yes, i am healing, heartwise. slowly and in unusual ways. i still find myself with a tear sliding down my cheek at the oddest times, but that's to be expected. and i open my heart to the moment and embrace it, but don't let it run wild and overwhelm me.
my body has been disrespecting me in a continuing battle for supremacy, with exhaustion and confusion making for some strange conversational tidbits. however - during some good moments, i was having a conversation with a photographer in the building, and she asked me what part of my body did i love. that led us down the most enlightening and exciting conversation i've had in a while about bodies and our relationships with them and how they do/don't represent the inside "us." at the same time, another artist in the building gave me 2 huge HUGE filled-to-the-top shopping bags stuffed with cosmetics. unused. long story there, but they were not stolen. and i am the last one to stop and put makeup on, especially to go to my studio. PSD is still speechless over her newfound largess of Urban Decay and Chanel. but the irony of the two events back-to-back was not lost on me. The photographer and i talked about when our bodies were young and strong and overflowing with sensuality of the 20-something sort. and how life and children and life and jobs and life started chipping away at those hips and that flat belly and firm arms, and soon things got wider and larger and flappier. and we talked about how those changes were allowed to happen and how they changed our perception of our Strength...or was it the other way around....hmmm...
we pointed to times when we felt most like the person we were meant to be, and decided that no matter what age that was, that the essence of that incarnation could fit any age we became. that a self-assurance in that knowledge of Who We Were, and the acceptance and even the celebration of that person would make any fashion we chose to wear look appropriate. does that sentence make sense? (sort of wearing our Selfhood like that favorite comfy pair of jeans or moccasins.) at the thought of celebrating the essence of who i am, in my soul - my spirit, i realized that the final cobblestones of the shield must go. that i have allowed myself to become Not Me...realized that in order to live the life i chose to live, i couldn't do it to Me. yes "to" mySelf. I had chosen the easy way...the way that allowed for security in some sense, but restricted my ability to be my Self in her fullest incarnation of being. and oddly, i had followed a similar path that my mother and grandmother had chosen, as well. so it was no surprise that i look like them. and i realized that the time i felt my Outward reflected my Inward the most was when i had long hair. not a vanity. a fact. and in recent years, hairdressers that i've chosen have seen me in ways that i projected...ways that i felt...weary, old, fat, matronly. and they cut my hair. short. Samson, i feel ya buddy. even as my intuitive self stayed strong, the threads of day-to-day being just frayed. so tomorrow, or friday, i will buy new hair. hair that is long. hair that is in line with my Self. I realized that as much as a foundation or blush would bring into alignment how a person would want their face to look, clothes and hairstyle could do the same. the photographer pulled back her curtain to reveal a whole colony of wigs! short black hairstyles, long blue hairstyles, mid-length auburn...whatever her mood. i don't foresee a blue or purple one in my future, but ...
and once i get in focus, my photographer friend and i will be getting it down for all eternity. and i will post it here. promise.
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