Goddess Brenda @goddessbrenda - Tumblr Blog

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I didn’t expect so much mushy mud when I took a hike with my son this afternoon. I was wearing my Uggs and didn’t want to get them muddy. My inner-NYC goddess was clearly leading this hike. I was going slow, taking a long time for each step, going around the mud when I could.

And then this path upward appeared and was super muddy and very steep. It looked slippery, too. I really wanted to go up it and experience the view from up there. There wasn’t anything to hold onto and it required a level of surrender and trust I wasn’t able to tap into.

I did what I often do in such moments; hesitate, go into my head, start to freak out. The whole time I know I am going to go up it, yet I can’t seem to move my feet. Then I went into my head a layer deeper and that activated the fear. Fear of falling in the mud, down the slope or just plain getting all muddy. Ick.

My son was behind me and I could feel his patience wearing thin. He tried to go around me to lead and show me it was safe, but the path was not wide enough for him to pass me. I had to go up or turn around and give up.

I looked up at the path, feeling this familiar spot of wanting to move, and feeling stuck, frozen. And I thought, damn, this is how I do so many thing in my life. I get scared of some perceived failure and then stand frozen without action. The fear grips me in that moment and I just can’t move.

Yet I. KNOW. I. MUST.

Then the Moment of Truth happened. “How do I want to live my life?” I heard a voice in my head. It’s always the question.

A few summers ago, I started going into the ocean like I wanted to live life, by plunging in without apology. No pausing, no squealing at the cold and no hesitating. Just a big ‘ole resolute YES.

And so I put my hands in the mud and pulled myself up. Up, up, up.

From that spot, I no longer cared about the mud or getting dirty, I knew I wouldn’t slip and fall. I even got stuck on some thorns and ripped my down jacket. I made it to the top and then I felt a click-in and enjoyed the hike even more.

That’s the sweetness of freedom from surrender.

Am I blessed by God or do I choose to look at things through a lens of love and that makes me blessed? Or perhaps both are true & I am doubly blessed?

My Grandma passed an hour ago.

I had been reflecting on how beautiful she was. So deeply in her feminine. A true artist and creator. All of her children and grandchildren sing, dance, act, write, play instruments. When she was a young mother, she would hand sew aprons and sell them to local women and at hair salons. And then she made Play-prons for kids that held crayons and paper. It’s a long standing joke in my family that if someone got a stain on a sweatshirt, give it to Grandma and she would embroider a flower on it. There was a time we all had embroidered flowers in random places on our clothes!

She dressed to the nines all the time because she loved feeling gorgeous. She loved the old fashioned Hollywood movie star way of glittering in her gorgeousness. This thought led me to look at her through the lens of the feminine. Her feminine was deeply and naturally expressed. She was always painting and playing the piano. She had a room full of homemade dolls. She asked for everything she wanted and my grandfather gave it all to her. She loved diamonds and she had all the diamonds she wanted in the exact form she wanted: bracelets, earrings, necklaces. There was a time I judged this as shallow and now I see it very differently. And she truly knew how to receive. At Mama Gena’s, if a woman has something you desire, you would rub her head. We do this instead of the meme of cutting her down out of scarcity. I thought, I want to receive more from the men in my life so I decided to rub my grandma’s head. I whispered to her that it was me, Brenda, and that I am here and I love her. I wrapped my mom’s shawl over her shoulders, sat down, and dear god, she took her last breath.

I could say a lot about what the breath sounds like when someone is on their last hours. I’ve been there twice before. It has a sound, a feel, a hunger, a release. It’s deep, slow and grumbly on the inhale, pulling and wanting. And quick and quiet on the exhale. The pauses get longer in between each breath and you could feel it. So slow in fact, that nature gets us ready even in the moment, for that next inevitable moment. It’s quite beautiful, really, witnessing someone leave this earth. I pictured her dancing with my grandpa.

It’s a gift that I experienced death in this way. I was here with my mom and my two uncles as they watched their mom take her last breath. I felt their sadness, and my own, and held my 72 year old uncle’s hand as he cried. Losing your mother is losing your mother; age is irrelevant. My son came in and put his arm around me, and I had my arm around my mom. We held hands in a circle around my grandma and said Hebrew prayers and then my feminine called us to sing. My mom chose “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” and it was beautiful.

xoxo

Living the Un-Lived Life

“Your willingness to be first in your world to do something or be something new causes others to have access. Because when you live an extraordinary life your life is going to be about contribution and you won’t be content with just getting by and just for yourself. What you will choose will always involve others having more access to themselves–so What will YOUR life be for?” ~Living the Un-Lived Life with Rev Joanne

Following desire is edgy and not too popular in my Long Island world. Doing something out of the ordinary often registers in my body as fear because I haven’t had a reference point for it. The more I have taken chances, the more expanded that spot gets. It’s about working with my mind to notice all the spots of resistance, doubt, self-sabotage and fear that come up. I know now to keep my eye on my desire and keep stroking on that spot. I know to stay turned on and hold the weight of my desire. I know to push into the discomfort and that always lands me in a world of unbelievable beauty on the other side.

I am taking a leave from my teaching career. When I say that, I notice a voice that diminishes the bigness of this decision. In my public school career of 22 years, I have known 2-3 people take time off to follow their desire. The other thousands of people press on, living day after day, some miserable, waiting for retirement. That’s not for me; I can’t do it anymore. When I feel into staying, it feels dark, slow and sad in my chest. Like I am alone in a big empty dark room.

I attended a program last summer and in one activity we were reborn as a new version of ourselves. When I emerged from my cacoon, I was reborn as “Anything Is Possible”. It’s a lot to hold and I believe it with every fiber of my being. My brain didn’t think of it, it came through me into my heart and body, from my Higher Power. I hear myself telling people this all the time. Anything Is Possible, Anything Is Possible. So then it must be true for me, too. And mostly, in every moment, I need to remind myself of this because my conditioning and ego (wanting to keep me the same/safe) would have me believe otherwise. And I have a LOT of compelling reasons to back that up. Thank god I don’t believe my own stories anymore.

So today I have been connecting with teaching friends who I have worked with for up to 22 years. It is slow and nourishing and I tell them I am taking a leave from school and moving across the country to live with my partner. It’s edgy! I am selling my house, closing out my divorce, moving my kids and have decided to let most of the things in this house go. Oh, how I want to hold on. And yet my soul is craving the release. I work with my mind again in this spot.

As I connect with each person to tell them I am leaving, I am receiving reflections of exactly who I am and have wanted to be. I have wanted to be the woman who follows her heart, takes a risk, does something that doesn’t make sense on paper and has that exhilarating alive feeling as a result. I am receiving love and support beyond what I could have imagined. Women reflecting that they wish they could trust themselves that way, that I am their hero, that I am brave and how much they love how I am taking a chance in this one life I get to live.

It fills my heart and I feel like I could explode with joy. That explosion comes out as pouring my slow attentive love on them and receiving their well wishes. Reflecting to them that because they see my willingness to truly live my life from desire, it is inside them too. That anything is possible.

#OM truth women love

It’s the magic and possibility that turns me on. The synchronicity that surfaces into the moments of raw desire. I feel my body turn ON and buzz. In those moments I feel divinely connected. Because I am.

Experimenting with following the subtle voices of pleasure and desire in the simplest forms is like a spiritual science project.

Inside 15 minutes I was told there were no more tokens to receive Darshan (hug) from Amma that day to being next on line to see her. I had received Darshan on Friday and came back to experience the expansive field of love. So when the voluteer told me I wouldn’t get a token today, I accepted it because it felt like the enlightened thing to do.

I went up close to her to meditate and watch her. It’s pure magic and love. She is amazing, hugging people all day for days on end. I had thoughts of “If I had only gotten here sooner”, “What can I do to get a token?” and feeling disappointed in general. I recognized all of that as my resistance to what IS.

As I sat down in my new silky pants that I bought on my first visit there, I took in the beat of the music. I felt sadness emerge and I thought, What would happen if I held the pole for my desire? Be in integrity about it and hold the pole, explore what is possible. I was near the token line and bumped into a friend. We chatted and she said she may leave in an hour and if so, I could have her token! I thought it was so generous and I was excited. Oh, so that’s what happens if I hold my desire.

We hugged and moved on. I checked my phone and in that moment another friend texted me, “Are you here? Do you want my place on line? I am leaving now.”

YES please.

She was following the voices of her own desire, which told her it was time to go. I hugged her and thanked her, my body filled with joy at this gift she had given me. And so there I was, on the Darshan line minutes from Amma’s embrace.

I set my heart on removing obstacles that keep me from desire and love, to be open to possibility. That’s what I focused on with Amma. Specifically, selling my house, getting a sabattical from my job and living with my man. It’s my desire. And I’m holding the pole for it.

I kneeled down and it was suddenly my turn. I bent over and opened my heart and body for her to fill me. She spoke into my ear and her deep voice vibrated through all of me. I could feel my forehead on her sari and she smelled earthy and sweet. I felt love and joy. Possibility.

Someone told me last night that his father committed suicide. My father committed suicide fifteen years ago. He swallowed a shitload of pills, including his Zoloft. It’s something I couldn’t talk about for years without feeling nauseous, disoriented and self-conscious. Cold pangs would run through my heart and I would freeze. I remember the first time I tried to be open about it; I told someone my father died from depression. It was as close as I could get and still feel stable on my feet. Barely.

It was a lot of sensation to hold and I didn’t have the capacity to hold it. It showed up as me lying, telling a half story by leaving out the “he swallowed pills” part, and it felt incomplete and off. Or I would run away or change the topic because I didn’t know what to say. People didn’t ask that many questions; my guess is they could sense my discomfort. I was completely blocked. I took on all the shame and stigma our society holds around taking one’s own life. I wanted to be open and comfortable about it, but I didn’t know how. That made me feel even worse; that I was somehow contributing to the shame with my silence.

I’ve been practicing Orgasmic Meditation for three years. I have learned to feel and hold sensation more than I ever dreamed possible. I didn’t even know I was missing that element in my body. With each OM, each stroke, I have cultivated my capacity to be present in all kinds of situations. OM has helped me chip off layers of untruths, fears, blocks and hurts. OM shows me what IS. Sensation cannot be denied, it is truth, and I have learned to trust my pussy’s wisdom. She guides me with a whisper and sometimes she yells pretty loudly. And she’s even screamed. Anything to get my attention.

What she’s been saying to me the last few years is TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, BRENDA! I was running on empty for years after falling into the typical suburban pitfall of creating my own prison of brick, freshly mowed grass, new cars with a fence wrapped neatly around all of it. I took care of everybody else and I was left dry, exhausted and unfulfilled. My marriage ended and I dove into radical ME time. OMing helped me fill up the parts of me that were starving. With each stroke, I felt more like myself. Practice, practice, practice. Keep OMing. Keep going. That’s what my pussy told me. It didn’t always make sense and yet when I followed her wisdom, my life always got better and I felt more connected to myself and others. I slowly learned to trust myself, feel into my desires and take more risks.

And so there I was, at the table with a friend last night, him telling me his dad committed suicide. Because I feel full, I was able to truly listen to him. Put my love and attention on him, ask questions and hold loving space. I didn’t need to share my story in that moment, to try to make either one of us feel better by saying I experienced that too, or try to save him. I didn’t need to tell my story because I was starving for attention, like in the past. We sat in the sensation of it and I held it in my body. I noticed I felt stable and clear, loving.

I’m able to talk about my dad’s suicide now. Clearly, lovingly and with perspective. I don’t need to fill that deep hunger inside anymore in whatever moments I can steal by making it all about me. This is radically different from the past when I made myself responsible for everyone else, listening and doing beyond my capacity, running myself ragged to the point of empty.

This is listening and loving from a place of full. It’s healing.

#healing truth OM

My pussy has been calling in monogamy with my man bc I have suddenly desired it. I see how much yummy goodness there is for me in that spot. I have experienced such deep healing in this partnership with him around jealousy, anger, and my intimate relationships with other women. (wow there could be a whole post just on that!) We have been in an open relationship for 2.5 years and have supported each other, hurt each other and grown together. We were both out of long relationships when we met and wanted the freedom of open relationships and also the depth of partnership. The openness has been amazing and freeing! I was able to create a partnership of depth, love & respect and also date and have sex as I desired. Our Third’s purpose is Freedom of Self. And it gloriously comes through our dedicated love together.

I shared my desire for monogamy and was unattached to how or when it showed up. Last week, he shared with me last week his desire for monogamy. He was so tender and vulnerable about it and had already ended his relationship with another lover and came to me with his desire after coaching and a lot of inner work. I said YES. And in the back of my mind I remembered I had a date scheduled with J the following week that I was really looking forward to. I went straight to transparency about this and explained that what I needed to be a full yes to monogamy is to go on my date. It felt good to stand for my desire, as I love my dates with J. He was so supportive and held space for me to have my process. I could feel his hurt about it and felt a pull to cancel my date and yet I KNOW that the best way to serve myself, him, and our Third is to honor my true desires.

We have a coaching session every Thursday morning and we brought this up with our coach. She put loving attention on me as I shared my desire for the date and he was a loving witness. It felt edgy for me to say everything I was feeling and I am grateful that I could be 100% honest. As we carved it out, I saw that the date I made is not the date I’d be going on, as things have shifted. I saw my fears of letting go of my perceived sexual freedom represented in that date. I saw my old pattern of having goodbye sex with a man and hooking myself and him by parting in a love and loss state. I realized that my sexual freedom is MINE. I own it and I take it with me everywhere; it is not in one date with J. I brag seeing my fears of losing myself in monogamy, as I fell asleep in that spot in my marriage. I brag seeing myself FULL CIRCLE, going back into a loving mono relationship, except this time I am totally different! I brag I take the growth and self love I have cultivated over the years through my SWA & OT journeys, the appreciation for men and my ability to man-train, share my desires and make him into the Man of Excellence he desires to be. I am a goddess with a high level of self awareness, a willingness to look at my patterns and I know how to be transparent and seek guidance when needed. I am grateful to have a team of brilliant men and women surrounding me who want me to be my BEST BRENDA.

After more work and time passed, I got clear and took immediate action! I FaceTimed J at 730am before work last Friday and sharing my news of monogamy. I also shared my sadness of not going on our date or future dates with him and so much gratitude and care for him and how much our time together has meant to me. We have shared amazing sex and dinners for over a year and our dates have been perfectly spaced out and always filled with turn on and love. He has been generous and loving with me and I have grown so much as a result of our time together. Gratitudes for that in another post. I love how he said how much he was enjoying our convo b/c I looked so happy and turned on. I ended up seeing him the following day unexpectedly and I was able to share more about my process and my heart. I was transparent with him and shared most of what I shared here. It felt loving, clean and clear, just what I desired. I left him higher and I felt my sadness on releasing him. I know that grief is honoring the love that is there.

I am grateful for how my partner supports me and my freedom.

I am grateful for my pussy’s desire for monogamy in perfect timing.

I am grateful for my non-attachment to it.

I am grateful he followed my desire in pitch perfect resonance.

I am grateful for our honesty and love.

I am grateful for our open relationship and all of the healing surrounding it.

I am grateful for J and our time together, for our hot sex and how it helped me drop layers of ego.

I desire to live with my man.

I desire to see and open up the spots that keep me from loving full out.

I desire to see life through the eyes of love and abundance.

I desire to enjoy monogamy and our full out love.

I desire to grow together in boundless ways and for our Third to grow powerful and strong

I desire to be a Power Couple with him and inspire others through our work and Third

I desire to surrender to him fully.

I desire him to surrender to my pussy.

I desire his deep attention & love, cock, and financial support.

I desire to love each other’s children and for them to all love one another too.

I brag I am entering into monogamy with my partner.

Eyes wide open.

Fully conscious.

Aware.

Awake.

Full Surrender.

Joy and Love.

#truth monogamy polyamory OM

My grandma blew out the candles on her 94th birthday and we all shared favorite memories of our time with her. It morphed into her telling us stories about her childhood. I found myself mesmerized and I was understanding my ancestral line on a deeper level than I ever had before.

Harry, her dad, took her and her two younger sisters away from their mother when my grandma was 6. As the story goes, her mom, Irene, was unable to take care of the girls; they had lice & ate pudding for meals, so Harry took the girls and left. Irene was very young; a teenager, when she got married to Harry in order to make Harry’s former girlfriend jealous. Irene had no recourse or say around Harry, and Harry brought the girls out of state. They were told later that if they ever contacted their mom they were not welcome back. Over the next 14 years, my grandma had 5 different step moms, all very young, some teenagers themselves, who had no idea how to take care of 3 little girls.

I was able to see line of addictive behavior and it ran through my body as Grandma told the stories. My great grandfather, Harry, chose women who he felt he could overpower, young girls who would need him and depend on him. He could leave when he wanted, and he did, and have complete control over the situations. Grandma didn’t know if they drank, and I feel they did. There was clearly some addictive behaviors; alcoholism, para-alcoholism, codependance, and/or emotional abuse.

My Grandma didn’t see her mother again until she was 10. She stood in the room, frozen, scared, waiting for her mother to embrace her. Irene looked at my Grandma and said to her, “You’re as cold as your father.” When Frandma told us this, I could see her eyes widen, and her scared little girl was telling this story, the 6 year old who didn’t understand any of this and craved safety and love.

My mother faced issues of abandonment with my Grandma. When my mom wanted to marry my dad, my Grandpa refused to support it. Grandma always stood by Grandpa, at any cost it seemed, and they wouldn’t attend my parents’ wedding and weren’t part of my mom’s life for many years. I was told my mom would cry and cry about it, feeling abandoned and missing her family. My Grandpa didn't like my dad for his own reasons and my mom married him anyway. My Grandma always listened to my Grandpa. She always felt like he saved her from her own father, Harry, and was forever grateful to him. I see my Grandma's hurtful line of female relationships and how she desperately wanted her dad's approval and never got it. She always felt victim and powerless to her Dad and perhaps recreated that in her own marriage, because Grandpa’s word was always final. She chose my Grandpa’s decision to not support my parents’ marriage over her relationship with my mom. I was angry about this for a long time and have come to understand that she was terrified of being abandoned. Estranged female relationships were familiar to her and she was playing it out with her own daughter now.

I met my grandparents when I was about 8. I remember the day well. I walked into their home and there was a doll waiting for me. It sat still, and stiff, in a chair waiting for me and then in my room for years and years and I was always scared of that doll. My mom takes impeccable care of my grandma now. They are close and she picked her up for today’s birthday celebration. I saw my mother in a new light tonight. I have been angry with her for being so codependent with me. And now I see how she intuitively healed the line of female estrangement in her family line. She made it very clear to my sister and me that she was always there for us, and she always was. She even went to the opposite extreme, by keeping us so close, doting on us, so that we wouldn't ever leave.

It is clearer to me this evening that I have taken the healing to the next space, by doing my part to calibrate the abandonment and the codependency by creating a healthier balance. I have put attention on healthy boundaries with my kids and I feel the benefits of that in my relationship with my daughter, and with my son. I see how my familial line fits in with the issues I've had with my mother, how I've pushed her away in order to become emotionally sober. And how deeply it hurt her when I pulled away, as she has the sting of female abandonment in her cells.

I felt deep approval this evening and really enjoyed my mom in a way I haven’t in a long time. She has lots of subtle (and not so subtle) hooks to pull me in. It’s her safety mechanism to keep me close, to be loved and feel safe. I don’t want the hooks, and yet I want my mom. I maintain my center and love her deeper for the brave beautiful woman she is. I helped her clean up Grandma’s birthday dinner and made sure both my kids helped too.

I am in the thick of alchemy. A hurt from long ago has been spinning around my head and it’s ready to go.

My daughter is a junior in college and is completing a winter intercession study abroad program in Australia. When I was a junior in college, two friends studied abroad and never returned. It was Flight #103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. It was a terrorist bombing. I was surprised at how all the hurt and pain of this came up last month as she was leaving. My mind did this conflating thing of all the details: my friends, Lynne & Colleen were a junior/senior, Hailey, my daughter, is a junior. Going abroad on a dream. And flying across the world is taking a chance. An amazing chance, a life changing chance and could be dangerous too. I have always been the parent believing "better to break your bone than break your spirit" and Hailey did all the work and financed the entire trip herself. It was her dream and I have been in full support. It has been amazing witnessing and supporting her journey. She has blossomed. It has been a blessing to witness. And from across the globe, I feel her deeply changed from this experience.

I was on edge the whole 40 hours of flying time it took her to get to Australia and I breathed this deep sigh of relief when she arrived. She flew from NYC to Abu Dhabi to Melbourne. And when I checked out her flight details for return this weekend, I saw that her connecting flight from Abu Dhabi was numbered #103.

It must be a mistake. Nobody would number a flight #103. And yet they did. Holy fuck.

I remember Lynne & Colleen's mothers. The tears, the sadness, the roses. The vision of them at the memorials etched into my soul and I have never forgotten that image. It breaks my heart.

And now I am a mother. And my beautiful girl is waiting in Abu Dhabi as I write this to get on her flight. #103.

It's not Flight #103.

I am being mindful and I have to keep telling myself she’s not on Flight #103. My mind wants to mix all the details together and if I allowed that I would freak out completely. I am feeling the fear, the sadness of so long ago and I have deep trust and faith that my girl will return to me.

I got a postcard from Colleen when she was in Europe. I could picture her handwriting even now. It's in a box in my garage somewhere. I will never forget the sentence: "I am having the time of my life," she wrote. I think about her words a lot.

And so alchemy appears unexpectedly and I am grateful for it. I feel the hurt of the past, of mothers everywhere, of dreams that ended suddenly and tragically, and I’m churning it all through my body. I receive all the love offered to me from the most amazing witches in my life and know deep in my body that my girl and her friends are being looked after. By Colleen and Lynne? By God? By Powerful Pussies? Yes, please.

And that she is having the time of her life AND she will return to my arms. xoxo

#alchemy trustandfaith OM AEX

A few months ago I called my friend Abbey to tell her I couldn't do the Spread the Sparkle Christmas event. I had too much on my plate already, I explained. She didn't accept that. She reminded me of why we started our non-profit together and how much it meant to her and that she wanted to do it with _me_. I could hear the tears and tenderness in her voice. I felt something stir inside me and it suddenly felt very clear that of course I was doing it.

There was a moment at the end of the day as we were cleaning up that I thought, "I want to always put on events like this. I don’t want to ever not do this." Being in purpose is the most grounded, magical expansive feeling. There were times during the day that I looked around and saw JOY in all directions. People having fun with the photo booth, kids decorating stockings and getting their face painted and it landed in my body just how BIG this really is.

The ripple effects of Spread the Sparkle are tremendous and immeasurable. Everyone person there got 'worked' and received a gift from above. For me, it was the reminder to do _more_ of this, not less bc I'm busy.

The faces and smiles were priceless.

And the icing on the cake was stopping at Bowery Mission afterwards to donate all the leftover food. I got a tour of the chapel and their soup kitchen by the Pastor himself.

As I walked out of the Mission’s kitchen, I looked down at my feet, and I noticed the black boots I was wearing and I felt beautiful. Everything felt right. I thought, wow, it’s amazing that here I am, in a lower Manhattan soup kitchen on Christmas Day. How can this be? It’s because with each moment, I keep following my heart. And it takes me home each time.

I feel like the luckiest woman. ‪#‎grateful‬

I uncovered a pattern this week. It showed up as I was completely exasperated with my teenage son, again. He hits periods where he stops cleaning up after himself and no matter what I do or say, it doesn’t change. It builds and builds between us. I get frustrated after trying so many ways to get through to him, and when nothing changes, I begin to feel powerless. This is never a good place for me to be.

Through a daily writing practice I do called Fear Inventory, the words leapt off the page and it was like I saw myself for the first time. How I expect others to change so I can feel better. I say things over and over, in a variety of ways but don’t draw a line in the sand. I don’t create a boundary for myself, and then let them have their feelings. It’s a distant cousin of people pleasing. It’s a spot I’ve been asleep in and people around me get confused, I get resentful and it spirals down from there.

I reflect on the most challenging part of my 21 year marriage, when it was all falling apart. I remember feeling like I explained my position to him in every possible way I knew how. I prided myself on that. Soft & Vulnerable. Clear & Direct. Writing. Yelling. And still, no change. I _could not_ get the point across about my sexual needs. That I wanted to feel my desire, and have sex when I really wanted to, and not be talked into it because he was so hungry. It was a mess, really. We were totally enmeshed in one another. I expected him to change simply because I explained it so eloquently. He couldn’t, because he was too hurt and resentful himself. And I didn’t have the self-love and awareness to create a boundary. To end the madness. I expected him to change and we were both miserable. I never felt heard.

Codependency 101. Ugh.

This pattern came up recently with my Lover and again with my son and the messy house. When I thought about it, I repeat this pattern with my mother, too. It’s a place where I feel like I say things so beautifully that of course the person would want to make a change. It reminds me of the faithful elephants at the Ueno Zoo in Japan during WW2, who were being starved to death. They performed their best tricks hoping to be fed by their beloved trainers,. It’s not about how eloquently I say it, it’s about creating a boundary for myself when it’s not working. And making the next best move from there.

To do this, I must be centered in myself, aware of my needs and express my boundaries with love. It requires a deeper level of personal responsibility for myself and not care-taking the other person.

Uncovering this pattern was like seeing a part of myself for the first time. I unlocked a place I have repeatedly felt stuck and unheard. The horror of this pattern ran through my system. And then I realized I know how to work this spot. I have tightened up my boundaries a lot over the years and this new awareness allows me to get more of what I want by being more clear with those I love. If I am feeling unheard, I need to create a boundary. It asks me to release attachment to the end result, as releasing codependency means releasing control.

I have a heart to heart with my son. I tell him how I feel and that he needs to take more care to clean up after himself. Later, I ask him to vacuum, and he does. And when I wake up the next morning, the dishes were done and the kitchen was cleaned up, and even a little more than I expected it to be.

#truth @codependancy #freedom

The most extraordinary thing happened today. I saved a boy’s life.

He’s in my 5th grade class and ten year’s old. He’s bubbly, sweet, personable, funny, and a leader.

The kids were packing up to go home and I suddenly heard them calling me that Alex was choking!!! I have no memory of that or what it sounded like, and when I saw him, he was alone in the midst of desks with his hands on his throat. The kids had backed away. I asked him if he was okay and if he could talk? No. I was scared and thought, my god, this is it. I yelled to a girl to run and get the nurse. The room was super quiet and I went behind him and did the Heimlich Maneuver. Two thrusts and the tootsie roll popped out onto the classroom floor in a pile of spit.

The next moment is what will stay with me forever, I think. We just stayed there. Suspended in position, me leaning over him with my arms around his waist, and him hunched over. It turned into a hug. A very long hug. I just held him and loved on him. I was so grateful and all I felt was deep caring and love surrounding us. It was like we were in a bubble. I whispered to him that he is okay and rubbed his head as if he were my own child. The room was still. Twenty four other ten year olds that struggle to be quiet all day long and now you could hear a pin drop. I couldn’t see any of them, but I felt them all watching. I saw some feet.

I sat down on the chair next to him and asked him if he was okay. How was he feeling? He was thirsty and I sent him for a drink.

I wanted to cry in that moment. Did that just happen?

And there were all those faces and I wanted to check in with them about their experience. There was a deep reverence in the room. I could hear my voice shaking as we spoke.

The bell rang and the kids left. I spoke with my principal and then called his mother. What do you say to a mother? There’s no words. Or, what does she say to me? Thank you? It hardly seems like enough but yet it is felt and understood.

I messaged a friend I have taught with for 20 years and she sent me this: “You are his mother’s "Commara” Which is really"Comadre" Or “co-mother” You and his mother are the only 2 who gave him LIFE.“

I noticed I immediately wanted to say no, that didn’t happen. Maybe I didn’t save his life? and maybe he would have been okay? Maybe he wasn’t really choking? No. This is what happened and it was pretty fucking amazing.

I am grateful, humbled and blessed. xoxo

When are our bodies going to be pressed up into each other next?

Friday night

A text message comes in from my daughter and a cold rush coarses through my body, starting at my core and radiating out. Then I’m on fire. What her Dad sent her and her brother feels like a punch in my stomach. It moves to an ache in the deepest part of my being. My tears are thick, hot and they roll down my cheeks rhythmically. Fast and slow, slow and fast. I hear myself wail. My very core is open, raw, exposed. More wails. My heart is beating out of my chest. I am driving and my whole being wants to collapse, melt into the earth.

I want to hit back. Kill him with my anger. Yell at him about all of the horrible things he has done too. Scream and rage and slice him with my razor tongue, push tacks in his eyes. I know this angry spot. My Ego was hit. I was blindsided. My Ego wants to maintain some kind of control and so my Rage Bitch takes over and wants to let loose. She can torch a village.

And then I remember I am a Feeler and an Alchemist. I open up and let the hurt in. Let the weight of the Truths take me. Feel it all as it penetrates the deepest parts of me. The way out is through. Take me. And then it hits me that I asked for this. Oh my god. I asked for healing. Why does it have to show up like such a Bitch?

I lay down for an OM and I am distracted. My thinking swirls around my head and I wonder what I will do next. My partner starts to stroke and I sink in to my body, push the hurt through me. Down, down, down. I breathe deep Ujjati breaths down my lower throat, into my chest, belly, heating up my body and using its healing potential. There is a large round bubble in my lower left belly. I feel it and breathe into it. I put attention on pushing it down with breath and out my pussy. It’s stubborn, thick, and feels like it visibly protrudes out of me. I breathe, feel it, push, relax, utilizing my body as the healing vessel it is. The OM ends and I feel more grounded. The tremors of pain remain as I lay down for a second OM. I use my body to move the hurt again. The bubble is still there. Inside is all the stored shame and hurt of my past. It’s in there good and I think to send it love. What does it want to tell me?

And then I Know to Rise Up. That I can take this hit and flip it, turn it, use it as power. To love deeper. I hear it tell me that this is a Gift. It is a place I can go deeper into my Self, of who I want to be. And who _do_ I want to be? Who am I in the face of Deep Hurt?

In that moment I know what to do. It is simple, but not easy. I feel a pang in my heart. It’s actually the Hardest Thing, as it means facing the truths of my Self to the most precious parts of me, my children. Facing the hurt and pain of my marriage ending, of my part in that, the shame of daring to follow my desires as a woman, the shame of having an affair, the hurt and deep sadness of hurting those nearest and dearest to me.

And so I Rise. I face it, speak it, love it. I feel the deepest hit and flip it. I churn it through my feminine core and push it out as love. My Rage Bitch rests.

Thank you god for the sight and vision to Know, Feel and Utilize my Gifts. To Love Deeper. To know who I am, an Alchemist.

#truth #divorce #alchemy

My Grandma talked about her “100 years coming” for as long as I could remember. It was her thing. As I sat in the hospital parking lot on that sunny April morning, I tried to muster the motivation to go to work, but my body wouldn’t budge. Hospice was picking my Grandma up that day, and reality suddenly hit me. Even though I knew this day was coming since I was a little girl, my heart felt heavy.

Thank god for girlfriends. Really. My sister goddess friend Charmaine listened to my sadness and honored my loss. She then shared with me the beautiful story of her own mother’s death and how she threw her a margarita party in the hospital before she died.

Clunk. That landed in my body as deep truth.

The next thing i did felt pretty vulnerable, and I did it anyway. I sent my family a text inviting them to a party that night in honor of Grandma. It would would be a joyful event; a celebration of her life. I asked them to dress up and bring the favorites Grandma always treated us to; Hershey kisses, chocolate desserts and her recent favorite, Nips candy. Much to my joy, they all said YES. You’re crazy, and yes.

That day she was moved to the Hospice building and as the sun began to set, my family arrived for the party. We brought lots of noise and some uncertainty, too. A “party” for someone as she lays dying went against every bit of conditioning we all held about death, but they trusted me, and I trusted my intuition. We gathered in her room, we talked and we laughed as my sister polished Grandma’s nails purple. My other sister sat on the other side of the bed and asked Grandma questions. There were pink feather boas around the bed and lots of stories, laughter and joy happening all around. The kids played and colored with crayons on the floor. The nurses asked us to keep it down.

What I remember most about that party is my Grandma smiling, holding up her purple nails while we were all laughing and talking in the background. It could have been any other dinner, BBQ, holiday or Sunday brunch. She loved our regular Thursday dinners and today, after all,was Thursday.

She was tiny that night. A small figure laying in the feather adorned bed, ready to go. She lived a beautiful almost-93 years and made a mark on our hearts that is immeasurable. What I’ve learned from her extend from talking to people anywhere about anything, deep generosity, love and service. She was the Treasurer for Hadassah for 40 years. Forty. When she retired, it took 3 people to do the job she had done alone. My Grandma was smart; a straight shooting mathmetician, a chef who cooked dinner for us every Thursday for two decades, and the North Star of our entire family.

She was getting tired and her eyes grew heavy. She was curled up and her purple nails shone on her tiny hands. As she dozed off, we told some more stories and laughed as we packed up the party. We felt pure joy and love; like warm honey was drizzled all over us and it seeped into all our insides. And here’s how amazing my Grandma is. Do you know she never opened her eyes again? Ever. She left this earth 4 days later and the last thing she saw was her family laughing at a party just for her.

That’s living. That’s my Grandma.

gratitudes to my ego dear ego, I love you. You have always been there for me. I love you where you are and you can hang out with me as a powerful part of Who I Am. You don't define me though. I know you are there, I see you, I feel you. I feel your power in my relationships. I see how empowering you and holding on to you keeps me right, yet then I notice I feel disconnected in those times and it keeps me small. I am ready to love you just where you are and honor your fierce badass power. You are one powerful being!! I learn from you. I am ready to let go of all the stories you help me create that keep me from my true desires, keep me from being Deeper Love in this world and reaching my full potential. I love you. And my gift is my honoring of your badass power. I offer you these gratitudes, as I see and feel your place inside me. And that I desire to let you go as the Leader. I know you are there, as I feel you deeply. We have the same desires and I am choosing to be more vulnerable now and move from deeper love. with deep deep love and sincere appreciation ❤️ gratitudes for you, dear ego: thank you for working so diligentlly to keep me powerful thank you for keeping me special and especially feel more special than other women my lovers are with thank you for protecting me from hurt, pain, being abandoned and disconnected thank you for working to keep me from my biggest fear, being left behind thank you for your intricate detailed stories that keep me right thank you for keeping me angry, which keeps me right thank you for protecting me the only way you know how thank you for being there for me all these years thank you for teaching me how to hook people so i stay safe, connected and loved thank you for teaching me to collude thank you for being attached to outcomes to feed story and fear thank you for the scarcity, which shows me I desire more abundance thank you for being such a powerful badass thank you for showing me that i do know how to let go thank you for helping me see I can love you just where you are, for who you are and that I may do that with others as well thank you for being there, that I may call on you anytime thank you for being loyal to our mom thank you for loving me and loving me and loving me the best way you know how i love you. ❤️

My Rage Bitch is pissed. I’ve been feeling crazy, crying, pulling and generally all over the place. I could picture my boyfriend’s face as he opened my texts, wondering who was on the other side, his Turned On Goddess Girlfriend or Rage Bitch. It’s been a coin toss this week.

I miss him. So fucking much. And I want his attention, I haven’t gotten it and I was coming at him like a crazy woman. It would have helped if I had _known_ he was in an intensive program for the week. We both thought his trip to Morehouse would be light and fun. No! He has been super busy and my Pussy has not been pleased. And that is on top of not seeing him for a month. Can you say, FIRE PUSSY!!?

Let me tell you, this man is wonderful. He has tried to meet me in every which way and even refused when I asked for no communication, as he felt my love, desire and hurt under that request. He has been showing up for me, and also for the world, quite frankly. And here’s another Truth: Matters of the Pussy are not rational. And there has been no consoling of my Rage Bitch. All my Pussy knew was that she was sick of missing him and she WILL be heard. I texted him bitchy, mean shit. Over and over. After all of his rational attempts, he finally snapped! It was awesome! And his Beast was unleashed. It was ABOUT TIME. I could FEEL him, as opposed to all the sweet, sensible texts and photos he had been sending. He finally met me where I had been beckoning him to. In the dark forest with a sword of fire.

I don’t know how you fight with your Man, but this is pretty fucking HOT:

brenda:

Look, i feel you trying.

I know you miss me. I miss you too.

are you there or is your phone open?

noah:

I'm right here

brenda:

noah:

There are like 20 people here and I'm one of the three guests of honor. Lots of attention! These people are cray on attention. Stepped into the bathroom.

brenda:

why are you a guest of honor?

noah:

Window on Morehouse!! All these 20+ house people are putting attention on us!

It's intense!

And babe.

It’s Fucking hard

Don't know if there's really anything that's going to make it better till we're together

brenda:

really? you are at this huge intensive course and that’s your takeaway?

noah:

That feels slighted

brenda:

it isn’t

I’m joking with you

you say you are learning all this great stuff! Share it.

noah:

I have a fuck ton of stuff! And I want to fucking share it with you you fucking bitch!!

You're making it a fucking pain in the fucking ass every single time I try to connect with you

brenda:

yep i AM a total bitch

good

my pussy is mad

you don’t fuck with a pissy pussy

noah:

Your pussy is being a goddamn witch!!

brenda:

yep she is

do you know why

noah:

A fucking bitch

B I T C H

Groups statted

I'm late

Bye

brenda:

hey

i really hate when you act all nice and connect with me about toilets and shit.

at least here i can feel you.

THAT feels better than your lame higher self shit

so fuck you and good night

i love you and you are a pain in my ass

and i don’t want that higher self old ways christian as my boyfriend texting me pictures of chairs

do you hear that?

now fuck me you doody head

and don’t stop!

❤️

hours later

noah:

Lol, okay, heavy stroking throwing back at you you can fucking have if you’re going to be a goddamn bitch about it all!!

Your pussy wants fire! Well it can have it

And I’ll let you know, those ‘toilets’ are in every bathroom so the sex cult purple house pussy stroking masturbating as heck people this ‘christian boy’ is hanging out with, which is 180 _fucking_ degrees about as opposite from this ‘christian boy’ background, can self-pleasure themselves at any moment like crazy. What do you say to that?!?! I haven’t even heard verdict from Mama Gena come down that every goddess must have an additional ‘toilet’ installed in every bathroom of their house so they can self-pleasure at every opportunity. So take that!

And seriously! If you want to fight, and clearly your pussy does!!, I’m going to bring it! Fuck that shit of a ‘nice guy’, ‘get along’, bullshit. This is your pleasure, so you can have it. See if you can take this hyper volatile’s bitch slapping wrath of GOD coming down on you.

You _want_ to unleash a beast! You’ve GOT IT

I see you

I watch you

I feel your demons and fucking handle the shit out of them!!!

noah:

You better watch out! If you push this side, all sort of desires may come pouring out that you may not be able to fucking HANDLE.

I’m a motherfucking WARLOCK bitch! I have the power to manifest! During tonight’s Mark Group the three of us witches played at a level that was intense, we brought it to these Morehouse people. They felt our power. They felt MY POWER flow into the room.

I can kick it up another notch if you really want it, but you’ll be so fucking pissed you won’t be able to contain yourself. You’ll go complete at effect, consumed by your rage and jealousy. That play I leave to you

For now. This is it.

Good night

You fucking goddamn bitch

The next morning

brenda:

Well good morning Worlock! It’s about fucking time you showed up to meet me.

Ive been waiting for you.

Fucking finally....

FF Fuck that shit of a ‘nice guy’, ‘get along’, bullshit. This is your pleasure, so you can have it. See if you can take this hyper volatile’s bitch slapping wrath of GOD coming down on you.

You _want_ to unleash a beast! You’ve GOT IT

Yeah I want you to meet me!!!!

Fuck all that bullshit about flowers and toilets I want to fucking feel you. And I don’t feel you when you send me pics of you smiling with MY FRIENDS. So, yeah I am unleashing your beast. BRING IT.

#openrelationship truth rage feminine

“Mom, can I reorganize the kitchen cabinets?” asked my son last weekend. We were clearing the top two shelves for our new tenant, who would be sharing the kitchen. What 17 year old makes such a request? Certainly not mine ever before. He added that it needs to be done and he really doesn’t like the way I do it, so he would like to. “You can have it!” I told him, and he went to work.

These types of conversations have been happening more and more frequently. Just last week, he said, “Mom, I have two requests,” and then proceeded to make his very reasonable requests. Last night he asked me to use my credit card for something and reminded me with so much maturity that I _can_ say no. I did say no to that request and there was no residue.

I am beyond grateful for these markers of growth. It wasn’t that long ago that he would barely communicate with me, except for a lot of grunts and he blamed me for pretty much everything. It was tense and whatever I said or did, it was never right. It felt like I was being tested and judged constantly and I was at my wit’s end and frankly, exhausted from it.

I have changed a lot over the past year and it has changed the way I parent. I believe it has made all the difference. I OM. OM, Orgasmic Meditation, is a 15 minute partnered practice, in which a stroker strokes the upper left hand quadrant of a woman’s clitoris for 15 minutes. It has a tight container and there is no goal. The purpose is to connect and feel. Through this practice, a lot of healing has come up for me. Patterns of codependency, people pleasing and not being able to ask for what I wanted, inside the bedroom and out. Through the practice, I noticed all of the ways I sought attention and operated from a place of empty to keep up the status quo. It has been a journey and there's more to go.

What does this have to do with my son cleaning out the kitchen cabinets? It feels like a pretty awesome side effect of OM I didn’t expect! He used to be cranky, moody and I took on his tumescence. He barked at me often and I took it personally and either barked back, withdrew, felt hurt, or basically had no idea what to do. It felt like I could never do anything right. When I tried to speak to him about it, he would acquiesce with an underlying silent, “fuck you” and eventually we would forget about it, move on until we found a sweet spot and then it would inevitably happen again. Welcome to my marriage, too, by the way. I wasn’t clear with my boundaries and so, of course they were muddled. Kids pick up on loose boundaries like bears at a campground.

I'm becoming emotionally sober. Awake. Aware of my communication patterns. As I have became vulnerable enough to admit what was challenging for me and be open to new ways of healing myself, I started becoming more grounded, turned on and aware. With each OM, I started asking for what I wanted and I started getting it. I was suddenly making requests and offers to people, my son included. It felt like a clean, clear way to communicate and keep the responsibility on myself. The best thing I could do for my son was to hold space for him to feel all of his feelings and still maintain my pole of groundedness with deep, deep love. To really hear him, listen and not collude with him or find fault with the “other” in his complaints. With every interaction, I started finding him right and leaning into helping him see himself more clearly so he could achieve his own desires and feel good about them. I started asking him more questions and being less attached to end results. The more emotional space I gave him, and the more I loved him up from that centered pole of turn on, the more he has grown.

The Dali Lama said, “The world will be saved by the western woman.” He's right. The more I invest in myself, the bigger the dividends get. I am beyond grateful. _And_ I get organized kitchen cabinets.

It’s magic. It’s possible. It’s OM.

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