Friends

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Not the sitcom, of which I was never a big fan. Don’t get me wrong, there were times that I caught it and was mildly amused. There were even times that, being forced to watch it, I had a good laugh (Smelly Cat comes to mind) but, overall, it was never going to be one of my fave shows. But, I digress.

Friends. This is a tough one for me because of the few times in my life I felt like I had found that lifelong friend, only to end up deserted.

Now, to put this into perspective, I’m talking about someone local, someone I can see and hug and hang out with. I do have (have managed to maintain) at least one dear close friendship (someone who knows EVERYTHING about me and still loves me and wants to be my friend), but this is a long distance thing. To find (and keep) a friend to trust, who lives close enough to visit regularly and do stuff with, this is another story.

Of recent times, it was a young woman with whom I shared the passion for making music. There were other things in common (like an off the wall sense of humour and an absolute obsession for all things Tolkien). And, whenever she needed someone to talk to, I made myself available. I became very attached.

My friend and I performed musically together. For me, strengthening the bond. And, at least once a week we got together for a walk in the park or a chat and cuppa.

But, when I became more open, more myself, sharing more of how I was really feeling about the mental illness and sharing my real opinions on life in general, she went away. I could’ve kept her as my friend had I not been myself…but.

I miss her. But, I wish her well. Sometimes, I still post something funny (that reminds me of some private joke we had) on her Facebook wall, not to get her to come back into my life, but just to acknowledge and give thanks for those good times. No longer will I beg for friendship, crying, “Why’d you leave me?”

But, this sort of thing makes a person cautious, scared of friendship in general. Especially to a person who gives their all in a relationship.

Maintaining a certain level of detachment, while sharing your soul with someone you feel a connection to, is difficult. I fall for my friends. I fall hard.

So, lately, it’s been odd when friendship – not just one, but PLURAL – has arrived at my (literal front) door (one under very unusual circumstances) and I feel that falling feeling again.

Of the most unorthodox of the meetings (actually, because of the unorthodox nature of our meeting), we have found someone we can trust to talk about EVERYTHING with. No need to hide aspects. And, amazingly, she lives a few streets over from me.

So, here I am, finding myself with a friend (more than one even) again, and even a social life! This is odd. For me.

And, it’s very scary, too. Lovely. But scary because of its loveliness, its preciousness.

I think I will always miss that musical friend, even though I know she has very much moved on, but, I have to admit, being able to truly be oneself with someone is more important than making music together. Because the friendship where you can be yourself is where real harmony is found. And, if that’s the only music I get from this, I will take it and be grateful.

So, here I go…I think this is lifelong friendship here. But, I’ve thought that before. I just don’t want to mess it up by being me…but, apparently, I can’t help being me. Sigh.

http://www.autumndawnleader.com

So…

Well, I have to say, I’m disgruntled and disappointed by the lack of response to yesterday’s blog post. I had thought, after the relative popularity of the proceeding post (which was an introduction to yesterday’s), that it would have incited some attention.  Looks like I was wrong again; it certainly hasn’t inspired any conversation, and none of my followers have “liked” it. Hmph.

I lay in my bed today, weary. That kind of  weariness that often hits me, leaving me – as the line in my song says – “dreaming of living, longing for death.”

Ease. What I really long for is a complete ease of being.

I’m so tired. So…

 

No visual today…  you get words, and you get a song.  And, I… I’m going to keep dreaming and longing.

Designed For Pleasure

Not wanting to leave it too long afer posting this post, and being accused of being a tease, I composed most of this subsequent post a day after my introductory post.  However, since then, I’ve revised it again and again in my mind.  Sex isn’t all there is to life, but it’s a big subject, and there’s so much I could say, so much I have already said, so much to consider.

First off, because sex and sexuality can be a means of miring one in complete body consciousness, this needs to be said: I am NOT a BODY.  You are NOT a BODY. The body is the vehicle of the soul, (or consciousness; whatever you are comfortable with calling the REAL you residing within the mortal “house”).  Having only body consciousness brings nothing but sorrow and, because of that, some believe that sexuality and spirituality don’t mix.  I’m not convinced on this point (if I was, I wouldn’t be writing this post); I think you CAN both be spiritual (soul-conscious) AND explore (the fullness of your) sexuality.  It’s a delicate (and worthwhile) balance. No, I am NOT a body, but I HAVE a body, and it was designed for pleasure.

Now that I have included this little (but important) preface, I think I’m ready to bring you the post I’ve been sitting on for these past few days:

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The human body is complex, but one thing is certain, it was designed for pleasure. We are taught from an early age to feel shame and guilt about this, to feel wrong and dirty.

**WARNING!! THERE WILL BE EXPLICIT LANGUAGE IN THIS POST. IF THAT’S NOT FOR YOU (OR, YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE), MOVE ON.**

My fascination with sexual pleasure began at an embarrassingly early age, but just that embarrassment is a symptom of that shame we are taught to feel.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t design my body. Had I done so, I would’ve definitely made some adjustments. However, my sexual organs…they’re pretty awesome. And, their design shows a purpose that goes  beyond, and is separate from,  mere procreation.

For someone who loves sex as much as I do, it’s easy to get passionate not only about the act, but the subject. As I have gotten older, I appreciate balance more and more, and having a firm grip on soul-consciousness (I’m not just a body, but I have a spiritual identity). There have been times in my life when sex was my life; everything revolved around sex (there’s a fine line between passion and obsession), and not only was the act something I constantly craved, but when I wasn’t engrossed in doing it, I was often found on my soapbox about it.

I don’t want to do that now, the soapbox thing where I bash women who constantly withhold sex from their husbands (leaving their partner’s needs woefully unfulfilled). Neither am I here to bemoan society’s unreal and unreasonable expectations in the appearance department. If you buy into media, and are a shallow person, so be it. If you are a woman who doesn’t (for whatever reason) want to explore deep sexual satisfaction with your husband (or, for that matter, you are a man withholding sex from his wife), have fun doing whatever you do and I hope your relationship won’t suffer too greatly. I’m not going to judge; I have my opinion, and years of experience, which would lead me to believe it’s a dangerous game you play, but I play my own dangerous games and you have no right to judge me either.

What I do want to talk about is freedom. Freedom to explore, if you want to. I’m talking about coming out if you’re bi or bi-curious. I’m talking about allowing yourself (without shame) to pleasure yourself. I want to encourage you to do some research on whatever you’re curious about. I’m talking about being free with yourself and your partner, trying new things, and having honesty with yourself and each other, allowing yourself – if you’ve always wanted to – a bit of kink, or spice, or whatever you want to call it. If you aren’t vanilla, stop putting yourself on the vanilla shelf and mislabelling yourself. And, ditch the shame.

On the same score, I feel I should add this important note:  if you are asexual, please be upfront about this. This, too, is nothing to be ashamed of. The problem with this sexual (or non-sexual, as the case may be) preference is when asexual people insist on embarking on a committed romantic relationship with someone who has a sex drive and falsely believes the partner with the sex drive will just be ok without sex. It’s NOT going to happen!  I believe there are relationships for everyone…  but, for them to work, they need to be well-matched and there must be honesty (with yourself first, and then with anyone you consider a potential life partner).

I think it’s time for some non-vanilla pride! Break out the toys. Admit it if you find the same sex arousing. You don’t have to do anything about it (unless you want to), but at least have the courage to say it.

Our bodies were made for pleasure. Pleasure them.

Now, here is where I MUST reiterate what I said in my introduction post about consenting adults. Adults. Consenting. No kids and full, clear consent. I don’t see how I can make it any clearer than that. Moving on now…

I know I run the risk of TMI here (losing both friends and readers alike), so I’m not going to get overly detailed about my own personal life. After all, I’m a somewhat public (public-ish?) figure, but if Madonna (a uber-public figure) can publish a book “celebrating” her sex life, I think I’m safe in just extolling the virtues of freedom from shame in the bedroom (or on the  kitchen table, or by the train tracks…don’t ask) and I will freely admit that I am bi – something that, in this day and age, sometimes seems more taboo than coming out about being gay. I’ll also admit that, because of years of that shame thing, it took me decades to figure this out about myself. And, when you deny anything about yourself for so long, it causes nothing but confusion and frustration and general beating-yourself-up-ness.

Freedom. Honesty. Not shame, confusion and guilt.

I love orgasm! Orgasms are awesome. I love cumming hard and wet and strong. It’s therapeutic (to body as well and calming to the mind)! Marvin Gaye sung about “Sexual Healing” – well, there’s a lot (scientifically and medically) to that.  Yeah, maybe when it was written, it was just a sexy song to get into a girl’s pants – but still. I don’t know any form of physical exercise more pleasurable or with such an immediate reward for one’s effort!  (I just thought I’d add this bit, too…since I hadn’t delivered very much on the “explicit language” warning…)

I surely have more to share on this topic…but it’s all about knowing how to frame it; I think this may be more of a series of posts. When I wrote the introduction post yesterday (many days ago now), I wasn’t even quite sure what I wanted to say and where I wanted to go with this one. I feel I’ve just made a start. Thus, a “Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby” series (or, “Let’s CONTINUE To Talk About Sex, Baby” series).  These post won’t all be consecutive (after all, as I say, there is more to life), but I’d like to think an open discussion will help encourage the freedom I’m writing about. Hopefully, you, my readers (and listeners… ahem, singer/songwriter first here…there’s that “more to life” thing), will stay with me. If not, it’s been fun having you and I wish you well.

 

Ok, enough revising… I’m just going to hit post now and…uh, enjoy the afterglow.

 

 

http://www.autumndawnleader.com

Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby

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It’s been awhile since I wrote a blog post about sex. This post is, however, is just an introduction (or warning) for a future post I have brewing in my mind. Consider this a little foreplay.

Instantly, some readers will be excited about this future post, while others will shut off immediately, with a closed mind.

Freedom to explore sexuality shouldn’t be as taboo as it still is, and what consenting adults get up to (I stress consenting and adult), shouldn’t bother or enter the judgment of anyone else.

Fun. Enjoyment. These should be the issues. And, uptight, prudish, frigid ignorance (yes, ignorance!) is a disdainful nonsense.

Let’s talk about sex in all its wonderful, pleasurable glory.

http://www.autumndawnleader.com

Cannot Be Bothered

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I have a huge case of cannot be bothered. No energy. No motivation. Between the infernal summer heat and the kids being off school (and doing everything they can to torment each other and me), my sanity is at a minimum and feeling low is at a maximum.

To make matters worse, physical health issues are complicating matters and making it difficult to have any desire (or energy) to do anything.  Everything (including breathing) is a chore.

I hate it when I get like this. I want to get up, move, shave my legs for goodness sake! I want to take the kids to the park, go get groceries (food being scarce in the house) and other necessities, but the strength to do so eludes me.

The kids scream and fight and wreck the house while I sit in a lump on the sofa trying not to cry.

In a few hours I must pull myself up and walk Chaos and Mayhem to a summer club thing they are in this week. It gives me a break, but just getting them there drains me.

I know…this, too shall pass. But…ugh…I don’t even have the energy to finish this.

Piggies Dressed in Silver

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I’ve worn these rings on my toes for 25 years. They are a permanent part of my earthly costume. When I finally move on from this mortal coil, my other jewellery may be divided up between my husband/children/friends, but these will be buried with the rest of my body…  little piggies dressed in silver.

http://www.autumndawnleader.com