Coming soon to Shed Your Skin Volume IV:
The 'Just Ask B' Advice Column
Disclaimer: You, the reader, absolves B of any responsibility. Which really translates to:
It is not his fault if the results of the outcome are unfavorable.
Please initial here: ____
Dear B:
I just met a really great guy but I can’t tell if he’s straight or gay. He wore lavender. How can I ask him without sounding rude? Please help! Thanks!
-Broken gaydar in CA
Dear Broken:
The quickest way to find out is to dangle the bait and see if he bites. And there’s no reason to give the final exam before the pop quiz. The pop quiz can be benign questions like ‘What’s your favorite karaoke song?’ If he says ‘Nirvana’, you’re good. If he says, ‘Madonna’, then you have a new shoe shopping buddy.
-Gone Fixin’ for love
B
Dear B:
Thanks for your response! Just like ‘Broken’, I’m in a similar situation. I followed your advice and now I’m stuck. When I asked ‘Bob’ that question, he said, “Journey.” What does that mean? Please help!
-Stopped believing in AZ
Dear Stopped:
You’re in luck! “Journey”=straight. Now start believing.
-Don’t stop believing…
B
Dear B:
I am soo glad for your column! Your insight is not only helpful but funny! I’m in a bit of a pickle myself. This situation seems to be a hot commodity right now because I am also unsure! When I met up with ‘Pat’ and asked him your pop quiz question, his response was: “Depends on my mood. Sometimes a little Tori Amos or Ani Difranco. Or maybe some G’N’R or George Michael. But there are times that Radiohead or The Beatles are in order.” I was speechless! I didn’t know how to respond. What should I do?
-Speechless in Seattle
Dear Speechless:
‘Pat’ sounds like he may be confused himself. What was he wearing? Were his nails painted black? Was he wearing skinny, hipster jeans? Did he have more jewelry than you? And did he call you babe, sunshine or some cute endearing nickname right away? Sounds like it was a well practiced, scripted answer to me! Or he could be the lead singer of a band. In that case…tell ‘Pat’ that he still owes me for that amp he set on fire from our last gig! Oh, and you should probably run.
-Still waiting for my money
B
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
This Dream
Had this dream
the other night...
I was....
in an open field
the sky above
a cosmic blanket
fell asleep
to
shooting stars
crickets
a symphony
and song
so perfect....
to be continued
forever
forever
forever
The Earth
rumbles open
filling my heart
drawing me
in.....
further
further in....
This vivid Dreamer
who lay next to me
whispers in my ear
"Are you awake?"
'Mmm hmm.'
"I had this dream."
'About what?'
"You were a vegetable."
'What kind?'
"Chard."
'Mmm...I like chard.'
"Yes, they're pretty, too."
'Were you a vegetable, too?'
"Mmm hmm..."
And so it went...
The echo of that perfect song
kept playing softly
throughout the night
the lyrics teasing the shadows
'toes in a blanket'
'teeth like stars'
'new love awakening'
my voice
laced with
longing
wanting
to join his
but
the silence
lay heavy
with doubt...
yet...
laughter escaped
my lips
eager to
embrace
the chorus
uniting
evanescently
Flashes of...
His guitar
lying on its back
His fingers and hands
working the strings
like magic
His hair
pale as moonlight
as his voice
swirled my insides
Alas
As time etched forward
the inevitable arrived
and the cold seeped in
influencing
a sudden departure
with a note
full of
enigmatic words
and question marks
But the owl flew
and said,
"Stay.
See this through."
The Warrior in me
had already surrendered
mid-song
so
back to him
I went
nestling
underneath the blankets...
And awoke
to the sound
of his voice
to the sky colored
by a new day
Our hugging and laughing
with synchronicity
for the unsaid...
and now
as we say
our good-byes
he turns to me
and says,
"It wasn't a dream."
I smile mischievously...
'I know,' is my reply.
the other night...
I was....
in an open field
the sky above
a cosmic blanket
fell asleep
to
shooting stars
crickets
a symphony
and song
so perfect....
to be continued
forever
forever
forever
The Earth
rumbles open
filling my heart
drawing me
in.....
further
further in....
This vivid Dreamer
who lay next to me
whispers in my ear
"Are you awake?"
'Mmm hmm.'
"I had this dream."
'About what?'
"You were a vegetable."
'What kind?'
"Chard."
'Mmm...I like chard.'
"Yes, they're pretty, too."
'Were you a vegetable, too?'
"Mmm hmm..."
And so it went...
The echo of that perfect song
kept playing softly
throughout the night
the lyrics teasing the shadows
'toes in a blanket'
'teeth like stars'
'new love awakening'
my voice
laced with
longing
wanting
to join his
but
the silence
lay heavy
with doubt...
yet...
laughter escaped
my lips
eager to
embrace
the chorus
uniting
evanescently
Flashes of...
His guitar
lying on its back
His fingers and hands
working the strings
like magic
His hair
pale as moonlight
as his voice
swirled my insides
Alas
As time etched forward
the inevitable arrived
and the cold seeped in
influencing
a sudden departure
with a note
full of
enigmatic words
and question marks
But the owl flew
and said,
"Stay.
See this through."
The Warrior in me
had already surrendered
mid-song
so
back to him
I went
nestling
underneath the blankets...
And awoke
to the sound
of his voice
to the sky colored
by a new day
Our hugging and laughing
with synchronicity
for the unsaid...
and now
as we say
our good-byes
he turns to me
and says,
"It wasn't a dream."
I smile mischievously...
'I know,' is my reply.
Moments
Sometimes I live for these quiet moments. I'm one of the lucky ones. I get to experience them and remember them...then re-experience them here...
There will be these quiet moments. Those hushed, talk in whispers moments. Then, the angry moments. The loud moments. The want to scream out loud moments. Then, the passionate moments. The hungry moments. The hot on your skin moments. Then, there are the sad moments. The lost moments. The lock yourself in the bathroom crying moments. The I wish we would stop fighting moments.
Then, there are the more indescribable moments. Ones meant for songs or stories. Ones where you can only glimpse them with a sentence or two. The ones where words don't do them justice, that perhaps they weren't meant to be captured within vowels and a voice...they were simply meant to be experienced and left tingling on your skin...like fairy dust...or a thousand kisses...
There will be these quiet moments. Those hushed, talk in whispers moments. Then, the angry moments. The loud moments. The want to scream out loud moments. Then, the passionate moments. The hungry moments. The hot on your skin moments. Then, there are the sad moments. The lost moments. The lock yourself in the bathroom crying moments. The I wish we would stop fighting moments.
Then, there are the more indescribable moments. Ones meant for songs or stories. Ones where you can only glimpse them with a sentence or two. The ones where words don't do them justice, that perhaps they weren't meant to be captured within vowels and a voice...they were simply meant to be experienced and left tingling on your skin...like fairy dust...or a thousand kisses...
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Malidoma Weekend Retreat
This is the first of several writing pieces surrounding a weekend retreat located at the Temenos Center for Wholeness with Tudor, Oshun and Malidoma Some.
Day One
The Kitchen
For immediate arousal in the kitchen, start with heat and an iron skillet. Then, proceed by adding two ingredients: chopped onions and minced garlic. Listen to that sizzle. If you want to have a flavorful base for an entrée, that pair can do no wrong. However, they are most odoriferous and fair warning…their combined aroma, when sautéed together, can sashay its way through the kitchen like an exotic belly dancer and may be intoxicating to some. Though on this particular night, I was looking for a different type of distraction. More along the lines of the ‘provocation of tears’ kind and was most grateful for the large box of onions assigned to me. Prior to chopping, I received a text message from someone whom I had been spending a lot of time with and without giving reason, canceled last minute. After that, the vegetable(s) with their multiple layers were a welcome release for my frustration and barely tepid mood. They also provided a perfect excuse for any salty streams running down my cheeks.
An hour in, the kitchen’s silence a comforting companion, I couldn’t help but notice the living room begin to fill with people. Inevitably, one by one, they trickled into the kitchen to get tea or to offer their assistance in preparing the food and within minutes my onionesque solitude was replaced with people chopping, laughing, talking and singing.
At the ‘Island’ where most of the activity was taking place, I stood at the edge right next to Kristin, one of the drummers, who had been continuously humming softly underneath her breath. At first, I was thoroughly annoyed at my seclusion of frustration and aggravation being interrupted but then I began to direct it towards Kristin, even resenting her musical murmurs. Thankfully, her song found its way in somehow. Everything pulsated and slowed down for a few seconds. A sort of calmness and acceptance flowed through me. The sounds of the kitchen in the background coupled with the melody and its power became stronger and stronger. I closed my eyes and listened with a silent reverence. Finally, I embraced the symphony as if it were an old friend I had quarreled with and whom I was eager to make amends and welcomed it to find residence in the gaping holes within me.
Suddenly, Time shifted into overdrive and I realized that I was now a few feet away from the Island of knives and conversation. It took me a second to recover but the awe of the scene bewitched me. I stood in admiration. This signified to me a perfect display of a beautiful chaos. My eyes saw only love and gratitude, my smile swept inward and I was left with feeling honored at bearing witness to the magnificence of what was before me. Like all cherry blossoms, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
I sensed an additional pair of eyes and glanced up to see Kristin acknowledging everything with a nod and knowing glance. We turned our focus back to the others, observing together, sharing a moment of recognition as our smiles resembled a reflected mirror image. She leaned close and whispered, her story leaving echoes in my ear.
How apropos it was,
our stories intertwining like branches of an oak tree,
for it was she who awoke that desire in me
to shift my disappointment to delight…
to join in….
to ride along the melodies and harmonious waves
on yet another path towards enlightenment….
singing a coming together of united souls for each other,
for ourselves,
for the Magic
and for the Awakened Dream that is Life.
Day One
The Kitchen
For immediate arousal in the kitchen, start with heat and an iron skillet. Then, proceed by adding two ingredients: chopped onions and minced garlic. Listen to that sizzle. If you want to have a flavorful base for an entrée, that pair can do no wrong. However, they are most odoriferous and fair warning…their combined aroma, when sautéed together, can sashay its way through the kitchen like an exotic belly dancer and may be intoxicating to some. Though on this particular night, I was looking for a different type of distraction. More along the lines of the ‘provocation of tears’ kind and was most grateful for the large box of onions assigned to me. Prior to chopping, I received a text message from someone whom I had been spending a lot of time with and without giving reason, canceled last minute. After that, the vegetable(s) with their multiple layers were a welcome release for my frustration and barely tepid mood. They also provided a perfect excuse for any salty streams running down my cheeks.
An hour in, the kitchen’s silence a comforting companion, I couldn’t help but notice the living room begin to fill with people. Inevitably, one by one, they trickled into the kitchen to get tea or to offer their assistance in preparing the food and within minutes my onionesque solitude was replaced with people chopping, laughing, talking and singing.
At the ‘Island’ where most of the activity was taking place, I stood at the edge right next to Kristin, one of the drummers, who had been continuously humming softly underneath her breath. At first, I was thoroughly annoyed at my seclusion of frustration and aggravation being interrupted but then I began to direct it towards Kristin, even resenting her musical murmurs. Thankfully, her song found its way in somehow. Everything pulsated and slowed down for a few seconds. A sort of calmness and acceptance flowed through me. The sounds of the kitchen in the background coupled with the melody and its power became stronger and stronger. I closed my eyes and listened with a silent reverence. Finally, I embraced the symphony as if it were an old friend I had quarreled with and whom I was eager to make amends and welcomed it to find residence in the gaping holes within me.
Suddenly, Time shifted into overdrive and I realized that I was now a few feet away from the Island of knives and conversation. It took me a second to recover but the awe of the scene bewitched me. I stood in admiration. This signified to me a perfect display of a beautiful chaos. My eyes saw only love and gratitude, my smile swept inward and I was left with feeling honored at bearing witness to the magnificence of what was before me. Like all cherry blossoms, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
I sensed an additional pair of eyes and glanced up to see Kristin acknowledging everything with a nod and knowing glance. We turned our focus back to the others, observing together, sharing a moment of recognition as our smiles resembled a reflected mirror image. She leaned close and whispered, her story leaving echoes in my ear.
How apropos it was,
our stories intertwining like branches of an oak tree,
for it was she who awoke that desire in me
to shift my disappointment to delight…
to join in….
to ride along the melodies and harmonious waves
on yet another path towards enlightenment….
singing a coming together of united souls for each other,
for ourselves,
for the Magic
and for the Awakened Dream that is Life.
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