Since I was a teenager, my very favourite part of Christmas has always been the late service at church, where, in the quiet sanctuary, people come together to replenish their souls, and meditate on the true meaning of Christmas
Singing ‘Silent Night’ in the candlelit glow, my heart lightens a bit, and I know with deep certainty that life is as it should be.
Whatever this day is to you, I wish you all of these things; joy, courage, hope, peace and love.
Basically some French broad gives up sex at the age of 27, and has orgasmic experiences with nature, and her own sensations of the wild, wonderful and sometimes wicked world in which we live. End of summary darlings.
Skip to the front page of the Globe TO section that highlights the differences between two rivals fighting for the federal riding of Toronto Center. It’s a face off of pretty faces as the liberals (boo) and the NDP (yay) talk about how they will vie for the seat amongst the poorest of the poor and richest of the rich.
The interview consists of questions focused on the ever-widening, vastly dangerous gap between the rich and the poor. Of course the liberal walks a fine line (after all, she’s led by the ever handsome born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-my mouth descendant of Canadian royalty), and the NDP fight for the underdog.
I, on the other hand realize that myself and most of my contempories belong to the group of folks working our tushes off to carry the upper-class. Ugh. Not sexy darlings, not sexy at all.
We are however, the artists and dreamers that keep the human spirit alive. Creativity, the great mother of art, only swells under oppression and strife. Raise your glass fellow writers, for we are the subversive, joyous protector of the soul.
The front page this weekend, “Toward a New Brazil” takes us to a country that has recovered from the dire economy, resulting violence, poverty and crime as predicted will be our gloomy economic future of have and have-nots.
Now, doesn’t that make you want to snuggle? Seriously, doesn’t it make you want to hold everyone near and dear to you a little tighter, celebrate the simple things, and have someone to snuggle up with at the end of a long, hard day?
Exactly. Just what I thought my delicate little songbird. Just what I thought.
As far as Sophie Fontanel’s book is concerned, I know what it’s like to never want to have sex again. Basically, her predicament is summed up as having suffered a lot of bad sex, resulting in her preferring celibacy.
Believe it or not, I can relate. Following my last long-term relationship, the last thing I wanted was to have any man touch me. Yes darlings, that’s how absolutely appallingly repulsed I felt about him. I vowed a year of celibacy. It only lasted a few weeks, but I’ve been to the edge darlings, and have made it back.
I reveled in stretching out in my bed, not having to wake up to some whiner who’s first words every day were negative. I loved not sleeping with someone who snored. I especially enjoyed falling asleep without wanting to launch the horse’s ass out of my window. Ah, yes, the bliss of sleeping alone.
I’m not one to lose hope though my darlings. I know that there are still wonderful, loving, handsome, deliciously sensual men out there who make my heart skip a beat, have handsome shoulders on which I can rest my pretty, little head, and who have hugs that, no matter what, make me feel loved, safe and ready to take on the world again.
So, in light of our decidedly selfish upper-class and toiling lower class, wouldn’t you feel better curling up beside the love of your life, or perhaps the love of a season, taking refuge in the beauty and simplicity of love?
Screw this French celibacy celebration and bring me my champagne!
This has been a daily mantra of mine for quite some time.
Without feeling very prosperous, with a lack of abundance, hope and joy, these four simple words became part of my everyday waking, meditation and my nighttime routine as I threw off the garment of 2012 and headed exposed and vulnerable into 2013.
At midnight, as I toasted my friends, I also silently toasted the success I was sure to find as 2013 rolled on. I vowed that I would look back on 2013 as a year of positive change and transition.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
You see, as I walked the lake trail, my wondering at the beauty of nature was interrupted by a pesky anxious thought, “Holy bourbon Batman, next weekend I’m flying solo.” At work that is. My mind began to race about all the things that I felt less than confident about, and I panicked a bit. I went over a checklist of things ‘to-do’ on Monday morning and then I went over it again about five more times.
Five kilometers later, as I settled in on a bench, the sunset glowed a soft orange-pink over the lake.
Ten years ago, if you would have asked my capped and gowned graduating self which company I dreamed of working for, and what job I wanted to have, this would have been it. In fact, I remember telling myself that in ten years, this is where I would be. After a bit of a detour, here I am.
Wondering at the beauty of the sunset and getting back to the simple mindfulness meditation of breathing, I realized that I was not afraid of failure. Failure is not, and has never been an option for me.
I realized darlings, that I was somewhat afraid of success. I was thinking, ” Who am I to be successful?”. When really, the question is, “Who am I not to be?”.
My work is and always has been a call to service. When most folks are complaining about the tedium of the mundane, I feel energized. How can I not be successful when I work with love and the belief way down deep in my fabulous little heart, that what I’m doing for others is ‘good’ work?
Always remember my sweet, tender little plums, you were born to thrive. You were born to be successful, and you are naturally fabulous just the way you are.
Breathe deeply, and hold your head up high as you step out into the light my lovelies. Make every day a great one, and for those days that are a little less than terrific….God gave us champagne!!!
No, not that one. For my readers who really know me, it’s not the Amazing “C” either (sorry pumpkin).
The ‘C’ word is “Commitment”.
That word has been known to make me shiver, lose consciousness and even forget my manners.
A number of less than kind readers have reflected on my aversion to having a committed relationship. I say; do not judge lest ye be judged. I figure getting quasi-biblical might speak to any archaic idea about how a woman should live.
To be perfectly clear, I am not averse to a committed relationship. I am averse to being in any relationship just for the sake of having a bed-warmer October through April or for a second income. Believe you me my precious little diamonds-of-love, being a single woman has forced me to closely analyze my relationships status and resulting quality of life.
My conclusion? I’d rather be dirt poor and happy than trapped in a home where I am not. I’d rather be the poster woman for Ella’s, ‘The Lady is a Tramp’, than not be able to stand on my own two feet and look after myself.
Caveat; I am not alone. I have a plethora of loving, giving, strong, intelligent friends (both men and women, so don’t accuse me of being a man-hater either my judgmental little prunes). I also have not been famous for my celibacy. I might be able to get what I want, but I get what I need. You know what I mean.
I get all warm and fuzzy when I think about making a commitment to a man who is my best friend. Before you point your finger accusing me of putting too much pressure on a mate, hold off. Trust me pookie-bear, I will always have a special part of myself reserved for my gal-pals only. Consider it my healthy outlet to take the pressure off Mr. Wonderfulbuns.
Just because I don’t go around whining about my single status, and even dare to (gasp) celebrate my freedom, and the creative relationships that I do have, doesn’t mean I spurn monogamy. I simply haven’t signed up. Yet. Who knows whether I ever will. I am a woman with hopes, dreams, and a sensitive side just like anyone else.
I have, through my own unique experience, chosen to keep my life simple, my relationships unburdened, and my eye on honourable goals as a mother and professional.
Single women still suffer the stigma of either being unlovable or sluts. The reality is we are stronger than you could ever imagine, wage change for women’s rights better than anyone else, and have the freedom to learn, create and be fearless.
Trust me, if I ‘settle‘ down, it will be with a partner who is my equal. That means that I certainly won’t be settling.
You know the words to that now classic Garth Brooks song right? “Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers.” If you don’t, you should.
Today I had yet another reminder that unanswered prayers are as much a blessing as the ones that are answered.
Whomever, or whatever you pray to, I believe it’s as important to acknowledge the unanswered prayers with grace and gratitude as it is to give thanks when you receive a wonderful blessing.
Generally, if you look back at the things that didn’t work out, you’re pretty happy right?
I think of the last ‘longer term’ relationship I had. Whew! That was a close call, he almost managed to smother my fabulous, vibrant, flamboyant, self. Imagine the horror of losing such a fine lady to the abyss of badboyfrienddom. I thank my lucky stars!
Not one, but two of my prospective career moves were halted at the last-minute. Just in time, as it turns out, to save me from leaping into a position that was terminated just months (and in one case days) later. Whew! Thank you universe!
Although it hasn’t been received with applause, I have avoided the ‘c’ word (commitment) since my last relationship, resulting in deeper friendships, and a lot more fun.
Commitment isn’t a bad thing sweeties, but it is with the wrong partner.
In a couple of cases it was not divine intervention, or the universe reflecting my own positive energy, or the great hand of God smiting mine enemies. No. It was my very own decision-making.
I did not dial after half a bottle of bubbly. I did not let him spend the night (always best to wake up on your own time isn’t it gals?). I did not accept dates that I knew would end in heartbreak for he or I. I did not decline advice, or offers of support.
I did dream. I did take care of myself (body and soul my sweet peaches). I launched a plan and followed it step by step. I’m still following it. After all, life is a journey.
Huh? Hmm? Am I blessed with unanswered prayers, or just a new, rejuvenated sense of self and purpose?
Hard to say, but just in case, I am thanking the universe for all of my unanswered prayers. I’ll do my best to listen to what the universe is trying to tell me.
For any of you struggling with something that didn’t happen for you, rest assured, in a few days, weeks, months, or even years, you will look back and be grateful.
I hope that you had a chance to catch up on the news this weekend. God help you sweetie if you’re relying solely on the newspaper, although it is terribly entertaining.Saturday evening I took in the news in my favourite chair at my favourite cafe. I suggest you pour your favourite warm beverage and enjoy the next five thoughts that I leave with you as the weekend wanes.
1)David Bowie is back with his first album since, well, since he got his teeth capped in that my-what-big-teeth-you-have-grandad way, and his face lifted. Mr. Bowie, you were beautiful, and would have aged beautifully all on your own.
2) A very ‘young’ 62-year-old female is seeking a 63-72 year old male to enjoy the finer things in life. 72? Really? How on earth did you come up with that number? Parcheesi? And by ‘young’ do you mean born late in the year, say…December? You either need dementia meds or a reality check you deluded ego-maniac. Nowhere in the advert did it say she was hoping for more meaningful characteristics in her future companion than him being ‘slim’ and ‘financially independent’. Whatever happened to nice, kind and compassionate? The human race is doomed, doomed I say!
3) A plethora of pages dedicated to what to do with the kids during March break. How about let the little buggers go outside, use their imagination, get a few scrapes and bruises and breathe fresh air? How about chill out and get to know what ‘home’ means?
4) Another movie aimed at the hearing aid set . Cloudburst is about two old lesbians. Yes, it’s great that we’ve finally woken up as a society and no longer demonize people for their sexuality/gender/curious preferences. I’m sure it’s a charming movie, but I go to the movies to escape. I don’t want to see 80-year-old lips (of any description) on anything but a lap-dog or a grandchild. We all get old. I get it. Just let me have entertainment that doesn’t knock me over the head with the sledgehammer of reality.
5) How NHL players dress when they’re not on the ice. Who. Cares? Talk about 10 inches of desperate-to-fill-the-page-junk.
Wishing you the intelligence to question what you hear, read, view and are told is the ‘news’.