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A Holy Yes
“Our task it to say a holy yes to the real things of our life.” Natalie Goldberg We stayed up late talking. About us. And our relationship. And sex. It’s never a good idea, but the truth-serum, courage-inducing, emotion-heightening fog of alcohol and fatigue break down barriers and make us weak. Yes, we know, we’ve got a problem. But there is some good that comes of it sometimes. As long as we’ve held our tongues and said nothing outwardly combative, sometimes we uncover truths that have lain in darkness. In the couch, before bed, He said I don’t make my desires clear…that He wants to know what I want…
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Goodbye January, Hello February!
This month’s Erotic Journal Challenge prompts have been mainly about laying a foundation. Looking back, planning ahead, deciding what to focus on and what to let go of, what to say yes to and what to say no to. It’s given us an opportunity to define ourselves and consider what we want most. A few people have signed on and are doing some awesome reflections. If you are using the Erotic Journal Challenge in any way that you’d like to share, please feel welcome (but not obligated) to link up on the main EJC page. You can link a category/tag or you can link individual posts, whatever you prefer. You…
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The art of my heart ❤️
(Painting by Andrew Wyeth) I love a lot of different kinds of art, but I am usually drawn to paintings with color and lots of detail. Something I can get lost in. And likely, this is because it mirrors something in me….or something I seek. I’m drawn to circles, soft edges, warmth. Trees, old barns, and farmhouses. Scenes that make me feel something peaceful, cozy, homey. I don’t particularly like questions in my art…or having to dig too deeply to find its meaning. I like the message just above or below the surface. Being able to interpret it, much like a poem, in my own way. To find its…
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The Map of the Soul
Her blue-green pulse flutters beneath rice-paper skin, braided veins, like intersecting highways, connect destinations across the continent of her body. He has traveled every road, knows every spot and scar, has drawn lines to chart his journey. But she is soft, after all these years, pliable and faded. Creases have worn holes at her corners. So he rarely unfolds her anymore. He doesn’t need to, though. He knows every back road, every scenic route, every waterway, every landmark, by heart. She has become the map of his own soul, and, holding her gnarled hand, hearing her whispered breath, he could find his way blind.
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I’d be a gum drop
1. I struggle with _____ . A lot of things. Parenting. Work/life balance. Self-image. My libido and hormone balance. My weight and health. 2. What do men like to talk about? In my experience…the same thing everyone else likes to talk about: what the know, what they love, what they want…work, family, sex, hobbies & interests. 3. Do you eat food samples in grocery stores (consider pre-covid times)? I used to do this quite a bit in Costco, and I still will if I’m truly interested in the product. 4. What don’t you have figured out? I’m not sure I have anything completely figured out, actually…if I’m honest. 5. What…
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How I knew I was kinky…
Well, first of all, I’m not positive I’d label myself “kinky,” but then, in the grand scheme, if I were to measure myself against the sexual proclivities of others, I likely am. So here goes. The First Taste of Pain When I was somewhere around 17, I had a boyfriend with that skinny, doped out rocker look. He was what I would describe as being “ugly cute”…some combination of Steven Tyler and Keith Richards…with a little Rod Stewart to slow things down. But something about him drew me in. He wasn’t at all the “manly” type. He was thin and tall and soft spoken. We smoked a lot of…
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Hey, Cowboy…
“That’s the one who got away?” “Yes. I used to call him my muse. Used to make him stand naked next to my writing desk to keep me amused when I was having trouble focusing. Not to say that his presence really helped me concentrate, but when I was mulling an idea or trying to think something through, I’d reach over and fuck with his dick…tickle his balls…suck him off until he could barely stand…until his thighs were twitching. I’d edge him for hours while I worked on a story. It seemed the longer I dragged it out or the more I teased, the easier the ideas flowed. And once I had…
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Showing Up
This is one of those quotes I come back to and consider in various capacities of my life. It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again… who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly. The…
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Uncomfortable
I share a lot of images of myself on this site. But, it often makes me uncomfortable to really show myself as I am. The lumps and bumps. The saggy mom-tummy. The gravitational pull on my breasts. The stretch marks. The cellulite. The rolls. The extra skin. In fact…all the “extra” that I wish wasn’t there. But…it is. And, every once in a great while, I share that truth in the images I post. Today is one of those days. Be kind. I’m reminding myself to do that, as well.
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Not measuring up…
I’ll warn you now, this is really just a boring self-accountability post. Nothing sexy here. Just thinking on the page. It won’t hurt my feelings if you duck out now. In fact, I won’t even notice. Last week’s review/preview was titled “The inevitable slowdown,” and this week, I find myself feeling like I’m simply not measuring up. So, I spent a few hours reflecting on what is working and what isn’t working in my life right now. “To understand is to perceive patterns.” Isaiah Berlin In the course of my reflection, I realized that breaks set me up for unrealistic expectations. For example, over my winter holiday, I…
