It's not that serious

As Ariadne’s  voice guided us down into the trance like state, another voice came to me.  The voice of my mother.  You do not need a man.  The only man you need is God.  He will never leave, he will never hurt you.  You have no need for mortal men.

It was a chant, a command a warning and it grew persistant until I came to Them
Baron Samedi and  Maman Brigitte. 
The Baron on my left.  Maman on my right.  Both in masks.  We were on the streets of New Orleans during carnival but the sounds were muted as if heard through a wall.  They took me from modern day to olden day to the swamps and jungles and back again.  A dance upon the earth. 

Suddenly Maman Brigitte was gone and it was just He and I in a waltz.  He in black tuxedo with blood red cape, a top hat, his face hidden behind a mask.

What do you look like?

~That is not for you to see

Please?

He spun me around to a mirrored wall.  And stood behind me.  He was tall at least two head heights taller than I and his arms were lanky at his sides. With his left hand he removed the mask and in it place stood another.  His lips black curled back over stained teeth as he laughed and then thrust his right hand through my body, through my stomach and in his palm he held an apple and curled around his wrist was a bright green snake. That writhed and held tightly to Him trying to get back in.  But He hissed and the snake fell at my feet and the apple decayed into black powder.  He withdrew his hand and I felt surprisingly full there, warm.

He spit into the black powder and with it tattooed  snakes on my upper arms.  I followed him to the place of my childhood.  The two story gunshot that sat beneath the oaks on Alexander. It was a sunny afternoon and quite. The birds the breeze the sound of the clock but no people When I looked around the Baron was not with me.  I went around the back of the house.  Up the railroad rock driveway, past the gate and up the stairs into the kitchen.  I knew He was waiting for me inside, on the second floor in the room my brother and I had shared.  As I walked up the red staircase I felt myself becoming younger and younger until I was a child again, seven years old.  The door was open and I stepped inside and there before me was the a person a thing? Cloaked in black huddled in the far left corner.

What do you see?

~Nothing

What do you see?

I looked down at my feet and I remembered.  I remember this house, this moment this memory.  When mother took us to see the house for the first time it was an lazy afternoon, children were at school no cars were passing on the street.  I snuck away to the upstairs and I saw something that I can not remember.  What I do remember is screaming until my throat hurt, not being able to move, a shiny black bug with a yellow stripe skitter across my shoe and then nothing.

What do you see?

A bug

Then why did you scream?

It wasn’t a bug… my mind made it a bug I don’t remember what I saw.

When you remember the door will be open.

He stood and opened His cape. 

Come I take you to the Other.

I stepped into His arms

The cloak closed around me

Blackness gave way to bight light, the subtle itch of cloth to softness and I was laying alone in the woods. The grass was a supple cool blanket beneath my warm skin.

The God came upon me He was younger than I no more than 20 and naked.  He skin changing from the palest ivory to the deepest Grecian olives then blue black mahoganies. He hair from cornsilk to black dred roots and back again.  But his eyes always the same.  Viridian, wise, zoetic.

He lay besides me and touched my skin.  I felt myself awaken to his touch and he smiled… pleased.

I have come to you before, but you have denied Me repeatedly.  Are you ready now to receive me?

I had barely opened my mouth to respond before He was atop me You do not receive.  You give and give, but you do not receive.  It is because of your masculine energy and your denial of its overwhelming presence that you can not connect with your feminine energy.  You seek the Goddess, you seek to be goddess, to be mother.  The only way to attain this is through Me and all my manifestations.

And I watched as His face changed to every man I had ever known.  For bad and for better.  And in each face he showed me the gifts that I have received, the lessons I have learned.  From my birth father the ability to charm snakes, from my brother the importance of earning a thing, from my paraine the pitfalls& pleasures of success, from my most loved teacher the patience to nurture a flower to bloom, from Troy adoration and its false illusions, from Jon the power of speaking my truth, from Ron the effect of fear upon the human heart, from Sloan the bitter taste of one sided desire and the penalties that arise from exploiting it, from Jim the importance hold to my self worth, from Neil loving enough to let go,  from Terick who I am not, from Frank the will and discipline to be who I dare and dream to be.

On and on it went faster and faster until all faces became one face.  His face.  Unique, beautiful and terrible, young and old, dark and light, alien and familiar. A combination of men I have met and men I have yet to know. And slowly with great gentleness He entered me, and I was comfortable as if He had always been there as if I were shaped to fit Him.  He smiled Apollo’s smile and whispered in my ear. 

Loving me does not make you weak… and he paused before he added with another grin this time knowing and full of mischief … and it does not make you a Christian either. Receive my love in what ever form it comes in.  And He kissed me with the all the forcefulness of summer until Aridane’s voice called me home.

It occurs to me that I took my mothers words to heart You do not need a man.  The only man you need is God.  He will never leave, he will never hurt you.  You have no need for mortal men.  But she spoke of the Christian God.  A God that I was taught to fear.  A God whose stories are laced with vengeance, cruel tests and double standards,  a fierce unapproachable figure, who loved me because I was one of His creations not because I was me.  I ran from this God.  I ran from Him and into the arms of the Goddess.

And as I studied the way of the Goddess I was introduced to a new God.  I denied Him as well because of my distaste and distrust of masculine divinity.  I became unbalanced in my spirituality.  I became unbalanced in my relationships. 

Several things have been happening in my life which has forced me to face my relationship with masculine energy.  From myself, to the men in my life to my spirituality.

Last night during Aridane’s meditation I had breakthrough, I had release and I made peace.  

I feel strange today.  This type of balance is something I will have to get used to, learning what it is like to really walk with two feet.  I feel vulnerable, and innocent and more open than I have in a long time.  I want to curl up and be held, I want to hide away because I am sensitive to everything.  He was right.  Opening to the idea of receiving masculine divinity has exposed a softer side, new born and yielding, gentler, quieter, calmer but in no way weak.

My mother was wrong~

I couldn't  bring myself to put into words what I was feeling while we were together. Because whoever read it would hate you.  And no matter how much I would verbally acknowledge that it was only my side of the story I would write it like it was the ultimate truth.

Because for me it is the truth

I have to do this... get this out so I can wash our blood off my hands and be done with it.  I will accept my role of excutionor of our relationship, of your sweet innocence, I will be the villan if I must.  If it means gaining my freedom, my sanity I will slit the throat of what we called out love, I will burn the corpse and I will bury it. 
 

 
But you know what?  Despite all the horrible things

I thank you for showing me how strong I truly am
I thank you for forcing me into a corner. So I could learn to fight with my back against the wall
I thank you for showing me what hunger feels like.  It will never again catch me unguarded
I thank you for showing me what lies love can tell.  You cleared my vision, cured me of a childish fancy
I thank you for shaping me, hardening me, putting me through the fire.  I am now crucible, I am now uncrushable.
I thank you for stripping me of everything that I once was.  Because what I was was not fit to be measured.
I thank you for helping/forcing me to become what I am today.   Because what I am today is without limitation.




There was a woman I met. 
A crone tucked away near the steps of the cathedral in Jackson Square. 
I was 17... it was three months before I had even laid eyes on you. 

She told me that we would met. 
That you would help me by hurting me.  That we would have three children, and that we would be married before I finished school, that I would leave you some day because you would turn me into a woman but you yourself would remain a boy.  That you would lead me to the crossing and I would leave and take my children with me.



I thought I had gotten around it because even though she described you to a perfectly I became infertile, I never finished school, we never got married.

But she was right. 
The children were misinterpreted by me. 
They are talents, gifts and you did give me three they are Strength, Courage & Wisdom
We were never married in a public office or before our peers but we exchanged vows.  You before your god and me before mine
I did indeed become a woman while you remained a boy.
I am at the crossing now I carry my children in my blood, in my heart, in my spirit.





I had a dream the night before I moved out
one dream, vivid and stark and frightened me at first
but I understand it now

I was a dead woman on the river's bank
I had stepped into the ferryman’s boat cradling  three golden orbs
I could see you standing upon the shore watching me slip away into the fog...
the ferryman whispered in my ear to wash my hands, to wash my hands
and I do
leaving ribbons of red in my wake.
and as I washed I watch you.
You have neither moved nor breathed.  And I am begging you to give me a sign
to tell me something, to show some emotion so that I can jump ship and swim to you
but the ferryman grabs my shoulder and tells me to turn away, to turn away lest I become a pillar of salt
and I do

I look out in front of me and I am blinded there is an aching pain as the orbs glow and encase me.  And I am lifted up and out and I feel everything at once a moment of clarity that I can not remember or put into words no matter how hard I try.


Last Saturday
Right as I was leaving...
as I stood in the entry way...
as removed my key from its chain and placed it in the bowl by the door
I faltered.

my feet were heavy
my heart ached
and I looked for a sign

I heard Ron's voice from the doorway, the drawling nonchalance, calming, soothing like this was any other day.
"Don't look back Renie you'll turn into a pillar of salt"
and I turned around
and I faced the day
the gentle rain outside
a river falling from the sky
free falling
free like me
and I screamed one short, violent cry as the door clicked close behind me.

And in it was sadness, and happiness, and pain and pleasure and joy and relief and
Strength
Courage
and Wisdom

and it hurt... but now I can see the world stretch open wide and vast before me. Full as the harvest moon, ripe as the perfect fruit and I am reintroduced to me, reborn in this reality, realized fully and finally at peace, finally happy to be me...

finally  free.

I care too much about what other people think
I feel as if I am straddling some unmarked line
I am so uncomfortable with myself
I am really going to try to use I less
but its hard
to write I mean.

At my center
at my core I feel something that isn't me
something that wants me to stay the way I am
some poison

I get angry and mad and defensive
I jump to conclusions because I know that something is off inside of me
All that other bullshit is just smokescreens.
I pretend confidence, I pretend to love me
but I know... when I am alone.. when everyone goes home
and its just me and the thoughts rattling around in my head

I know
but

the strong woman inside of me is starting to punch through the weak one
the wild womun inside of me has a hold of the demons
and I feel like I am trapped in the storm... sometimes I am the wild womun the huntress the wolfe and others I am the demon, the rejected, the vile abasement
sometimes I am neither
and sometimes that feels worse

I know that I am not making sense to anyone but myself
but there is a war going on in my head
in my soul
in my heart
I'm trying so hard not to run from the storm
I'm trying to embrace it and let it change me

do or do not eh? there is no try
the floor that was my foundation has faded fast
as soon as I realized that I was walking on smoke screens

I began to fall
free fall

And someone may want to reach down and pull me up... the ones that love me the ones that care
but I've gotta pull myself up
because in the end when I look in the mirror

I want to know that I did it
that I crawled on my own hands in knees
I want to feel the ache the pain that comes with growth

I want to laugh like an insane woman as I spit back into that dark pit from wench I came.
The satisfactory sizzle  sound of water hitting the flames below.

I want to pull myself through that canal and be reborn
or die trying
and I will die trying
at least figuratively
and wether or not im ready for that
its happening.

And the me that is less than is scared shitless
And the me that is greater than ... I have yet to know.

I wonder if it happens to every woman....
Your going along just fine and then
bam
suddenly they are everywhere.

Babies... millions of them
You can't seem to escape them.

Every time you turn on the tv theres a godamn gerber add
Every time you turn on the radio there's some good mothering commercial
Every time you take the bus you either end up sitting across from one that is is just staring at you over his/her mother's shoulder or there is a picture of one glaring accusingly at you with its to- big- for- its- head eyes "why arent you a mommy yet!"

"BAH!!!" you say defiantly and out loud making the people next to you think you are insane.

But then
then
you get this naggin little itch that you try to ignore... you think "maybe it is something I ate" or " I knew I should have turned off that dumb ass lifetime station before I went to bed"
and it gets worse.

That little itch you used to get turns into a nudge and every time you see a baby your eyes glaze over and your head tilts to the side and your hands get a little warm...
Still you think its a bad piece of tofu or something and you continue along your merry little way believing that you are a complete person and trying to prove to all the wed soccer moms that your life is really great because you are not cleaning up baby vomit and cooking dinner for some chauvinist bastard with a stomach that hangs over his belt a huge bald spot you cant resist sticking things too and bad night time gas.

but then one of your friends pops one out
someone you know right... like personally and aside from stinky diapers  and losing 3 hours of sleep per night it really isn't as bad as you made it out to be
and that nudge turns into someone grabbing your ovaries... like every time you see a baby you get "ovary ache" (gasp)

No No No (you scream) This isn't me... this isn't what I want!!!!
I want:
raunchy sex
successfully achieved states of non violent semi-drunken euphoria,
muscle men with nipple rings,
free space in the back seat of my car,
a purse that is weighs under five pounds
and sharp edges on my furniture!!!!!!!!!

but then the baby smiles at you
(little bastard)
and you know something beyond yourself, in the brief span of that smile that "ovary ache" spreads up and into your heart and with every beat of it you pulse and flutter with love and a glimpse of what completeness must feel like.

!!!!!!Damn Mother Nature and her hormonal havoc reeking hell!!!!
Shes a tricky bitch
but I love her so

It does not matter what type of relationship you had with your parents
It does not matter what you told yourself about possibly being a horrid mother
It does not matter that you're sure the kid would turn out like his/her father...
or worse like you.
Because what matters is the feeling of that child growing in your womb
what matters is watching her/him grow and learn
what matters is discovering the world through their eyes
what matters is knowing the completeness of..mother and child

Despite the raging of your mind, your body becomes softer to nuture, your mind sharper to protect, your heart larger to really love.

You begin to think that lugging around 10 pounds of baby supplies could be good for you since you keep skipping out on the gym and just because a man or woman has nipple rings does not necessarily mean that he/she is good in bed (at least that is what you tell yourself)
~~~le sigh
that is why im doing what I am doing now...
darn aching ovaries
and staring-bus-babies
I can blame the body snatchers later.