Skip to content

mask

May 27, 2010

It’s so frustrating when you realise that somebody you’re becoming friends with isn’t the person they told you they were at all.

There’s always a spark of intuition somewhere at the beginning– the thing that says to you “hey, you don’t like this person”. And then they start talking, and you find that you DO like this person and you decide to become friends with them and it’s only months later that you find out that all of this stuff that they showed you at first isn’t actually them at all, it’s just who THEY think they are, and underneath that is a big rotting pile of poo. And the most frustrating part is that you knew it all along, but were just so bloody idealistic and trusting and naive that you wanted to believe all of the other stuff instead.

I spent the other day up in my treehouse. Well, it’s not exactly a tree house, and more like a ledge up in the tree in the back garden. But there’s enough room for a Me and a blanket and a big mug of tea and a book. It’s really nice to be able to communicate with things that are upfront about themselves. A tree is tree. A rock is rock. You can sit with one after introductions and not be conflicted in gut and heart and head. You can sit with one for hours without it turning around after telling you one thing and saying “oh, by the way, I think I’m the messiah and I’m here to make everybody on the planet a more conscious human being, starting with you” or “Oh, hey, I’m not gay and I have a crush on you” or “oh, hey, I’m actually a man” (not that any of these situations have happened recently, they’re just examples of things that could happen if you weren’t listening to your gut enough).

Tree. With its cool dark roots that I like to ride into the earth. With its big strong limbs, and its little light airy leaves. There’s a branch on my tree that climbs out over the garden, and sometimes I lie on it and pretend to be a jaguar taking a nap. And then one of my neighbours will go to take their trash out and I’ll wake up and say hello and scare the living crap out of them, which is also kinda fun. Connected to a tree, I’m connected to the earth. Connected to the earth I’m connected to everything.

I was thinking about why it is that I hate to have to do anything when I’m bleeding*, and I think it’s because my root is SO open at that time that I just want to be a part of the earth and not have to deal with other stuff (especially not driving). And when that happens I feel like I can see what’s going on anywhere in the world. I can reach out through the ground and find Jamie and see what he’s doing, or I can reach out through the ground and check on Lou to see if she’s ok. Or I can just reach out through the ground and feel that deep nutritive feeling that borders on bliss. And then I remember my philosophy teacher saying a few weeks ago that he thinks that women should menstruate on the full moon and I now know that I don’t agree with him. When I menstruate on the new moon I am even more grounded, and I see even more. On the full moon (like today) there is a conflict in my body– with an open root but the energy of the moon pulling me up and out, it’s a different kind of openness. One that I’m not opposed to. One that I kinda like, that makes me feel very creative (sketch books strewn about the house perhaps an indication?), but when I menstruate on the new moon I feel powerful. Scarily powerful. And THEN, I think that I doubt women were sent to huts on the outskirts of town just because they felt like making stuff…

*On another note, why is it that I feel like an angry feminist from the grunge era (it was so long ago that I can call it an era) when I talk about menstrual blood. Like it’s bad. Like it’s taboo. Like words like ‘tampon’ and ‘blood’ are things that we women whisper to each other behind closed doors  while our public faces talk about boys and sex. Yep… even bringing awareness to the awareness doesn’t change the connotation. Today I am an angry feminist. Please hold while I grow out my leg hair. *fade out to Four Non-Blondes being played over a crackling telephone line*.

Advertisements
2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 3, 2010 01:49

    People are just stupid. Menstruation is fantastic. Sex is great when you’re having your period! A real man will not hesitate to buy you a box of tampons.

    And finally: I know what you mean about how people turn out to be what they seemed at first glance. Maybe we can learan to really listen at the beginning. The signals are all there if we pay close attention.

    xo

  2. September 6, 2010 02:11

    I find that I can incredibly intuitive the days leading up to my period, especially the two days right before, my antennae is out there, picking up stuff 🙂

    PS and now I love you even more, having read some of your posts 🙂
    Xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: