For the love of Arthur

I’m becoming a grandmother. Next Month. His name is Arthur, and never has a baby been so wanted or loved or eagerly anticipated. And that’s just me, imagine how his parents feel. 

When I was 18, a close friend gave me a book called Grandmother Remembers. At the time, I thought this was a strange gift- grandmotherhood seemed a long way off. When I asked her about it, she said, “I have the best grandmothers, they are awesome. I want to be just like them.”

Now this I understood. I too had awesome grandmothers, and great-grandmothers, who all lived in the same city as me. I was so well loved by these amazing women, and I knew it. I could list all the things they taught me- how to bake anything, how to weed a garden, sew on a button, name wildflowers- but what they really taught me, simply by being with me, was that I was loved and valued and important.

But I didn’t understand how I would feel, when I was the grandmother. I feel different. I have a new awareness of myself, of who I am, how I am, of where I am in my life, which has nothing to do with turning 50. This is about Arthur.  

Arthur lives 2800 miles away from me. I won’t be there to hear his first words. I won’t see his first preschool concert or attend his soccer games. I won’t be able to bring him 7up, a Dairy Milk and an Archie comic when he is home sick. I won’t be able to rush over and help him when his first pie crust is falling apart. 

I will have to learn to be a different kind of grandmother. Sometimes, before I fall asleep, I picture Arthur nestled snuggly in his mother’s womb, warmly, gently, growing. I send him love, and imagine his sweet little face, and count the kisses I will cover his soft little cheeks with.

I will encourage my son to show him my picture daily so he recognizes me when I visit. His mother is a photographer so I am betting I will get to see lots of pictures of him. I plan to Skype with him weekly, and he’ll probably know how to use a tablet by the age of 3, so then he can call me.

When I visit in the summer, I will encourage his parents to take a break, take some time for themselves, go on a well-deserved holiday, while I take care of Arthur. I will walk with him, and he will show me the wonders of his neighbourhood, his warm fingers tucked into mine. I will take him to the zoo, where he will show me his favourite animals. I will spoil him handsomely by patiently answering his endless questions and showing him how to dip ripe strawberries into sweetened yogurt or chocolate or both. We will sit on the steps in the sunlight and spit watermelon seeds across the lawn, and lay on our backs and tell each other cloud stories. We will sit on the steps at night with a blanket on our knees and count the stars and share the mysteries of the cosmos. We will share books and play copious games of Go Fish and Kings’ Korners. 

I will tell him tales of his father as a boy, and how his parents met, and he will know his place in the family. He will feel loved and valued and important.

And when it is time for me to go, I will tell him not to miss me, because I am always with him, and he is always with me. I will tell him to be happy and play and laugh and enjoy every moment of every day, because that is what I will be thinking, when I think about him, which will be always.

A committment, not a resolution

The sky is blue and wide open this cold, clear January morning, and 2014 stretches endlessly into the unknown. Anything could happen.

I won’t be waiting to see what will be. Instead, I will play and laugh and eat delicious food. I will dance and dream and try new things. I will write and nap and make love, all with equal abandon.  I will drink wine and sing songs, not necessarily in that order. Imagine a cat luxuriating in a sunbeam; that will be me, taking my pleasure as I ease/stretch into myself.

The rest is just details.

Things you should know before becoming my lover

I’m big. But if we’ve gotten this far, you’ve already noticed my height and my hips and my feet. And the way I laugh, and eat and smile with abandon.

And you want me. You want in, to my positive aura and to the sensual promise of my body. You want to dip your tongue into the depths of me and taste my sweetness.

And I am sweet, I promise. And if you should be lucky enough to rub your naked body against mine you will feel the delicious warmth of my love for bodies and pleasure. You will have no doubts about my delight in having you for my playmate. And I will want you to stay for a long time, until we are both sated, relaxed, energized. 

And you might get scared. Because my love is big. My desires are big. And I will not be afraid to ask you for more. You might fear that I will ask for more than you want to give. So I`m telling you now, I only want what is freely given. 

I want your desire. I want your generosity and playfulness. I want your hot mouth and your hard cock, your confidence and your sense of adventure. I want to know you, the real you. I don`t just want your body, I want you naked.

You might be afraid of what I will see, when you are stripped of your clothes and your worldly façade. Let me reassure you- I`ve already seen you. You are enough. And so am I.

The Divine in me wants to touch the Divine in you. The poet says you are the Universe in ecstatic motion, and I want to dance with you, until our moment ends. 

You might be troubled by the thought of endings before we have even begun. Darling, endings are simply the openings to new beginnings. They are what fuels the expansion of all things. I am being born each moment, and so are you. 

I want to know the perfection of your humanness, and I want to show you mine.

You are welcome here.

Unfolding

Recently the word ‘unfolding came into my consciousness, and I remembered the unfolding exercise we did at the Findhorn Community during Experience Week.

I wasn’t even supposed to be at Experience Week; I  had signed up for sacred dance training. But when the training was cancelled, my plane ticket was already booked, and so I went.

It was one of those blow-your-mind weeks- intense, sacred, the kind that challenges you right where you live and sends you home a different person.

And one of the reasons was the unfolding exercise. I think it might have been the first full day. Our facilitators led us to the ballroom, a beautiful room full of windows and light, and explained that each of us would have a turn ‘unfolding’ someone else. Basically, we would each curl up on the floor in the fetal position, and our partner would gently unfold our arms and legs, and straighten our bodies until we were lying straight and open on the floor.

Yipes! A stranger touching you – arms, legs, feet, hips or shoulders maybe, ai carumba! I felt vulnerable to the core of my being. Exposed. I knew that if anyone was going to unfold me, it was going to be Martin, a handsome British man about my age. I glanced over and him and found him looking at me- we made a beeline for each other.

The room was quiet as each pair took turns gently unfolding their partner, inviting them to open, allow, be. We began slowly with some nervous giggles, mostly because we didn’t want to be the person who said no- after all, we came to Experience Week for the experience. At first it was appallingly intimate, but something incredible happened as we moved through the exercise, quietly rearranging our partner’s limbs.

We fell into sacred space. We quit worrying about being watched or judged, and allowed ourselves to be in the moment. We offered and accepted sacred touch. The folded allowed themselves to be touched, and the Unfolders accepted the gift of trust, and focused completed on gently and sweetly unfolding our chosen. We let go of self-consciousness about our bodies and our worthiness. We opened. We expanded. And when the exercise was complete, we were no longer a room full of strangers, we were intimately connected souls journeying together. Such power that came from allowing ourselves to let go, to be vulnerable with each other, such power indeed.

Surrender is NOT a Dirty Word

I’ve been in a lot of circles where we’ve chosen angel cards. Everybody cheers when someone draws ‘play’ or ‘celebration’ and the group moans in harmony when someone chooses ‘responsibility’ or ‘surrender’.

But you know what; surrender is NOT a dirty word. Surrender is about allowing yourself to be you. It’s about letting go and being who you really are, in all your precious vulnerabilities and incredible fabulousness. Because you are fabulous, you know.

I’m approaching 50- I like to think of it as beginning the second half of my life- and

And yet, I couldn’t have done it any other way. I know that I did my best, always, with the information I had at the time. And I wouldn’t give any of it up- not even for perkier breasts. It’s  not really about regret, more a gentle sense of sadness that it took me so long to figure it out…well, I haven’t actually figured it out yet, but at least I know that I haven’t- progress, right?

I’m still not allowing myself the fullness of Who I Am. Which is ridiculous. Every time I have allowed myself to be vulnerable, I’ve received way more than I ever thought possible. Why is it so hard to put it out there, or rather, to drop the walls and just be? I think it’s that fear of the unknown, that first step into the darkness.

But oh, is it powerful when you leap. When you connect to your breath and speak your truth, not knowing how it will be accepted. Because it doesn’t matter. Because you’ve already accepted  yourself.

What I really, really, want...

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want.

Well, I would if I knew what I wanted. Sometimes I think know, but I’m realizing that sometimes I have a hard time admitting it. And I’m not sure why. But admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?

I can generalize, and tell you what I want. Connection. Love. Acceptance. Fun. Joy. Laughter. Freedom. I can slightly more specific: I want dark chocolate.  A good red wine. A long slow kiss that leaves me breathless. But other times, the details are a little fuzzy. Mostly things become clear after the fact- I liked that. I didn’t want that. This is not what I expected. Wow, more of this, please. (That’s my favourite, I won’t lie)

I want to know more, more of the time. I want to want, and I want to shout my desire from the roof top. I AM APPROPRIATE! I WANT WHAT I WANT AND THAT’S FUCKING AWESOME!

Yea, that’s what I want. The platter doesn’t have to be silver

Channeling my Inner Bruce

I got a facebook message from Bruce today. Yes, that Bruce, the oh so tall, handsome, red-headed man of my high school dreams. He was always yummy to look at, but that was not what I admired most. It was his unabashed Bruce-ness. At a time when everyone was struggling to fit in, Bruce was doing his best to stand out. And he did, not by being a braggart or a show off,  or a clown, but by being himself. He tried on different personas and ideas, and admittedly there was some definite weirdness, but he wasn’t in your face about it, he just was. And I so admired him for refusing to be anything but himself. I thought he must be marvelously brave. 

And from the tone of his message, he is still being delightfully himself. I had to laugh, and marvel for a moment at his delicious Bruce-ness. 

But then I got to thinking about my closest high school friends, and how we were all ‘different’ –none of us were fitting in, and because we knew we didn’t fit, we quit trying and instead went about the business of trying to figure out who we were. There was some weirdness, and a whole lot of fun.

When I think about my life, and the things I’ve done, I realize that I’ve done a lot. I’ve been an original; so far I’ve done a pretty decent job of being Tracy. The things I am most proud of, that I am most pleased that I have experienced or accomplished, were things that felt right for me- and every time I was able to hear my inner voice, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought or said or did, I knew what I was doing. I knew it was right and good and exactly where I needed to be.

I’m noticing the amazing power in simply being myself, in following my instincts, in being vulnerable enough to be me, no matter what anyone else might think. And often when I’ve deliberately dared to something a little wild, maybe even a little crazy, I haven’t been put down or judged, I’ve been applauded. Strangely enough, it’s not that I haven’t been being Tracy, it’s just that I haven’t been seeing me be Tracy. 

Thank goodness for the new graduated lenses!

 “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”- Dr Seuss         

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?” –Marianne Williamson