authenticity

Radically Authentic. Woman + Free.

I tend to spend most of my time with free-spirited, artistic folx.

So it has come to my attention, again, that many men who do not fit that bill do not expect, and are even practically flabbergasted, when the universe presents them with a free, radically authentic woman.

They're all like, "you're FUNNY!" which is not 'hilarious'-funny. Cuz I'm not that funny, really.
They mean 'different.'  Not fitting in any of the "women" boxes they keep laid out as options for what kinds of women exist and how to categorize them.

And I'm kind of tired of it.

A friend said, "well, that's kind of flattering" lol! As if I'm supposed to be all impressed with myself or something. Or impressed with the fact that two someones two days in a row have been surprised at my personality, my openness, my freedom, my authenticity, at the lack of fucks that I give. What is there to be flattered by??? That I broke a mold? At my own existence outside of a box? I never fucked with the box anyway. Flattered by who or by what now?

Y'know, I'm not. flattered. 
I dont care. 
I actually find it quite annoying.

Because here I am just presented with a man so used to boxing women in. So used to meeting woman upon woman that he throws into a category and never takes a second look at. Someone who is so sure that every woman he meets just fits here or there, in this fixed space, without dynamism. Without my favorite word: nuance.

So I'm not flattered, damn. I'm actually slightly disgusted at what is clearly either the lack of free, radically authentic women in his life that I somehow stand out like a sore thumb, or a green one, or just one that's just twiddling independently for a while, to its own damn tune...
OR I'm disgusted at his lack of seeing the diversity, the nuance, the authenticity right in front of him every day that when he faces me, who is unabashedly so and incredibly energetic about it, that I somehow seem different from my already dynamic AF sisters.

Boy. Bai. 

Practicing the Responsibility of Freedom…

Originally penned/published:  Jan 2, 2016

So far in this new year I’ve been thinking a lot on freedom. The concept of freedom, what that means to me and what it looks like, how freedom acts within my body… whether or not that action is always good…

I’ve also been thinking on the consequences of feeling a lack of freedom in certain areas of my life as well as wondering if it’s possible to have too much freedom…. or what having more freedom might mean in regard to freedom’s opposite… whatever that is…

Lol, anyway here we go! I’ve got a lot of quotes and messages and images on my phone about freedom. When my phone starts up there is a message that I programmed in there that says, “Practice Your Freedom” – a phrase I saw a friend write on Facebook some time ago that really resonated with me. But I think I am wondering and needing to better learn how, and how to do that well.

My favorite quote on love is, “You should love in such a way that the person you love feels free” by Thich Nhat Hanh. I find freedom and comfort in the company of my friends and family with whom I can be fully and completely myself. I think that, essentially, is the essence of true freedom for me: To be able to be completely, 100% authentically myself without fear of negative repercussions.

I think I pretty much have that in my personal life. Professionally, I think, is where I would like to have more of that. Since my work has taken a bit of a larger role in my life now to date, I feel like I am sacrificing more by being “on” more often and in a more significant way.

And, yes, I do think it’s worth it for all of the good that I am able to do in my work. But I also feel like after a few years of it, I’m going to seriously need more freedom. More time just being myself, without having to impress or convince or fundraise or… I think I could end up burnt out.

I also came across this quote this morning on Pinterest:

And I think that’s the rub. Y’know, my soul is not a hologram of my resume + cover letter, it doesn’t wear blazers and heels, it isn’t always proper and it’s language ain’t always PG.

I like the freedom to be fully expressive. And I feel a bit cornered at times by not always being able to be that way.

Eventually, I think I am working toward self employment. This is an interesting discovery period, however, in finding out what that will look like, what I will incorporate, what kinds of activities really feed my soul and help me feel most free and most empowered.

But at present, without having all of that knowledge yet, I am currently reflecting on the below:

It takes great bravery to exercise great freedom. And a LOT of self knowledge to do it well and masterfully. And in a healthy way. I know there are ways I’ve been poisoning myself: Drinking too much, Not eating very well a little too frequently…

And other ways of just not living up to my full potential. So for now, I’m going to explore that.

You can find me where I’ll be finding more of myself:

Practicing freedom and practicing love.

Where Are We When Time Forgets Us?

Originally penned/published:  Sept 3, 2011

 

Where are we when time forgets us?

I am lost in words.

Flipping rhymes in time

Because time forgot.

Time forgets me

I find myself lost in it,

With no hours,

Minutes,

Days,

Second hands revisited

 

I am lost in words.

In pun

For fun

In my everyday language,

Conversations between you and me

move easily

as I glide with

the sides of nouns on my tongue

their tops are still young

but underbellies run deep in my soul

like the ancient collective conscious of lost cities

empires

also forgotten by time.

 

By people.

Misunderstood.

Not understood for lack of memory,

Of remembrance.

For lack of brain space

Or dedication

Or curiosity.

 

A curious cat,

Am i

In time.

 

And when time forgets?

Well I just let it

Be

In me,

Walk steadily,

Glide with my mind through time

Like it’s my master,

Giving no direction

But watching,

Looking for intentions,

 

So I glide

I rhyme

I write verses in time

Put it all on the page

No sage

Just wage

Not war

But want

For better

For your

And my

Time.

 

For these times

When time forgets

People.

 

I am lost in the page

For the people.

 

And for those who have yet to find their way to it

I am on stage.

 

And for those who have yet to find their way to it

I am at work.

 

And for those who have yet to find their way to it

I am at play.

 

Every day.

With words.

 

This love,

Its just words.

 

Love,

Is just a word.

I say often.

With meaning.

This love,

It’s easy,

Comes naturally,

So I just do it.

 

It’s what keeps me in time when time forgets me.

It picks me back up,

Thrusts me back onto the faces of the world,

The faces of angels

Masked by self preservation.

 

Pre serve.

What comes before serving?

The self.

 

Find me there.

I am waiting,

There is where I am lost in time.

And mine,

My self,

It’s on the page.

You can find it

In time.

Even when time forgets you,

Words remain.

On pages.

So write books,

Be sages,

Of yourself.

 

For in time,

You will be lost,

One day,

And in afternoons, evenings, at night when asleep,

You will lose yourself sometimes.

So write yourself on pages so you don’t forget.

So that if you do, you’re still there.

Guard those pages with your life.

They may be all you have left.

 

Commit them to memory.

That may be all you have left.

 

And then share them with others,

Because they may be all you have left.

All that’s left on this earth,

Of you.