to all the men i've loved before...

the first was my high school boyfriend: sweet, patient, and caring well beyond his years. he held me through my pain and saved my life. but around 18 i outgrew him and, unfortunately, broke his heart...

i essentially left him for N., my first (and last) long distance relationship. he was my introduction to the power of a spiritual connection and the nature of true, adult love. he was also my first soulmate, with a voice i described as "honey, laced with brandy". i listened to this song for hours on end, missing him...

 in the year it took me to heal from our separation, i cried over this one...

one summer, i came home from school and met A. he was a virgo, my perfect opposite. hard working, kind, and full of the street. a dedicated father despite some baby mama drama.

his contribution? lust.

if N. helped awaken my spirit and mind, A. lit up my body. i think i have a soft spot for this song 'cause it reminds me of all those nights i risked my mother's side eye of death to tell her i wasn't comin home...

then there was C., my other half and accidental muse. ideal mate one moment, bane of my existence the next. he seamlessly weaved N.'s and A.'s gifts into an intense, six-month affair that wound up lasting almost ten years, off and on. gave me music, movies, beautiful dreams and more sleepless, tearful nights than i can count.

and, finally, W., whose lesson i'm still trying to learn. the first time i heard this song, i cried. what he'd been trying to say all along was finally crystal clear ...

...but my needs outpaced his learning curve, and our house fell down.

now i'm alone with this history, satisfied with the memory of being well-loved and thankful for the gifts i've been given. like nina sang:

i have been a rover
i have walked alone
hiked a hundred highways
never found a home
still in all i'm happy
the reason is, you see
once in a while along the way
love's been good to me...

one day, when i'm ready, i'll write a letter to the one who's on his way...

longing, part 2

i was in a peculiar place when i spit out last night's blog, but i wanted to document it. i'm into my contradictions right now.

however, i'd like to set the record straight: despite my bitching and moaning, i know how to do all of those things, and have accomplished most of them several times over.

for instance, this morning i was reminded that i do know i'm beautiful.

not that i'll be on anyone's magazine cover any time soon--you have no idea how difficult it is for me to take a picture i like--and i'd probably fail a screen test.

but i can turn heads when i want to.
i use what i've got. well.

part of my recovery seems to involve consciously falling back in love with myself.

it's a good feeling. i turn myself on. i lovingly acknowledge my curves and delightfully imperfect perfections whenever i pass my mirror(s) naked. i dig that about myself. it's a key element in my ability to attract adoring, attentive lovers.

still, when i'm in relationship, the glow gets reserved for very specific moments and situations. otherwise, the vibes i emit from sharing my ecstasy and joy pull all kinds of extraneous folk into my orbit. it becomes too much to think about at once; i fall in love with one and want to be in love with all.

i wrap myself in insulation when i'm playing monogamist. conversely, my aura fairly hums when i'm freely sampling the dessert tray.

ultimately it will be interesting to experiment with polishing my shine while acknowledging how it's changed. i'm older, wiser, and have a harder shell to crack.

what kinds of delights will come knocking on my door?



i wanna write something awe-inspiring and beautiful.

i want to be sensual, appealing, full of myself.

i wanna smile at a pretty man and have him buy me a drink. then dance with a completely different, but still lovely, man.

i wanna laugh with old friends and meet new, interesting, intriguing ones.

i wanna sip tequila and soak my feet in the ocean.

i want a clean, clutter-free, sweet-smelling house.

i wanna drive somewhere pleasurable and fun for a week.

...but all i can do is stare blankly at the computer screen, full of wishes and dreams; numb with fatigue and consumed by the hunger.

what a mess.

i'm gonna get this right one day.



i had dairy today. probably more than i should've. but i don't plan on making it a habit. that was the first time in awhile that convenience has trumped conviction, though.

...having said that, i've been eating pretty horribly overall the last week or so. blame my crazy ass work schedule.

my bed no longer feels comfortable or comforting. i want a new comforter. i probably need new sheets, too. one of the items on my desire list is a set of ridiculously indulgent/expensive bed linens.

i haven't been drinking enough water.

spring's working on me. i sense my man-lust creeping back. at the same time i'm wary of even a slight flirtation. besides, i don't have the energy right now to maintain anything of the sort. but i need a few decent, person-to-person orgasms...

he says he thinks he's dying. and i'm worried. what would i do without him...

i feel like i'm never gonna start this cleansing regimen. or clean my house. there's always something in my way or on my mind...

i'm enjoying my new book.

my exhaustion is making my interactions feel forced. the days run together.

i'm a little pissed i don't get paid til tuesday.

...i know that post kinda fell off a cliff. that's sorta how i'm feeling at the moment.


me, myself & i: omo oshun, (un)reformed courtesan, student of erzulie and lover of the virgin

warning: contains triggers.

inspired by a comment conversation from this post over at incredible juju.

#8-9 on the list.


before kindergarten, i knew what sex felt like. i knew i wasn't supposed to, but somehow--along with the trauma and the misplaced emotions and all the rest--i gleaned some things from it.

i've spoken about the details, but sparkle's blog got me thinking about the lessons i learned from one of my underworld initiations.

let me make this crystal clear at the commencement: i am in NO way suggesting that anyone should go through this. it is not a desirable situation by any means, in any way shape or form.

however, as part of my healing, and as with most things in my life, i had to come to understand it as something that had happened in order to shape me in some way. i had to learn from it.

it has shaped me, and i have learned. how i knew it as a pain-drunk 16/17 year old considering cutting herself just to get through the day and how it has evolved over the years through my study of self, womanhood, and woman-centered spirituality have been vastly different, but all part of who i am.

that said, i am now certain that it has informed and formed my attachment and attraction to men. there were instincts raised in me that, under normal circumstances, probably wouldn't have come into being until i was a teenager or woman in my 20s.

i had "strange" urges that i learned to fulfill alone, as a secret. there were none of the more innocent "if you show me yours, i'll show you mine..." moments. i felt like i knew way too much to get into anything like that, so i'm glad the opportunity never presented itself--at least not to my recollection.

none of it made much sense until i got into books like aphrodite's daughters and read stories of women who had not been molested, but also felt these things. women who had been sexual and sensual from a very early age, but (for the most part) blessedly spared the years of therapy and the other pain i endured.

although i must say, being an unapologetically sexual woman in a patriarchal socio-psychological context comes with its own struggles and pains--something the daughters of oshun, aphrodite, venus, het heru and all the other love goddesses know well. the womb-deep, watery knowledge never went away, and neither did the power of the pussy portal. only our circumstances have changed.

the first time my mother saw it in action--i, not even a pre-teen, flirted with the boyfriend of a college-aged cousin on a family vacation--she didn't explain what might have been happening so much as scare me out of it (the dangers of strange men, etc.). she was right to put some fear in me, but, in hindsight, i would have preferred a conversation about who i was becoming. i think that seeing me exude that energy with some measure of skill at that age scared her, and she acted out of fear.

but, for whatever reason, i liked him. of course i wouldn't have known what to do with him, and he was probably thinking "who is this kid?", but it felt good to make him pay attention to me. to wield that kind of power, even without a woman's obvious attributes.

fast forward a few years, and i learn that there's something about me that men like. i seem to repel guys my age, but the ones 5, 7, or a decade older are interested, sometimes overly so. and i liked them, too, long as they weren't old enough to be my dad.

i recall another incident: it was during a trip home from college, if memory serves. a friend of the family threw a pool party and i openly flirted with a 30-something year old man who, an hour or so into the conversation, almost didn't believe i was as young as i said i was. my mother was present then, too, but didn't fuss this time.

i've always attributed their interest to my figure, not my face. most days i describe myself as "moderately attractive", but i've assumed that what they're really attracted to is my figure: model height with amazonian curves, ample bra size, birthin' hips, shapely legs, and, for a black woman, some unique coloring.

during my healing, this attraction frightened and repulsed me. i didn't know what to do with it, whether or not i should say "no"--i wasn't in any danger, right?--etc.

no one taught me how to use my sensuality or that it was even there. i was told to be careful since i was a "big" (read: curvy) girl. between my mom and health class, i knew the ins and outs of safer sex & avoiding pregnancy & std's, but no one got personal about it.

the point of the story is this: male attention can be worked over and diffused. it doesn't have to scare you into a corner, or make you feel slimy, even if the guy is.

eventually, i learned how to flirt with a man and leave him smiling--without my phone number and sometimes without even a name.

saying "no" can be as sweet as birdsong or jarring as a rape whistle, and equally effective in either situation.

i can allow, disallow, engage, and repel all in the same moment, if i choose.

my side eye doubles as the evil eye in emergency situations.

i get the same respect & attention whether i'm in a sweatshirt and jeans or a cleavage-shattering blouse and tight trousers. it all depends on how my light's shining.

...but all that came with its price.

...what ppl don't tell you is the disclaimer: innocence doesn't really get lost, just violated. stolen from. afterwards, it hangs around the victim trying to remember what it was, and all its requisite pain must be given its due respect and expression.

~me, april 2007

suggested reading
~the temple of my familiar
~mama gena
~aphrodite's daughters (link in entry)
~sisters of the yam
~intercourse (for the other extreme...)
~the color purple
~our bodies, ourselves


moon dreams...

i was on a bus or van on the way to some kind of event, and remembered that i needed call queen afua, or someone like her.

she asks how my healing is going and what i've been doing, and i tell her that although i haven't started my detox plan, i'm having my first non-irritating cycle in months and that i've realigned with the full moon. she loved that, and spent a few moments giving thanks. i told her that i planned to start on the detox next week...

she told me i was doing well, and that i should continue to treat myself with care. i asked when she would be in the area again, but she wasn't sure. she assured me that she would be in touch, and i told her i'd return the gesture. and that was that...

i don't know if you've ever been on the "phone" in a dream, but it's always strange. like a cell phone with a crappy connection. you miss some things, but you hear what you really need to clear as a bell. sometimes things will repeat for you, like a record or cd.

i don't know who she was, or why she came in the guise of queen afua (probably so i would know that she was a healer...), but i am grateful to know that i'm being cared for and assisted by the spirit world.

maferefun egbe mi.


my twenties are over...

...and it feels good.

just wanted to get something in with this date on it. *smile*.

i'll write more when i have time. it's waaay past bedtime...



i saw jill scott in concert this weekend, and she was phenomenal. these days it's rare to hear a voice so flawless and clear, in or out of the studio. not only that, but her rapport with the audience is fantastic.

but i wasn't feelin' it like i should have.

typically live shows are transcendent for me. i love the feeling of a stadium or concert hall full of folks sharing the same experience, the way our energy fuels the artist, the live instruments...all of it.

but...i'm realizing that i'm still quite numb. dulled. i've lost a good deal of my shine.

i see glimmers here and there. there are vague memories of my laughing, fabulously flirtatious self. i miss her terribly.

i'm sure that once the sun comes back for good and the temperature is hovering around 70-80 degrees, i'll begin to ease out of my shell a little faster. i can't resist sun-kisses.

and, i must say that i'm grateful for this transition coming when it did--it'd be awful to contend with if winter were just beginning.

this year, spring feels like a true renewal. nothing wrong with that.


bountiful woman

i stumbled across this sista's myspace page just now and found this:


You are a bountiful woman and if you had
been born in the Motherland among your
Matabele cousins, you would give birth on
one day and the next day strap your newborn
infant to your back, lift your fifty pounds of
wares with ease, carry them to the market to
display your new child and laugh and sing!

You would sit proudly on the Tribal Council
to keep the frivolous men in line and when aged,
be surrounded by your plentiful progeny,
on feast days you would sing songs of love, marriage,
plentiful crops, occasional famine and tell the tribal
history in your songs and tales.

But, your fate has been to be born into a
nation that worships females that resemble
an adolescent boy with breasts instead
of singing songs of blissful union, you tell
tales of unrequited love.

Be patient, Bountiful Woman, because
Somewhere out here is a man who will love
You precisely because there is so much
Of you and you will dance with him and
Sing songs of joyous love!

she credits "Baba Sam" with those words...


there's a lot to write and nothing to say all at once.

the week's been a long one, even though i decided on tuesday that i wasn't going to go in on friday.

i'm holding on to the peace and meditative stillness i enjoyed last week. it hasn't been easy, but only because i'm no longer surrounded by flowers and green, growing things. i can feel the absence of nature and how the earth is still sleeping on this side of the continent. still, i'm grateful that the feeling has stayed with me.

as i walked to "lunch" (it was 4pm, so i suppose that's more an early dinner...), a cute dude on a bike smiled at me. i got that instantaneous tingle that happens when a man looks at me, really looks at me, and i see something in him i know i could like. it's been awhile.

so spring's in the air after all.

being able to do something as simple as walk with my coat open and a light scarf gave me an intense amount of joy.

still fighting the good fight as far as the dairy's concerned, although i didn't realize that the delicious noodles i had this afternoon would have an egg dropped in. i had a burrito, too--which, mind you, was not overly cheesy. there was also crab rangoon on sunday. i was just being willful then. but that's the first cheese i've had in weeks, and i have been making conscious choices to avoid it whenever possible.

next week i'll start phase 2 of the purge/cleanse. by then, the pre-cycle cravings and hunger should have subsided.

i have noticed that i no longer breathe very deeply. i don't remember when it started. when i notice, i consciously take a deep breath. it doesn't feel like quite enough, but it's a step. that's going to be a process.

i also don't laugh as loudly or as long as i once did. i need to find things and people that help me with that.

...see? lots to say...about nothing.

but i'm also trying to get back to the words, and you gotta start somewhere...


that's liberation, and, baby, i want it... (c) goodie mob

my mother called me a "truly liberated woman" last night.

honey--who is now, for all intents and purposes, an ex--sent me a message asking if i still wanted to go away for memorial day weekend, adding that it didn't have to be "romantic" or anything.


months ago, he mentioned that he had a free plane ticket from some work related travel or something, and months ago we were supposed to use it as part of a trip to go somewhere.

clearly, the moment has passed.

i calmly said something to the effect of no, i didn't think that was a good idea and that he should do something nice for himself.

when i told my mother, she said, "you're a truly liberated woman. i'd have said 'come on, let's go'." i'm sure she was at least 60% kidding, but still.

i'm tired.

he wants us to be "cool".

i told him that until i could look at him and NOT see all of the disappointment, loneliness, frustration, emotional fatigue and everything else that led to the end of this relationship, there was no way we could be "cool". i hope that one day we can be, but i'm far too angry for that now.

i think that i've mourned the relationship enough over the years that tears and heartbreak are the least of my worries.

it's the rage.

the sense that i've wasted prime childbearing years and creative energy and spark for something that tried for far too long to resemble a true, adult relationship. i fear becoming cynical, resentful, bitter. afraid of trying again when a true, beneficial opportunity presents itself because, well, they're not all dogs, but all of 'em MIGHT be messed up little boys searching for mothers, a proverbial teat to suck dry, or proud, card-carrying members of the kingdom of n*ggadom...

*end rant*

i'll always love him. i know that. he is, at heart, a good person. i want to like him again, maybe share a friendly dinner or cup of tea. we always got along, and we had fun together. all told, there was genuine love, affection, friendship and lesson-learning in it. i'm trying to stay mindful and grateful of that.

but my deep, gut-feeling womanness has been scorned. not only that, she's lost track of some vital bits and pieces of herself.

the reclamation is what's important now--not reaching out to someone who's already drained me dry repeatedly.

i gotta move on...


need a laugh?

thanks to the fury for this one (yes, i have guilty pleasures...ha).

good god...


#4: joy, peace and serenity despite circumstances

(see: the list)

well, i'm back from beautiful california.

i hardly know what day it is, and daylight savings isn't helping my jet lag at all, but i am full of gratitude and peace.

i was on a business trip at a retreat center just outside san francisco, so there was definitely work involved, but i also had time to be quiet and open myself to healing.

just before leaving, i was distraught. after the white water rapids ride my life's been the last couple of months, the last thing i wanted was to have to pack up and go to the west coast.

but when we landed and i stepped off the plane, it was green and warm with flowers everywhere...i was immediately enchanted.

the center's gardens were filled with all kinds of surprises:

a celtic cross with a mossy, impossibly green grass planted in front of it that i just had to stand on barefoot;

st. francis standing in the hollows of trees;

a buddha holding blessed blades of grass in his arms;

the perfume of hundreds of flowers--always different depending on where you were sitting or standing, sometimes dependent on the direction of the wind;

a beautiful labyrinth.

there were even sequoias--i real treat for a (rather literal) tree-hugger. i never thought i'd see one.

i attended a transcendent taize service and reconnected with a spirit guide i haven't seen since i was a child.

...and it would take forever to tell you about all the wonderful people i had the opportunity to meet. my last day there, i realized that i had learned quite a bit about how i want to operate as a priest and a woman on a spiritual path just by being in the presence of this group of deeply human, deeply committed individuals.

i knew i needed renewal, but i wasn't sure how i would get it without an expensive plane ticket and a whole lot of time (that i didn't have) off work.

god/dess is so good to me. this job has already repaid me several times over for the extra early mornings and commuting hassles. may it continue to do so.

my ori is securely aligned with my heart, hands and feet.

i can begin to breathe deeply and pray again, secure in the knowledge that i have the power to manifest the bliss i want.

my dreams are back.
my egbe is with me.
i am well on my way to happiness.



in praise of her

brand spanking new (9/2007):

after many prayers and incancations
offerings of sweet things
all-night candle burnings
and various miscellany...

in the name of the divine feminine
for the centuries they tried to erase her face, her ways, and her blessings.
may she live forever in our hearts.

endings are never easy...

after all this time, i am horrified at the idea of being alone.

although i become more certain each day that i want out of my relationship, i don't want to lose his friendship. in many ways, that's what the relationship has become for me: an elaborate, complicated friendship that works beautifully as long as we don't try to turn it into a true partnership.

i love being his friend. i love loving him for its own sake.
but that doesn't guarantee a future.

i am not crying because my heart is broken, i'm crying because i can't work with this thing anymore; there is nothing else i can do to breathe life into it, and there's nothing i want you to do to resurrect it, either.

i'm crying because i have no idea how to make you hear me. so i just listen to you tell me what you need me to know. what i already know. what doesn't make a difference anymore, no matter how sincere it is.

even my other half can't heal me this time. as soon as he has some change in his pocket, he'll be gone again. these days, he's too empty to replenish me.

my life is changing, and i have no idea what direction the wind will blow me in.

i want to lock my love away, never to be seen or felt again.
(...if i didn't have so much osun in me, that just might work.)

i'm afraid of who might find the key next. what he'll do. what he won't. how hard i could fall this time.

am i lucky enough to have a next time?

i feel simultaneously betrayed, enlightened, lifted, and crushed.

the meaning of many, many things is lost to me.

my heart chakra aches.

the womb tea, cleansing and prayers are working. the debris is being swept from my path.

something's telling me to finish the book. maybe it's the only way to be truly free, the path back to creativity.

either way, i don't have time to wallow.
the cleaning needs to be finished today.
the clothes need washing.
the closets need clearing.

i have to work at making space. again.