Cookies, Chaos, Kali, Mangrove Swamps, and the Chicken Whole Foods Forgot

song du jour:White, Naomi (NOT Judd)

mood: smirking

Skyler and I went to Whole Foods today for the express purpose of buying chicken to fry tomorrow night when the Cookie Monster comes to dinner, only to get home and discover the dork packing my groceries left it out. Whole Foods, however, is like a guy with a clue: they screw up (This is the second time this month they've left out a crucial item that I'd paid for.), but they know how to charm me and make it right. They just delivered the missing poultry.

Waiting for me in my inbox when I returned was a notification from the Grenadan Environmental Agency, alerting me that they were experiencing an unprecedented growth of a new species of conch that had apparently formed in the bikini bottoms I lost in a mangrove swamp 4 years ago. Said species has been renamed in my honor. How kind, but relatively unrepeatable. Hey, I was learning to snorkel... ok, so most people don't manage to loose their bathing suits alone in the water learning to snorkel... let's just say it is dangerous to dare V to do anything as my dare/competitive/challenge line of intelligence hovers somewhere around the egocentric level of development. Fortunately, Nordstrom sells bathing suits as separates and therefore as replaceable parts, plus that's the only way I could ever buy one to fit anyway.

Oddly enough, he, who dared me to snorkel au naturel, popped into my head this afternoon filed under the category, it's been 6 months since I last had word if the nut was still afloat. I've never been particularly fabulous at being friends after breaking up, but occasionally whatever sparked intelligent dialog in the first place has been worth keeping after disaster struck, even if at a very safe distance.

I'll admit this is where it gets a little weird. When I began blogging, I made several rules. If I'm willing to write it, I'm willing to leave it up no matter how much a cringe later, and I make no apologies for what I post. Not to sound hyper-masculine about it all ;-) but blogging is a practice in creativity, honesty, and integrity, where I will always be willing to embarrass myself but insist on at least trying to take the high road when blogging about others. That's a convoluted way of saying that, for the first time, I'm blogging about a current relationship and still running my mouth about old friends and past loves. Call it a deepening of the practice of still being (bad little) me with even greater awareness.

Now that I am seeing someone, there is this sudden push to delve back into David Deida's work with renewed enthusiasm. I believe it was Dan, who blogged what the rest of us have only sarcastically muttered, that until Deida writes the Enlightened Sex for One manual, it's easy to get abut 2/3 through such books before flinging them against the wall in extreme frustration. Now I'm all over the Bluetruth podcasts that recently came out. Get your Deida fast and free!

Yesterday, as I listened 'Lovelight,' I was struck (as in by a brick wall between my eyes) at Deida's description of Kali energy. As he puts it, when a woman goes into a wild rage (think hurricane) and a man dismisses, ignores, or acts patronizing about it (a stage 2 response such as I don't want to deal with your anger, so let's just be quiet and civilized about it all), the man is negating the woman's sexuality. It doesn't even have to be a man. How many times have I heard my mother say, "Just calm down, and discuss this rationally with me," and what message does this send? (It's ok. She's off blogs for now.) Love and the Divine Feminine are many things. Rational probably isn't high on the list.

Believe me, I can summon up my inner Kali with no problem, even as I usually remember to use the odd bit of skillful means to make sure that my personal hurricane is not just abuse, as the team leader from Whole Foods, who sent my chicken just now, will tell you. The first thought that entered my head when listening to Deida's talk was the episode I blogged about last fall when, some trip after my aiding the new species of conch, I summoned up Kali and started hurling paperbacks at the captain. See? Paperbacks. Temper tempered. Kali chose not to damage the lovely woodwork with airborne hardbacks. (She can also throw a paperback harder.) When I feel I haven't been heard, or more likely, when I've been afraid to speak for too long, emotions and sometimes objects fly. Kali has never had a problem showing up, but V has long had vast amounts of shame and confusion that she's there.

Now having said that I still consider the target to be a friend, I'm not just taking the passive aggressive approach to bringing this up again. Rather, I was struck by the synchronicity of my finally Hearing what Deida had to say on the subject and the hello, glad you're doing well in my inbox. It was freak validation and none too soon, given that this time yesterday I was ranting on the phone to the CM that some stupid chick, who had cut Skyler's and my hair ok in the past, had just chopped my bangs off too short and uneven. (Thank heavens I didn't have her trim the back!!!) Forget that I used to wear them like this 4 years ago (shorter but even!). As of today, they are simply WRONG, and yet even as I said so, I felt that I shouldn't be saying any of this to the wonderfully understanding, struggling to say all the right things CM. I take all that don't appear insecure, Deida says keep the polarities and watch what you talk about with your mate stuff far too seriously and far too much to heart even as I'm listening to the podcasts of him, suggesting that these concepts be held lightly, and in my loony perfectionism, I am apt to forget the joy of a friend turned lover with whom I've always felt I could talk about anything and everything no matter how cerebral, how theoretical, how dirty, or how goofy.

It's a bit freakishly fabulous to find so many things in my life going so right. I'm perpetually struck by the contrast of old patterns that surface with no place to fit and leave the unfolding situations of my life like brown socks at a black tie affair. 3 near perfect performances, a national TV appearance, high end work selling well again even as metal prices soar, the first ever check in my mailbox for writing, a child, who looks at the change due on a cash register and tells me instantly and flawlessly which presidents I'm about to get back (I have to look at the actual money to know that.), and a Rock, who's squishy in the right places and has a boyish grin that makes my knees go weak. ...and in 2 weeks my bangs will look right again. ;-)