Unstoppable

I work in the floorcovering industry.  The company I work for is a distributor.  It seems no matter how hard you try, if you’re Portuguese, you somehow get mixed in to the construction trade (insert smile here). 

Later the same year that Lidija died, just before Christmas, I had Gord, a flooring contractor, come in to order some flooring for a job he was doing that weekend.

Normally, I'm an attentive listener, not this day.  Gord seemed a little frazzled.  Most flooring contractors who own their own business, install the flooring themselves and handle the admin work, do seem stretched thin.  I noted it especially this day though, something was different.  He was talking to me, telling me what he needed and all the while there was only one thought in my head, my God, he looks like death.  He finished talking and asked me a question.  I hadn’t heard a thing he said. 

The following Monday our president informed us that Gord had died that weekend in a car crash on his way to do a job up north.  Gord’s vehicle was totalled by a truck in a snow storm.  In the car were Gord, his son, and his son’s friend.  Gord’s son was the only person to survive.  I remember not being surprised.  It hit me a few days later that I had had that irrational thought on the Friday before.

I sat with the energy to understand it; to understand my behaviour and consciousness within it.

One Friday the following spring, I saw my next door neighbour sealing his tar drive way early morning.  I got into my car and started it.  I looked over at him and decided to get out of the car to say hello, I was already running late but didn’t care.  I made small talk, he smiled, told me he was taking his time and doing things slowly.  He wasn’t an old man, but he wasn’t young either.  I bade him a good day and got into my car.  I pulled out of the drive way and thought, uh oh….  I knew I had behaved out of character, almost autonomously.

I was worried.

The next morning my mother, Gemini and I decided to run some errands together.  I was relieved to see my neighbour adding on the second coat of sealer to his driveway as we left.  We waved.

We arrived home just after lunch.  The hub-bub of energy on our street that morning due to a garage sale had ended. 

All of us were hungry so we dropped our bags and went straight to the kitchen.  My father was eating his lunch at the table.  My parents started chatting.  The conversation began with my father and went something like this, hey, you know our next door neighbour, the Greek guy?  Yeah, he died.  My father’s an asshole – his one good quality is that he likes to joke around.  I asked him if he was serious.  It was hard to believe and what with the smile on my father’s face (likely due to nervousness) I thought he was kidding.  Yeah, he’s dead.  I’m not kidding.  I protested - I don’t see any cars - no one’s parked at their house.   My father said that because they were Greek, the hearse collected the body directly, and the widow went with him.  I don’t know what Greek custom is but my father hadn't lied about the death.

Two hours.

I was gone two hours.   That’s how quickly it all went down.

Understanding my position in this energy, I decided to flip the script.

Although it was a gift that I was able to make peace with Gord and my neighbour before they passed, I was left with the immovable knowledge of knowing and not being able to stop it.  Forget stopping it, how could I even speak it to them?  Hey, don’t forget to say your goodbyes, you only have a bit of time, enjoy it.  What does one do with that information?  Nothing, see?  I never asked for the knowledge to stop it, I only asked for the knowledge to know it so I could say goodbye.

After reorganizing my ‘asking,’ the energy lay dormant.

This past June this energy found its way into a dream.  I've guessed at the meaning of the dream, I don’t know or recognize the man in it.

In the dream I’m helping a flooring contractor.  He insists that I be his contact person from that point on.  I told him that my colleague’s the right person to help him but he’s persistent so I agree.  He’s a new customer so I asked him to follow me out through the premises.  I cross the threshold through a door and see the back of the contractor’s head.  I recognize it immediately because he’s got thick european shoulder-length hair, it’s distinctive.  I see myself just ahead of him.  I watched as the contractor begins having a heart attack and drops to the floor. I realize that this is a premonition of an event about to take place.  I turn around,  put out my hands to push him back before he passes through the doorway, but it’s too late.  He follows me and things play out just as I had seen.  The contractor falls to the floor, he’s in pain; he’s struggling to stay alive, gripping my hand tightly.  I felt the angels to my right pulling him.  The more he struggled the more he suffered.  I started pleading, telling him to go with them.  He wouldn’t listen.  It was painful to watch.  I knew there was no amount of fighting that would stop this…and then I woke up.

This entry is for Gord and my Greek neighbour, you are not forgotten.

For now, this is the last entry in this blog.  Hallelujah Heartist has been healing for me, more so than I anticipated.  It has allowed me to be as free as I possibly could be with you, using the written word.  Thank you for sharing this with me.

Thank you to everyone who has checked in or read each entry faithfully.  I appreciate it more than you know. 


With quiet gratitude, I remain,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

I think since I am here so near to Salem MASS where the famous witch trials were held, it’s time I shared with you the last of my deep unspoken.  Although I have spoken this story to a select few, it needs a written voice, it needs grounding. 

When I was twenty-one I received a devastating call at work from my sister, Gemini.  Gem called to let me know that her friend’s sister had passed away.  My sister’s friend Page, our neighbour from across the street, had gone to a beach volley-ball tournament and taken her younger sister Lidija with her.  Lidija, while swimming, had been caught in an undedrtow current close to shore.  Another young man also swimming could not escape it.  Both of them drowned.

I slumped weakly onto my desk and nearly passed out before Gemini finished the sentence.  

All I could think of was Lidija shooting hoops in her front yard day after day.  I remember saying to myself, one of these days I’m going to go over and ask if I can shoot hoops with her.

I had never taken advantage of any opportunity to be with her, even though I had always intended to.  Regret is a lonely lover, one who can never satisfy.

Their family owned a flower shop right next to the funeral home.  It was a little twisted for me to note that detail, but I couldn’t help it.   At the funeral home we waited in a long line to offer our condolences to the family.  Page’s mother hugged me like I was her daughter, tightly, while she wailed.  She clung as though she knew me, as though I could possibly provide some comfort to her in the midst of her nightmare.   I had nothing but me.  She could hold on to me as tightly as she wanted and for as long as she needed.  I could never understand her loss but perhaps I could absorb some of her pain, take it into me instead and lighten her load.

We sat down and I surveyed the room.  There were easily over a hundred people present.  Beautiful colourful floral arrangements graced the room and up the wall very near to the ceiling.

I sat there feeling bad for never having followed my instinct in relation to her, and now I’d never have that chance.  It was my own fault.

I started talking to Lidija in my head.  I knew she was listening.  I quietly challenged her in my mind, Lidija, I know you can hear me, I know you’re here.  Please let me know, give me a sign.  Not two moments passed when a medium-sized floral arrangement fell from the wall.  Just tipped over and crashed to the ground.  That was my sign.  There was no way that arrangement could’ve fallen on its own.  It was centre, three-quarters of the way up the wall behind the casket, sitting on a shelf.  The planter wasn’t large nor was it small.  There were floral arrangements on either side, above and below, yet none of those seemed affected in any way by anything.

People stirred.  I could almost hear them say, what a horrible thing to happen at the funeral.  But it wasn’t.  It was a great thing, at least for me.  It was Lidija’s gift to me.

After the funeral I still felt a lot of guilt and unresolved feelings around not following the promptings of my repeated thoughts.  They were inklings of higher truths that I didn’t respond to, that I consciously ignored.

I thought to myself, if only I had known, I would’ve been able to at least say goodbye.  The Power of Intent is nothing to fool with.  When dealing with this energy, there is no such thing as coincidence.  This is the energy known as, ask and ye shall receive…and I did.

For Lidija

Continued on Thursday September 8^th, 2011

I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

A Journal Entry

I’m in Massachusetts as I write this.

I usually post between midnight and 2am every other day. 

I should’ve had an entry early this morning, Saturday, but I didn’t have anything to say. 

So it’s ten to midnight Saturday night, right now.

I’ve been feeling blank lately.  I don’t even know exactly what that means.  I’ve had nothing to share…well I have, I just feel, discouraged?  Unsure?  Sad?  I think all three.  I know I feel drained, tired.  I’m expending more energy than I’m allowing in, or taking in or getting back.

It’s not even writer’s block.  It feels more core than that.  Core, yes, it feels like my issue is core.  It’s probably rejection in some form.  Shit, you’d think I’d be done with it by now.  Maybe it won't ever  go away no matter how much work I do to get beyond it.  Perhaps it’s the unknown...not knowing you.

Perhaps I’m rewinding Aries in my subtle bodies.  Maybe I can’t figure you out and am hitting my wall of faith, maybe I'm faithless now in relation to you.  Maybe I don’t know if this ache in my plexus and chest are my chakras opening up when you pop into my mind, or if it’s pain warning me to stay away.  Pain telling me it will end badly just as it did with Aries, betrayal.  Aries - a situation where I put myself completely in, was completely open and for what…desertion in the end. 

I should just get over you.  Try harder.   When I think of that, I feel a crack in my upper body.  Am I so unwilling to see the obvious?  Am I being my mother, avoiding the simple and plain?  It’s probably best to let everything fade.  That thought hurts but I can’t keep going the way I have, it’s too much output and not enough input, actually no input at all.  I don’t think anyone reads this, it shouldn’t matter and for the most part it doesn’t.  Somehow it's draining me.  It's not entirely bad, it needs to come out.  Still, I wish you were reading it.

This whole thing is wrong.  I don’t even know what I’m doing.

I should just stop.  Stop thinking of you; writing my feelings for you, painting them out, making manifest some impossibility that’s only a reminder of just how much you don’t give a shit.  It needs to come out though, this is my dilema.  I'm screwed if I write it out, paint it out because it's a reminder but if I don't express it, it will destroy me just the same, faster even.  I guess I just have to go through it, keep going.

I’m visiting cousins.  Returning to a place where I feel completely and utterly at home, without question, I’m home here.   Still, it’s a little sad.  Still, I can’t quite enjoy myself fully, something reminds me of you and it's a welcome pain.  I enjoy thinking about you, when I'm done, pain follows like the faithful dog.  You don’t even know me, see how stupid this is?  Why should it bother me this much?  How have I let you in when it’s so clear you want me out?  I’ve made a mistake again.  This is Aries all over again but faster, more intense and with physical attraction thrown in just to fuck me up.  Actually, that’s the best part; I would love you, fuck you and enjoy it.  It's Aries all over again but without the six years of intimacy, only the self-hate (I'm trying hard not to entertain it).

Do you know you’re my muse?  Maybe that’s why I won't give you up.  No, I don’t want to give you up because you're...  I’m talking like I had you, I never had you.  That’s right, it hit me again just now, you don’t want me.  I can’t blame you.  You deserve the best.  There’s a pulling in my solar area and I don’t know if it’s want or hurt.  How fucked up is that?  It doesn’t matter now I guess.  This blog – what does it matter?  It doesn’t, not in the great scheme of things.  Not even in the little scheme of things, I don’t think. How has it changed you?  I write these words, I paint it out, but what does it change… Invisible, I just got it.  I feel invisible and this bothers me.  Normally I'm fine with invisibility, I just realized...I want to be seen by you.  I guess rejection has a few layers.

I'm sorry for spewing this on you.  I’m writing out my feelings and following the words just as you are.  I feel like I had to explain it out, tell you why I didn't post when I said I would.

The future of this blog is uncertain.

All Warriors need rest but I’m not sure it matters anyway, not if you’re not reading this.

  

I remain, for now yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

Something Beautiful

She is the wind

I cannot grasp

I feel her pass me by

She’s a star in mid-heaven

Beyond my lowly sky

Her mind is far too clever

Her nature cautious and clear

How can one catch a goat

            When the goat will not move near?

She is the earth

I cannot consume

            I feel her sift from my hands

She’s the mystery of the ocean

            Beyond my rocky sands

Perhaps I am unworthy

Yes, perhaps this is true

What could she want with an old horse

            When only a thoroughbred will do?

She is the fire

I cannot touch

            I feel her softening light

She’s the beauty of a dream

            Beyond my restless night

I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

A Return to Self, Isis Speaks

If you’ve been reading my blog, you know that Isis (www.birthwithcare.com) is my best friend, and Spirit sister.  

We’ve journeyed together and apart since we were eleven and twelve.  She is an August born Virgo; a beautiful perfectionist who has battled her mind and championed Self-Worth in her search for balance and decadent pleasure, striving to Be -  fully in her body.  Isis is a grounding force in my life.  Her energy moves through the earth breathing life into women’s issues as a Labour Doula, Yoga teacher who holds a degree in Psychology, mother, daughter, sister and wife.  To me, she is Goddess personified.

Her wish for humanity is my wish, her words of Self-Worth are my words, so today, Isis speaks…

What is your heart’s longing – really?  When is the last time you felt at home in your body?

Like many young women, I spent most of adolescence obsessing over my body.  I carefully controlled my food intake and exercised always with the intention to lose weight (Oh, as an aside – I weighed 105 lbs!).  I felt fat every day and scrutinized every inch of my body to determine if the lunch I ate had instantly made me fat.  Yes, it hurt, and the more it hurt, the more I obsessed and controlled.

I slowly began to reclaim every woman’s right to experience pleasure in her body.  How many of us were told not to be provocative?  I was, and consequently, I had to dance, breathe and move my way through feelings of shame, self-hatred and anger.  I experimented with yoga, dancing, writing, singing, drumming and I realized that when I was expressing myself, I felt FREE!   For that time, I felt beautiful and alive and if I kept doing it, the feeling continued.

I soon dedicated my life to listening to cues in my body that most people treat as nuisances or even ignore.  I listened and my body became my teacher.  Now, I can honestly say that I love myself.  My body is what it is – larger, rounder, but a downright beautiful embodiment of what it means to be a woman.

I have always been a super-achiever, or at least I was constantly trying to be a super-achiever, which is basically the same thing.  As women, we live in a world that values results over relationships, outcomes over process, intellect over heart.  We have come a long way and we have made tremendous contributions to the planet, yet many of us feel that we are only as good as our most recent achievement or compliment.  Every day, I speak to women who yearn for balance.  We don’t need to give up feeling powerful and stop achieving things, but we do want to feel balanced and whole.

Consider your homecoming.  Mine was the birth of my children – especially my second child.  Her birth went opposite to everything I thought it should, but it forced me to dig deep and understand my worth outside of a ‘successful’ birth.  Babies become our teachers from the moment they prepare to be born.  We learn to surrender.  We learn who we really are; if we can be open to letting the experience change us and we have good non-judgemental support. 

Learn to listen to your children with new ears.

Understand how you really feel about your life, daily interactions and your desires.

Learn to listen to your inner voice...and feel free in your body.

Thank you for reading, listening and Being,

Isis

Continued on Thursday September 1^st, 2011

Until then, I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

Orbs

Randomly taking photos in my little apartment yesterday, I came across orbs.

What are orbs?  The general consensus is that they are Spirit energy.  Nature spirits, entities such as loved ones who have passed and possibly guides.  

My first encounter with orbs occurred this past May at the Feathers Retreat in Bayfield ON, during a little ghost hunt in a local home built in late 1800's, now a spa.  All three teams came across orbs in the garden.

I’ve included some apartment photos here.  Feel free to zoom in and study. 

If one agrees that these are Spirit orbs - energy, one might then ask bigger questions.  Questions like, does life go on after death?  Did Spirit exist before life?  What purpose does it have for existing?  Where did it come from?  Where do we come from?  What is out there, unseen, due to our dimension?  Yes, it’s about dimension.  We live in the third dimension and so we’re limited in many ways to this perspective.  With reference to Power, the idea is to use it in such a way that we move beyond this scope to see what is really out there. 

Take note of the orbs' colour, shape and pattern.  Many appear to have double rings as well as a nucleus.  Look to the carpet, the wall and the ceiling.  The area I focused on is the corner where our dog Daisy has her pen.  The orbs seem to like this area.  Moreover, I think they like Daisy.  

Enjoy...not all unseen is Goliath.

Continued on Tuesday August 30^th, 2011

Until then, I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

No Sound

I wish these words were mine

Instead they belong to me

Some quiet child inside

Fading, unseen

The cave is warm and small

The stars are painted here

Someday I’ll feel my worth

Someday near

Sit with me a while

I’ll even let you speak

You’ll want to say your piece

Soon

No warrior I know is weak

           

            Lay with me tonight

            The sky is painted here

            I love myself

I promise

            I’ve painted every tear

           

There is no sound

           

I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

What Else Is There?

When I first heard this song, it felt spacey to me - I felt I understood it.  The first thing I thought of was posting it here, sharing it with you.  I’ve listened to it over and over again.  It still feels embryonic to me.  Take the time to hear it, watch it.  As with all art, it’s meant to induce questions and illicit feelings, perhaps even satisfy a chord within you, as it has with me.

I've shared my pain, my love, exercised my demons and expressed some thoughts on concepts (though there are still a few to cover, I'm not sure if I'll touch on them or not - I'll play it by feel). 

I've hoped you've travelled with me, and I think you have; Thank You.  I was hoping this endeavour would be a bit more interactive, but you, like me, are likely selective and introverted by nature.  I can respect that.  I wish you'd use your voice now and then though - share it with me, it wouldn't feel so lonely.  I wouldn't feel so alone in this place.  I wish you were here singing me a song, reading a poem or just watching the stars with me.  All Warriors need rest, maybe we can watch the storm go by, together. 

Lyrics below.

What Else Is There? By Röyksopp (Röyksopp)

It was me on that road
But you couldn't see me
Too many lights out, but nowhere near here

It was me on that road
Still you couldn't see me
And then flashlights and explosions

Roads end getting nearer
We cover distance but not together

I am the storm I am the wonder
And the flashlights nightmares
And sudden explosions

I don't know what more to ask for
I was given just one wish

It's about you and the sun
A morning run
The story of my maker
What I have and what I ache for

I've got a golden ear
I cut and I spear
And what else is there

Roads and getting nearer
We cover distance still not together

If I am the storm if I am the wonder
Will I have a flashlights nightmares
And sudden explosions

There's no room where I can go and
You've got secrets too

I don't know what more to ask for
I was given just one wish

It was me on that road
But you couldn't see me
Too many lights out, but nowhere near here

It was me on that road
Still you couldn't see me
And then flashlights and explosions

Roads end getting nearer
We cover distance but not together

I am the storm I am the wonder
And the flashlights nightmares
And sudden explosions

I don't know what more to ask for
I was given just one wish

It's about you and the sun
A morning run
The story of my maker
What I have and what I ache for

I've got a golden ear
I cut and I spear
And what else is there

Roads and getting nearer
We cover distance still not together

If I am the storm if I am the wonder
Will I have a flashlights nightmares
And sudden explosions

There's no room where I can go and
You've got secrets too

I don't know what more to ask for
I was given just one wish

Continued on Friday August 26th, 2011

Until then, I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

Midnight in the Garden

Darkness has set; the moon has risen though barely visible through merging trees entangled in the sky.  The Garden is silent but for the calls of love.  I hear it, somewhere near, water flows…Life.

Not all rest this night, predators wakefully hunt, their prey peacefully asleep.  How different am I from those who would hurt you?  I keep my distance and watch. 

If I had my way, I would join you; let the night trance me just as you have, find a way to make you notice me.  But no, I’m unworthy.  Unworthy, but I can’t help my want.

If you weren’t so repulsed by me, I’d take you in my arms, hold you, dance you silently with the stars.  The cool night would be no match for my warm breath bathing your neck.  What would you do?  Would you pull away and leave me for good?  Tear off through the trees?  I’d never see you again.  You’d feel safe watching from afar, love would have no chance.

Would you respond with the heavy heave of your chest, as you strove to catch breath?  Mine, already taken by you.  Would you let me then, brush my lips against your ear?  Crush you gently - draw you near, my want easily becoming a need.  Would your body concede?  Would you allow…my ache to enter you?

If you wanted me, I’d glide my lips across yours, satisfy my yearning.  I’d express my plea and kiss you with the realization of a prayer answered, held steadfast in my grasp.  Emotions set free in that one moment, would you, my earth, welcome me?

Kissing you, I guide our bodies against a tree, large, wide, and strong.  I pull away to see your face in the dark.  This won’t do.  I take your hand, navigate to the river’s edge, the moon is bright here.  Yes, I can see you now.  The rush of the water, it mimics my desire.

I gaze at you.  Your eyes held me from the beginning.  I don’t fully understand their meaning but I feel them, is this enough?  ‘You’re beautiful’ my voice is low, quiet.  You look petrified.  Have I hurt you?  I can’t tell.  I wish you’d say something.  I lean in, my lips find yours and we kiss.  It’s deep, slow, telling.  My lips move down your neck.  My predatory nature surfaces, I grind my mouth against your veins.  Suck, press my mouth into you, away from you, into you.  It’s the life that runs through you that excites me; the sensation, the thought of consuming you, the deepest part of you.  I feel you relax in my arms.  You moan.  ‘Stay with me’ I whisper, you remain close as I guide you down to ground.

You take my face in your hands and kiss me voraciously.  I respond.  Slip a hand up your shirt, find my way up your soft back and undo your bra.  You take off your shirt, toss both items aside.  Your breasts respond to the cool river air.  I cover them with my hands, melt at their feel.  I bend down, devour them gently…how I need you.

I reach for your shirt, set it neatly beneath you before laying you down.  You can watch the stars while I unzip your jeans, slowly pull them off.  I look back to you.  ‘May I?’   You nod and I remove the thin cloth separating us.  I kiss the inside of your thighs, massage your legs and trail back to your breasts. 

I look into your eyes, I still can’t tell anything. ‘What?’ You ask, I shake my head, nothing.  Will you forget me in the morning?  I push away the thought and kiss you.

I remove my clothing, lay bare atop your warm form.  Our breasts touch, I ignite, moisten.  I rub my body against you.  Pulling away, I find rest near your legs at the centre between your thighs.  I tuck my hands beneath you, you’re wet, dripping.  I move in, lap lightly your taste, you're sweet.  I lovingly nip, tug, worship.  Flattening my tongue, I lick up, stroke after stroke, before sliding it inside in search of your centre.  My centre is here, within you. 

You moan, I pull away, suck your body on my way up to your lips. Slipping an arm beneath your back, I cradle you.  You move into me, my hips grind gently between your legs.  I guide your thigh on my leg, you open, I slip a finger in.  ’Ahh...'  I exhale your name slowly.  I love your name…Iove... I throw my thought away, tonight is likely all I’ll have.  My finger moves in deeper, my hand firm against your wetness.  I find your ecstasy…finger you there.  My body tightens against you; I want you to cum for me.  Moving your body demandingly, you moan.  Yes, moan loudly, I need to hear you.  My lips seek your tongue, suckle it lightly.  My body moves against yours.  Surrendering my primal Self, I cling to you - desperately kiss you before I shatter in the ecstasy of your love.  You grip me, tremble, did you shatter in mine?  I don’t want to leave you but I slip my hand out, move down to replace it with my mouth.  I drink you, all of you.

I move back up to rest by you.  I search your face.  I still don’t know what you think of me.  I lean up, grab our clothes and cover you with them.  The moon has moved, its glow is directly above. You look even more beautiful in its full light. Stillness, you say nothing.  I break the silence, ‘sleep?’  You nod.  I lift my head, kiss your neck, your breasts and your lips.  You move in, I whisper ‘goodnight.’  I feel your breath on my neck, the stars witness this dream, it is you and I in this place.  If I die this night, this will be all I remember and it'll be enough. 

Continued on Wednesday August 24th, 2011

Until then, I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist

you are forgiven

READER DISCRETION ADVISED:  This entry contains cussing, anger and strong opinions.  If you choose to stop reading, I thank you for dropping in.         

On Twitter, Anne Rice, excellent American Author famous for her Vampire Chronicles, tweeted a link of an article from a CNN belief blog. 

The story is about Pope Benedict XVI extending authority to Madrid Priests allowing them to absolve the sin of abortion in women who wish it, thereby lifting their current status of excommunication for this sin.  The title made me angry.  I simmered through the entire article.  This obviously struck a chord in me.

Isis, my best friend whom I’ve known more than half my life, is a Labour Doula.  The topic of abortion has never been one we’ve discussed for very long.  It’s not that our personal views are opposing per say, but her primary role as a Doula is as a witness of Life.  We're best friends with contradicting roles on our journey; Isis is a witness of Life, while I am a witness of Death (more on this another time).  Because I love and support Isis, her passion is also my passion.  Consequently, I know a few things about birth and am aware of women’s issues from a Doula’s perspective. 

The reason I mention Isis, is so you know that while my temperament can be a little hot, the air blowing in this entry, isn’t.  It is of course, still, only my opinion.

As I read the article, certain phrases came to me instantly.  The first to echo in my head was, fuck you if you think I need absolving for having an abortion.  The second was, who the fuck are you to judge me, that you would absolve me?  The third being, why the fuck do these women care?

Regarding my first and second reactions: It’s about control and Power.

The church seems to think it’s about Life, it’s not.  It's about me.  If I decide to have an abortion, I will.  If I decide to have a baby, I will.  If I want to tattoo myself, get piercings – anything, it’s my choice to do so.  What makes you think you can decide anything for me, including having a baby?  Is it that you’re a priest who owns a cock and you therefore can only fuck and so this makes it okay?  You don’t have to worry about excommunication for the rape of children, women and fuck – man, because luckily you’re not a woman who can get pregnant, or the simple sinner who needs absolving.  This makes you naturally superior?   Hey, I just remembered something...Mary was the one who gave birth to Jesus, right?  Hmm, let’s extend this thought for a moment…if all birth is through woman, and Adam was the first man, doesn't that make God a woman?  So you, a man, offer me absolution?  Yeah, I don’t think so.

If my father impregnated me, the first fucking thing I would do is abort it.  Would I be happy about it?  No.  I’d be angry I was put in that position to begin with.  Would that stop me?  No.  In spiritual circles the general consensus is that the Spirit enters the body at the moment of the baby’s first breath, not conception.  The Spirit does occupy the growing foetus, merging its energetic code with the baby’s physical DNA.  Spirit moves in and out (on rare occasions, inhabits the foetus indefinitely).  This is theorectical of course.  Still, do you think I’d allow a child into the world that might eventually have to live with the knowledge that they are a rape-baby?  No. 

Zealots are out of their minds if they think they have any right to my body.  I’ve been sexually molested, don’t tell me what’s right or wrong because you holier-than-thou attitudes don’t know shit. 

Forgiveness has to do with Self-Love not self-hate, so don't try to guilt me.

Lastly, why do these women care?  I don’t think any right-minded individual enjoys taking life or participating in its subtle cruelty.  Do the words, ‘you are forgiven’ truly hold power even while uttered by man?  I rather a woman hear these words and heal herself of hate than let it eat away at her very Being.  Some people need to hear it.  I respect that.  

Do I wish these women felt whole in and of themselves despite their decision, whether regretful or not?  Yes.  I’d prefer these women realize how strong they are instead of how weak they feel, but I understand.  None of us are exempt; none of us have been strong every moment of our lives.  We all need someone to lean on, to tell us it'll be okay.  ‘You are forgiven’ can be just as strong as ‘I’m sorry’ even if we don’t agree with the reasons why.  If all this facilitates healing, then arrogance has achieved a useful purpose.

Continued on Monday August 22nd, 2011

Until then, I remain yours,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist