love – becki's a practicing human

finding home in our bodies (and its implications)

April 6, 2022April 6, 2022 BeckiLeave a comment

“Each day must remain an exploratory expedition. We must remain tourists on our home terrain.” – Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way Everyday

what does it mean to remain a tourist in our home? when i wonder about what my home is, i land on my body, which houses the most tangible parts of me.

i want to highlight a difference here between being a tourist versus a strange in the homeland of our bodies — with my study of somatics, i have come to the understanding that most of us are disconnected from our body most of the time. and not by accident or some sort of individual shortcoming, but by design.

as someone who grew up christian, the dominant means of relating to my body was through shame. which was compounded by a capitalist patriarchy that benefits from me believing my physical form is never good enough.

so finding home in my body is a process, one i often forget about.

one thing i know about my body, a fact of it i often cannot escape, is my sensitive gut. my stomach is often upset, at least mildly, and despite years of trying to manage it, it still perplexes me.

upon reflecting in this moment on the hyper-sensitivity of my gut, taking into consideration recent understandings around the gut as the “second brain,” it makes more sense to me.
i’m such a sensitive person at a core, energetic level, that it makes sense that my gut often senses things my brain doesn’t in any given moment.

i’ve also become adept at hiding certain feelings from myself, such as anxiety, fear, insecurity. you’d think in moments when i’m incessantly reassuring myself of how not anxious, scared, or insecure, i’d be able to recognize the writing on the wall..

moments when i have the willingness and capacity to show up for whatever internal struggle is waging inside me, i eventually root down to the same place, over and over again: to the core experience of being scared.

i don’t know why, but it still shocks me. because on a day-to-day basis, i don’t consciously experience this fear. i guess that’s a survival adaptation or something..

but when i do tap into it, when i allow myself to feel it, it’s immense.
it’s a fear of death, of rejection, of never being good enough, of not accomplishing the things i want in life.

i mean, i think if i were to really sit with it, it’d all ultimately come down to fears of death and loss, whether literal or metaphorical (there are worst things in life than literal death, that’s for sure.)

and i’m learning how to love myself through it. not because i’m trying to be all gushy positive over here, but because it’s the only force i know strong enough to help me breathe through the weight of it all… such as environmental collapse – death on a grand scale.. death that has been taking over for decades now..

i read a lovely Medium piece that speaks to omnicide and touches on why it can so hard to put our finger on the immense suffering all around us (and its impact on us)
i also listened to an indigenous woman talk about the ways in which we experience the massive pain of environmental destruction, even if we’re in denial of it
i’m reminded of a tik tok in which the speaker reminded everyone that no one is okay, especially the ones pretending they are right now
and then a quote comes to mind: “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.”― J. Krishnamurti

i have newfound appreciation for people who are real about the times that we’re in, which is pre-collapse. we are in the midst of life as we know it winding down (crashing might be more appropriate), and a new world that we have no idea how to interact with, relate to, or survive in emerging.. it’s a mindfuck of a time, that’s for sure.

and none of us are prepared. correction: *most* of us aren’t..

it’s a very strange time, this sleepwalking towards apocalypse..

and yet, maybe that’s the most human thing to do..
OR more accurately, the powers that be are too good at distracting us, at keeping us so worn down we can’t see beyond the day-to-day grind of survival.. ya, i like that better, because it refrains from blaming the general populace for the corruption and destruction of merely a few..

…

i approached the page today with not much to say, not much to share — i feel out of it, foggy brained. so i’m grateful for how far i’ve managed to make it.

with that being said, i’m going to wrap it up here.

and i want to be clear that i don’t share all of this to be bleak or depressing or hopeless. i believe there’s so much room for the potential of what comes next. i understand the connection between destruction and rebirth, which we so desperately need..

i wish i had an offering for today, but for now, all i have is my love.. and my commitment to doing this with you, this scary life thing.

maybe together, we can be brave.

i’ll leave you with some words from Melissa Febos:
“I don’t mean to argue that writing personally is for everyone. What I’m saying is: don’t avoid yourself. The story that comes calling might be your own and it might not go away if you don’t open the door. I don’t believe in writer’s block. I only believe in fear. And you can be afraid and still write something.” – “In Praise of Navel-Gazing,” Body Work

self-assessment: can we pause to appreciate how far we’ve come?

March 30, 2022 BeckiLeave a comment

can we live the questions? can we move through them, or more appropriately, can we allow them to move through us?

there is so much dominating my being right now: doubt, uncertainty, excitement, Love.

i have a strong sense of potential, and in-turn, an intense awareness around my fears of failure.

i’ve lived most of my life sculpting a box around myself — around who i should be, how i should act, what type of person i was. it was protective, for a time, and i’m grateful for it.

but in a cliched way, entering my 30s felt like entering a new plane of existence. i eventually realized i didn’t have to play by the rules presented to me throughout my youth. so the past couple of years has been reckoning with the truth of who i am versus the story i’ve adopted from a place of protection and external acceptance.

this has taken me many places, ones that have deepened my understanding of how unconventional i am.
my lack of desire for a traditional, committed relationship has informed me that i am not monogamous. i honestly don’t think i ever have been, but didn’t have the language or the understanding to come to terms with this.

this space to explore has made it clearer to me that i am also queer. another thing i believe i’ve always been, and yet, for so long, i couldn’t fathom how to integrate it into my identity. plus, i wanted so desperately to be accepted by straight men, and therefore avoided things that would compromise this.

i’ve learned a lot about my sexual preferences over the past few months. as someone with sexual trauma, there are lots of things that don’t currently feel safe or good. but i didn’t know how to give myself permission to accept this, to seek pleasure beyond those acts.
doing so these days is really exciting. i’m finding my kinks, moving towards embracing them. i’m learning how to tell partners what i like, what’s on the table, and what’s very much not.

getting older has also brought with it a sense of responsibility — to myself, to others, to my time on this Earth. i’ve been sitting with how to integrate my various selves into my writing, to create space to honor the collective suffering that seems to always be taking place somewhere on this globe.

i am working towards finding a “niche,” which is really about honing in on what interests me, what turns me on, and the ways i can bring these elements together to write about them.

i’m reminding myself, time and again, that when i speak to life experiences, to keep them personal, to avoid projecting my truth onto others.

i am learning that i have so much Love to give, and the ways i so desperately want to help others heal.

i’m learning how to deconstruct my resentment towards straight men from a lens of compassion. the more i engage with “typical” straight dudes, the more exposed i become to the pain of such intense emotional repression. and the more my heart breaks for them.

i’m trying to practice critiquing behavior from a cultural lens instead of attacking an individual.

i’m working to set down my “hater” card, because although calling out problematic behavior is beneficial, being a hater serves, from my perspective, no purpose. other than adding to general negativity.

but in doing so, i still want to be able to talk shit, to find the playful middle ground between shitting on others and fucking with them. because i believe not taking ourselves too seriously is actually healing for everyone involved.
and apologizing when i’ve accidentally taken things too far or hit a button offers me space to practice accountability.

it’s wild to think how recently i’ve moved from a place of self-detestation. i mean, it’s not as though i’ve completely freed myself from this practice, but the shift has been dramatic. which reminds me to appreciate myself and how far i’ve come so far on this journey.

i am grateful to every person who’s helped me get here, which are too many to name. adrienne maree brown being the most recent and potent example of someone who has modeled for me different ways to be that are nurturing, kind, engaged, compassionate.

i continue to learn the many forms Love can take, such as a daily routine that nourishes me. writing everyday is the most loving thing i’ve done for myself in a good while. it’s such a kind practice (when i let it be).

i’ve come to the conclusion, yet again, that i can’t focus on making money off of writing, at least not at this point in my life. that that would feel like jeopardizing this sweet, sacred practice.

i am growing in awareness on how to better tend to my body, trying to make shifts that are sustainable (versus extreme ones that last about a week).

i am learning how to share with others the person i am growing into, to trust their ability to receive me. and for this, i feel proud and grateful.

…

well, loves, i could go on, but i have an appointment to get ready for.

i realized that i have a practice of offering a prayer at the end of these posts. i hope you understand its intention is one of Love, and if it does not apply to you, to let it go quickly and with ease.

…

may we all remember our truest natures, as beings of Love and the Divine. may we allow the essence of life to be expressed through us, to become a channel for the changes we’d like to see in the world. may we remember kindness, first to ourselves, that then extends outwards. may we remember to dream, even if none of it comes to fruition. may you remember my Love, if you ever doubt that someone out here care about you.

much love.

❤ ❤ ❤