Episode 64: Spicy & Awkward🌶

DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH A FANTASY IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE REALITY!!! RECLAIMING PLEASURE!!! It’s not you, it’s me… or is it?!? ANTHROPOLOGICAL EXPERIMENTS!!! The Myth of Sisyphus!!! PERCEPTION IS EVERYTHING!!! TRASHY DANCE PARTY!!! SOCIAL MEDIA SUCKS BALLS!!! I SWEAR I’M AN ACTUAL PERSON!!! YOU BROKE IT I’M NOT FIXING IT!!! & I am a wealth of knowledge and baggage, but at least I’m honest about it.

Excerpt from the show:

“Does anyone ever have those moments where they are just like… I feel like my Instagram or social media is not at all an accurate representation of who I am as a human. Like, this is so wild! Like, no photo ever really feels all the way like me. It’s performative, or just arbitrary because I get more attention for the show if it’s a photo of my face and like if you followed my Instagram for 2 years and then actually met me in person. I’m just kind of awkward, silly, goofy, and spicy. And none of that comes through at all on my social media. I mean like facets of it do. But I am always fascinated by the concept of perception. Who are you and what informs how you think? And also how do you see me? Mot in like an obsessive way, it’s just interesting to me. Because, I would say, even people who know me really well probably think my Instagram is half cringe and half great. But like, remember that human I kind of fell for last summer, and thus resulted in Awkward Sexy Time, which has to have been one of my best shows yet. Well like every time I’m with them, it’s so wildly sweet and wholesome, and lovely. I sat with them for a couple of hours listing to live music and chatting with friends this week. And yet I have absolutely no idea how they perceive me as a person. Do they think I’m totally nuts?! I mean they wouldn’t be that far off. But do they also see the depth of my sanity? How do they feel when they are around me? Confused? Curious? Bored? And what does following my social media change their perception of me into? I am absolutely sure I will likely never know. They tend to be very reserved. And never talk about how they see people. It’s actually something that I admire about them. But I’m still ravenously curious. Like I didn’t mean to accidentally end up walking to our cars in the dark under the prolific stars together… And did that goodbye hug last 3 seconds longer than a normal hug would? And was that a moment? Who knows. I know I shut it down by awkwardly yelling in their face, “alright let’s see if my car starts!” Moments later. Just canceled the mood. I’m great at that.

But anyways back to this week. Finally, finally, I woke up with resolve, without crying for an hour every morning. I danced, I sang at the top of my lungs; I let myself fall in love with the world again. I finally lounged at the river for a day. I filled my truck full to the brim of things to go to the Goodwill. I organized rooms of the basement. Very little is worth keeping anymore. Burn it all! I cleaned off the front porch and bought some ornamental lilies and hung Tibetan prayer flags, and a prayer wheel next to my door (which is spun to accumulate merit) And I danced. Ohhh I danced. It was just one big cringy dance party. And I met with clients. And I remembered why I love my work. I get to sit across from people or place my hands on them —- and hold their lives sacred. And I meditated, and I learned more sign language. And let’s be honest I listened to trash music! Because what else do you listen to while cleaning out your basement? So we are going to listen to some trash this week. Because it’s about time we start having fun again. Screw wallowing. One thing I’ve always been good at is rising from the ashes. So I might as well put it into practice. It’s not often we talk about what it means to reclaim our pleasure after heartbreak. It’s WEIRD, and AWKWARD. And I’m not about to just go throw myself at someone and think that’s gonna fix me. No. I have a lot of rewrites to do before that, some revisions, and remembering. Our relationship with ourselves, our own pleasure, and aliveness are what sets the stage for what we accept into our lives — for how we allow ourselves to be treated. For how much joy and pleasure we are capable of experiencing. And this is not always an easy or linear path. How do I remember how to hold myself when your arms are gone? How do I remember how to touch myself, how to treat myself better than you ever did? In a way, it’s a radical act of reclaiming. And the way that I do that is through dance. That’s where I start. I was a dancer for many many years. And there is no place freer, more electric to me than an open dance floor. So this week I went out to an ecstatic dance session, and the DJ was incredible, and I moved and moved and moved. And everything that had ever happened to me, everything was gone, every thought in my mind quiet, just me and the bass. Just me and myself. Alive completely. And then the beautiful smiles of so many incredible women that I love dancing with me under the lights. And I was home. I was love again. And whether it’s sitting in a basement speakeasy with the most unlikely of company, wreaked to tears by the man singing there with his guitar. Or whether it’s next to the blasting speakers under the changing lights, or whether it’s alone in my basement dancing around in my underwear to Like A Prayer while cleaning. I am whole. I am home. And this is why we keep doing the work. So that when everything falls apart, we still have a place to come home to, we remain like a strong tree in a storm, bending against the winds of change instead of breaking, waiting for the clear sky of morning. When we come back, again and again, to ourselves — if suddenly we are left, with nothing but that — we are never alone. Carrying love in our chest. My eternal companion is the way I love this life wild. Is the way I dance through a room, the way I feel myself, even at the ends of the earth. The collapse of civilization. I have a deep reverence, for it all. And I can still have a beautiful day, even if my whole afternoon was a sucky text message conversation with my most recent ex. Ohh, don’t worry I’ll tell you all about it later. But for now, let’s turn the volume up, and have a trashy dance party, alone in our rooms, driving in our cars to somewhere unknown, cleaning our basements, wherever it is. Let’s shake what our mommas have us. Let’s sing at the top of our lungs. Because life is damn short. And we forget that. I say as I’m trying to figure out how to open a Roth IRA… you know because I’m like a sober normal human now and have to think about the fact that I might possibly live past tomorrow. But for now, let’s live in the moment.”