I’m in love with loud purring. Body shaking and telling of fondness for life. A soft, rhythmic blanket of furry love. Unscheduled pleasure. Rising and falling, sleeping and waking. Our eyes closed tightly, savoring the tune. Your whispers of fuzzy somethings at the foot of the bed.
The 3am motor, my favorite engine sound. Sheets ripple, erupt with fluttering plaid flannel. Sleepy pats offered. Met with nudges, of the predictable kind, to carry-on. Purring the kind of purr that becomes more audible with a rub.
This is where sensory joy lives. Comfortably. Amidst the pitter-patter of sounds from this warm furry throat. No troubles in this moment. Or this one. Or this one. I lay my heavy head on your fat, warm belly. Your kitty pillow accepts my forehead. Riding with the gift.
My ear bathed, absorbing the peaceful concert. Feeding my needy inner child soul with fizzy sound waves. Soothing even the most silent of frazzles. Within.
Surrounded, cloaked in decaying matter. Fresh smells of moist, decomposing life. The split center of a giant hickory. The trunk, cracked wide open in invitation, welcoming me home once again. Allowing. Allowing me in, like a generous neighbor, availing it’s wisdom. Without an entrance fee. Because I exist. I enter. Stepping out of my muted, insignificant existence, into this earthly goodness. The slow, methodical, rhythmic heartbeat of the earth echoes in the fresh rot. My exhales slowing to meet the offering.
Mother, I am home. I remove my coat and hang it on the rack. At the base of this Hickory, soft green Cedar fronds, border the huge Hickory in a semi-circle – concealing this sacred world from outsiders. Surely a magical thing. I shine brightly here in this dimly lit ins-tree-tution. I shine brighter. My secret safe palace, holding me sacred. I play. Alone, at peace. At once. Secluded from the jagged edges of life and dreaded doom. Stuffing myself into it’s humid warmth. All is lost in the wind circling, swirling.
Oh the cleansing wind. Blowing fantasy fulfillment. Take away everything, everybody. Dispose of them, I won’t mind. Discharging my death-wish fantasies into the open palms of these two grounded lovelies. Into these trees. Make it happen – I whisper. The howling winds, snow, rain, hail – experienced only as sound and sights. Destruction cannot touch me. I am only an observer. For once. I hunker into the safety of this energetic earth shield.
Hickory and Cedar, the finest bouncers, guard the entry like a rabid wolverine. I am grateful, if just for a moment. I am filled with wonder. What small creatures have also found solace here? I can’t be the only one… Under the watchful eye of Wise Woman. Mother Earth oversees this changing landscape, recording my fears, wonder, cries, rants, whispers. She never tells. She, for sure, can be trusted to hold and transmute all that ails. Offering me anonymity as I unload my bags. A long held fantasy, sleeping in here, energetically bathed in her light and love, protected, invincible. I will never leave.
I emerge so much more. Grown under the watchful eye of the elders.
Don’t mind me, I’m just living my best life. As a woman, my natural state of being is confident, sensual, powerful, WILD. And get out of my way cause I’m feeling all of it. Something about this cool crisp air, flushing out the stagnant left over summer heat. It fans the embers of my soul. Embers that glow unapologetically, especially when everything around me is going to shit. I’m not trying to dumb down my joy orconnection with spirit because someone else is suffering with debt, disease or divorce. I do give a shit but trust that I can still feel amazing even tho I’m surrounded with suffering.
I’m sure I could come up with something to torment myself over – 30 lbs overweight, seasonal allergies, nerve pain in my left ass cheek 🤪 or whathaveyou- but oh well, instead I’d rather fill my senses with the little, plentiful pleasures in life. Thoselovely sensory field trips such as walking barefoot in the grass, wearing a fitted dress and heels for no reason, putting on a juicy orange-red lipstick, creating a fresh picked wild flowerwreath for my head, sitting in the garden with my eyes closed…You know, simple, delicious shit becauseI matter. Because there are no guarantees. Because Idon’t care if anyone approves. Because only I can do this for myself.
Be fabulous. Be a Queen or King. If just for a moment. If just for today. Anyways.