LIP GLOSS

 

LIPGLOSS

My new year’s resolution this year is LIP GLOSS.

More shine
More sparkle
More glitter
More smooth
More softness
More satin and silk and suede
I love me some suede
More leather like butter
What the hell
More butter
Sweet creamy or salted
More open
More writing
More reading
More books
More of my words read by more and more and more people
More of my poems published
More of me published
More of my pieces published
More of my books sold
Even more love and joy and passion and happiness
Even More sex
More sex
What the hell
More sex
–You know it is the cure for the common everything
More grace
More gratitude
More appreciation
–Given and taken

 over exposed

So far, so good
We are three weeks
into 2014 and I leave the house
Lips Berry Beaming and Glossed
I’m Ginger Sensed and smiling Origins

My new years resolution this year is LIP GLOSS

What’s yours?

Hot Mess

 

“You’re a hot mess!” Rebekah said.

I was still catching my breath.  My skin was hot and sticky.  I was on my knees pushing into the pole, my arms stretched,  tugging at my shoulders, gripping the metal above my head.  It felt cool on my belly. My hair was wild, covering my face, a strand caught in my mouth.  Rebekah was smiling; standing with her right knee bent, right foot resting on her left, leaning against the stereo console.  She held my gold Nano, like a gift in her hand.

I could still feel the swell of my song, the sax, the drum brush, the heat of my music, strong and powerful, wrapping itself inside of me, moving down massaging my spine, circling its way around my hips, through my belly, inside my thighs and diffusing itself in my legs and out my red tipped toes.

swirlsofcolorI had just let go.  I let my body take over. My head would fall to the right, stretch out and around to the left and pull back and down, my body side-stretching vertebra by vertebra snaking itself, following my head. I had to grab onto a wall, crawl on the floor or lean into one of the white overstuffed chairs for support as I danced. I let my body find her  way as she slipped underneath the song and twisted through to her own pulse.  She curved up and down and around poles, landing, back arched, chest forward onto the floor, on her back, writhing onto her belly and pausing, leg lifting into the air, bending back and pulling herself around to her back again. She melted into an oozing rainbow of red, ruffles, black patent leather, lace and skin.  She painted me with splashes onto the wall, with swirls that dripped down the poles, with splatters that marked the chairs.

Now I’m part of a living memory, a history that’s grooved itself into the wood floor, part of the tradition of stripping down and diving into spirit.

I’ll come back in the New Year and sink into soft purple. When I reach my fingers in front of me, arms stretched, legs splayed open, pulling myself into the room, I’ll feel the pulse of my history as I trace my fingertips along the raised surface of tongue and groove boards.  I’ll absorb the celebration of the women who’ve danced before and cheer for those that’ll come after.  I’ll feel the pieces of broken shell and watch soft yolk ooze golden yellow.  That glowing knowledge and love, freedom and truth decorate this room.

I broke free of my shell this year.  I tossed it away piece by piece.  I watched it burn as I flung it into my fire. I watched old memories, old ways and old cares spark orange and light the winter night sky.bruning fire

I like that.  I like that I’m a dancing, happy, free, inspired, chest open, heart forward, arms raised, gorgeous, strong, grateful, smiling, stripping down, layer-by-layer, hot mess.  I like that I’m peeling into myself.  I like that the deeper I go the messier and happier I get.  Yeah.  Rebekah’s right.  I am a fucking HOT MESS.

I smiled.  “That’s my new year’s resolution.” I said.

 

 

The song I danced to on December 31, 2012 was Christina Aguilera’s Nasty Naughty Boy.  Happy New Year!

Fairy Dust

 

I’m finishing the last chapter in a book today. It’s not a book of poetry, although that will follow soon.

It’s a book about intention. It’s a book about writing. It’s a book.

Intention, desire, trust, letting go.

This is the time of year for letting go, for desiring to receive more and more good in our lives and shaping these desires into something tangible, memorable and, dare I say, cinematic. Then we have to let go and trust that we’ll receive what we’ve asked for.

Oh, you want more on cinematic do you? Well, the more visual, the more visceral, the more vivid, raw, real, energetic, the more real we make our intentions the easier it is to spot them in the real world.

It’s a creative way of acting as if.

Act as if you’re already where you want to be.
You’ve already received what you desire.
You’ve already met him, her, them.
You’ve already …

Act as if you’re grateful 
Because you are

Act as if you’re happy
Because you are

Act as if you’re a singer, dancer, writer, actress, actor
Because you are

Act as if you trust
Because you must
Let go

Oh isn’t that letting go part challenging? I think it is.  I want to hold my intentions lightly, let them float above my open palm and breathe.  For me it’s a balancing act between doing too much and not doing enough. When am I doing too much? Usually when I’m so stressed out that I sit at my desk for hours without a bathroom break. That’s when I get in my own way and I trip over my own two feet.

I want flow
I want peace
I want magic
I want happy, blissed out days filled with light and love and the electric twinkle of fairy dust.

Her blue spun silk hair glows in the moon’s light, her dress is spun from fabric blessed by Diana, Vesta, Venus and Terra Mater, and her fairy dust is distilled from more stars than I could count.    She waves her translucent wand  above my head and sprinkles her magic into all the nooks and crannies of my life.

Ahhhhhhh

What are your feelings on intention, desire, trust, letting go and fairy dust? What’s easy?  What’s hard? What is it you desire…deep down, in your bones?
Please share…let’s start a dialogue.