way too guarded. 
• If you pay or bring attention to me... the kind that turns me on, interests me, flatters me or otherwise makes me feel somehow well-liked, I will blush and behave awkwardly. This isn't necessarily shy. I'm beginning to think it's just that I'm partially socially awkward perhaps. 
• I feel that I'm secure in who I am and comfortable with my body and overall happy, but am starting to see that maybe I'm not always convinced it's ok to feel that way. When someone smiles at me, I lose that security and am certain they have gas as it can't be true that I'd be interesting enough. This is a pretty big reality that suddenly I'm looking at working on a way out of. 
• I like attention. I'm just scared to admit it, because of those things above. I like blushing and feeling uncomfortable. It turns me on. Shh. 

I'm thinking that somewhere, I decided I was something and then chose to use it as the excuse for my beliefs that I am not capable of certain key things within relationships - whether fun and casual giddy sex, a longer term hookup, or something more committed - I hide behind a label that isn't even accurate. 

Damn, sometimes I wish I was not so awkwardly terrified. There is wonderful, sexy fun with my name on it. 

Help a lion out? Where do I even begin to burst out of the fear that I cloaked as shy?

Adoption

A lion without a pride really struggles to survive typically.  

Solitary lions aren't as successful in hunting and thriving. 

Lions don't have the easiest time finding a welcoming pride. 

I've lived, but now I'm living. I'm prowling with a pride. 

I feel somehow... Adopted. 

**happy rawr** 

For The Love Of Rebirth (?)

I've been born again! And again. And again....

Disclaimer: Once upon a time, I was a Jesus freak. If references to anything religious seeming or of a Bible thumping nature offend... close your eyes and think of the baby hornets in Ottawa. Who will save them? If you can take the religion out of the text and see it as literature, you might snag a meaty nugget or two, too.

So it's true. I was once a student of the Bible. And although I no longer follow Jesus and have long ago thrown away my rainbow assortment of WWJD bracelets (oh, the irony), I often find solace, truth, or inspiration in the proverbs, psalms, and parables I once preached from behind many a pulpit. 

So back to this rebirth notion. The Bible talks about being born again. Of course, in a spiritual Christian context, it's referencing the acceptance and recognition of Jesus as a Savior, making one 'new' again. Many analogies follow. First, you're like a 'babe' ... and as such, only able to digest milk like that from a breast. It would be ludicrous to feed a well-marinated steak to a baby without teeth (no matter how delighted you are that you can broil it perfectly two days in a row much to your surprise and delight)... And so the good book goes on to explain the parallel of a new Christian needing to be treated with kid gloves, and only dished digestible bits until it's ready to eat at the grown up table. 

Getting to the point. Hang in there. 

As a kid, I hung with the adults whenever possible. I went visiting with my parents. I listened in on and participated in grown up conversations. Probably not the healthiest thing, but it was normal for me. I loved it. Typically in relationships, I get along best with people older than me. I'm most often attracted to people with at least a few years on me. I used to manage just fine to keep up at the grown up table. 

And then I met Jesus. 

Probably one of the most difficult things for me when I found Jesus (on the internet) was this notion of being 'like a child.' Suddenly, I was overcome with this ridiculous fear of no longer being able to keep up with the big kids. Rather than give myself permission to accept a 'learning curve,' I beat myself up for choking on the steak I tried to eat early on. I loathed being 'new' as I was used to being good at everything I did. (boy howdy, has THAT ever changed!)

I worked hard to digest that meat. I 'studied to show myself approved' (that's from 2 Timothy... one of those crazy books full of stuff in the Bible)... Eventually, I felt worthy of sitting at the grown up table. Upon further reflection early on, I realized it was silly of me to be so concerned with how I looked/seemed to anyone else. Afterall, at that point in my life, I need only be concerned with how God viewed me. 

What's the point, exactly?

Despite what should have been a lesson learned, I still struggle with a bottle of milk when something new comes my way. I feel as though I am constantly being 'reborn' as my life has changed numerous times before, during and after Jesus. 

• Deciding to leave the church because I had a conflict in my heart. I thought I might like women and I couldn't live with being a hypocrite. Rebirth. 
• Coming to terms with my sexuality, my sex, my body. Losing my virginity. Born again. 
• Realizing and accepting the kink side of me as healthy, normal and ok. Reborn once more. 
• Feeling pulled and attracted to Wicca. Clueless and searching. 
• Changing the way I think about myself when I feel inadequate about 'drinking milk' and taking 'baby steps' in any area of my life. Difficult and struggling. 
• Realizing how shielded I am and venturing to fully explore the parts of me I have kept locked up and afraid of. Beautiful and terrifying. 

I don't expect anyone A) reads this fully B) cares or C) understands. And honestly, that's A-ok with me. Once upon a time, I would never have been strong enough to confess to that which I do not know. I was too afraid to say 'I'm not certain,' and too proud to drink milk from a bottle once again. (and dammit, if you DO read this... drop a comment on occasion wouldya?)

Why it is that I won't give myself permission to be 'new' and to learn about the parts of me I smother by shoving away, I'm not sure. Nobody wants to eat meat with a girl who needs the heimlich just to get through the meal, yet I have done exactly that so often in my life. 

But here I am. I'm gripping a glass bottle with a very realistic nipple filled with warm milk and saying "there are things I'm not so good at, and rather than ever try, I just ignore them.. but now I'm going to learn."

I want to one day be an amazing lover, a closer than a brother best friend, a competent communicator, a strong and confident queer woman. 

I'm pretty sure that I can do all of those things. Just let me be ok with finally admitting it's ok to grow. 

*phew* Being born again is hard work. But good work.

**edit: Despite how it may sound, I am unbelievably happy. Please do not mistake this as me being needy, whiney or otherwise forlorn. kthnxbi

Turning Points II

Notable recent turning points or intersections I'm contemplating or have made...

• Standing at the corner of Shy and Not Shy But Something Else and wondering if maybe Shy is the wrong street to visit. Just because I spend a lot of time on Blush does not mean I have the direction right. Thanks to Charlie for the conversations about this that have me nomming on thoughts. 
• Frequent (secret) visits to Insecurity Avenue. The Courage around the corner is looking more and more delightful all the time. Must train the GPS to turn the other way. 
• Gayly Forward always trumps Straight Ahead
• Mysterious Adventures bring more happiness than stressfilled attempts at Well Thought Out
• Less inclined to run screaming down Freak Out and better able to navigate Chill Out (even in midst of missed flights or missing iPhones)

I'll edit and add as I see fit.

Spoiled Lion

On of the coolest thing about encountering this 'community' I keep speaking of... is that I managed to slide my way in as though it was Cinderella's slipper and I was a smelly old foot that fit just right.

I am continually meeting people who are part of this web of wonderfulness that I want to take up residence within. People I feel like I have already known a long time. Isn't that the best feeling? The point where you just know that it was meant to be you fit.

Last weekend I had the pleasure of spending the weekend with three of the loveliest lovelies I know. For reals. I am honored to spend time with a triad so positively delightful. Even when I don't understand the language, or am awkwardly unsure of how to manage my presence at every given time, I am comfortably happy. If the energy of these three could power me like a light bulb, I'd be blindingly bright at all times.

I am happy to just be present. I am happy to just be nearby. I am happy to have yummy conversation, fail miserably at flirting and laugh with these girls. I am overwhelmed when I am spoiled. And boy howdy, was I spoiled.

Thank you, you fabulous S girls, for tours in the freezing cold, walks in the park, giving me the tourist treatment, cooking delicious eats, putting me up (or putting up with me!?) and especially for giving me a new mane.

Turning Points I

How many times in my life have I turned? How often do I contemplate the turning? My days are filled with indecisiveness and decision making in the style of ping pong ball. I'm directionally challenged, so I find myself pulling multiple U-turns to try and navigate streets of less-than-familiar cities.

In order to turn, however, you first need to see that point where it makes sense to change direction (or your mind)

The moment you realize you're going the wrong way, are lost, or no longer feel like ravioli... That's when you make an alternate choice. That's the point. The point where decisions are made often quickly. Sometimes those decisions happen without much thought. They just 'feel right'.

The Universe has certainly allowed me a lot to think on. More than I am able to share. Not because it's a big fat secret, but because it requires far more organization of thought than I am willing to commit to right now. I am honest at the very least.

More importantly than the thoughts I can't articulate, are the ones that make sense to me to pour out now. Disclaimer: these thoughts may not make the same sense to you. I don't apologize. They're for me and to me, they are delicious and I shall happily snack on them.

Of many analogies for life, one that's often tossed about is the idea of a road map. Some people struggle to map their present and future while preserving their past in an effort to make the most beautifully photographic road trips through life. These are the planners. I'm not a planner, necessarily. The picture atlas that documents my journies thus far hardly looks put together a la Martha Stewart.

And I'm ok with that.

Despite not being a planner, I have often felt the need to act the part of one. I may not know what my life looks like 1 year down the road (forget about 5 or 10!), but I have refused to accept that it's ok to wander and be happy.

I have arrived at the intersection of Well Thought Out and Mysterious Adventure many times in my life only to get stuck in traffic and hung up on all of the 'shoulds' that cloud my mind.

If you don't know this about me, I am very fussy about time. It's a quirk. I hate to make people wait for me. But I will wait forever for someone else. If we're late for that party we're heading to and it's not my fault personally? I'm completely ok with being late. You can feel free to take your time and fix your makeup one last time. I will wait. Happily. But you will not wait for me. You should never have to.

Because of this, I obsess over time. If I am driving, I will get us there ... ON TIME. If I am leading or arranging something, it must happen ON TIME. (GST just hasn't really worked it's way into my life well enough I suppose)... If a set time isn't needed for the rest of the crowd, but I have committed to do something at a flexible time - I obsess over being ready at the drop of a hat and struggle to enjoy myself until the 'time' has come.

Also, I am not the best at making decisions. Mostly because I think far too much about something as simple as 'do I want beef or chicken' that I fear I am holding the rest of the world up while they wait for me to decide that I feel uncomfortable making such an easy decision.

There. Now you know my neurosis.

This makes for interesting road trips. My poor (lovely) traveling companions to Harvest and back. I hated not knowing confidently well in advance where to turn next, what time we should eat and when it was best to stop. Oh, and I was the driver for most of the journey. I did my best to not let on how stressed it made me to make such decisions. I didn't always succeed.

The last several days, I have felt tested in many ways regarding these irritating quirks. But there was a turning point. A moment when the obsessions no longer immobilized me mentally. Eventually, I think I'll come down from the change of direction and have a good releasing cry... but for now, I'm pleasantly ok.

From losing my iPhone to travel misadventures to relying on friends who I would have once upon a time been less inclined to reach out to, I feel as though I'm looking once again at that intersection of Well Thought Out and Mysterious Adventure, only this time I'm confident that the way of the Mysterious Adventure will be the most satisfying in the end.

Just when I was sure my reserve of cheerfulness was all used up, I found more. I think I like this street more than I ever knew that I would.

Lion On The Loose!

In the woods?

Sort of.

I'm hoping to make it to my favorite east coast camping event this August. Evil Camping IV.

Seriously, people should travel from all kinds of places to join the kinky fun on a mountain top in Nova Scotia where the view of the Valley is beautiful, and the backdrop of a castle keep under construction is fun and inspiring.

Learn more about the event via the Fetlife group here.

And most importantly, for my friends who are itching for it to be here already? Count the sleeps until Evil Camping IV here.

Were you there last year? What was your FAVORITE memory? Are you going to be there this year? What do you look forward to the most?

Please share :)

Writing & Randomness

Often, I have tried to convince myself to be consistent with things as simple as writing. There's a lot to be said about two different schools of thought.

• Write every chance you get. No matter what you're writing about or for, write on a regular basis. Practice makes perfect or something. At the very least, the exercise of writing acts as a platform to dump what's in your head. Sharing every thought with the world, or even a select few, is hardly a requirement. Just write. 
• Write only when you have something brilliant to say. 

I'm definitely not practicing the latter. Especially right now. 

Some of my closest friends know this little secret about me already. Some people who read this blog (for whatever reason) may not be shocked by this little secret.

Ready? Here it is. 

Writing terrifies me. 

There was a time when I believed I could not write. I could not do it. I believed I was not smart enough. My words did not matter. My words made no sense. So, I try not to wait for only those moments when I have something brilliant to say. I try, instead, to just write something. Anything really. Just to remind myself that I can. 

I will never be a wordsmith. I will never feel I am hugely talented. But I refuse to believe I am stupid or unable. I am easily excitable, I jumble words together, and I don't always succeed in making a clear point. 

Yet, I write. 

I even get paid to do it. 

Life is funny. 

Stylish Mane

I need a haircut. A new 'do. Some style or somethin'.... I'm looking shaggy.. and well, I'm a proud lion. (sorta)

Won't you please lend a hand (or a paw) and toss an idea or two my way? I want to do something that I normally don't do (although I've been toying with going bald again)

I know what I DON'T want.... here are a few examples:

Bruise. Stab. Tickle.

Yesterday I had acupuncture for the first time. Unless of course you count a kinky fuck I know who likes to play with needles, electricity and 'spleen 6'. Maybe it's best to just call this my first 'non-orgasmic acupuncture'. Yes. That's what it is.

The RMT is sweet. She's been hurting me a lot lately. I started to see her due to the world's most annoying headache. Ok, MY world's most annoying headache. I don't typically get headaches, so when one shows up and sticks around for over four weeks, I get a little tired of the ill company. Apparently it's tension. My neck, shoulders & back were like a cement wall and on a scale of 1-10, the pain reaches an 11 when J squeezes the hell out of knots and bubbles and creepy, gross feeling bits inside my back. I get squicked out just thinking about the feeling. *shudder* 

Let's just say, she puts the sadists I know to shame. (even you, Suz the Bruise) 

So while laying on a table with barely a breath to recover from the abuse and needles getting shoved in loads of weird places, J decides to massage my feet. (I had mentioned planter fasciitis). There I was. Sore and terrified to move with random needles all over and feeling unable to kick my ticklish feet. On the plus side, she told me I "make the most adorable noises" ... And I tell her "that's not the first time I've heard that" ... 

In happy news, I've been pain free the entire day. No drugs. No tension. No stress. (well, I refuse to think about the stressful bits of my life right now)

J suggests I hang upside down to reealllllly stretch out my back. 

hmm

I don't suppose I can find someone willing to string up a fat gal?

Upside down lion

and another thing...

My life is full of happy. 
The sad/hard things are just obstacles I'll conquer. 
I really am a blessed lion. 
My heart giggles and is full. 

Protecting the Pride

A lion has more than one kind of pride to look out for.

The pride I'm contemplating right now, is not dignity nor is it satisfaction in something. It's the big giant family that a lion belongs to.

Often we hear talk of 'chosen family' versus 'blood or birth family' and today I'm rather concerned for my blood 'pride'... the one I was born into.

I've done well to separate myself from much of my family's troubles. I love my family, I really do. I just don't love the drama and the trauma and so I keep a safe distance.


Today I learned some very unsettling news about a family member. Someone who, although I love her, I have long given up on. Maybe that's mean or wrong, or whatever it is... but I chose long ago to live a life that's happy and healthy for ME and that means not dragging this person's horrible, unhealthy and sad life into mine. Maybe it's just further indication that leaving the 'born into' pride was the best thing for me, but I'm sad.


I'm also incredibly and unbelievably aware in this moment of how blessed I am. I hate for anyone to struggle. I hate for someone that I love to be so down and out. I've been hoping and waiting for a 'rock bottom' day to happen, and even with what I've learned today I'm not convinced that rock bottom was found. I don't know if she'll ever be well, safe, happy or able to take proper care of herself.

Despite the yucky feeling that this news gave me, I choose to allow life's little let downs be a lesson or a moment of reflective truth whenever possible. I just hope that the answers I need come magically from no where so I can feel even more at peace.

Mean Lions

Mean lions aren't cute.

Now, I'm not talking about ferocity here. I'm meaning mean. Whether deliberate or unintentional, sometimes lions are just plain mean.

Today, I was caused to think about being mean. A couple of times in fact. Hence the post.

First, I am having a difficult time at work. See, I have this somewhat newish boss who I have zero confidence in. I'm feeling bored and not heard. She's a lovely enough lady. Comes from a very stiff, corporate environment and stands out like a sore thumb in our super chill tech world environment.

I'm baffled honestly. And in all of my baffled-ness, I think mean things. I say them, too. To friends and stuff. I talk about how incompetent I feel she is. How out of her element. How in over her head. How not connected to our reality. And in all of my mean thoughts, no matter how true it may be that I don't get why she is in the position she's in.... I'm simply becoming angry. Angry is kinda ugly. I don't like ugly.

So much of my day, I played it over and over in my head. My sanity is not even close to being jeopardized, but it's what I put at the forefront of my mind. Before it eats at me (or causes tension headaches!?) I need to move on, not be angry and play like a nice lion. Gentle lion. Kind lion. The kind of creature I really am.

And then, a wonderful friend created a conversation (one that needs to be discussed further and by more people) that got me to thinkin' about my attitude and level of mean. I'm guilty of judging people by their grammar, the way the spell (or misspell, rather), and even the way they speak or put words together. To consider someone 'less than' because of anything at all, is not who I thought I was. Funny how little moments cause a little lion to dig deep and deal.

Of course, the wheels in my little head turned non-stop. That's how I roll roar.

To Be A Lion

Fierce. 
Strong. 
Majestic. 
Protector. 
Respected. 
Courageous. 


That's just what first came to mind when I began seriously considering what has me so wrapped up in all things lion. At first, it was just goofy fun. A handful of people who met me first as that girl in a crazy tutu still call me 'little lion', and it still makes me giddy and happy to hear it. 


All giddiness aside, I eventually began to curiously question why the 'lion' in me was lingering. What is it about 'being a lion' that I couldn't shake? Why would I want to shake it? 


I really wondered how less-than-charming it would quickly become to remain this 'lion'. I'm a person, after all. A girl or something. I never really know how to describe who I am. I only know who I am. Maybe it's easier to be a lion. 


But how does one 'be' a lion?


A tutu doesn't make me a lion. 


A tail can't help me roar. 


My courage will never be dependent upon the size of my mane. 


I was not able to explain it. Not to others and not to myself. It just seemed right. It seemed silly and right. I fell asleep at night with the goofiest smile on my face and in my mind, I saw the lion me. The lion me was smiling too, and napping happily. Sleep followed easily. Being a lion felt warm and peace-filled somehow. 

Then I started to scratch my head in deeper wonder and contemplate the origins of my lion self. Where did this really come from? Could there be a bigger meaning underneath what was once just a costume? 


I started reading about the symbolism of a lion, about a lion as a totem animal, and more generally about the nature and life of a lion. But before I share some of the thoughts that most closely evoked a greater need to 'be' a lion, let me set it up for you a bit. 


In the period between what was simply supposed to 'just' be a fun weekend away and coming to seek the lion within, I had already begun a lot of serious contemplation and soul searching. My time at Unholy Harvest sparked a newfound desire to be serious about the life I wanted to be living. I felt a rekindled urge to find Community. I was compelled to form friendships and relationships and attempt to dig away at the buried bits of me that I had ignored. A simple weekend away caused quite the stir! 


So how wonderful it was when I connected my need for community and a lion's dedication and dependance upon its pride. A lion knows when to fight, and when it's not worth fighting. A lesson I've found difficult at best. Lions spend their energy wisely - something else I've needed to adjust in my life as I have given so much of myself and spread myself so thin, that I'm eventually good to no one and that's hardly healthy. 


As loud as a lion may be with that scary roar, he is also gentle and quiet and peaceful. I talk too much. Ok, way too much. (even this post is way too long and most people will never read this far) 


Learning to be quiet, be still and breathe in the quiet is a difficult thing for me. But I get it. I get why I need to. And if 'being lion' helps me achieve that, then I am blessed. When I am calm and still and quiet, I see more clearly. 'Calm clarity' is apparently true of a lion according to some. 


Lion: Courage


I loved what I read here. Most specifically: "The French word for heart is coeur, the root word for courage. Courage comes from the heart and from one's deep sense of personal authority. When we have the courage to be true to ourselves, we have the power to act in ways that are in accord with our own spirit."


And this made so much sense to me. It really resonated. 

When Lion Spirit begins to make his presence known in your life (and you WILL know when he arrives), a new and brighter you will leap to the surface. Will-power, new strength, and a flurry of optimism will begin to flow. Intuition, creativity, and devotion will grow. You will begin to feel safe and secure in your own majestic powers, and opportunities will abound and be as self-evident as a bright sunbeam lighting your path (source) 

So, funny how that works. The very things that I've shone a light on in my life. The things I have worked on improving or changing. And the parts of 'me' that hid beneath the surface waiting to bubble up.... all of it suddenly became clearer. 


All because of what was once just a costume.  


Creature of the Sun Lord, beloved of the Lady,
Reveal to me the ancient methods of magic.
Walk beside me as I grow in strength and courage.
Show me when to keep ties strong
and when to break them.
Help me to understand the times for work
and the times for rest.
Mighty lion, lend me your energies.
(from source)

What says 'lion' to you? 






.

Lion Pride

Where did we leave off? Oh yes! I was sharing about the costume!

I was hell-bent on having a tutu, no matter what I finally arrived on 'being'... So I had decided in the end to 'be a lion'. A lion in tutu!

Not only did I make the tutu in the picture below, but I made a smaller one to be my 'mane' and on my wrists were little 'tufts' of 'fur' all made of tulle. Seeing how I had both a tutu and a mane, I decided I was undoubtedly a gender-variant lion. I was certainly colourful and cheerful! I was also very shy, however.

Lion in a tutu - Ottawa

Before leaving my quaint little 'town' for this fun event and new horizons, I had decided to push my boundaries as much as possible. I tend to be a shy human, and learned that even as a lion I was still rather shy. Aside from running loose a time or two and having strange and sudden bursts of courage where I would entertain the thought of talking to a hot stranger, I mostly hid behind my mane whenever any form of attention was directed my way. Kind of funny really. Wear a giant puff of in-your-face tulle and try to go unnoticed. C'mon. Do it. 

I truly didn't want to be a wallflower, but neither was I skilled in flirting or making my desires known. BUT, I kept reminding myself that I wanted to make the most out of this awesome opportunity. 

I learned a lot about myself that weekend. 

To steal quotes from a previous writing of mine when I was freshly home from that trip:

I could write an entire book on personal discoveries, growth and self-awareness as they unfold, but this is not about my journey as much as it is about finding an oasis. A resting place. Somewhere where everything felt 'normal' and fine.

I have never witnessed such a beautifully woven tapestry of women. Size, shape, stature, age, experiences, orientation, gender identity, play style, love style, personality - all meshed harmoniously like a giant leather glove that fits whoever dares try it on. 

One of the greatest bits of new found knowledge I left Ottawa with, was a need for community. Community is something I plan to explore further in a future post.

Let me leave you with this teaser: Lions live and thrive in prides. They understand and need community. I'm very thankful for the extended, scattered-about community that I've been introduced to and very warmly received in.

Do you believe in magic?

The hood I ordered from www.hoodsforthawoods.com came today! I just need a sunbeam to curl up in.

It's more than just a costume.

This little spot on the interwebs will serve as a home for the many thoughts and contemplations I should have been writing down as they occurred. My journeys through this jungle called life. I have many happy, thoughtful and thought-filled light-bulb style moments as of late, and I want to be able to go back to them and see how they've added to my life.

First, if you have yet to really meet me, or are not too familiar with my recent obsession with 'being lion', let me explain the transformation. Possibly I'll understand it even better for myself by sharing it here.

I was getting ready to travel to Ottawa for an event. Not just an event, but a leather event. Ok, even better than that.. it was a leather dyke event. Where I come from, there really is no leather community at large, and certainly what exists is heteronorm and not my cup of tea so much. Unholy Harvest was going to be a great time. Like in the years before, there was a theme and this past October the theme was Cirque du Sade.

That shouldn't be a problem for many a dyke, but for a girl who can barely manage to choose clothes for work (I mean, what tank top will I wear with my jeans tomorrow?), choosing a themed costume to wear to an event that promised beautiful, wonderful people I had never met? Yikes.

I had it figured out really. I was going to be a clown. I had it sketched out, and the clown was going to be incredible, hot and dark. And then someone I care about, like a lot, reminded me of her hate/fear of clowns. Oh yeah, there's that. What if there are people at Unholy Harvest who hate clowns? I was back to square one.

I'm thankful for that moment of 'oh-no' because it is what led me to the lion. And, despite the fact that I was once hell bent on attending the Ringling Bros and Barnum & Bailey Clown College, I have since grown to realize how much 'being a lion' suits me. In the coming days, I plan to better articulate just how it is that 'lion' makes me purr.

It's more than just a costume.