Sacred pussy
It’s me
Miss Directed
Miss Aligned
Miss Guided
Mister-she to All That is
How can I find
who I am
Again
Where in darkness
All I feel
Are the jumbled up
Shaken not stirred
Musings of a mind
Gone mad.
Aphrodite at the brink
As I look away
Erasing the sacred portal
Of All that
Is.
Me.
Unable to refresh
The selfish agony
That keeps me entombed
And holds her wanting.
The notion of connecting back into my body was daring. After all, I was a middle-aged woman far past any prime that society considers sexy. The oddest part about recovering from trauma is getting a free pass into bravery. In those moments, when you feel you have lost “so-called” everything, courage steps in to conquer the seat of fear. Healing from trauma, living with the feeling of being cracked open, changed my internal chemistry, and I was frequented by many “don’t give a fuck” sensations. This compelled me to start living in my body because the alternative was the scary recesses of my mind.
How do I get back to a body and libido that time forgot? How do I reacquaint myself, after enduring a multitude of post-menopausal festivities and bad marriage sex, to a sexuality that took a back seat to Netflix and CNN?
The first moment I walked into the Mama Gena School of Womanly Arts party in New York, I wanted to tear out of there and cry. What had become of my life as I stood in a convention center with 2000 plus women participating in what seemed to be, a carnival of the grotesque, a sorority cavalcade gone off the rails? It was rambunctious, loud, the music was blasting, half-naked women were dancing in the conference hall to It’s Raining Men, and it was only 8:30 am!
I felt incredibly judgemental of both myself and the dancing queens who seemed to have drunk an unimaginable flavor of Kool-Aid. A hysterical kind of joy hung in the air of this Paradise Island where women who were known as Sister Goddesses boogied with wild abandon unabashedly showing off their bodies. Hugging, laughing, crying, large, small, petite, older, younger, housing surgeries, and all kinds of physical imperfections, all these Sister Goddesses were in celebration of something that I was definitely not privy to.
I sat by myself in the very back and took in the spectacle, feeling above this madness, smug in knowing there was no way the elegant me was going to partake in any of this nonsense. I was incredibly angry at every challenge in my life that had led me to this moment of shame and embarrassment. I texted my daughter, telling her that I was going to hightail it out of there as quickly as I could and would meet her at Mercer Kitchen for lunch. My resistance to this experience was as pronounced as my insistence that I was definitely in the wrong place.
Suddenly Mama Gena took the stage, and all hell broke loose. We’re talking epic rockstar ruckus, and 2000 women bolted from their seats cheering, as she came on. Mama Gena was the Wonder Woman these Sister Goddesses had been waiting for. She was cheeky, elegant, sexy as hell with so much badass that I immediately sat up and took notice. I felt both compelled to leave yet unable to move as every cell of my body shrieked, “I want ME some of THAT!”
Mama Gena moved, sensuously, sexy, unapologetic, a Goddess among her people. I was transfixed and terrified. I was witnessing what it really looked like to be turned on – turned on by life, by radiance, by the celebration of my “pussy”, by possibility, by all that I had long forgotten.
I realized I was famished…
I called my daughter to tell her I would be a no-show at lunch because I now understood that I was ravenous… and this hunger buried deep inside me could never be satiated by anything other than full surrender to my body.
I took a few tentative steps towards the crowd, did a small hip rotation, and unbuttoned just two buttons of my shirt, I felt the beginnings of a long lost smile…
For the first time in a long while, I felt a stirring inside of what could be…and then I caught a glimpse of her ever, so faintly in the distance, Goddess Aphrodite, sitting patiently… gown raised, legs wide open, loving eyes with a most bewitching wink.
RADICAL ACTS OF GODDESS