Your Glorious Whore is Resurrected
Or: With a loving witness, your inner Whore can finally Enjoy fucking herself silly
The resurrection
“Your glorious whore is coming back. I don’t know why I insist on throwing her out,” I said to C this morning, after realizing through an intense writing session that, fuck, I was so disconnected from her. From me. From our lived experience.
Don’t worry though, she’s here and fully alive, writing to you as We (yeah, that’s a royal We, me and the goddess whore) watch C fuck me, thanks to the wonderful techology we’ve been gifted with and C’s erotic and cinematic mastery. Overwhelming gratitude, yet again, becomes me. And overcomes the feeling that I’ve been standing, somehow, on the edge of everything that was happening.
News Flash: I have been. One the edge, that is. But in my defense, I couldn’t possibly have known how to leap! (and the net will appear, says Julia Cameron) until the moments of recognition set in.
I just got off a call with my therapist who said, “you seem different today, more IN IT. Usually it feels like you’ve already processed everything, but today it’s more alive.” Fun fact: I record all my sessions with her… does anyone else do that? I go all in on this examined life thing. Every angle. Every perspective. The more perspective I have access to, the less I have to know. The more I learn, the more I see there is nothing other than my perception widening. If there’s anything to know, it’s that… expansion is happening. I wanna listen to those recordings a year from now and see what’s shifted.
Anyway. She was right, I am entirely more IN IT now.
What a contrast to the past I don't know, 14 days or so. I was feeling lifeless and uninspired. My seeming lack of inspiration confused me. It wasn’t for lack of trying, or because I wasn’t feeding myself enough inspiration, or because I had stopped paying attention. On the contrary, I was giving myself more nourishment than ever, in all aspects of my being, then sitting down, and offering myself to the page as best as I could. All I wound up with was fragment after fragment with no way to weave them together. What was missing? I couldn’t understand. I was completely consumed in trying to answer the question in my head. It didn’t make sense, until I brought it into my bodily experience.