Compelled to Love

Why do you resist feeling compelled to love me?
I have never felt anything so strange in my life,
As though summer turned to winter or the countries
south of the equator were now north of the equator.
It’s unnatural and strange.

I feel compelled to love everyone I meet.
I don’t expect everyone to be that way
It’s just the way I’ve always been because
It feels natural to me.

Yet no matter how kind I am to you or how much
we have in common, you remain detached from me unlike at first.
You saw that you couldn’t control me and lost interest.
Or, I’m not supposed to be kind to a black sheep,
Which is what you’ve called yourself.

You love your little cocoon of darkness.
I think you’re attached to that cocoon and have built a habitual,
Impenetrable world around being a rebel, closed, badly behaved,
And throwing the finger up every chance you get
Just so you don’t have to do the work of defining yourself… yourself.
The family is in charge. That’s easier and boring.

Oh, and there is no God.
That’s easier too because then you have to
make everything happen alone and there are
no messy details about cooperating or being accountable.

It’s ultimately lazy not to love yourself and others
and instead, react to every damn thing you disagree
with, in middle age no less!
It’s actually downright repellent which is just what you want;
more hate which is the only thing you express about the world.

But those who agree with you or laud you get a big… pink… heart.
For that reason, I don’t want to agree with you.
The world would be a perfect place if you were in control, right?
You’re not in control. You don’t even control or like yourself.

No. I don’t respect you anymore because you don’t love anyone
that’s different than you yet you pretend you love justice.
It’s fake! You’re just full of bullshit no matter how smart you are.

I’m done.
And this time, I don’t feel compelled to love you…at all.
Does that make me a hater?
It feels like it.

I guess if we need someone to love us back,
It isn’t really love at all.
Only fully loving ourselves and others
Unconditionally is real love because the Source is inside.
I’m thinking we need to just do this compromised
level of love down here and lie about it,
Not the ideal one.

I may have to dumb it down this year and play along with indolence.
Just let myself be wrecked and keep writing
And let someone else try to love better than me. Good.
Let me just see if evil can win. That’s what everyone believes.
I’ll test it.

I’m pretty sure I’ll cry garbage on all the left-wing resistors
With their utopian fists in the air.
They’re no different than the right-wing who do the same thing;
Politics doesn’t fix anything.
It doesn’t seem like Love does either…
unless the majority are doing it.

But it might not be a quantity in numbers thing.
©Lisa K. Townsend, 4/16/2018

Women and Men Express Love Differently

I’ve noticed on FB threads and my blogs that women like to hear my thoughts far more than men. Men want us to be quiet. That doesn’t mean we’re going to be but I’m approaching it from a biological brain difference. Men can only take so much talking.  Most women can’t get enough. Over twenty years I’ve observed the energy and bodies of men and women and found that women need to talk but men don’t usually want to listen or talk. Hopefully, if your man does need to talk, he knows he can talk to you and you’ll be understanding. That should be reciprocated on occasion.
Men literally need our bodies or body language to communicate to us. We need their love (male heart vibe). So, men express love physically, not verbally. Women express love mentally and emotionally because that’s what we each need. Men live in their minds with each other. Women live in their bodies with each other and it can be overkill either way.😌 I think that’s part of why humans tend to be heterosexual (male and female living together). I know I couldn’t handle living with a woman, sex or no sex. I’m woman enough for myself.
Do women hear men’s silent body language to us or do we assume it’s shallow objectification? Do men hear a woman’s feelings in her tone of voice and writing or do they just hear static blather? Sometimes neither one of us is listening but judging by our own bias instead.

I Just Realized…

…that I’ve either presented myself to be objectified by a man or turned around and objectified a man in revenge for societal objectification my entire adult life. A man can chase me and demand sex from me and that is as it should be right?… but I can’t turn around and do the same to him just because I’m female. It’s too direct. Feel that fear and sting guys, when a strong woman objectifies you and asserts herself because she’s got the hots for you? It’s dehumanizing and overpowering and that’s what we’re supposed to accept from you…all the fucking time. Two can play the control game and women do! It repels most men and statistics prove it because nature makes females receptive…or does it? See, we don’t know anymore.

No doubt, this may be the case for most of us because it’s the way we’ve been socialized. Because I live alone now, I can finally feel myself and see myself.  It’s amazing!

My father objectified all of us as a dyed in the wool misogynist; my mother and my three sisters. There was no love there. My mother in turn, as a true misandrist,  in resentment, taught us to use and objectify men. “Women are just better people,” she said. I know a few feminists that would agree with her. Men are good for money, sex, and giving us babies if we play the game; that’s it. Neither one of them has ever changed their story and there is no belief in love possible between the genders.

I know that many people have seen their parents or grandparents love each other or other couples love each other but I don’t think most people have. The divorce rate and disintegration of the family is a testimony to that despite the posturing on FB and Disney movies. Human life is cheap and each gender first suspects that the reason for talking to the opposite sex is to ultimately use them for sex or money, not friendship.

Also, though, my whole adult life, I’ve held as a value, as an ideal, a human awakening, a deep feeling where somehow, someone, somewhere, in the universe, or on this planet will show me how to behold a man as just another human being and not a predator. I know men think women are predators too but they barely talk about it. They’ve said it to me about other women!

I have no problem wanting humaneness. I don’t see it, but I hold it as an ideal.  Women and men are human beings first. I desperately want to believe and see that in my world. There’s no sexual tension there though is there? What a conundrum, our damn brains.

Where is the top ridge, higher up the mountain where we can put the programming of gender, whether based in biology or not, down in the valley where one day it will just flood and wash it away?  I want, with all of my heart, to just have a friend that I love.  Frankly, I don’t care if I ever have sex again if we can just stop running from one another in fear and distrust because of hurt from the past. If we can just stop using sex and seeing sex as a control game, a power game, a thieving of energy rather than sharing. Why must we suck energy off of one another instead of sharing our true selves? Why do we have to compete? Why can’t we both have great ideas perceived in different ways? Why can’t we just be kind to one another?

I’m at zero.  I really am.

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Woman’s Intuition Gone Awry

The Female Price of Male Pleasure

by Lili Loofbourow

Female price of male pleasure

One of the compliments girls get most as kids is that they’re pretty; they learn, accordingly, that a lot of their social value resides in how much others enjoy looking at them. They’re taught to take pleasure in other people’s pleasure in their looks. Indeed, this is the main way they’re socially rewarded.

This is also how women are taught to be good hosts. To subordinate their desires to those of others. To avoid confrontation. At every turn, women are taught that how someone reacts to them does more to establish their goodness and worth than anything they themselves might feel.”

I hope you clicked on the link above and at least skimmed this article.  I found it to be another one of those disturbing ones. This quote from the article, for instance, is very true.  But I have never chosen to be with the type of man that would be that inconsiderate of my body.  Is the author suggesting that women don’t have a choice in the type of partner she chooses?  That’s ludicrous.

I wish we lived in a world that encouraged women to attend to their bodies’ pain signals instead of powering through like endurance champs. It would be grand if women (and men) were taught to consider a woman’s pain abnormal; better still if we understood a woman’s discomfort to be reason enough to cut a man’s pleasure short.”

I wouldn’t give a man with this type of attitude the time of day.  I might even give him some grief! Men don’t have the right to cause us any type of pain and we don’t have the right to cause them any type of pain either!  This is a human issue.

My nineteen-year-old son swears to me that his generation has quite a different attitude toward sex.  Yet, as his mother, I really have never found him to be terribly respectful of me as a female.  He learned that from his hippie generation father who had mama issues.

But those aren’t actually the lessons society teaches — no, not even to “entitled” millennials. Remember: Sex is always a step behind social progress in other areas because of its intimacy.”

I’m not sure what she means here but it could have to do with the expression of emotions.  That is something that you definitely are raised to do or not do. My son has always expressed his feelings so I can only hope he will listen to his female partners’ feelings as well.  I can’t imagine it to be any other way, but who knows.

This article is well worth the read and I’m still chewing on it.  The short of it is that woman’s intuition needs to come UP when it comes to her body.  The days of patriarchy and misogynist men dictating to us our physical reality are ending.  It needs to end! I have never hesitated to speak up and communicate what I like and what I want to my male partner and have had a pretty good sex life because of that. I notice that as I take care of my body better and can move better, I feel more confident.  All of that is completely within my control and I encourage women to take care of themselves, focus on what they want for their bodies and move forward with that instead of blaming men and society for issues that are fully within their control if they’ll just focus their will and mind.

 

I Want the Music a Little Louder

I want the music a little louder,

for our kiss to last longer,

to breathe a little deeper and drink more coffee.

I want more swing to the jazz and a louder back beat and

to dance a bit longer and sing with our friends,

Let’s finish that bottle of wine and stay together

because tomorrow is not promised

and I have to look at your face as much as possible.

kissing

Esperanza Spalding

 

This is a gorgeous song written and performed by Esperanza.  Have a listen.

I was taking a break tonight from reading my new book, “Synchronicity”, decided to go pick up a snack.  I was in the dark car and felt like playing with serendipity and not actually “choose” the CD there in the dark.  I reached for whatever and popped this in.  I skipped forward, driving along, and it landed on this song that I hadn’t listened to for a year and a half.

I got as far as the next street and realized the last time I listened to this was when my mate Michael was alive, a year ago.  He was on life support a year ago from March 2nd-March 13th, 2016 for pneumonia.

We had planned on getting married, totally enjoyed each others company, never fought (seriously), laughed all the time and were in love.  Sure there were a few hitches but not many!  We were both convinced we were twin flames; two peas in a pod.

Yeah, that pod exploded when Michael died within fifteen minutes of walking out my front door.  I got him to the ER in a matter of 10 minutes, he got wheeled into the ER, passed out and stopped breathing five minutes later.  He never regained consciousness.  His lungs gave out that quickly.  The rest of the story is in the book I wrote about the synchronicity in my life, not all around death of course.

As I listened to this song, I remembered back to all the thoughts and feelings I had planning my future with Michael, now gone.  But I never really heard or processed the part about “the dream” because when I knew Michael I couldn’t relate to it.  I always wondered about the meaning though.  Now I know the meaning.

They say if you die in a dream, you die in real life.

Well I just died in your arms, lost in your eyes.

And I know this must be a dream, cause I feel I could fly to heaven.

They say if you live in a dream you’re hopelessly lost.

But this ain’t a silly ole’dream, our paths have crossed

And maybe I’m hopelessly lost but somehow I managed to find…

heaven.

Where was I, feeling this song and these words tonight?  With him or here in my life on Earth?   Michael did find “heaven”.  I’m still here. but Michael is still with me.  I can feel it when he’s here, so part of “the other dimension” is with me.

I’m convinced that our minds and hearts can be aware of other dimensions no matter where we are.  Tonight it was in my face.  My mind literally could feel being between dimensions.  Synchronicity adjusts time and takes us wherever our minds want to be.

Just now, I heard him say, “I love you baby”.

 

 

Ready To Rumble For Bonding

 

femalewarrior

 

Fight.  I’m ready to rumble for bonding.

So…no phone or text and no e-mail.

E-mail?  How am I going to get my edits?…and I went through editing withdrawal.

Do you know what that’s like as a writer?  I thought my head would explode.

I’m going over there…To the HOUSE.

He says, “I can’t believe you came over here.”

I was cut off!  I had no communication choice to get my work done.

He was happy to see me!  Came close to me, right into my personal space.

He cleared a chair off for me quickly, searched and found out it was his cut off to usurp my threatened cut off when the edits were done, but not before.  He goofed up.  No apology.

He sent it, I didn’t receive it.

I started this with my boundaries and he was getting his back.

Guess what I’m going to do next?

I’m going to seriously date someone else I like.

I…am…NOT…doing hook-ups and booty calls

For the last half of my life as an adult!

I have the energy for this.

Ready to rumble for bonding.

Mind you, the energy of my body will be as receptive as a duckling

But my mind will be a steel trap.

 

 

 

 

It’s Better to Have Loved

You know the saying,

“It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”-Alfred Lord Tennyson

I have a new sense about it. If I love, anyone, for any length of time for any reason, my heart may break open but that is never a loss. I don’t feel that I’ve lost anything by loving but have gained. My soul is awakened by connection, care, and bonding.

What I lose is what I did not need; belief that I control that which I cannot; others and their feelings in addition to my feelings.  I lose the belief that I can control their movement, coming and going.  I lose ego, loneliness, radical independence, no connection, cynicism, even resentment for humans just because we can be weak!

All there is in the end is love. People say that all the time but I really feel I come from love and will eventually return to love. And love is what binds me together with all life forms.

So maybe my perception is that I’ve lost a lot in my life.  That has indeed been my perception. But if I’ve loved and learned in the midst of that I haven’t lost anything at all; I’ve gained the gift of my soul being broken open.

As a writer and an artist, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.  Now I have the rest of my life to tell stories and express how tragically beautiful that brokeness can be and how it’s the only path to wholeness.

No one gets to skate past being broken.  It’s pretty much what happens to everyone on this planet. We’re equal in that.

Susan Bauser, Artist