Category Archives: sacred feminine

Four rings, three friends, bound in sisterhood.

I am truly blessed to have an enormous circle of friends and two very special ones who I met (and they each other) at the same moment, on the same day four years ago – Amy and Jennifer. To say that these women are like sisters to me would be an understatement – especially as I wasn’t born with one in this lifetime and those women from my sorority at university faded from my life more than 25 years ago.

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My rings.

In 1989 my husband and I separated. To cope with my despair I ‘ran away to the sea’ and became the operations manager for the HMS Bounty, then owned by Turner Broadcasting Systems in Atlanta. I was disillusioned and hurt and perhaps a little angry and I bought myself an antique coin ring with diamonds on either side of a bezel set 3rd century AD coin featuring the profile of Emperor Constantine. I had it sized down to fit on my pinkie finger and decided to wear my great grandmother’s rose gold wedding band behind it. My accompanying explanation to all the lovely compliments received (for many years) had been “the only man worth having is one wrapped around my little finger”. It became, and remains, one of those signature pieces of jewelry each of us possesses – that we feel nearly naked when not wearing, and which people associate with our being. I didn’t realise how much until just before I was to leave for three months in Croatia – from where I write this blog post.

Amy’s ring.

Amy had taken me out for a quiet ‘chick night’ of Thai and a couple glasses of red wine. And she mentioned the ring and how ‘if I ever found one like it’ she’d love to have it to remind her of our friendship and me. (High praise that made me cry.)  I explained that the one I was wearing was actually an eBay find to replace the original one which, because of daily wear, had thinned down and required too much restoration to be wearable and that I had managed to sell the original for scrap completely paying for the replacement I was wearing (set with cabochon sapphires). That night I got on eBay and found three rings for Amy to consider – she chose, made an offer which was accepted and now wears the one most like mine and, on its receipt, was quick to drop me a note to say “Hi There! My ring came today! I love it – reminds me of you!!! Hugs!!” What could be lovelier? These are enough alike to be the ultimate sister rings without being icky and creepy!! Happy Anniversary Amy.

Jennifer and I also have sister rings though she bought ours for us two years ago – truly one of Snowflowerthe grandest gifts I have ever received – following our mutual reading of Lisa See’s Snow Flower and the Secret Fan and then seeing the movie together; we are a remarkable parallel to See’s characters of Lily and Snow Flower.  Our rings are Halo from Lyndsay Caleo – 14kt gold, mine (shown) in Labradorite (alongside my Elizabeth Gage dolphin ring) and Jennifer originally with two of the smaller stoned ones stacked of Moonstone and the other of Labradorite (there was a mistake in the order so we negotiated).  The stones specifically chosen for the protection they offer for 20141112_073211both of our respective astrological signs.

There is immeasurable comfort to me in having us wearing these rings now.  Small talismans to provide connection between us energetically that ground and nourish me as I embrace the next chapter of my life and Amy and Jennifer their own paths though we are 4400 miles apart from one another. It’s pouring down rain, the lightning and thunder just kicked in, my date cancelled because of weather, I am heating up some split pea soup I made the day before yesterday to take the chill out of me and the air and I am, quite frankly, missing the comfortable nest of my apartment in Rochester. So in looking down at my hands while I type my girlfriends you are with me; I love you both very much.

To everyone else – be the kind of friend worthy of such friendship regardless of your gender. Love fully without smothering. Don’t be ‘needy’. Be unconditional in your support. Be brave, be authentic, be “there” when no one else but you will do.

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What Marilyn Monroe knew, Sleeping Naked

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Daum Freres and Amalric Walter, Pate de Verre Paperweight “Sleeping Nude” from 1stDibs.com

Last night – probably for the first time in 52 years – I slept in the nude. This was not post-coital remnants, nor the result of a sunburn or the aftermath of a new lover exhausted from the exploration of one another, this was about my health. “What?” say you.  Yesterday afternoon I stumbled upon this offering from The Mind Unleashed.  I most appreciate that within the article were all kinds of scientific citations (all of which are worthy of clicking through and reading) backing up the five points outlined. And the truth is that my real motivation in trying this was the potential very positive impact on both my Cortisol levels and those anti-aging hormones.

I confess I have never felt completely at ease sleeping in the buff and this has always been less about “what if there is an emergency” than the habit of needing something on my shoulders – even spaghetti-strapped nightgowns while making me feel gorgeous are insufficient against earning real sleep. Something shifted in my brain and body as a result of the science presented. What if I had it nearly all wrong? I had always preferred a cold room – so that wasn’t an issue – but I am a snuggler (burying myself under a down comforter as the AC is on and it’s 85 degrees outside). So with the idea that one night of experimentation in the privacy of my own home certainly wasn’t going to kill me and I could always get up in the middle of the night and put a t-shirt and panties on – I stripped down, had a bath, slathered Camellia oil on and off to bed I went (with my book, alone).

Maggie Siner Single Unmade Bed 2011

Maggie Siner, Single Unmade Bed, 2011 http://www.maggiesiner.com

You know what? I ‘got over it’. I slept gloriously. And I had to ask myself this morning what was the purpose of having spent all kinds of crazy money over the years on fine Italian woven Egyptian cotton sheets only to put pj’s between my body and them? I believe I am fully reformed as of last night. The other, obvious, long-term benefit of this new comfort will be found in the last point of the article – soaring Oxytocin levels. Whether a lover shares my bed or not the heightened level of sensual awareness involved in this exercise was not lost on me.  (For the memories drawn upon in this I am grateful even as the lovers are no longer relevant to my daily life.)  So the question arises – is it that nakedness is a catalyst that prompts sensuality which, in turn, offers a release from desire or is it just sleeping naked that makes us sleep better?

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Marilyn Monroe is famously quoted that she wore “just a few drops of Chanel No.5” to bed.  Maybe Marilyn knew more about the science of sleeping than we ever gave her credit for – because it’s said that the perfumer, Ernest Beaux, drew his inspiration for the creation of this fragrance from one of his visits to the Arctic Circle and the smell of water at midnight. Evidently, the unique smell of frozen lakes and rivers so fascinated him he decided to replicate it in his creation using laboratory-created aldehydes. So perhaps the smell of cold is equal to a cold room in our sensory processing? Here’s something more interesting, amongst the blend of flowers and plants in Chanel No. 5 can be found bergamot, lemon, neroli and ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, as well as iris, vetiver, sandalwood, vanilla, amber, and patchouli – neroli and vetiver oils (in aromatherapy), have been shown to lower blood pressure and anxiety (in other words stress which is what causes Cortisol to spike in our bloodstream) and relieve insomnia while amber oil has been shown to relax brain waves (alpha, beta, and theta waves) through its psychoactive effect. In truth I have never liked the smell of Chanel No. 5, despite this my fragrances all share common ‘notes’ of amber, neroli, bergamot, patchouli, jasmine, ylang-ylang, and sandalwood maybe that’s really why I slept so well last night.

Whatever you wear to bed (or not), I wish you sweet dreams.

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A Thousand Years, when love isn’t a smaltz-commercial event

This is NOT about that singular day a year (a month away) when commercial interests shove ‘love’ down our throats, this is about the infinite love that spans time, dimensions, multiple lives, crosses gender and age – this is the love, that everyone, E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E, knows in one form or another.

how I feelSmall children love unconditionally, without restraint, and their tiny hearts have more than enough room in there for every person that comes in contact with them. Any of you old enough to be reading this have witnessed the purity of toddlers and tiny babies eyeing each other across any public space, how they instinctively make eye contact, and one, if not both of them, will move toward one another in this recognition of self – the same essence, so recently part of a larger whole, reunited in the space of a breath,  the most perfect love mirroring back at them, and reconnected.  They hug and kiss easily, they smile brightly and laugh, share toys and food or drinks without a second thought. Parents usually let this happen but I can see, you can very likely see as well, that something in the adult psyche has forgotten how to live with this much authenticity and their body language often becomes rigid and an invisible wall seems to spring up around them and their aura just before they drag their kids off.  In the United States we’ve gotten so crazy about this personal space that little kids (preschool, kindergarten, elementary school) get accused of “sexual harassment” – parents, educators and administrators you really need get your heads out of the trash and/or take a chill pill!

The Dalai Lama, in his infinite wisdom and compassion and love, maintains that we could completely eliminate violence (and likely war) in a generation if we taught each and every child to meditate.  I honestly concur, even though I can’t say that I am a practitioner of meditation myself – my alignment coming with my hands deep in the soil or cutting through salt water.

I have loved you for A Thousand Years, Christina Perri’s gorgeous song might speak to a romantic love but, is it?  The lyrics –

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“And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more”

suggest so much more than that (at least I think so). At our most perfect state of being all we are is love, a potent vibrational energy that doesn’t simply disappear when our physical bodies die.  That we, fragile, imperfect human beings will get one thing really right when we actually cease to analyze the dynamic between us and everyone else and simply let our consciousness (in the metaphysical sense) guide the connections to the people we are most safe with, who can be protective and receptive of the singular thing that unites all of us – love.  I am not remotely suggesting that every human being you are in the presence of over the course of your lifetime will be a harmonic match to you, discernment can be cognitive or intuitive (and yes, I have made mistakes in jumping fully into new friendships – not that I would change a thing about my behavior as I have always learned something while being burned).  But the sense that we have known someone for a thousand years, or more, that resonance and recognition only comes when we simply allow ourselves to ‘feel’.

LoveThese connections can manifest in astonishing ways – most perfectly between strangers who give everything and expect nothing (this collection of our humanity will make your throat clench and eyes fill), but ensure that we will ‘pay it forward’ because to not do so would seem somehow sacrilegious or make us immoral.

This sculpture Entitled A Helping Hand by Gustav Vigeland in Oslo, Norway seems to me to be the perfect A helping hand - Olso Norway sculpture parkrepresentation of this particular type of love.  Carved in granite, and set among 200 hundred other works spanning the human condition, the powerful sentiment of lifting up our fellow man who has fallen is only missing the commentary, “come on, let me help you get back on your feet”.  Any of our failures to recognise ourselves in those around us suffering becomes all of our collective failure.  In truth it takes so little to raise all of us up in an act of compassion and empathy – what will you do? 

Dr. Paul Zak as a neuroeconomist (yea, I know, I was like ‘a what’?) goes a long (brilliant) way in explaining the link between oxytocin, morality, empathy and love.  Watch the whole Ted Talk – it really is fascinating, and (I can almost promise) you will be really glad you did.  Essentially when we connect to other people our oxytocin levels spike – a good thing – because when we do we perpetuate empathy and we are happier and the world will vibrate at that higher frequency known as love too! He is a firm proponent of hugging – which releases even more oxytocin – I wonder if simply thinking about hugging someone accomplishes the same bio-chemical reactions?

There is also the romantic love to consider. I was the recent guest blogger and guest for Last Minute Travel’s #TravelTweetChat, I see no point in quoting someone else when my own brief words sufficiently convey so much relevant to this genre of love.

LastMinuteTravel.com ‏@LMTTweets  Jan 10 .@teresafritschi Is there a difference in finding romance than finding love?
@TeresaFritschi  Jan 10 #romance happens regardless of where u r, be #authentic, do the same things u ❤ @ home when traveling 4 romance 2findu

#romance is a state of thinking & being, #love is http://bit.ly/19XbCfH  the softly glowing embers ~ not the flames

@LMTTweets  Jan 10 .@teresafritschi So love is embers not flames. Please describe together since#romance. #TravelTweetChat
@TeresaFritschi  Jan 10  #romance is wooing http://bit.ly/1ae48zf  subsequent effort that keeps #love dynamic http://bit.ly/1ekmV0l 

@TeresaFritschi  Jan 10 We are all wired for #love#romance takes practice @LMTTweets both are based in thoughtfulness, tenderness

@LMTTweets  Jan 10 .@teresafritschi Any opinion the most sensual place or city? #TravelTweetChat
@TeresaFritschi  Jan 10 #sensuality is practicing awareness, an immersion of your senses @LMTTweets #TravelTweetChat

@TeresaFritschi  Jan 10 anywhere can be sensual – toes in sand, making snow angels, Fenway Park, a carousel ride, tasting honey

I know, you are reading this and asking yourself – “all this talk about love, but no sex?” – as the song goes, save best for last

existedI admit that the sharing of physical intimacy has not been part of my reality for a long time, taking a lover for the sake of having one or for ensuring physical release in the most casual sense (risking STDs and professional reputation alike), or to offset a fear of sleeping alone has never seemed a trophy worth having.  What is worth having is something precious and meaningful, something which becomes an extension of self, that is sustainable because the idea of letting it slip through your fingers or recklessly discarding it is abhorrent as well as inconceivable.  No relationship comes with a guarantee of satisfaction, and in our disposable society those romantic relationships that start out as the passion captured at left demand something more than the physical pleasure that comes with coupling to be sustained.  If we return for a moment to Dr. Zak’s commentary on oxytocin and hugging, just imagine the cosmic resonance ramifications of making love! Notwithstanding the incredible pleasure which can be realised from a rollicking orgasm there is a spiritual dimension that is often lost in the context of our dialogue about human sexuality.  Let’s be honest here, there are people we meet (or see on a movie or television screen or performing in concert or at the theatre) whose sheer physical beauty of their body is flesh as art. I am sure there is a high percentage of the world’s population which wouldn’t hesitate of having sex with these people regardless of gender or preference.  But a physical love, regardless of whether it makes you sigh, laugh, cry or scream out, one that makes you vulnerable emotionally, that carries you to your ‘greatness capacity’ as a spiritual being is what we should all aspire not only to offer but be capable of receiving.  

Time and space of the inner and outer realities are indistinguishable. The language of touch carries all the nuance, depth and meaning that words convey, more clearly. This expression of gratitude without words changes how you look at each other.

~ Wendy Strgar

There is, someplace, for each of us a soul capable of seeing ours as clearly as their own, whose beginning and end can be found at the end of both sentences and fingertips, the realisation of an unwillingness to compromise as manifest in human flesh that protects and nurtures and transcends dimensions. This love, no more perfect than any other, is perhaps the most illusive.  Maybe because it is so rare is why we value it so highly when the universe opens up and places it squarely in front of us.  And perhaps also because we recognise its rarity and somehow doubt its authenticity or our worthiness of it, or the very real possibility that this love ‘may not’ stand the test of time, we withdraw from it as did the fictitious heroine of La Princesse de Clèves from the Duc de Nemours:

What I fear is the certainty that one day the love you feel for me now will die… I shall remove myself from your sight, however painful the separation. I implore you, by all the power I have over you, not to seek any opportunity to see me.

Love, in all its forms, is sweet ecstasy and because of that heightened pleasure the cause of our greatest pain.  Why would you live any other way?

If you enjoy my blog please consider ‘buying me a cup of tea’ in your currency through PayPal via livelikeadog@gmail.com and do share it with your friends on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter – I am @TeresaFritschiTo order my book, please click on the cover art of my book below, thank you! 

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Your good deeds – before man and God – Syria

ClementinesIt is Christmas Eve, Bach Cantata’s currently fill the air around me in my living room with the soundtrack from Love Actually queued right behind.  I just ate a couple of juicy, gloriously tasting-of-sunshine and warmth Clementines (which would have been the height of luxury a hundred years ago in a Christmas stocking) and the snow that is coming down is non-threatening and insignificant tiny wisps coming from the North (as it should be).

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My Christmas tree 2012

Some years I go all out with rather Norse and Celtic pagan and Druidic greenery overload (mantles, lintels, door swags) adding sleigh bells to my door knocker and then taking all the living room lamps out and living with candlelight and a Christmas tree lights for three weeks – which is fantastically romantic, but totally impractical – this year didn’t feel right about any of that. The truth is I have ceased to really celebrate holidays – not because I don’t believe in their merit, and not because I am Scrooge and holding onto a heart hardened and mean.  No, it’s largely because when you exist in a state of perpetual gratitude (as I do) there seems a falseness about the stress levels and overachieving and over purchasing attached to days that are supposed to be sacred and times for rejoicing and reflection; people fighting more instead of being bathed in pure white light – this hurts my heart so I purposefully avoid the pain.

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Henry Avignon, 2013, For Dylan Hockley

A little more than a year ago a man with a history of mental illness destroyed the lives of 26 families and that of their surrounding community and shook America (again) to its core.  And an artist friend of mine listened to the words of his son and created a memorial collection of art that is filled with light and love gifting the families with the images he created for each victim.  Shy of the year anniversary a song was published and recorded by a band called Alternate Routes – the song is called Nothing More (and you should listen to it) at the end of the YouTube video a not-for-profit that works in the memory of but one of those children is featured but the words, oh – the words:

To be humble, to be kind. It is the giving of the peace in your mind. To a stranger, To a friend To give in such a way that has no end. We are Love We are One We are how we treat each other when the day is done. We are Peace We are War We are how we treat each other and Nothing More To be bold, to be brave. It is the thinking that the heart can still be saved And the darkness can come quick The Dangers in the Anger and the hanging on to it. Tell me what it is that you see A world that’s filled with endless possibilities? Heroes don’t look they used to, they look like you do.

I didn’t put up a Christmas tree this year – instead I donated the money I would have spent to the special appeal for Syrian children through UNICEF primarily because my girlfriend Farrah (a dual citizen, American-born Lebanese) cried out for help on her Facebook page because ‘that handsday’ nine Syrian children had died of complications from the cold in their refugee camps.  And as the universe has this uncanny way of making sure that such things maintain equilibrium I have a bottle of Islay Scotch from my ex-husband to offset the ache in my heart of such senseless loss.

And so, when I saw a story in the Wall Street Journal about how DIYers were using their forearms to knit, huge chunky blankets and scarves my first reaction was to share it on Facebook and ‘hope aloud’ that somehow this skillset could find its way to these refugee camps so that parents stripped of their dignity through no fault of their own could be empowered with a hand up rather than a hand out, and create with their love necessary warmth to protect their children.

Which lead to the trail of posts and comments you can find here, which ultimately lead to this Tweet, TY4 FT  @ahsan_jehangir – http://www.thistleandbroom.com/…/tab_pr_2011_0504.htm … this is the beautiful yarn for @hands4Syr #PeaceAndLove pic.twitter.com/hIjBCAHkxF and a happy ending to my story – where my amazing Welsh accountant and his wife will deliver kilos and kilos of this energetically pure, certified organic wool from the Isle of Mull and spun at the UNESCO World Heritage arm knittingSite of New Lanark Mill to the drop site in Edinburgh this Friday morning and onward to Jordan, Lebanon, Turkey or wherever Hand-in-Hand For Syria takes it.

The Bible is conflicted on ‘how’ we do good deeds – Matthew 5:14 says: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Whereas Matthew 6:2 says: “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

As someone who believes in a Divine presence but is less certain about which monotheistic (if any?) faith S/HE is particularly aligned with, let me just express if there was a way to get all of refugeeswinteryou to ‘just do’ something amazing and kind and charitable by willing it to be so with my energy I wouldn’t be telling you this story tonight, the presumed holiest of holy evenings of the Christian faith – but I understand the limitations of my presence here on Earth.  I am not seeking ‘points’ with God, or with you dear reader.  Whether you embrace either chapter and verse of Matthew I tell you this story of suffering and action to challenge you, my readers in 201 countries to ‘do’ something. We are Love, We are One.

If you enjoy my blog please consider “buying me a cup of tea” in your currency via livelikeadog@gmail.com through PayPal and please do share it with your friends on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter – I am @TeresaFritschiTo order my book, please click on the cover art of my book, thank you! 

No one compares to you!

ImageHere’s a truth you don’t often read or hear someone say – (sometimes) I miss my former husband.  He’s a truly amazing man, and a part of my heart will remain his until my dying day.  He ‘saw me’ when all I could see was him, and I perhaps doubted it was possible to be seen, and he loved me and protected my essential being in a way that honors the Cherokee philosophy at right.  With his love I was free to walk the earth unmolested – and that is something precious to know as a woman. I would like to think that our time together truly did connect him with (the) Source.

Since he re-married I have very purposefully respected the boundaries of being his former wife and not called, and only nominally exchanged email or Facebook messages – usually to ask him about his mom whom I love dearly.  We saw each other for the first time in a couple of years over the weekend, he took me to brunch at The Revelry in Rochester NY (a yummy meal complete with beet Deviled eggs – almost too pretty eat – and a wicked potion of gin infused with sage and Douglas fir and Chartreuse called a Twin Peaks) we had a great conversation, caught up on our lives, I shared the rationale behind my desire to move to Croatia.  It seemed we tripped over some of the same things that we did in the 1980s when we were twenty-something year olds who love and decide to marry. Two very special points came from our seeing one another; his admittance that he didn’t know himself then and his (lovely) expressing once again “you were light years ahead of your peers”.  I am sure I am not the only ‘ex’ who still has the capacity to love their former spouse but it still feels special and sacred.  But, there’s one more reason no one compares to him, (slightly riffing Sinéad O’Connor’s song that was at the top of the charts as we were divorcing 23 years ago), and that is – pedicures.

Beyond their most utilitarian function of getting me from point A to point B, if I can be so bold, I had (still have) pretty feet and striking ankles and very reasonable legs.  When I was about 12 my brother gave me a Clairol pedicure kit for Christmas in which you dropped these massive batteries into to the handle with interchangeable heads for buffing and filing and smoothing – primarily Imagebecause my mom must have discovered that I was trimming the calluses off the bottom of my feet (from walking around barefoot all the time) with the blade from her safety razor and thought this would be far safer!  Later my bathroom would host a plethora of pumice stones, metal files and paddles all with the understanding that, in doing this for myself, I was promoting my optimal overall health reflexology-foot-chartthrough reflexology and the Eastern pressure points but, oh, to have your husband love your feet and treat you like a goddess – nothing compares! Nothing! Nope, sorry $60 pedicures by highly competent technicians are nice – but their efforts are a task to be completed not a sensuous path with an end result of making love.

So, yes, without lusting for him, without even my mentally violating his vows I can express that my ex gave “great feet”!

ImageHe brought me a small bag of AA batteries I asked for, along with a bottle of Bowmore Scotch (bliss)  – I am sure he thought I needed the batteries for flashlights and smoke alarms (he’s practical that way, always has been) but no – I needed two of them for my new Emjoi! OMG, this thing is a miracle! So, while there is something to be said for a partner taking care of your whole being right down to your pinkie toes in the absence of such being able to slide into bed and think “wow, my feet are as soft as my sheets!” is real DIY bliss.  Now, if I could just find someone willing to let me snuggle my icy colds against their thermonuclear furnace of a body my life would be very nearly perfect!

If you enjoy my blog please considering ‘buying me a cup of tea’ in your currency via PayPal to livelikeadog@gmail.com and do share it with your friends on Facebook, Google+ and Twitter – I am @TeresaFritschiTo order my print or ebook from Amazon, please click on the cover art of my book, ebook also available through Barnes & Noble and Lulu, thank you! 

Nine Maidens

ImageEvery woman, often long denied, is struggling with her goddess nature.  Unless you have read my words for a while in reading this sentence you might be inclined to assume that I am referencing outward physical beauty; I am not.

Cate Blanchett is striking a note about the ultimate state of feminine in her appearance as Giorgio Armani’s spokeswoman for Si fragrance – I am not talking about how stunning Anne Fontaine and the supporting crew present her, no, rather the string of words we are invited to say yes (Si) to that I am referencing.

Meryl Streep, invited to introduce Hillary Clinton, opens her remarks with a poignant statement about how hard women are on each other, how we check out one another’s jackets – the jacket being both figurative and literal.  Ms. Streep points out how we judge the clothing and shoes, hairstyle and makeup, how thin (or not) she is, how straight and white her teeth, how beautiful her complexion, we speculate about whether she’s ‘had work done’, if she falters in the air of confidence she lends, the command of her subject matter (as well as the scope of intellect) and then, often simultaneously, we compare all of ‘her’ to ourselves. Placing a value of our own person (higher or lower) against our filters of perception of the other woman – so-very-unfair-to-each (let alone how men evaluate our beauty and how only the most exquisite physical examples of the feminine seem to be worthy of them regardless of their visage).

As if the competitive landscape wasn’t already fierce enough a Tedx speaker encourages practicing seduction – which taken out of the cultural context of Communist Cuba where women are not dealing with airbrushed perfection is even more dangerous than the stupidity of fashion designers sketches for clothing and what the women would look like if real (not even remotely attractive).

Lunacy Game
“What if instead of drugging, shocking, tying down our Mad Women, we put Them in warm tubs of water naked as babies and got in there with Them and cooed and encouraged Them to cry great salt tears, to grieve the passing of dreams, the rape of the soul? What if we rocked Them to sleep in giant hammocks of competent fat arms when They were too damn exhausted with keeping up pretenses or holding up Their heads any longer? What if we agreed with Her that the whole world is fucking crazy, out of balance, and that SHE is not to blame for the halt and the lame, the lack of food, the phone not being answered, the port wine stains on babies, the wars on every continent of the globe?

What if we gave Her a baseball bat (none of this nerf shit impotent harm none foam battaca bat bullshit, but a solid wood bone-cracking put a goddamn lump on it BASE FUCKING BALL BAT) and let her slam every post stump wall door window house car in an arena where She is cheered on to a frenzy? Then let’s pick Her up when she falls down exhausted and foaming and take Her down to the locker room for a steam bath and massage that leave her noodle limp and rage-less for the first time in decades.”
Dina Kerik, quoted in We’Moon Calendar, 1997

We walk around wounded and maligned because for far too long we, the powerful feminine that give life to everything (even if we have not had children of our own), have been subjugated, abused, discounted in the face of masculine, destructive, sometimes predatory energy.

In contrast, my girlfriend Jennifer emailed, I’ll ping you later for a dose of your beautiful smile.” and as a way of ever so subtly shouting out her appreciation for our friendship, Tweeted this morning: 

“New LEGO game focuses on girl friendships http://usat.ly/1b5TrlM  via @usatoday cc @TeresaFritschi

My response:  #NewWorldOrder @JenniferSertl if usat.ly/1b5TrlM #gamers would create to instill #compassion#meditation #kundalini & @goldieblox

ImageA brilliant social media contact of mine shared this image (at left) on her Facebook page this morning and I was flooded with respect energy for the trio without even the need to understand their backstory.  Then another social media contact shared Mark Harrison’s post about Divine feminine energy (Kundalini) and I thought of Stuart McHardy’s fantastic book about his own quest to discover the origins (and Imageremnants) of the Nine Maidens mythology which, lead me to this breathtaking image of an old woman by Finnish photographic artists Karoline Hjorth and Riitta Ikonen – is this woman not gorgeous? Evocative of divine energy and all wisdom? I don’t know about you but I would love to sit with her and learn of her life, what she has learned and seen and fill myself with the twinkle behind those brilliant blue eyes of hers! My girlfriend Brigitte swam in 5 degree C water this morning to ‘celebrate’ her birthday, that is a distinctly goddesslike behavior challenge, a something from ‘the ancients’ smackdown to be ‘more’ elevated.  My girlfriend Kanika, back home visiting her family in India, sends me Reiki energy and in return I send her a kiss on her 3rd eye.  My girlfriend Hilal in Istanbul suggests that she will sleep on the floor when I visit her and her elderly mother, my new friend Marijana in Zagreb offers a sweeping range of hospitality across the breadth of Croatia during my forthcoming stay; this is goddess nature manifest, the care-taking and nurture nature of humankind in its most perfect state.

Song-of-the-New-Earth-4In our state of Divine feminine we need to challenge our individual selves and each-other to greatness fostered through cooperation, to give more in terms of support, respect, awareness, encouragement and healing to all Earth’s creatures. Returning our planet to its original balance of feminine and masculine energy needs to start with each one of us – Phoenix Rising!

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