My Garden on Solstice Day Tiny Fragile Stuff Some with Labels Some Have None I looked out the door and there below was one of our very good friends, who eat those pesky mosquitos and blackflies that make outdoor living difficult.
I am told a peony can't bloom without ants, who eat away at something on the buds, permitting it to open
Our geranium plants have been with us for many years. It always amazes me to watch the colour change as the buds grow and open.
Sometimes we just let stuff grow in our garden to see what happens. What is it? I call it a beautiful plant.
I was trimming grass beside the pond and noticed some colour amongst the ferns growing there. The ferns lost out (don't worry lots of them left) and Iris can now see and be seen.
September 2023: This post included links to posts by others. Sadly, everything changes. Those posts have been removed by the authors.
Going to dip my pretty little toes into a place where they could get a wee bit messy, but after all, what are toes for anyway?
Two posts in the past few weeks were so well done on a topic near and dear to my heart that it seemed unlikely I could stay away long. After all, isn't sex supposed to be on our minds all the time?
Yup, sex. Not gender. "Doing it... Solo!" You know, coaxing the genie out of the magic lamp ~ buttering the bagel ~ petting the kitty .... *
Chronologically, it was on May 31 that the juices (did I really write that?) started flowing. Nadine posted "Why May is My Favourite Month" on Already Pretty. Beautiful flower photo... hmm, what's that say? "Self-pleasure can be a touchy subject" How clever ~ a play on words. She had my full attention.
So, who knew that May is National Masturbation Month??
Oh heck, read Nadine's article. Then come back please.
Next in the one-two that finally broke me down and made me want to write this post, was Lucy (the lady who dares to run where angels fear to tread) Melford's post "Autogynephilia". Please read it too and if you have a bit more time, come on back for my take on it all.
You have to give me some leeway here please. Part of the reason my salutation wasn't Miss long ago has to do with the effectiveness of labels in tearing a person's self-esteem from them.
Autogynephilia has always been a silly label in my opinion with its attempts to negatively pigeon-hole how people feel and act, so that some clinician can sum up incredibly complex and hardly consistent behaviours and other clinicians (nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say no more) can nod sagely in response.
I started masturbating long before it occurred to me it was wrong (once I figured out I needed some tissues before starting in) or knowing the word masturbate, or the term wank or any other way to make someone feel less than human for having a body that can give one such exquisite pleasure for no really good reason, other than it is there and functioning normally.
Perhaps at some time it was thought that doing such things would lead people to have un-natural urges and those might push them toward dangerous sexual adventures. It has always been my contention that it was the un-natural negative attention given to the activity that was the problem. Being sexually active with oneself and liking it hardly qualifies as an offense against another person. Why a deity would have a problem with it is way beyond me, but I expect ....
Making anyone feel guilt or shame because their mind and body function properly is amazingly silly, but to quote Mr. Spock, 'Who ever said the human race was logical?'
In the meantime, I'll have what she's having..... yes.... yes.....YES!
So, let's imagine that you and I are a couple of balloons. Filled with some sort of lighter than the rest of the air stuff, (not hydrogen please for hydrogen is explosive), we meet as you are bobbing by.
I have come to you with a difficult issue, and you, like the kind balloon you are, have agreed to listen and bob encouragingly at all the right places as I puzzle through my balloonish issue:
A long time ago I met this other balloon who was tethered but not completely grounded. We found pleasure in holding each other close and thus anchored nicely to the ground we made a life together. Time passed and change happened. We made new and so very light balloon children, who have since floated off on their own adventures. Somehow, even though I stayed very buoyant, likely to blow away if not tied down, my partner, slowly shortening her tether, became very anchor-like herself; no longer very balloonish. Further, she finds my tendency toward balloonish adventure to be annoying and constantly works to shorten my tether.
Although very attached to her, this anchor~balloon conflict is dangerous, because being anchored is not only boring for balloons, it is depressing. My life partner has come to recognize this to some extent, but has become afraid of flying, or at least sees no advantage to letting go of the ground she is so familiar with to let me pull her up into an unknown but definitely not boring future.
I would never have met you, or anyone here floating by if not for this tether that gives me some freedom, yet so many have departed, now away upon adventures.
Dying of boredom, anchored to a ground that brings little surprise or joy seems a poor way for balloons to end their days.
It's possible my analogy is stretched a little (balloon pun?), but if I promise not to try to tie you down, stay with me for a while and, wonder with me, balloon to balloon… is this fair to ask of my partner, and if so, how do I help her recover her lightness, let go and fly free?
Suddenly, she is there. Her hands reach out to take mine. Her sweet voice says, "You got through it. You don't have to be afraid now. Come. Play with me." Music is my mistress. I have never spoken of her here, but I am certainly not alone. Music is solace and strength and passion and calm. In the times when there was only an empty feeling, she filled the void. Sometimes all she can do is help me feel whole for some small time ~ long enough to get me through. I love her in return, doing whatever is in my power to give music her due. How many of us are out there, dancing with her, surviving one more night by our love of her? Bless you all who have channeled her, and tonight especially Stephen.
How do you say to your child in the night?
Nothing's all black, but then nothing's all white
How do you say it will all be all right
When you know that it might not be true?
What do you do?
Thank you too, Bernadette.
postscript ~ I realize a bit late, this is the second time I have linked Ms. Peters' performance here, so perhaps, in fairness and because I love Mandy too...
I looked out the door and there below was one of our very good friends, who eat those pesky mosquitos and blackflies that make outdoor living difficult.
