Hello my Friends, dear Travellers,
It’s been well, about 3 months. Three months ago, I was happily blogging along in December with my virtual calendar for Christmas. AND then…then well, my little blog was invaded by what I’m going to call, “The Porn Horde” Why would I say that? Because there was an exponential rise in visitors here. Like HUNDREDS actually, and upon abit of investigation, these fine people were looking for an actual Pussy Advent Calendar. Not as in cat, as in vagina. Or perhaps vulvas. Does such a thing exist out there? Quite possibly. And while I do not believe in censorship, I can’t say I have any understanding of that situation. Maybe it’s because I own my own vagina/vulva, so why go looking for others??
(I raise my shoulders in a massive emphatic shrug here…)
Needless to say, I took as break.
I know what people might say, they will say I’m “asking for it” with my blog’s name…I loathe that turn of phrase as a woman…really as a human… “Asking for it” who the hell came with that clever little deviant idiot idea? Because obviously you must not know the right women. If a woman wanted “IT” we would in fact vocally ASK FOR IT. Do you feel me?
This however raises an interesting point, one that I have been rolling around my mind…do I continue with my blog name, possibly offending would be readers who can’t read the kitty between the lines? Should i continue struggling to find readership with what I feel is a rather cheeky name or should I change it? And I’m asking because I’d like to hear from all of you out there what your thoughts are…
See right there, I’m asking for you to do that…
I’ve been through a really revelatory bout of time for the past three months: First Christmas after a divorce on my own, first chocolate soufflé I baked in THIS fine piece of crockery that we never once used while married. It was in fact a wedding gift. I did that on New Years Eve after reading THIS article which proclaimed that “cooking a soufflé is like jumping off a cliff…” and that felt very much like how I wanted to start my new year. Just leap. And I sort of did. But it’s never as easy as it looks, is it?
I started reading, “The Future of Humanity”, in January. My like-mom Mary gave it to me when I was visiting her and my Dad a few Springs back. I’m not sure how I would classify this particular book. Sort of a mish-mash of topics like colonization of other planets, apparently we are going to rape and pillage all the other worlds in the galaxy not just ours.
People are actively working on how to mine asteroids, Hello James Cameron, I’m looking at you. That’s an odd hobby right? Planning on how to penetrate and violate BUT be oh so careful as to not inadvertently knock it out of its orbit, sending it hurtling towards Earth…
There’s some discussion on immortality and gene manipulation, which means we can exploit ALL the galaxies without the boundary of mortality.
Of course there are pages about AI, but my favorite thing I learned was about the moon. It wasn’t actually more then maybe 15 words. And I feel abit naive to even say this, but I’ve never given thought to where the moon came from, have you?? In fact, I really feel like I took the moon for granted my whole life until about three years ago…that’s when I started looking for it, gazing at it, so happy to see it there hanging in the night’s sky…
This author said the moon was made of Earth. THE MOON IS MADE OF EARTH?!?! I of course had to Google that little nugget, and I found THIS article, which I thought gives the best summation of all the moon origin theories. And these things are FASCINATING. They even named the other celestial body that collided with Earth. Theia. Don’t you wonder how they figure these things out? And don’t you feel so alive when you learn something new?
And do you also realize that the planets were not born round as we see them now? Everything was debris, mist, particles, fragments, vaporous clouds and then gravity gave it all shape…isn’t that wonderous? And yes, I mean to spell that word that way, because wonder. The wonder that we all take for granted every day.
I think we naturally believe this universe is tidy. It was just born this way. But I find it comforting to know it was a hot mess before it became this way. I like the idea of collisions and explosions or whatever happened that eventually led us here.
All this got me thinking about the therapy I’ve been in during my absence here. A particularly world altering EMDR session that has recreated something inside me with regards to the trauma of my upbringing.
Trauma, a word that rhymes with drama. They’re kind of salt and pepper words aren’t they, they go together in the most awful way. But trauma just sounds like a gaping head wound to me…
Trauma seems to be something that can close us up like a clam or make us go fully fetal again. I think the posture of self-protection and safety is the fetal position. During distress, the position becomes the equivalent of making a fist with our whole selves, nothing can get in, which means nothing can get out. Nothing can be released. And I’m learning the way to heal trauma appears to be in a state of openness. It’s called vulnerability and curiosity.
I’ve learned that trauma is generational. Not identical as it passes through us but it’s a lesson someone has to learn in order to break it’s grip. It isn’t just us alone that will repeat our lessons until we learn them, these are lessons that get passed from parent to child and that child to their child until someone chooses to ask why. Someone has to stop and seek the answers.
I realized in therapy that I felt like I was suppose to have fixed my mom. I didn’t know I felt that way, all this time. When she was hysterical and crying and crying and hysterical at me over her husbands. Or whatever it was. Telling me I was born wrong. It wasn’t my responsibility to fix her. Moreover, I always felt it was my fault that she behaved that way only around me. For everyone else, she was a shiny happy human, but not for me. I believed there was something innately wrong with me that made her act that way. It was awful and I just wanted away from her for all my life.
But I know now, she could not have done better. It doesn’t make her right, or what she did right, but I feel a kind of empathy that I’ve never felt until recently. The story she was and is telling herself is not going to give her any room to change. She created the story to avoid the trauma of her father’s illness, there was abuse of a sibling and she just overlaid this love story of her parents to hide the truth. She hid in a fairy tale. And I think she will be forever in a fist shaped soul.
But I don’t have to be…
I’ve decided I’m going to be like the Earth and the moon. Because you have to believe that fracturing is a physical manifestation of trauma, isn’t it? Maybe the Earth didn’t bleed, but it’s pieces somehow formed something we call celestial. And isn’t the moon a remnant of trauma for the Earth, but look how it shines up there. It’s a beacon in darkness. The Earth’s ever present companion in the vast darkness of space. Because of gravity. Gravity pulling everything together from within. And this didn’t happen overnight, as my own journey is ongoing and it’s been almost a year and half now since my life hit the skids. But I’m on the journey at last, my origin nowhere in sight. My fragments not yet fully arranged as a moon.
Oh oh oh, before I go, did you know all the full moons have names?? Tonight, while I cannot see the moon due to the cloud coverage, this one is called the “Worm Moon” because it coincides with the time when earthworms begin to emerge from the frozen soils of winter. I think we call that Spring. A season I have been waiting for all winter long…it’s the light at the end of the darkness.
Let me leave you with this…
I love how the moon looks like it’s hung in my old oak tree.
And maybe a little song for the moon, how about THIS ONE?
I’ll be back. soon-ish.