glowing
I am glowing.
Literally.
And I know how weird that sounds.
How uncomfortable that will make people.
Have you seen the movie Stardust?
Claire Danes glows in it, literally and truly figuratively, it’s a bright performance.
I feel myself glowing, is the thing.
Not all of the time of course, but with a substantial increase as of late.
And really it took other people noticing for me to connect what I was physiologically feeling to a visual representation.
Strangers every now and then,
a friend at least once a week, and the week before that,
lover/kiddos make regular commentary about the glowing.
It all began at the end of April, right after explant surgery.
The bed and I had been intimate for the better part of the day, I looked a sort of way you might be able to easily imagine, if you’ve ever spent a few days in bed. My husband and daughter were in the kitchen talking, I could hear my body asking for a little vertical time and nourishment so I decided to join them. When I reached the tile at the edge of the kitchen, they let go of their conversation string midstream, and the room fell suddenly silent.
I said ‘what?’ as anyone naturally would when a room falls silent, + they were both looking at me. In synchronistic style they both said ‘you are glowing’. And then I said ‘what?’, again, naturally.
While I would say my look was disheveled and maintain that as true even now, I also felt different, and that’s when I realized the new sensations I was experiencing could be seen. The sensations outside of pain happening in my body, or potentially pain itself in a way, were changing me rapidly.
I’m not saying it’s the reduction of chemical toxicity entirely either, but I am referencing that there was this decrease that led to a noticeable increase in my brightness in a short period of time.
The glow up, that had been a long time coming, the explant was just part of it, a marker on the timeline. Though I really had no idea healing would visually illuminate, literally. And if you had told me it would previously, I would not have believed it, at least not believed I could do it.
Last week a stranger told me I was glowing. She actually used the word radiant in her articulation of what she was curiously seeing. She prefaced how weird she presumed it must sound to hear, I spoke to the frequency of the same commentary, which either makes it not weird at all or entirely too weird. Maybe both.
Being witnessed and seen by others is both exhilarating and terrifying.
I once had a client reveal her belief that she could control the weather. Not just a rainmaker but a rainbow spectrum projector and cloud creator. That was a weird thing to consider, to see my own closed-ness in response to her expression of having an effect on the weather. I am still in abundant skepticism that this could even be true.
And yet ….
Here I am telling you I think I am embodied in the energy of a star.
I think this is maybe like that, an expression that’s a little weird to sort through. But here is the thing, science proves it. Humans are in some ways biologically identical to stars, to shining glowing balls of energy. You are this too.
Embodied in the felt sense of safe love might you glow too?
So much of the glow up is in the healing of the masculine feminine relationship.
Healing these two energies within self,
with him,
has become the most proficient, nourishing, protective, and loving safe space I’ve experienced in the human gig.
The context of a process held lovely in one word, become. Suggests duality, un-become. There is no guarantee, like a plant it must be nourished. Attentiveness and presence to the living nature of a relationship is love itself.
We reached new blissfully cosmic heights last week during an evening of intimacy. Still riding the wave that will be marked on our relationship timeline.
Reaching new heights offers an intoxicating concoction of surprise that produces astonishment and knowing that produces relaxation. For a moment perfectly balanced with each other and in the pursuit of something new and better for ourselves and each other.
Another space of duality;
The healing path, the evolutionary journey in partnership, the shared aspect of profound love and earned success really is contrasted by the spectrum of felt human experience. The other side of FOR each other, is AT each other, and usually we move through WITH each other to get there.
We’ve been there before. And while Nate and I aren’t AT each other currently, the collective energy of the masculine and feminine is, in many ways, AT each other.
America was in origin built on the act of war, over territory, what it’s always over. Without the AT no country would exist as it is. It seems we know no other way to be, just look at human history.
It’s our inheritance, in our marrow to be AT each other.
Civil wars exist on every level.
Relational
Sexual
Intimate in all nature
Familial
In community
In country
In species
This might be the home of the brave, maybe, but it’s not the home of the free we think it to be. Technology is the curtain that masks the truth.
No matter the origin story you personally believe, all depict early timeline conflict, over property and ownership of some kind. Property and ownership in the origin was more directly connected to survival, a long expired mechanism. This old energy is toxic greed and It can be felt everywhere.
The American civil battle being fought currently is over the territory of the human body. It’s not the first or the last, just part of an ongoing stream of war over species control. The trajectory is mass slavery, ownership of groups within society, and the battle on the field currently is the ownership of the female body. Like the wealth disparages present in our species, a small percentage of people will own us.
I believe liberty does not survive without autonomy, something more fundamental than any other right. If you don’t own your body, the vehicle you are doing this human gig in, you own nothing.
Most of us own nothing,
We are made to do and not do things with our body, coerced, oppressed, controlled. Used by and for the narcissistic energy amongst us, and when we rebel and say no we are punished back into oppression because the narcissist energy needs to be fed, and it feeds on people through power over systems.
I think the timing of the strategy to oppress women is revealing, new heights of autonomy and liberty had of course preceded it. The coo has been carried out and won, here we are again, less than.
We are in a carefully created unseen concentration camp, and the women and men were just separated and thwarted by our very own judicial system.
When will enough of us see it?
Many of us know the essence of what the energy of tyranny is afraid of.
And that it can’t help itself, not unless there is ownership of fear and not in woundedness of self or another in relationship to it. Stuck inside the dichotomy of suffering.
Nate has always said that sex is undefeated and wars have been and will be waged over the egoic ownership of pussy.
The healthcare industry is a weapon to be strategized in the obtaining of said ownership. An industry primarily composed of people that are also victims of it. The healthcare industry provides legal route for gender based oppression, that blames and in some cases incarcerates the victims.
It’s been dystopian for a while honestly, behind the smoke and mirrors.
Outside of the matrix.
However you want to look at it.
I’ve spent cumulative years of life in a hospital, as a patient or parent.
4 different hospitals have known me to be the most beloved patient/parent and the most avoided. I’m curious enough to get myself in trouble, which in my opinion isn’t curious enough. The vast majority of staff find the barrage of questions I sling annoying and/or frustrating, the same might be said for the degree in which I research. It’s a system that generally responds unkindly to inquiry, though the science of inquiry is what it is built on. A contradiction of itself.
If I could tell you one thing about the healthcare industry as I have come to know it; our dissociation from how healthcare is operating is the very reason it can operate and control us, and that begins with anatomical education in our youth. Another system built on but responding poorly to inquiry.
All of these systems run by white misogyny are reflecting the status of the masculine feminine relationship.
I often find myself devastated by it.
He is the medicine for all of that currently.
Nate, chose to enter a contractual legal relationship with me knowing how wounded and fractured I was. I had a proclivity for dancing with the toxic, he knew and always saw it as a symptom. I’ve been in shame, but he has never been ashamed.
As an early teen I saw him playing soccer with friends in a park, a sort of pick up game taken seriously. It was magnetic, I couldn’t take my eyes off the ‘glow’ of him. It was an attraction potent enough I inquired after his name. A year or so later, I found him in the sports section of a local newspaper, which found a way into a journal of sorts, in between magazine cut outs of grungy Brad Pitt. Crushed little girl? Maybe, but with Nate it always felt like something more.
Nearly six years after that first sighting, we met by way of one-sided blind date, I at least had an idea of what I was going in for. The mutual friend who wanted so badly for us to meet did not know the history, but I did, that’s the only reason I agreed to it.
Nate was fresh off a mormon mission and I was a highly functional pretender trying to survive and come back from familial and sexual trauma turned shame. We didn’t look good together, at least not on communal religious paper.
He is connected to the actual value of humans, while also being in personal scarcity. Like many of us, me included. Mirrors of one another, exactly what we needed when young and starving.
Chemical and reflective potential had higher probability than religious paper ever could, that seems to be why we entered into it.
The cosmic love I have spoken to, the safety too, doesn’t mean it’s not also been cataclysmic, it’s been that too. The spectrum is always there if you hang out long enough. In my own scarcity, receiving love has been pretty messy for me. He’s been a mirror in this too, he’s found it challenging to receive mine.
His own childhood wounds were both the motivation to love the feminine and to reject being loved by them. The oldest boy in a handful of kids being raised by a mostly single mother in and out of treacherous and damaging relationships with masculine, was a doozy. He saw her in me, that’s how core relationship attachment works. There was of course an interest in my particular packaging of it, the edgy provocative nature in which I function with it, and my openness to him.
Our own tensions on the table, owned individually and worked on both individually and collectively are what boosts us past the ceiling.
I am astounded by what we have become together, how in the middle of a masculine feminine relationship crisis I could be so safe, so held, so open to receiving the masculine that together we could reach new heights is beyond me.
While also embodied in me.
Audrey