Sexual Autonomy / Sexual Freedom

I really can't believe I waited until today to check out Sinclair's post about Sexual Autonomy and Sexual Freedom. My answer is was short. Until I started writing.

For me, Sexual Autonomy means having age-appropriate access to the wealth of information that exists about different types of relationship styles, different sexual activities, fetishes, and interests, as well as safer sex practices and contraception. I think this will only happen when we live in an environment that encourages open communication, mutual respect, and an understanding of the important role that sexuality plays in every person's life. I think that's what sexual freedom is, too. Perhaps autonomy means that technically, we all have a choice in what type of sexual life we engage, whereas freedom means that people in your life won't harass you for your choices... even if they might be the "wrong" choice. We can all screw up or bless our own lives equally!

I don't think any one moment in time created sexual freedom in my life. If I had to pinpoint a time when I became free, I would probably choose the day that I drove back to my hometown after leaving a religious training school a day's drive north of here. It wasn't any one sexual act, but it was the fact that I was disregarding other people's rules, and making them up for myself. Each day in the journey to sexual freedom, I loved myself and knew myself a little bit more. After years of suppressing and ignoring my sexual being, finally, enough was enough and I wanted to be in control. It wasn't just my sexuality that got freed up, it was the rest of me as well! I went back to college to get the degree I knew that I wanted (Women's Studies / Feminism), I took my stuff out of storage and found my own place to live, and about a year later, I met Dana. I wasn't expecting to like her as much as I did, but she pretty much blasted all of my "preconceived notions" out of the water. Our family histories are so similar, and we have made it our number one priority to talk about anything and everything as soon as it comes up, so that we don't hold onto confusion and anger. The best part is that it's not "too good to be true" - our relationship together has snags in all the right places, so that we build each other up instead of tearing down the one we love.

For the longest time we lived in a state of constant fear. "What if we break up?" and "If we're still together by that time, then we'll..." But that's no way to live. So for now, we're together indefinitely - which means that there is no end foreseeable... until further notice. And I'm very happy with that.

I know this post was meant to be about sexual freedom, but that is what being with Dana means to me. She means having all my sexual needs met, and being allowed to ask for what I want, and being allowed to spread my love around. Being with Dana means getting to explore new things, talking about our likes and dislikes openly and honestly. It means me being able to experience sacred sexuality gatherings, and to talk to her about my girl crushes (and precisely the same for her as well!)

It's good stuff, I tell you what. I found a letter last night that she wrote to me back in July. She said, "You are the perfect seasoning to my very hearty broth!" Now if that doesn't make you laugh freely then you need to get your heart checked.

Let's be free to be, you and me, shall we?

Reflections on Glory

We discusses God's glory in church today. The speaker gave an account of a time when he was out on a dock that stretched far into a beautiful lake. Looking up, he saw the expanse of the sky bright with many stars, and fell into a great wonder. He was awed by the majesty of God's creation and told of how God's glory must be so much greater than that. He said that the hebrew word for glory was like the opposite of "making light of" - it is to recognize the emotional/spiritual weight of something. Of God.

The speaker's story reminded me of a night when I was out walking along the beach with my dear friend. The moon shone bright above us, and was reflected in the water just a few feet from where we walked. I realized that as far as we walked, the moon was still reflected right next to me. I called to my friend, a few steps away and said, "face the water, look down at your feet, what do you see?" she replied, "I see the moon!" and as I looked down, it was shining in front of my feet, too. In both places at once, the light shone for us. I could see how God used that reflection to reveal his character to me. Above, he shines for all to see, like the singular moon, he is a blessing to the world. But down here, at the personal level, God walks beside each one of us, lighting the way, bringing comfort and freedom.

Oh, come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Oh, bid our sad divisions cease,
And be yourself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!
(Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel)

An old Advent hymn calls for God to unite the world. Bind all hearts in one! Dissolve the things that divide us! Bring the kingdom of peace! This is my prayer for the new season our country has entered, and my prayer for the world.

And another song talks about being united in love, and about caring for those less fortunate. In this song "slave" simply refers to someone of a lower caste who lacks access to resources.

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
(Oh, Holy Night)

Let us remeber that we are all made of stars.

Ramazan

Tomorrow I'll begin celebrating the fasting/feasting month of Ramadan, where millions of people all over the world will not drink alcohol, not have sex, and not eat, drink, or smoke unless it the sun is down. I am not Muslim, but my trip to Turkey in 2006 was timed around Ramazan (the Turkish spelling) and I enjoyed every minute of it. I get out of fasting because of my health concerns, but I will be pleased to practice some self-discovery, some times of prayer and meditation, and some times of reconciling myself with past actions I may regret. Some people call it repentance, but I don't think it has to be all that formal. Ramazan is just a time to get right with yourself, to give to charities that you value, to spend time with people you love, and to be conscious of your spiritual being. It's more than that, but that's what it is to me.

My favorite thing will be ezo gelin corbasi and iskender kebap.

I've been thinking about covering me hair, too.

It wouldn't be the first time that I've worn a hair/head covering. In 2005, as I was preparing to leave for missionary discipleship school, I spent two weeks with my head covered any time I left the house, or if I was in the company of women. I did this as a personal exercise of solidarity with women who are not allowed to show their hair. I may not do it for thirty days, I may not do it every day, but I in a way, it does make me so much more conscious of myself in my environments.

In other news, I'm not getting a new job, I'm not moving to New York, yet. I am seriously thinking about applying to grad school to get my Master's of Information and Library Science. Whattya think? Sexy librarian? Dana and I are thinking about renting a house in the Gayborhood here. Something with a yard and a tire swing and a vegetable garden. I'd like a spare bedroom which we could transform into a library/office. Or - a spare room for sexy time with anyone!

Ask me anything. As me a question. Say anything you'd like, and I'll do my best to answer truthfully. I'm an open book.

twice, a bad dream.

I've been having truly awful nightmares.

A couple weeks ago I dreamed that someone gave me this thin, limp, dark haired girl. She was so tiny, and barely conscious. All I knew in my dream was that she was a prop in some art project. A few yards away there was a white wall, and then a glass panel and on the back, a thinly padded wall. At the sound of a shot gun, I was supposed to throw her against the wall, so I did. Instantly I realized my mistake. She (and a several others, alike) slid, dropped to the floor where men in white masks beat them to death. I shrieked as if it had been me who was thrown. I was sickened that I had taken part in it. But I didn't understand what it was before it happened...

Dramatic, no?

Saturday night I dreamed that there were some young children who were being filmed in a children's movie. They all dove into this shallow pool and suddenly the floor underneath the pool began to tilt back and forth, creating bigger and bigger waves. The water began to rise and the children were drowning. We (the adults) tried to save as many as we could but we were struggling to keep ourselves afloat. The adults all piled into an elevator where "5" was the top floor but the numbers were all jumbled up. "5" was really like the 15th floor but like I said, they were mixed up. When we reached the top, safe and sound, I asked someone, "What happened to the children?" She was a thin orange-haired girl with a host of freckles and a warm smile. Maybe you know her. And she said, "Why, they've all drowned". She spoke with a tone of voice that expressed how unfortunate the situation was, but no real remorse or disappointment at all. I was disgusted, and I felt tricked.

Morbid. Why all the dreams about people dying? And no one caring? I don't get it.

I had another upsetting dream this morning but I can't remember what it was. It's just as well, I'd rather not remember.

Am I worried about my big dreams and plans dying? I sometimes dream so big that I have to scale down the grandeur. It hurts.

not doing well.

i'm not doing well. i am feeling very heavy hearted. for some reason, very sharp fear of death has come over me. i find myself sinking into the thoughts of what it must be like to transition into the spirit world. it's almost like meditating on the nothingness that follows the something. i need to kick it out of my head, and replace it with positive thoughts about being released from the weight of this world rather than being denied my physical presence. i shouldn't even be dwelling on death at all. it snuck up on me, all of a sudden the other day when I was reading a massage therapy text book that was talking about how massage is used in hospice care.

i'm not really doing well financially either. assisting Stefanie and still taking care of myself realy ran up my credit cards and she's still paying her past due car payments, day care, and phone bills. i know things will eventually even out, but i am broke as a joke - especially after my last NY trip. before i can really make any progress in the direction of massage school, or a change of location, i will have to make a significant dent in what i owe to the gods of visa and mastercard. ugh. it's making me ill just to think on it.

i've been back to my church twice now, the last time i went was New Year's. It's nice to be able to be in a holy space (it is holy because we gather together) and center myself within the spirit of God. it does not feel empty or fake, it feels full and genuine. but i need more. my physical body needs rest and movement, my spiritual self needs to grow and become a beam of light.

advancement

As we started the workshop on Friday, I listened to the facilitator talk about how it is an advanced workshop. Miss Avarice, so recently deflowered, so inexperienced and green, sitting amongst all these grown up women who have had many a partner, and many of whom are sex workers themselves (pro dommes, sexological bodyworkers, etcetera). And there's little old me, Miss Avarice, anonymous sexuality blogger, quaking in my panties and wondering whether or not I were truly prepared for the experiences that were forthcoming.

Turns out, I was totally ready.

In fact, I didn't find that it was altogether very difficult. Some parts were very revealing, I exposed so much of myself. But it is such a very special, such a very quiet and safe place to do so. I already knew and trust so many of the women there, who had participated in my very first Body Electric School workshop. I knew and trusted the staff, the facilitator, and the space. Every exercise that we practised, I was able to gain new confidence in my self. I feared nothing.

Yesterday was kinda hard. My spirit was still kinda floating outside my body, trying to fit itself within the borders of my skin (think Peter Pan trying to get his shadow reattached). Today though, I am reintegrated and feeling so ready.

I can't wait to get home, and start planning or Dana's birthday!

prayers

This morning, on the day of worship, we gave up a time of sharing ourselves, baring our truths and learning to express our simplest nature. I offered up a prayer, a plea.

I have so much love inside of me. It's... it's uncontainable. It oozes out the cracks, and sometimes my heart springs a leak. I want people to be grateful for my love because I'm giving it to them, because I fashioned it specifically for them. I want to be able to spread my love around, to unfurl it like a blanket. I want my love to be taken seriously, even though it is portioned out for others.

I harbor more love than I can contain. Sometimes, my heart is even too big for my chest, and I have to grow to make more room for it. It's hard to carry, love is not light or easy. Love is a burden. I want to give it all away for the freedom and lightness of others.

But just because I love so many, and so much, the degree to which I live the individuals (as well as the whole) is not diminished. Perhaps it is strengthened. I so appreciate the people who have honored me by allowing me to give a little bit of love, to share a heap of compassion.

holding hands in church

I woke up this morning at ten minutes to ten and decided that I wanted to go to church. I've been out of the habit for such a long time and it is difficult to get back into the habit, but Dana was pleased to go with me so that I would not be there alone. My church is the type that seems to change faces about every three to six months, so going there again is like meeting new people all over again, but I have never regretted getting up early to go and praise God in the presence of other believers. My church is comprised of mostly the tattooed, pierced and dyed hair variety of reform minded Christians who are concerned with social justice issues, responsible politics, and bringing help to those in need. Funny - that's exactly what Jesus was all about, but you don't see most Christians trying to do that. They're just trying to get their quota of church days per year fulfilled.

I don't talk about religion much on her first because it's a touchy subject, secondly because sometimes I'm not sure how much I can say without using overly religious jargon, and thirdly because this is a sex blog and sometimes it can be difficult to show how the two can be so intertwined. But they are. Religion and sexuality have always been closely linked). It's time that we queer people (generally, people who feel alienated by religion, not just queers) start taking back our relationships with the root energy. Please, do me and yourselves a favor, and seek out that root energy, god, goddess, whatever. Regardless of what other people say or do to you, whether it is at home, or in a place of worship, or with a few committed people, seek out your spiritual origin and take it back from thieves. You deserve to be connected.

I introduced Dana to one of my pals, Kyle, "This is my girlfriend, Dana" - she was skipping over to our snack table to get something to drink. "So how long have you been together?" he asked. I told him since about March, and he said that's how long he and his girl had been together. We held hands standing and sitting during the service, and my thoughts were confirmed. This is not an affirming church, by any means, but I can be myself without fear of condemnation or rejection. I'm so pleased that a year and a half after committing to love myself regardless of my gayness, that I can fuck my girlfriend at night and go to church with her the next morning and not feel guilt. Things are settling in my heart. The opening song of our music set was based upon Psalm 23, God's promise of help in troubling times.

The Lord is my shepherd and caretaker
I shall enjoy goodness of life
He teaches me to rest in flourishing green pastures
He directs me to waters of refreshment
He revives my spirit
He guides me to paths that keep me close to him
So that my life will honor him.

Although I walk through valleys of darkness,
Evil cannot intimidate me, You, God are with me,
You strength of defense encourages me.
You prepare lavish feasts for me, despite my enemies.
You have made me the honored guest of your house
You have provided for me with abundance.

Because of you, I know that goodness and mercy
will pursue me for the rest of my life.
I will linger in your house throughout the years.

updates

I'm terribly sorry that I have been lacking in posts. A friend of mine, Stefanie, has hit a really rough spot and I've been doing my best to help her through it when her family (of which I am an honorary member) has all but ignored her and called it her own damn fault. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but when a family member is in this kind of need, the blame is on those who do not lend a helping hand. Period.

Also, I've been busy continuing to figure things out with Dana. We're enjoying each other's company with more and more ease instead of nervousness, but I think we are still struggling to feel a sense of security with one another. Again, this will come with time. Unfortunately I have come to the conclusion that I am severely allergic to her apartment - either due to the great dane that slept in her bed for the last year with her ex girlfriend, or due to three animals and two people living in a carpeted studio apartment. Probably a combination of both. I think the bed is also causing her to have really awful congestion, so we are looking for a new bed and I'm thinking of investing in a more powerful vacuum cleaner.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the doctor's to get the results of my mononeucleosis tests. The doctor (who knows that I am lesbian, because Dana went with me the first time we saw her) asked me if when my last HIV test was. I froze and turned white, I could feel it! I have never had an HIV test and it totally freaked me out. They drew the blood and sent it off to some anonymous lab to have the anonymous testing done, and I drove over to Dana's shop to talk to her. I sat in a booth and stewed - why would she ask me that? did I have signs of it? what behaviors could have given me HIV? I couldn't think of any reasons - I've never had sex with men, and I had only had membrane-to-membrane contact with three women up to that point (not counting kissing, and of course I know that one is enough to get infected!). What did I do? I called Jennie. Any time I have a sexual or medical problem, I call Jennie to bitch about it because she's like the master at making me feel better about it. She reminded me how very few documented cases of female-to-female transmission there has been, and that the biggest risk for "lesbians" is sexual activity with an infected male, or needle sharing. (GMHC: Women, Sex & HIV) I was instantly relieved, and obviously today I found out that the test came back negative. Thank God. Really. Thank Him.

Speaking of God, Dana and I went to the Passover seder with the Hillel chapter at my university. It was nice to be in the presence of people who share her faith (and mine, technically speaking). We have spent some time mulling over scriptures (new and old), and we have determined to memorize some of them together to grow in unity. I'm looking forward to the next Jewish holiday.

And that folks, is your update.

P.S. Her finger (I found out it was only one, oops!) has really been hitting the spot lately, and I'm learning to like it more and more. I think we'll be going um. Shopping soon. Whee!

i always cry at weddings but not because they are sweet

This afternoon one of my spiritual brothers is getting married to a girl that he's crazy in love with. I want to go, I truly want to go, to support my brother and to express to him my joy that he has found someone with whom he can share the struggles and triumphs of life. But I really can't.

I can't because I'll have to answer to probably 50 people about where my career in world missions went. They're going to wonder where spreading the "gospel of peace" went. It went back into my mouth after I had said it, down my throat and deep into my heart where I knew that the gospel of peace that brought salvation to hungry souls comes from the love that we harbor for ourselves and others.

Even the person on whom I had the most influence on during my globe-trotting spells didn't "receive christ" necessarily. What she received was the gift of knowing that she was valuable. I showered her with gifts and I listened to her concerns and genuinely tried to understand where she was coming from. When I left her, she knew that someone had loved her, if only for a moment, someone had loved her enough to turn the mirror of her self-acceptance upright, where some heart-shaking typhoon had blown it down. I showed herself to her again in a different light, hoping to bring her back to the origin of her salvation.

I think I did.

But I can't bear the thought of going to this wedding in exactly 1 hour. I'm going to feel so incredibly anxious. I'm going to want to tell them all the good news - that I have a beautiful girlfriend who appreciates me, a sometimes-handsome girl who knows how to bring me back to the origin of my salvation. I already want to, but my respect for my mother holds me back. Her fragile understanding of my way of life keeps her from telling our spiritual family. I'm not telling these people outright because she is still holding on to the hope that maybe it really is just a "phase" (yeah - a 10 year phase? right.) or maybe I'm really just bisexual and one day I'll meet a really nice boy... And you know what, I could just say "fuck you all, I'm doing my own thing" but that's not my style. I'd rather people know where I'm coming from, to see things from my heart's perspective rather than being flippant aout the ways in which I come out to people. My mother has done nothing but love me from the bottom of her heart. She has deserved the respect that I give her, and so while it may look like an easy out - just show up looking like a big dyke and talk nothing but queer politics for the entire wedding reception! - that's not how I am going to handle things, and it's not just because I'm nervous abotu saying it. I'm concerned about saying it the right way.

In the meantime, I plan to talk recipes with my chefly girlfriend and enjoy the meals that I am scheming up for her. Last night it was spaghetti - i sauteed the chicken, onions, garlic, mushrooms and fresh basil and oregano myself - with toast and pesto, and a dessert of chocolate mini cakes, strawberries sauteed in wine and brown sugar, and whip. Tonight we're looking at chicken spring rolls, jasmine rice and beef stir fry, and then tomorrow night I might do Mexican. Because my beautiful girlfriend, a graduate of Johnson and Wales University, deserves good food cooked at home, with portions that swell with my love for her.

think before you speak

Discovered at Awakenings:


I'm sorry, do you understand why. WHY there is more suicide, disease, depression?

Because of you.

I should be surprised. I should be completely appalled, caught off guard. But I'm not. Because this is the type of shit I have allowed myself to absorb for years. Fall of '08 is going to be 10 years since I came out to myself - since I truly recognized my romantic affection for female people. But. This month is only the first year mark of actually starting to come out. A lot of people don't know, still. Tons. But I'm telling them easily, quietly, one by one, that I deserve their respect regardless of who or what I am. Jesus never said one fucking word about homosexuality, because that wasn't the point, or if he did, the writers of the bible didn't consider it important enough to include. The point was purity of intention, purity of heart. Jesus emphasized humility (serving others, having a right self-concept, being a vessel of peace - humility does not equal self loathing). He stressed the importance of loving others, giving of what you have, and being helpful. He wanted us to care for the needy, to spend our money wisely, and to live in peace with others. Sexuality was never the point. Never.

But no. This is normal Christian rhetoric. It's not the truth, but it is displayed as truth. And out of fear, people believe it. For fear of punishment people learn to believe lies.

What lies are you believing? Has someone lied to you about your body? Do you downplay your talents and highlight your faults? Has anyone told you that you're worthless?

As a rule, I don't give readers homework. But will you take some time to ask yourself what lies you are believing about yourself? Get rid of them. Chuck them like old soles. This type of thing is in my top-ten list of things I hate the most. Malicious lies like that might be #1, and misunderstandings is probably #2.

expanding and contracting

Since the beginning of the year I've been expanding. Growing. Spiritually, like a rubber band, i've been expanding, stretching, expanding, stretching.

At the CBE we talked about expanding and contracting. Sometimes you endure so much growth and then something hits you, some reality check snaps your tension and you contract back to where you started. Or maybe not all the way back, but you lose some of the tension...

And that's what's been happening to me. I had expanded so much because of my experiences with Autumn, Crave and Erin and I didn't give myself much space in between to recover. I'm not going to lie, you have to understand that before 2008, I only had one other sexual experience which involved anyone besides myself...

I don't know what made my tension go loose, but it has. Perhaps all the pressure of my mother being ill, locating suitable housing, trying and failing to keep up in school, switching to a new work schedule... It just seems like it's either all or nothing. Either life is peaceful or chaotic - can't find a manageable middle ground... I know I'll regain my elasticity, but I'm feeling deflated.

and another thing

I'm so thankful for all of you who left your well wishes for my talk with T. It's so very affirming to know that people who are merely strangers can affect the outcomes of various situations in your life in a few simple words. I especially thank those of you who can relate to my struggle for integration of sexuality and spirituality. It takes a long time to come to that place of oneness and I wish you all smooth, safe journey.

On that note, remember the Body Electric workshop that I attended with Sinclair in October? The beginning course, "Celebrating the Body Erotic" is coming around again in NYC this March, and later, in June, NYC will also host "Power, Surrender, and Intimacy." I can't explain to you enough how important the CBE was in helping me integrate sexuality and spirituality and I think that anyone who is on a similar path as mine - anyone, for that matter - should seriously and carefully consider participating in CBE at the very least.

Hop on over to Sugarbutch.net for more information on both of these workshops. My sight is set on the PSI, which has not been offered in quite some time. So! If you'd like to meet Miss Avarice, start packing your bags!

relief

I was going to write about the date from last night, about what happened after my last shot of goldschlager, about watching some kind of "what not to wear" - lingerie edition until we couldn't take it anymore. About learning to give back - she let me touch her, and called me a pro.

Instead, I'm going to write about my last break before the end of my shift tonight. I had sent T a text message telling her about the roommate that I found, and the message I got back said, "so does that mean you're unable/unwilling to room with my friend?" Obviously we were miscommunicating because I was leaving things out of the story, so I knew I had to tell her tonight. It could not wait, because telling her half truths was inconsiderate to her and I could tell she was irritated.

I hung up with my last customer and grabbed my phone, charging directly to the other side of the building where I could talk to her alone.

"I need to talk to you"
"ok"
"Are you somewhere quiet?"
"quiet as it's gonna be"
"are you by yourself?"
"yeah"
"ok"

My heart was already in my throat, pounding fast and threatening to choke me. I started by telling her long I've been working up my courage. I told her how every single time I've seen her since I came back from bible school, I've wanted to tell her and I couldn't. "Look. Um. I'm a 15 minute break, so we might have to finish this conversation later." I had to get it off my chest. "The reason I came back from bible school last year is because I'm a lesbian and I'm not going to change." I talked most of the time, trying to explain everything, going over the past year's worth of progress with her. "I know you love me, I know, and I know we're going to disagree but I had to tell you." I told her how I haven't felt so emotionally and psychologically well in my entire life and how I simply feel whole. I said, "you know I don't do --anything-- flippantly and it took me a long time to get to this point." I was crying now, trying not to, trying to take big deep breaths to keep from sobbing.

"I'm glad you felt like you could talk to me about this, and I'm sorry if you felt afraid to talk to me about it before. I love you and I'm not going to look at you any differently, now I just know more about you."

It makes sense to her now, that it's not about her friend being a good roommate or not, it's about our interpretations of faith being too too different. She gets it, and now I don't have to sound like I'm making excuses. We disagree on the morality of the issue, obviously we disagree, but at least now the lines of communication are open.

See how my heart prepared me for the conversation tonight? Instead of writing about more sex with strangers, I wrote about my need to talk to her. Tonight I seized bravery with all the strength I had. It's not how I wanted it to happen, or when, or why, but sometimes being unprepared is the best preparation for change. It's over, and I'm still in one piece.

reconcile

My best friend, T, and I have been together now for 11 years, this past Fall. We grew into women together. We met in jr. high and were virtually inseparable - in spirit, although we could not always be close physically - throughout high school. We have not always been as emotionally intimate as we once were, as in year 8 when you did not see one without the other. We went to her church together, we went to my church together, we participated in campus religious groups together - the works. The only thing that I have really ever kept from her has been my journey to accept myself as a lesbian. We've talked about it every few years, briefly. I think I talked to her about it when I left my fine arts high school, while I was in search of salvation from the Gay. We talked about it again in early 2005 as I was preparing to go to start bible school. But since then? nada.

Lately I've been looking for a roommate and she has tried to be so very helpful, suggesting friends of hers. But the problem is that all of her friends are also religious. They live 6-to-a-house in the inner city as activism, to put themselves purposefully where no one wants to be, to seek change. And all of that is good. But their ministry and their faith is quite adamantly exclusive of homosexual relationships. According to their interpretation of the Book, no means no. Obviously my lifestyle doesn't allow me much room to hide my grand affairs with the (now various) women who have shared a "bountiful beauty" with me lately. None of these potential roommates would be good for me.

But how do I tell this to my best friend, when all along I have been leading people to believe that it is something mutable, that I'm "working on it." She is one of those people who knew of my affection for women, but it was under the condition that I would not act on my desires. According to the Christian ideologies, the desire itself is not the problem, it is the actions that cause you to sin. There's that word, such a taboo. Sin.

I have not altogether abandoned my faith in God, how can I, when it is so integral to who I am as a person? To forget my Christian upbringing would be a mistake because it has brought me tremendous peace. While my queerness is not mutable, my Christian beliefs are. Before I even decided to come out, I researched different interpretations of the Book, and I saw that there is more than one lens. To put it another way, I simply had to turn the kaleidescope to one side and the picture changed. The principles of Love and Purity remained fixed, but the definitions and the examples shifted. I saw myself as acceptable.

Not everyone can stand or understand the idea of turning the kaleidescope - that's the problem. In the early days, Christians talked about, debated, asked questions. Now, we simply listen to pastors and ministers and believe what they say without looking into it ourselves. In the early days of Islam there was the concept of ijtihad - a practice of reasoning, of dissent and debate. Well that free thinking got shut down by the powers that were when something caused a stir and it's been that way ever since - blind belief, without question authority.

Perhaps the most important thing that I have been able to implement in my life, that shapes the way I interact with Christians, is that God speaks to me. God speaks to us. Ask Him, and he will speak to you. What is more true? What God said to someone else, or what God says to you? God says to me - "you're my beloved, before I do anything else with you, I love you." That is reassurance enough for me to believe that that if I start veering off "the path of righteousness" (the way of love, integrity, and persistent pursuit of truth) then He will steer me in the right direction (and I will allow Him to do so). It is assurance of safety.

God loves persistently, doggedly, unwaveringly. And that is the purpose of His people, to love without expectations, to love when you are provoked to hatred. It's been a year now since I came out to my mother, and my goal has been this:

to build a deep, deep well of love for myself, so that I can then draw my bucket up from the darkness to quench the thirst for love in other people. So that I can water thirsty grounds where few have loved.

I'm getting there, I think. I've allowed myself to make choices, and I've brought so much love and understanding to myself and I think I'm finally getting to the point where I can give it all away. But I don't think T will understand. She'll love me, she will, but she'll disagree with my decision, she will see me in sin and shadow. Not because she is not open minded, and not because she does not love, but because we now believe differently, while we used to believe similarly. I'm going to have to talk to her soon, because I think I found a roommate. So. here goes nothing.

Crave - Connect

Featured in Sugasm #117.

I don't really know where to begin or end this. I think the reason my experience with Crave was so overwhelming was because there has not been that emotional/spiritual connection with my previous sexual experiences. It had simply been bodies together. I still feel so grateful.

Crave arrived in my town Friday morning to see her friends who own an extra house down here. They had supper and went bar hopping in the club district. I got out of work early and met them down there, right about the time that the bars were threatening "last call." The first time I hug someone, I always get a sense of how well I will get along with them. When they hugged me, I knew I was among friends. When I hugged Crave, our spirits said "hello" to each other, I think. Because of the late hour, we went back to their house to wind down. Sipping on chambord, I sat next to her - then close to her - then with her - entangled in her. I was reading her face and running my fingers along her pant legs until everyone seemed to be retiring. She seemed to be going to rest, too so I started fishing through my purse looking for lip balm, trying not to invite myself upstairs.

"Danger" - she smiled. She calls me danger, she called me up to the room. Upstairs we talked, lounging in a spacious spare bedroom. I lay close to her, talking to a woman I've never met before, a friend from a previous life. I wish I could remember what she said right before she kissed me the first time. She's a biter, my bottom lip was so red. I remember being a suggestive, lewd little girl. I hope that it was not too much. I hope she would believe me that my bark is worse than my bite. She did, eventually.

It was early Saturday morning by this time. I hooked my left leg up between her legs, rocking and leaning forward, I kissed her and we moved together. We took off my shirt and I presented a feast of breast and skin. I had already decided at that time that I like her smile, her beautiful hazel eyes, and a mess of short rock star hair on top. Her hips and belly enveloped by softness and sweet. I held with my right hand, that place just above the hip. I kissed it. The softness and sweet. Lingering above her, with her lips and tongue searching out my flesh, she kissed - sucked - bit - that tender place right between my breasts and made a beautiful mark that has already vanished. I wish it could stay there forever.

Six a.m. came too soon and we crashed. I couldn't sleep. The light was streaming in the windows and I was so near to another person, a stranger. When I'm asleep with someone else, I wake up off and on to look at them in wonder. By eleven I finally convinced her to flutter open her eyes. Someone pounded on the door. "who is it?" we asked, and one silly friend or another said, "Rent's due!" We had a late breakfast, five world weary women, we ventured out into the grey day.

After breakfast at a diner, Crave and I intended to get me back to my place to change and get ready to go to the beach. I let her drive, we dropped off a friend and enjoyed the drive over to the opposite side of town. Unfortunately (or... fortunately) we found my apartment too inviting. We were still quite tired and headed to bed for a "nap."

Yeah, right.

I would have enjoyed some shut eye, but I couldn't let her lie there sleeping when I had her all to myself. The kissing started again, but the details on that are fuzzy.

In the beginning, she remembered my red ropes I've been bragging about. She first tied the ropes loose to my hands and slung them around her waist - embraced. She shoved my tight tank top over my breasts, exposing them to her. Feasting, once again, she touched and kissed my belly. "I need words of affirmation," with everything being so new, it was nice to hear her say kind words about my body. I've loved my body for a long time, I just never really knew if anyone else agreed with me. With my arms around her waist, I pressed my hands into her back, reaching for her ass. Then, she tied them closer, above my head. I swear. This woman has the smoothest, most slippery tongue I have ever tasted. I can't even think of a food to compare it to because even the inside of a peach is coarse compared to this.

She untied my hands. With our legs intertwined, Crave touched, tasted, smelled, and soothed my body, this body that has been aching for touch. She asked me what my body wanted, she told me, "well... my pussy wants to be on yours." She asked if that would be okay. I nodded yes. It was very, definitely okay. The positioning is not easy, though. All I really remember about it is how deliciously slick and warm it was to have her cunt touching mine. I felt very light (light - happy, airy, illumined) in that moment.

She repositioned again, opened me up and took my left leg against her shoulder. Reaching down, she brushed my labia with her hand, exploring the folds and curves, and before I knew it she had one finger inside me, still rocking back and forth. And then there were two fingers. Then, I felt a third one gingerly touching my bum. She pushed it in slowly. Damn, that really hit the spot. That was exactly what I needed to relax. She didn't even ask - and I still don't know why she didn't ask, but I totally loved it. Not long after, she asked for my fingers. I protested - I don't know how on earth to do that! But it was easy. One, just one, not too far in, just enough to be felt. I was totally embarrassed by the knocking of my bed on the wall (note to self: make sure the bed isn't flush with the wall next time) but I have never felt that good before! She hovered over me, thrusting her fingers in and out of me, fucking. We went at it like this for awhile until her breath peaked and her body slowed and she rested for a bit. "you can still hold me..."

I don't understand how one can get off without a lot of stimulation. I'm certainly no pro at getting the girls off but I could tell from the expression on her face that she really enjoyed how it felt to have her fingers crammed into my soaked cunt. I remember her saying, at the time, how pleasurable it was, how nice my pussy felt on her hand. What a compliment. I'm still beaming. I'm disappointed that I can't remember exact words. I think I cried out a lot of the memories.

Finally, she dove into my pussy. Even now, I'm at a loss for words to describe this. I know I felt tongue on my labia, teasing. I felt that smooth tongue on my clit. She kept saying how hard it was. Hmm. This is where I started feeling nervous because I'd already had sex with Autumn a couple days before and I had been frustrated that I couldn't come for her, and here I am with this lovely woman who's being so sweet and wonderful and I'm getting the performance anxiety again. Crave didn't deserve for me to be all anxious. "You can do it, sweetie, just relax." She pulled my legs off the bed, with my hips just at the edge and put that polished tongue back on my clit, and she sucked and massaged for a long time. It was good. So good. And it had already been so good before that point that I started to feel so very satisfied, even though I hadn't actually come at all. I didn't need to. I was very pleased.

Crave crawled up next to me and snuggled me, but it was only a few minutes, a few silent minutes before I started crying. I wasn't sad, but I wasn't exactly joyous either. I tried not to cry, I tried really hard, but when she told me it was okay to cry, I couldn't help it anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm not sad..." She started crying too, seeing my tears. Quietly. She told me I was like the girl before, the one that had been wrong. I felt that she was carrying a lot of hurt. In a lull, where the tears had begun to dry up, I felt it all fall on me, the pain she carried fell on that place between my breasts where she had made her mark (on the green / heart chakra - the one for self acceptance and integration of opposites) and I was overwhelmed once again. Here, she realized I wasn't dangerous. She realized that I'm just a baby.

"a baby lover"

I'm writing this almost a week after I first met her, trying to describe our encounter and I still feel the weight of the experience on me. We cried for a long time, and then I let her alone to think and write. I went out into the living room and cried on the couch some more. I tried to have a snack but I couldn't decide on something. I drew a hot bath with jasmine oil, as hot as I could stand. The energy in my body was so focused and condensed in my core, I needed the hot, hot water to disperse it across my skin. After a few minutes, she knocked. "come in" I was glad to see her face, and look in her hazel eyes. We talked for a bit. She had spoken to her friends in town, and discovered that they, a couple, had also cried that day, overwhelmed with emotion. I felt reassured.

She brought me my towel and we dressed for dinner, exhausted, we went for sushi at a little Japanese restaurant by the university. After driving home in the rain and sharing a beer, we fell asleep around eleven - exactly 12 hours after we got up. I have not rested so deeply in a long time. She woke me at nine, wanting to get back to the other side of town to share another meal with her friends. I set the French press and we sat on the couch enjoying good, strong coffee in the sunlight that the sky finally let loose. On the sun's day. This is where she tickled me. I've been known to punch people who tickle me, but it didn't offend me, as it normally does. I kinda liked it, and felt totally adored.

Crave is slightly shorter than I am, quite a bit smaller than I am, but I felt very small around her. She's ten years and four months older than me, an honest and respectful person. She spent the weekend in cords and t-shirts, relaxed. She kissed me goodbye at my car after lunch with her crew and lounging around at the house until they were ready to leave for the airport. I could have gone with them, to see them off, but I felt that our visit had come to a close. My time was up. So she kissed me and we thanked and hugged each other. As soon as their borrowed car was out of sight, I started crying again. I'd been holding it back all day. That's when I called Jennie and asked to come over for some sweet wine and a cry. It's been a long time since I cried for love. Years.

Not tragic, romantic love. At least, I don't think. But love, nevertheless.



I feel as if I've met an old friend from a previous life. I trusted her instantly, incautiously, instinctively. But now, to be honest, I don't know what to do with that connection. I want to see where it takes me, but she's gone. As you read from my poem, she left nothing. I'll just wait until our paths cross again. I hope that our next meeting is not too far off, but I will take whatever comes my way, even if I never see her hazel eyes again.

Crave - Coexist

"I'm just trying to love you for a minute"

Crave will go down in the books.

I don't yet have words to tell you what happened. About the best sex ever, about fucking around with a beautiful stranger. About three very satisfying meals shared. About sharing with Crave a pot of good strong coffee on a sunny Sunday morning when it had been raining on Saturday night.

The rain came down
and then the sun came up.
out came the sun and dried
up all the rain... and the
itsy bitsy spider climbed
up the spout again
thirsty for water and affection.

Tonight, I read her blog entry that she wrote yesterday, sitting in my bed after we fucked/cried. I barely read through the whole thing in the living room, but when I got to the end, I stood up and came into my room to cry some more. Until just then, I had only been leaking tears and choking on words, but tonight, just now, I sobbed into my bedspread. The song I just posted started playing on my iPod, like clockwork. I haven't cried like that since my dad died. I feel like my heart is trying to break out of my chest, trying to get to hers, trying to heal.

I haven't cried since the Body Electric workshop in New York city, since the last time I was supposed to meet her and things didn't work out. I have needed to cry for a very long time. Before, the timing was all wrong. She had some things to sort out, and I had something else to learn - I had to be at the workshop and get as much out of it as I possibly could. Which I think I did.

Somehow the timing lined up. The waste bin in my room is lined on the bottom with our tissues - certainly not wasted. No. I find that since I cry very little, none of my tears are wasted on insignificant things. I don't love her romantically, I don't. But I loved her quickly - that simple love for someone simply because they are human. Simply because they are here. She said, "I'm just trying to love you for a minute" - as was I, her.

I will tell you about the fucking another time, about the love bite / bruise in the cleavage between my breasts, on my green chakra.

Chakra Four: Air, Social identity, self-acceptance
This chakra is called the heart chakra and is the middle chakra in a system of seven. It is related to love and is the integrator of opposites in the psyche: mind and body, male and female, persona and shadow, ego and unity. A healthy fourth chakra allows us to love deeply, feel compassion, have a deep sense of peace and centered-ness.

self acceptance // integration // compassion

Here are a few major themes that are pressing their weight on me.

gratefulness: I think I originally started crying because I was grateful for such worshipful sex, with no expectations except that of respect. I moved on to other things, but that has persisted over the past day. I am so very grateful to have been loved "for a minute."

healing: and I think this is mutual. That there was some kind of healing that we both offered and experienced. I have not reached that root truth yet, but I know that it will reveal itself one day soon. Some day I will attempt to do something and realize that it doesn't hurt anymore, and I will be surprised - and remember that she helped me heal. Crave really helped me heal a lot of my cunt-shame issues. You know, touch, taste, smell, appearance, that we're all so fucking insecure about. on that note...

wanted: She really made me feel wanted, desired, like I were a satisfying treat, a drink of water in a dry place. I feel like an unexpected delight. I felt that my body "hit the spot." It's a new feeling, a big feeling that I have truly never felt before.

compassion: when I saw her start to cry, when I had been crying on her chest, I felt all the weight of a lot of her difficult experiences (I have no earthly idea what all has happened, only that it has all been unfortunately bad) --- it fell on me, it fell on my chest bone and compressed me, squeezed out of me more tears, compassionate tears. When you share the burden it becomes lighter. Two people carrying something heavy will have a much easier time than one. I'm thankful that she cried with me, that I didn't have to feel embarrassed about the sudden burst of emotion.

I can't keep writing, or I will keep crying as I have done while writing this entire bit. I wanted to be okay when she left, but I went directly to Jennie's house to cry some more. We drank wine outside in the sun while I cried and talked. wine and cry. Later, as the sun went down and it got chilly again, she held my head to her bosom and we laughed and I cried some more. I went to Kay's house and cried, I talked to Autumn in Kay's spare bedroom and we kissed and I cried. I drove home sobbing. I'm still not entirely sure why I'm crying except that I'm still so thankful for just a little lovin.

I'm so grateful for these really fucking hard lessons in laughing through my tears and loving without fear. "for a minute." A long, emotional, minute. I think our spirits talked more than our voices, eyes, bodies did.

It's all so unclear to my conscious mind, but exceptionally clear to the spirit - I feel like my unconscious mind knows exactly what's going on and thinks it's perfectly fine. I'm getting there. I'm getting there.


I feel cleansed

it's finally over

You know, I started 2007 with my work cut out for me. There was the problem of what to do about college. There was the not so little problem of my queerness. And there was the gargantuan problem of my commitment to a religious organization with which I was not being completely honest. I knew this year would be a challenge, and that it was! In February, some time before St. V's day, I came out to my mother - not for the first time, and that will be the last time, I swear! I drove home in March, speeding down the freeway, with my belongings crammed into every little space in my car. I called a friend on the way home, asking to stay over a little while, and that became my home. Except that before that, I needed to get a little bit of sex out of my system. First things first, you know. I got a job in April, and started this blog. I started school in June and in August I moved into a bedroom to call my own (the first in nearly two years, thanks to communal living). The first week of October, I had my first real kiss and have had none since, then I attended the disruptive, dismantling CBE workshop. November brought a trip to see my mother, and a talk about the prohibition of any of my partners from family gatherings. I also confirmed with my boss that I'm queer. Finally in December, I finished my first full semester back at school and I'm ever closer to graduating.

I have a feeling that 2008 is going to be the year of therapy. I'm surprised by how well I survived 2007 because that was one hell of a ride.

Here is what I want 2008 to hold.
1. Intimacy. After living in communal housing, after being bravely open with my dorm mates, and just leaving them cold turkey, I'm craving community. Intimacy between women friends, like Delilah described. I thrive on it and I always have. I want intimacy with lovers - I want to be truly known by them.

2. Health. I have utterly neglected my health for 2 years now, and I can feel it taking its toll. I need to get my hormone imbalance and my blood glucose problems under control. I need to swim and exercise so that my knee strength improves. I have oral surgery that needs to happen. My skin needs some TLC, especially on my face. I have to quit smoking. Have to have to have to. No more of this stopping until i feel like starting again business.

3. Activism. The reason I came home wasn't to spend my money and my time on selfish things. I came home so that I could be useful to my Christian sisters and brothers who are gay like me, and I have done nothing productive. At least, I don't think. Once I get myself grounded, that is my next step.

4. Heart. My heart is scarred, whether I want to believe it or not. I have not been a fan of talk therapy the past several years. When I was in Jr. High, I think it did me a lot of good. But since then it has caused me nothing but trouble. The "counselors" I have been to seem to build upon each other, rather than tear down the lies and the injustices that the others have served me. They have "prayed" over me countless times in hopes that it would save me from certain doom - the nasty H word. Homosexuality. I want someone who will affirm my queer identity, yet also shares my faith tradition. I think it's important to at least start my therapy with a queer person of ministry, since I ejected myself out of that position with next to no "processing" or "debriefing" work. I've been a rogue, alone, and I forgot that no woman is an island, least of all me. Long story short, I want to give my heart what it deserves.

5. Commitment. My school work needs my attention, and I don't want to hit this time next year and be wishing I had worked harder. It's only six more classes, max, and I need to make it worthwhile and salvage my GPA in case I want to do graduate school (although that thought makes me ill).


Above all else, my New Year's Resolution is to try new things.




On an entirely different topic, please note that while I prefer the company of women, I have never been entirely opposed to a polite, respectful, intelligent, naughty boy. These are hard to find. But I'm finding myself curious, and strangely confident. I feel like I can tackle just about anything, these days. Even that.

Lastly, you will be interested to know that I have tentative plans to be photographed as follows: nude, tied up in that red hemp rope and kneeling on a hardwood floor. And on a fleece rug. And in the kitchen on the tile floor. But which will it be? Dirty girls on a clean floor? or clean girls on a dirty floor? I can't decide which I like best.

Something's brewing. The wind is shifting for me. The air tastes wet.

naked on the internet

I used to talk to boys on the internet.
You know. Dirty talking.

Yep. I've been a dirty girl for years and no one knew. When I was in Jr. High, I would use my knack for language to describe... things. By that point I had already (ehem) blossomed into my full figure, so just telling the boys about that would turn them on. Later, in High School, I would stay up late at night after mother had gone to bed. On the family computer, I would tell these faceless boys how wet the conversation was making me get. I would wear long T-Shirts into the living room so if anyone woke up, it wouldn't look suspicious. I would touch and tease my labia, learning what felt good and what felt better.

In English and Spanish, I won them over.

Sometimes I told them lies and sometimes I told the truth. Sometimes I was a skinny brunette. Sometimes I was a curvy blonde, like me. Sometimes I lied about my size. And some nights I just wanted someone who didn't care. I think I remember feeling appreciated. And thankful. Even in my first year of college, I would talk sex with boys on the internet. It took me away from the very real isolation and depression that I battled for two entire semesters.

God was big in my house. I still, still, still have to work through a lot of guilty feelings about the sex I have with myself - No... not just with me, with anyone. Sometimes the mood strikes me. Sometimes I want to use my words, my charm again. The allure of revealing myself through language.

Maybe that's why I write in this space? Because I love so dearly to keep the multitude of you tied up and intoxicated by the thought of me, naked in bed, reclining, typing on my laptop all the dirty things I'd do to you if I could.

What would you do,
and how would you do it,
if you could?
Tell me, baby,
I'm listening.


(Naked on the Internet)

Oh God, I'm Gay!

If you are a person of spiritual or religious leanings, may I suggest the following podcast. The host, Alicia, has interviewed a number of religious leaders who expressed the very truths that I hold very dear to me. Truths about the love of God, truths about how non-hetero people are able to relate to God, the validity of glbtq religious leaders... I wish I had a transcription of these interviews. I want to read and re-read these loving words.

Oh God, I'm Gay.

Micah 6:8 God has shown you what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. That's it, simply be just, merciful and humble. Or at least try, because you know everyone's going to fail at those three things.