I don’t want to be Delilah (anymore or ever again)…

Really.
Though it does explain all those Star Trek fantasies…
You know, the kind where you make Mr. Spock laugh…
And you get Commander Data to fall in love with you.
After all…you’re special remember?
Aerodynamic even…
But frogs can’t fly.
Not really.

And it’s always a mess when you cut Samson’s hair.

“But she tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair,
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!”

~L.C.

Hello 31…it’s gonna be a better year, I promise.

heaven

i took you there
to heaven
i opened my gates
and let you in
i gave
with the All of Who I am…
did you not see?
you may have held the key to the waking
but i hold heaven inside of me

and that is what i saw when you were deep in my belly
i saw it all in brilliant white
it was not you who held the power
it was there
inside my womb
waiting

(and somehow i had forgotten that….)

If you’re yellow, be yellow!

“Find out who you are and do it on purpose.”

~Dolly Parton

 

(I wish I felt yellow today….)

Women Rule!

“Girls rule.” I said.

“Yes, we can but we don’t want to.” she replied.

I’m still mulling over this one.

I don’t think it’s entirely true.  There are certainly many women who are completely capable of ruling and have done a swell job of it.  That doesn’t necessarily mean that we want to rule every aspect of our lives though (though some may). 

Of course, it may help the conversation if we narrowed down just what “rule” meant.
And it may help if we further defined what we’d be “ruling”.
But taken in the broader concept of the statement….
…I still have to disagree.

There are women who want to rule.

I don’t have a problem with that at all.

I’m not one of them though.

Today I’m the boss at work.
I don’t like being the boss.
Not one bit.

Of course, this does not mean that I always want to be told what to do….

“It’s all about context people!”

 

soul writing

Ever feel written upon?
Ever feel like each word, glance, touch…
left a mark that will never go away?
Oh, it may fade….
like the marks on the bottoms of my tango shoes….
but they never really go away.
They just get layered upon.
And if one keeps moving, keeps breathing with each step….
You’ll see within,
layer over each layer…
what was there from the very first step.

And it is beautiful.

(Related through current events and inspired by the one and Ony.)

I’ve never been one of those kinds of girls….

You know the kind, the ones that have their hair done and their nails painted and their makeup just so.  I’ve never been into wearing a skirt everyday (can you say “blue jeans”?) or walking around in 3 inch heels (can you say “Birkenstocks”?).  I don’t curl my hair very often (let’s just forget that it won’t hold a curl anymore anyways) or even wear earrings (though that could be because I’m allergic to everything but 14k gold).  I have a bottle of perfume but I save that for “Happy” occasions, like for dancing.  I used to scoff at women who made themselves up all the time and looked girly.

I’m still not a high-maintenance kinda girl.  It’s just not in my nature.  But I do find myself wearing skirts much more often (my boss even commented about it when she found me wearing slacks one day) and though I don’t wear heels everyday (bad back) I am quite the lover of shoes (I’ve been keeping my obsession in the closet (so to speak)). I’m not into fixing my hair everyday but I do smooth it out and tuck it behind my ears and I do almost always put on some mascara before I head out the door. 

I’m packing for a trip this weekend.  A meditation workshop that I’m taking from my teacher who I’m finally getting to meet after all these months of working/consulting over the phone (can you say “YAYS”?) I noticed a distinct trend from the last time I packed to go anywhere.  I have clothing with colours….and polka dots…..and flower patterns…..and gold shoes and red shoes and underwear with lacey stuff on them (not that anyone will be seeing those but me).  I think it’s finally happened folks.  I think Anjolie is a girl.  Who knew?

I guess it’s actually true.  Inside each woman there are polka dots and red suede high heeled shoes….

pic: my new shoes and my favorite polka dot scarf

Being Goddess

if i came to you

would you look at me

would you see that moment when i saw you

would you fall to your knees

before i could fall to mine?

there is a seeing that is felt without our eyes

there is a tasting that is scented without our tongue
there is a knowing for which there are no words

still…

if i came to you
would you set me upon your lap

and let me climb into your mouth
where i would breathe you in until you were inside out

would you pull my tides
and hold them behind your tongue
to feed back to me…
like a wave upon a wave upon the ocean…

until the overflow spilled out across the sheets…

would you make demands?

would you prove yourself worthy?
would you ask for it all…

knowing there is no end?
would you be able to stand in the center of my storm and let me be all of Who i am?
impaled on you…

if only for a short time…
to be that free
and not frighten my lover away…

if i came to you someday…
would you be my God?

getting past ‘why’…

I don’t think it’s even about the ‘why’ anymore…

I think it’s about making the opportunity for it to happen.

sometimes you find a song…

“There was a time you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
I remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah”

~Leonard Cohen

solitary dancing

 

and Goddess will dance alone if she has to

with blue light of the moon reflecting

off of the snow outside

to light the room

and casting Her shadow against the wall

she breathes

what do I want from you?

only everything

only God

i want to feel my Goddess

i want to feel Her rise

like when I am dancing

I watch the profile of my face

and the outline of a strand of my hair that falls forward

as I take one ocho

and then the next

it is My music i hear

not a tango

not a waltz

I still feel the brush of your heart

so warm

and i feel my own rise up to meet it

as if there is no such thing as a single heart beating solitary

my legs swing to and fro

each step touched by the tango

it has become infectious

even in the very way that i walk

i asked again tonight if he might not dance with me…

and the answer was just a look

a look that held a thousand and one ‘no’s’

so I dance alone

in the sunroom

in the moonlight

my own light threatening to outshine them all…

and in the center I hold onto the Him inside of me

and He directs each step

and She decides how take it