Holy hell, it’s been a while since I posted and mused and rambled on and on.  A few updates:  work has been kind to me.  VERY kind to me, as a matter of fact.  I went from being unemployed and desperate to working so much I have to manage my time in 15 minute increments.  Thalia has been partnering with a few different entrepreneurs with various business opportunities and has her hand in a share of the pie.  Gone corporate?  Never thought I’d see that day coming, but seems like I’m on that path.  It’ll be interesting to see if I spiral into patterns of sociopathic tendencies.

Next: My health has been up and down, either doing really well or crashing into misery and an ER visit for excessive bleeding.  Looking back, it seems as if nothing much has changed, and I’m in the midst of chaos yet again.  Oh well…..I guess I could accept that I’m on the Roller Coaster Ride of Life rather than the Merry Go Round of Life.  Reminds me of the grandma character from the movie “Parenthood” (wonderful movie by the way).  “I like the roller coaster better.  You get more out of it.”

And lastly, our oldest, who is 18 and ready to go off into the Army in two days, has a child now.  Thalia is a grandmother, and I can’t tell you how absolutely COOL that is.  Looking at children and aging and sex now is like letting go of even more self-imposed burdens when I look into my grandson’s eyes.  I like hugging our son, and his girlfriend, whenever they worry and fret and fight over what to do with the baby in order to “help him hit his developmental stages.”  Ahhhhh……to be young again? Never.  I like being older, wiser, and with more income and insurance.

And that brings us to sex.  It continues to deepen with me in it’s meanings, it’s mysteries, and it’s erogenous zones.  For instance, I never really cared if anyone kissed or smelled my hair before, but now it’s like electricity that runs through me.  I’ve become ever more sensitive to touch, to scents, to visuals, and to sounds.  But being turned on now rarely just affects my clit anymore.  My entire being radiates, pulses, and becomes soft and inviting.  I am become Clitoris.

I think also I am returning because, to be perfectly honest, I miss writing about my experiences and my thoughts.  I miss the outlet and the ways that I at times awkwardly convey my journey.  I prefer moving to writing because I’m better at it, but I could always use the practice.

First things first, my daughter discovered that she started her period at my mother’s house.  My mother – sweet as pie and would give her last cent to the needy without thought – is quirky in the sense that she jumps to conclusions sometimes.  And when she jumps, she jumps REALLY far.  I think back to when I started my period, or when I thought I started, at age 11.  I had a thing for panties that had flower prints on them (like my daughter does now), and so after developing breasts and needing to wear deoderant at first, I remember looking forward to seeing that small spot of blood.  And a few times, I mistook a rose print on my panties for blood.  My mother, bless her heart, saw the same thing I did, and we went to the store together to buy pads.

Sometimes we see what we want to see, eh?

That summer, I found myself having one day the worst stomach ache, and I honestly thought I had to go to the hospital.  My mother was at work, and my grandmother was watching us at home.  I was crying from the pain and from fear.  Grandma called a nurse hotline just to make sure, but there was no advice to go anywhere or to take anything.  So, since she felt like she had more TLC to give at her house, we all packed up and went to her place.

It was there, when I went to the bathroom, that I saw that I had started my period.  It really was not what I had expected.  No small red spot, but a flood of brown thick mucousy substance.  I was sickened, and yes again, scared.  Before, I was excited about starting.  Now, I wanted to go back.  If this was growing up, I wanted no part of it.  It’s disgusting.  It’s painful.  My brothers didn’t have to go through this, the lucky bastards.

I had lived much of life at that point wishing that I wasn’t a girl, BTW.  I helped stuff envelopes with my mother for the ERA.  I heard my mother and her friends talk incessantly about how unfair life was for women and girls, how we are victimized daily, and came to an early conclusion that being a girl means being without hope.  The only way to get anywhere was to be more male.  With my tom-boyish ways, that was relatively easy for me to adopt, but I really did wish I LIKED having a vagina.

There are times when I reflect on my past, and how I coped, and if my painful cycles were a strong correlation with my own self-loathing.  I don’t know, and part of me doesn’t really care. 

But fast forward to several months ago, when I get a phone call from my mother saying that my little girl started her period.  I asked (knowing my mother) was it obvious.  She said she thinks so.  I brushed it off and waited to see if it was actually the case.

And then a few months ago I get another phone call (funny how these things happen at grandmothers’ houses in our family) from my daughter.  She was bubbling with excitement:  “Mom!  Guess WHAT!  I started my period!!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I was getting ready to take a shower, and I looked down, and there was blood everywhere.”

“CONGRATULATIONS, BABY-GIRL!  It’s time to celebrate!”

And with that, we planned a luncheon together.  Just me and her together, to commemorate reaching a milestone in her puberty.  While we were out, she mentioned something…..

“Mom, do you still have painful periods?  Do you still get sick?”

“Not really anymore.  Sometimes I get cramps, but for the most part it isn’t nearly as bad as it was before.  I used to have to stay home for days because of my periods.”

“Wow!  Really?!?”

I nodded.

“Well, mom….I didn’t get any cramps.”

“So I noticed.”  I chuckled.

Since she has started her period, she has yet to experience menstrual cramps, pimples, feeling bloated, etc.  She does get more sensitive, though, but nothing like what I went through at her age.  One of my friends called her a lucky little snot.  My daughter laughed.

I think she’ll be OK.  In fact, it’s likely she’ll be better than just “OK.”

It describes why we women change so drastically with the different stages in life.  From adolescence, to how our minds work sexually (great few chapters, btw), to how the actual structure and brain chemistry CHANGES after motherhood, to how it all changes drastically again from menopause. 

Overall, it is an affirming book on the sass and intelligence of the female homo sapiens.  For me, it only backs up what I truly believe…..that the value of a woman is not from comparing her to a “default” male standard.  She does no good by keeping her mouth shut, conceding to any sort of superiority or authority to her fellow man, or by dressing according to any arbitrary standard.  She is much happier by flaunting her stuff (in whatever way she chooses, with any degree of covering), and by speaking her mind.

OK….this is what I found most fascinating.  Y’all know about the conventional wisdom of biologically why  men cheat?  Why men desire more than one partner?  And that there is this stupid myth out there that women are more sexually “pure” and less inclined to cheat or have multiple partners?  Well, try this passage from Dr. Brizendine’s book:

Biology has a way of winning out over our conscious minds by manipulatin our reality to ensure evolutionary survival, so a woman’s unconscious brain circuits will choose the best-looking guy, since he will give her bigger orgasms.  Behavioral ecologists have also noted that female animals – from scorpion flies to barn swallows – prefer males with high degrees of bilateral body symmetry, which means that both sides of the body match.  page 84

Hunh.  Go figure.  Women can be shallow, too.  Not just men.  Read on….

Using the body odor of men and the noses of women, Jan Havlicek of Charles University in Prague has hatched a controversial theory about phermones and the female brain.  He found that ovulating women who already have partners preferred the smell of other more dominant men but that single women showed no such preference.  Havlicek argues that his findings support the theory that single women want nurturing men who will help raise a family.  But once the home is secured, they have the biological urge to sneak around with men who have the best genes. page 87 

BAD girl!  BAD BAD BAAAAAD girl! 

Yeah, this sure is controversial.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.  Women are supposed to be nice.  Women are supposed to be pure as snow.  Women aren’t really supposed to LIKE sex as much as men, and aren’t really supposed to WANT more than a single, loving, partner.  And if they do, there’s something wrong in the head.  Biology says differently, though, it seems.

Well, not for everybody, but certainly enough to take note.  And point being – it ain’t good to put Woman into a box.  She is just as human, just as assertive, just as bodily authoritative in evolutionary biology as Man.  She just does it……differently.

It’s been well documented how the females in most every species holds the cards at mate selection, and therefore – if people are smart enough to recognize this – understands and appreciates the inherent biological power that the female has in sex.  I once heard the pop-culture dude Dr. Drew comment that “women are the keepers of intimacy.”  He’s right, too.

And now, with theories abounding of why females cheat and commit even emotional infidelity with another man shoes how women have collateral pro-creatively even within loving monogamous relationships (much like men do).  

Men, are y’all sweating from reading this?  I hope not.  It isn’t intended to “stick it” to you (I can think of MUCH more fun ways of sticking it), but to discuss how women have been pidgeon-holed into a virginally pure tease.  That we often times don’t really make our own sexual decisions.  That we often times don’t really even know what we WANT.  Understand that much, if not all, of that stems from cultural boundaries.  That women SHOULD be somewhat sexually infantilized, and not sexually empowered.

Besides, this only covers the biological urge on procreation.  It’s not by any means the whole picture.  Sexual ethics and empowerment come from other factors that influence pair-bonding as well as for pleasure and bliss.

So the question some of you might be asking:  What does Thalia think of infidelity? 

Ethically, it sucks.  I find it to be hurtful and dishonest.  But the only reason why is because I think in any relationship, honesty and authenticity is paramount and vital.  Infidelity – in the way that I describe – is dishonest.  You put up a front.  You don’t give your all to your partner.  You are, essentially, cheating your relationship by not disclosing your actions, desires, and boundaries to your partner, and therefore it’s in my mind a fraud.

But multiple partners, in and of  itself, is NOT infidelity.  Let’s make that clear.  If both spouses agree on it, it isn’t cheating.  Why?  Because it’s honest.  It’s authentic.  And both really ARE sharing all of who they are with their partners.

Nice tangent, Thalia.  Let’s get back to the point.

My point being, and has always been, feminine sexual empowerment.  Does infidelity prove empowerment?  Nope.  Correlation does not equal causation (Logic 101).  But understanding this as a part of female sexuality shows a picture that ought not to scare us into taking action to prevent it.  That’s entirely up to the individual and how she (or he) wishes to live life.  Empowerment naturally flows from education, however, and resolve. 

Ahhhh, resolve.  It goes hand in hand.  Y’all can know everything about the anatomy of your clitoris, but if you don’t resolve to communicate what you LIKE about handling your clit, how empowered are you, actually? 

Oh crap….time to log off.  I know I had a great climax in mind for this post, but I think I missed it.  Better luck next time.  Ciao!

Our oldest child started having sex (he’s 17).

Our daughter started her period (she’s 11).

I went from being really really busy in my career to having several projects fall flat.  I have a couple of things I’m doing, but nothing like last year.  So, a few chuckles at how life is weird like that, and moving on.

That’s the thing – we move on.  The kids certainly are.  In fact, I remember that turbulent and glorious time in my life when moving on was what I looked forward to the most.  Get to that first kiss.  Get to Second Base.  Get to genital discovery and play.  Get to fall in Love.  Get to That First Time.  Moving on wasn’t just a relaxation technique – it was the #1 priority!

Honestly, there’s a lot we can still learn from our kids.  They look so optimistically at the future, and they can be so excited and infectious with their bubbly attitude, that it’s almost a sin to be a curmudgeon shaking your stick (proverbial) at them calling them out for being lazy, undisciplined, naive, and out of control.  And when it comes to sexuality, that’s where we REALLY can fuck up as parents and grandparents.

What happens when you have children, and you yourself are ashamed of your sexuality, or you create your own arbitrary rules on sex because it might be too “dirty” or “nasty” or “degrading”?  Kids, whether we like it or not, watch us and remember things we wish we never did or said to the letter.  And feelings of shame about our sexuality is one way to mess them up about their own sexuality.

Fear and ignorance traps us.  We don’t want to talk about it.  We don’t want to explore it.  We don’t want to offer equality to those “others” who engage in odd forms of sex (and I’m talking about adult consensual sex here, nothing illegal).  We want to focus on more “moral” priorities like work, health care, education, organic food, Afghanistan/Iraq, and Farmville on Facebook.  Sexuality is best left in the bedroom……where we crash at night after exhausting ourselves all day – OR – we have a 7 minute intercourse moment ending in the dude ejaculating all over her stomach.

Yikes.

Sooooo, SEX.  Let’s put it out on the table.  We see people enjoying it.  Instead of thumbing our noses at sexually explicit material in front of kids, shouldn’t we be explaining WHY these people are enjoying it?  Don’t WE want to enjoy sex to the fullest?  But let’s admit it….sex is intimate, and makes people talking about their sex lives really uncomfortable.  We want to keep it private because we don’t want to admit how certain things are desired or how certain things we really don’t like.  We want to remain in the public eye as a “good girl” or a “Godly man.” 

Porn be damned.

Sting be damned (seven hours of sex is apparently supposed to be mocked, no matter whether the claim was true or not).

All right!  I get it!  But now……it’s time to move on.

Self-reflection can allow us to sit  back and look at how we respond to sexually explicit material.  Pornography demeaning to women? Have you seen how many porn actresses wind up sitting on somebody’s face?  That’s not demeaning….that’s empowerment.  Taking the time to reflect on any artistic medium helps us to see the state of our own minds, and to stop pointing the finger at everything else.

Time to move on.  We want to be happy.  We want to have  a fulfilling life.  We want others to be happy.  Sex is one hell of a potent elixir of creating the kind of bliss that we only read about in romance novels or view on the ‘net in the form of amateur bi-curious porn.

Kids grow up fast, yes. But they don’t have to be afraid.  We have the opportunity to lead by example how to be unafraid of our own sexuality and to be knowledgeable and informed.  It’s natural to move on.  It’s the law of impermanence.  Everything changes.

Point being:  have fun.  Stop worrying about those layers of skin, or that misshaped nose, or that bald spot, or those stretch marks, or that fascination with feet.  You’re not ugly, or stupid, or undeserving of pleasure.  Know yourself, know your boundaries, and when interacting with others sexually, communicate your desires and your boundaries, and respect theirs as well.

We can only do that by letting go, being open to the future, and moving on.

I am in the middle of reading the book “Defending Pornography” by Nadine Strossen. A little dated, yes, but some of the material is still relevent. I run into the kind of attitude about porn all the time, and especially around here in redneck U.S. midwest. Give me the prairies and the fields and fields and fields of produce (ok, monsanto corn), but the culture of anti-sex leaves something to be desired.

People are still shy about admitting they not only watch, but highly enjoy, pornography. Many people think of it as a dirty little secret, and some messed-up folks actually believe that “porn” is one-step closer to “child-porn”….which is bullshit. One is a visual representation of a female-dominated sexual experience. The other is criminal due to the subjects not having the ability to give consent.

Time for me to write more about sex sex sex and more sex. Oh, and how truly spiritual and life-changing the sexual experience is. Some people call it “playing with fire.” In all honesty, it’s okay to play with fire…..when you know what you’re doing. There’s value in pyrotechnics, y’all.

What I find interesting is that with the theatrical work, the homeschooling group, the meditations, the sexual explorations, and the Dharma group…….I sometimes find myself waking up in the morning wondering if I’m actually dreaming – like a DREAM dream, not just some fantasy.  There are times when I feel like I’m in such a surrealistic potpourri of happenings.  Despite our finances not being outrageously huge (which I never really cared for), things are happening.  And that’s surprisingly weird.

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.  I think this is awesome.  But it’s just like any play or musical or scholarship that you attain.  Once you get it, you discover that THIS is when the work begins.  It’s liberating, and terrifying, and authentic, and naked, and oh-so-wild.  There isn’t anything tame about this experience.  As far as I’m concerned, this is reality with a capital “R”.

I used to find myself daydreaming every now and then about what life would be like “if….” and then describe a particular wish that I’d have floating around in my head.  I rarely daydream now.  Why?  I don’t have time – life is too damn short, and once I had the first step toward these fantasies, there was no turning back to the little box again.  I had looked out from the precipice, saw the void, and I’ve already jumped out into it.  My feelings now fluctuate between flying and falling.  And there’s no safety net underneath me to catch me.

How utterly strange.  Honestly.  I had assumed that living your dreams would make you feel more secure.  Nothing can be further from the truth.  Liberation doesn’t have boundaries.  Once you tear down the walls, throw down your guard, pull out all the stops, and go at 200 mph, you really have no choice but to live in the moment.  You also can’t be unaware of your surroundings…….even if you TRIED,  you couldn’t be unaware of everything around you and within you.

Well, at least, that’s where *I* stand.  I’ll kiss you on the cheek if you manage to find security in blasting off into space to explore.  Personally, I can’t find any security.

But – honestly – I wouldn’t have it any other way.  What an adventure!

There are two very passionate sides to this debate.  On the one hand, we have a few women who have seen the abuse firsthand what the cultural expectations are of wives who are considered some form of property of the husband.  They have lived it, tasted it, felt the pain personally.  These are female friends who understand that it isn’t just the random asshole who wanted to have it whenever he wanted it – they understand that there is a general attitude of appeasing the male sex drive as the prime directive of the sexual aspect of marriage.

On the other hand, we have a few men who understand that abuse does exist in marriages, but feel attacked for suggesting that men ought to  be considered for their sexual needs.  As much as I understand and empathize with them, this is very much a red herring.  Of course, consideration is part and parcel of a healthy marriage, and being sensitive to each other’s sexual needs is a must if both are considered equal partners.  But this in no way belongs under the argument of whether a man has a “right” to his wife’s body.  And because of this very irrelevent introduction of the red herring, there has been loads of confusion, anger, and accusations flying from both sides.  I find this amazingly depressing.

To be truthful,  it’s annoying that many times when a woman is fighting for her autonomy, we are bombarded with attempts to guilt, shame, or harass us as “reminders” that we should never forget about standing by her man.  Honestly?  That’s a load of crap.  Our autonomy allows us to give MORE and more FREELY of our love, compassion, and understanding.  Take out the “wifely duties”, and you will know for sure that your wife is giving her body and her heart to you because she wants to, not because she has to.  There’s a BIG difference there.

Now, again I ask, when do we women stop being considered property?  And when can our intentions for sexual independence be given the benefit of the doubt?

Now, I guess I COULD have blogged at the library, but there I’m only guaranteed a half-hour, and I like to take my time when I blog.  Shit.

I also COULD have borrowed the time to blog on my mother’s computer, but again, I am limited in it’s availability there, too.  Double shit.

So, I used the limited time to check up on email briefly here and there.  Sadly, I was very much into the groove of blogging when I last visited here, so therefore I’ll look at this as an ample opportunity to get back into the habit again of writing a post every day, or at least every other day.

But, for what it’s worth, Happy New Year everyone!

Tonight, Dear Husband and I will be throwing a party with our friends and some family.  So soon I’ll be finding myself immersed in shopping lists and to-do lists and honey-do lists for the man…….but I wanted to take this time to reflect a tad bit on how this year has gone.

I’ve seen some of my romances flourish and falter; my health decline and bounce back; our finances stumble, grow, and then dip again from the medical bills; our garden in the back yard bloom and then wither; Dear Husband’s facial hair grow back; and finally a Dharma group that I’ve been involved in establish itself with a steady group of regular meditators and practitioners.

Much has been said about impermanence, and 2008 has been no different.  It has provided this simple Whore with dozens of curveballs to practice, practice, and practice the Dharma.  I have nothing but enormous gratitude for these many opportunities for me to train the mind – constantly.

And therefore I look forward to 2009 to offer even more lands to explore and more challenges to meet.  More senses to delight in and more g-spots to tickle.  And whatever merit that has been created from the hopefully ever-increasing bodhichitta, I offer it to the great enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings.  I therefore dedicate every ounce of my good merit to all of you in the universe.  May you be blessed with great fortune and happiness.

Happy New Year.  *kiss kiss*

Watching the documentary, I’m reminded of an earlier post on this blog where I discussed pornography as an art, and I’m more grounded in my opinion now more than ever.  The difference is that porn is a taboo kind of art, where we are skiddish to view it and discuss it amongst our family and friends, and that we continue to this day to share in our Victorian hangovers……somehow sexual imagery is supposed to remain separate from plain view.  That if we were not only to view nudity in all it’s grand form, but images of explicit sexual activity, that we know that WE won’t be corrupted by it, but what about our kids?  Our neighbors?  Our colleagues, or our boss, or our assistants?  We still act as if we need to quarantine the imagery for the safety of other people’s minds.

It’s crazy, isn’t it?  If you really really really REALLY think about it. 

Anyway, just a heads up of what Thalia has been up to.  Dear Husband has been getting into it, but I also think when I mentioned that there was a lot of pussy in this DVD, he felt more enthusiastic to sitting down with me in support as well as his own enjoyment.