More on the State of NAKED

 

Officially defined as:

  1. bare of any covering
  2. stripped
  3. without the customary covering
maskedwoman

hidden truth

What is customary covering?
What I’m supposed to do?
What I’m supposed to be?
What I’m supposed to act like, be like, look like?
What I should … blah blah blah

Get my drift?

I don’t want to be usual
I want to be.
PERIOD.
Just be.
Free to be
easy to be
fun to be.
PERIOD.
Just be me.
PERIOD,
Exclamation point!

It’s been an interesting week.
Being sick sucks

throat red,
burning flame,
dragon breathing
singing the ceiling, my sheets, my husbandfirebreather
snoring smoke in my sleep.
My head gripped
in a vice
the muck pushing up
from deep inside of somewhere
who knew that was lurking
waiting for an opening
to ooze its way through
my body
snaking around organs
pushing up expanding
through my throat
pushing
oozing
oozing
up filling my head
The pounding
Ba boom ba boom ba boom
Blocking my bird’s eye view
To my life

You get my drift.

No focus
no clarity
ahhhh that might not be accurate
no
there was.

Here’s the thing.

I let go and dove into
the green guck
the sleep
the chicken soup
zinc lozenges
vitamin C

and me.

Deep
I dove
stroking through it all
the dragon breath and fire and fog.
I came out
on the other end
really getting it.

Get my drift?

‘I got it’   okay bad inside-dating-myself-kind-of-joke (go rent Semi Tough)

Here’s the thing,
even though I had a new client
to service
a speaking gig
to prepare for
a book
to write
a post
to post (first week I didn’t post on this blog since July)
a song
to dance to
a life
to live
here’s the thing
it’s was all okay
it is all okay
ALL okay.

Everything worked out
I’m writing now
the pounding stopped
and
I see even more clearly
I caught some light.

fogclears

on a clear day…

It’s like when the fog clears
at the beach

the wind blows through
the sun shines bright
the sky is a shade of blue
that’s so fresh
so clean
so blue
that’s it’s hard to capture
even in a picture
and well that’s how I feel

I’m on the other side
a little bit more naked
a feel for
taste of
caress of
nude kiss of
my
naked,

I peeled another layer.
Underneath I discovered
baby smooth, blushing me, smiling in my birthday suit.

Will I find there are even more layers?

skinnydip pier

let’s go for a dip

I think yes
And you know what?
I’m excited to keep on peeling,
stripping, wriggling, loosening, slinking out of more and more and even more layers…

Who’s in for a skinny dip?

How Naked?

Blustery Day in the Park

Blustery Day in the Park

I was walking in Wilson Park yesterday

The wind pulled the leaves from their branches
They spun in the air
Before landing yellow and brown on the grass for a moment
Only to be swept up again
And again
And again

I thought to myself, how naked do I want to get?
Which layers should I peel?
What if I’m like an onion?
I don’t want to make people cry.

WE DO!I don’t know why I remember this moment as I’m walking around Wilson Park.

“I brought my album.” I said.

It was 2003. I was a newlywed, maybe married three months. I had invited them to my wedding, they declined even before I sent the invitation.  We don’t do weddings. He said.  Weddings are silly, she said.  Over and again, they said, as I planned my day, how weddings are nothing but image and pomp and circumstance.  I can’t stand the ‘scene’. She’d say. It was as if they had a repulsion to the institution itself, that they hated the whole tradition. We don’t do weddings. He’d say.  They were married.  Although, she did take pride in the fact that she didn’t have a wedding.  As if she were some special breed of woman that didn’t need a wedding. She was above it all, she didn’t go in for all that fluff.  She’d shared her  story with me more than once.  We ran off.  We didn’t have a wedding.  We eloped to Vegas.  We just decided one night and got in the car.    

My wedding wasn’t just pomp and circumstance.  Each of the twenty-eight pictures I chose to put in the album reflected our feelings, our love, our happiness, our joy.  I brought the album to show them how special the day was. I wanted to share that with them. I wanted to let them know that it was more than what they thought it was.

We were in their living room.The wind was loud outside, lifting up from the ocean, wrapping itself around the Monterey Pines. They were sitting, side by side, in the white love seat under the window. I was standing in front of them holding the album out to them–an offering.

“Do we have to?” He said.

“Don’t make us.” She said.

We ARE Married 10 26 03

I cried that night.

I have no idea why the memory blew in as I circled Wilson Park yesterday. A seed could have been fertilized that night and yesterday the wind might have tugged at some of it’s leaves and I remembered.

It’s funny.  I keep the album on my coffee table.  Sometimes someone will be at my house and they’ll notice it.  They might ask,  Do you mind if I look through your wedding album?

I’ll smile and answer not at all.

Here’s what else I’ve been thinking about.  How naked do I want to get?  When does kindness trump truth? Sometimes isn’t it better to be quiet. Isn’t that the truth too?

The heart is the most powerful of all our organs. It generates the largest rhythmic electromagnetic field. When two energy fields meet, they change each other. With that change, they impregnate memory.

After remembering that night back in 2003, I think that if my heart really is leading, literally, electromagnetically, I must listen to her.

I don’t want to be an onion.

the heart field