Stupid Girls

Sunday, July 11, 2004

Erotic, 2

You are reading

Dear ,

You don't have to do anything with my passion. Of course, I would recommend that you wallow in it, absorb it, enjoy it, dance with it, glory in it and nourish yourself from it. It's my gift to you, if you want it.

Don't be afraid of it. I'm taking good care of myself. I will NOT let it hurt you!

And you can ask me anything you want about me. Anything.

Of course, if you choose not to accept it as a gift, I will be disappointed -- for you, not for me. I won't take it personally. Well, maybe a little; I'm only human. But, in the long run, any hurt feeling I might have would be silly.
I've certainly scared off more than my share, because of it. And as I watch their backs in retreat, my greatest regret is for them: they'll never know what they could have had, if they'd had the energy or courage or insight to just let me be enthusiastic about them.

I may just be in the throes of hormonal saturation over here, but I honestly think you're very special. And I can site dozens of rational reasons as to why I believe that to be true.

I'm absolutely sure this devotion I'm developing toward you has purpose, sustainability, endurance and real power. I think it's a healing thing, for both of us.

I also know that, just as soon as SOMEONE has the good sense to take me up on my offer of this devotion, it will be true, profound and liberating to all involved.

All I can do is wait and see. You have potential. Only time will tell.

I realize it's not the Fashion, in this culture, to be so blunt and frank about such things. I'm sorry this is true. I'm sorry I violate conventions, by insisting on expressing the Unexpressable. I know it makes people uncomfortable.

I suspect it makes YOU uncomfortable, especially since you've worked so hard and long at camoflauge. All this attention must be a bit unnerving.

If I thought it was unhealthy for you, I'd retreat, withdraw, and just deal with my passion all by myself.

But, and this might be pure egotism, I think I'm good for you. I think you need to be treasured, wanted, appreciated....

I don't worship you. I don't adore you...well, maybe just a little. But I don't want you inaccessibly on some Pedistal.

I want you at my side, when ever, and only if, you feel comfortable.

He reminded me of R. R is my real unfinished business, there. And I'm taking care of that. As soon as I figured that out, the intensity of my feelings for him settled into a warm glow, and I could look him in the eyes again. And he knows all of this.

You remind me of noone else. Oh, I hear Marianna in your voice, sometimes. I see Teramota in your eyes, at times. I feel Taylor in your struggle, sometimes. I see a Science Fiction Convention in your words, sometimes.

But you are special.
It ain't hormones; it's fact.

And I'm drawn to you like an adventure. I couldn't be more thrilled with anticipation if I were on an airplane, heading for Tibet!

I wonder what it'll be like. I wonder what I'll experience. I wonder if I'm strong and brave enough. I wonder if I'm smart enough to really experience this well.

All I know, in my ignorance, is that this adventure calls me to something more beautiful, important, ancient, sacred and profound than I can ever glimpse in my imagination.

It humbles me.

So, don't worry too much about my passion. I have great respect for its power. I'm working my tail off, not to abuse it, indulge myself with it, misinterpret it.
I'm offering it to you because it's really quite beautiful, and I have a real desire to show you my best stuff.

It's real.

Take as little, or as much, as you want.

No strings, obligations or traps attached.

Dear ...,

I tried to make it clear: it's not my writing; it's the woman who owns the Lilith site.

Audre Lorde is a hero. And I've decided I MUST reread EVERYTHING she EVER said about eroticism.

I'm TRYING to find her essay, defining the difference between vulnerability and real intimacy.

You used the word, "vulnerable," in relationship to your ego. I'd like to explain better how I'm working to shift from vulnerable to intimate.

My interpretation, and what I'm trying like hell to actualize, goes somewhat as follows:

Vulnerability is a position of powerlessness, in which one can easily be victimized, exploited and abused for being exposed.

Intimacy Is a form of openness. One is exposed, but from a position of power. One chooses, carefully, when and where one becomes authentic. Within that, or those, context(s), one claims the freedom of authentic Self, in relationship to other(s). It's the Moral Authority which empowers.

The difference is between exposing the jugular to all and any who pass by, because one craves connection so badly, but has no tools of self protection.

True self disclosure can only happen within a position of being self empowered.

I struggle, every day, to get there.

I'd forgotten Audre Lorde, until I met you.

I felt how clumsy, apologetic, tentative and nervous I was around you, and realized I was coming from a powerless, vulnerable place.

I analyzed my experiences of you, and what you've said about yourself, and chose to approach you with intimacy, instead.

I realize it's unusual, but I think it's absolutely necessary, for me, at least.

I WILL find that essay! I really want to reread it, and I SERIOUSLY want to give it to you.

It's new language, for me...for most women. It's difficult to articulate yet.

And old habits and cultural expectations make it SO EASY to fall into bad habits of either vulnerability or protection FROM it!

It's hard to think well, with all the clutter of toxic messages in which we're emersed. It'll take me a lot, more practice.

I highly recommend Audre Lorde, and her companion theoretical poet, Adrienne Rich. They've influenced and enhanced each other's works until the body of wisdom they offer is profoundly healing.

I've only grazed the surface of both of them. I see, now, that I need to thoroughly investigate both. There's nothing superficial about either.

I already posted what I sent to you in my blog. Hopefully, readers won't think I wrote it, as it's all in italics, which I can't do in email.

THIS is where I'm fighting my way back. THIS is what you're seeing.

I'm fumbling in relative darkness yet. But THIS is my process.

So, hang in there. I'll start making sense after awhile.