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Thursday, May 25, 2017

My Reflection

My reflection  on an article entitled, " Why Straight Men Kill The Trans Women They Love " by Jen Richards:
It is a most vulnerable piece of writing on the topic of transphobia, which, for me, is inextricably linked to misogyny, and homophobia, especially - - all tools of oppression used to reinforce the status quo of high privilege or external power.

We must not conflate sex with love, though; I would wager that all the men who killed trans women had internalized misogyny, homophobia, and transphobia; they might have had sex with the trans women who performed womanhood in their eyes well enough, but it is fairly safe to believe, that they did not love them.

The men who have killed trans women must be held responsible for their internalized transphobia/misogyny/homophobia, and society at large for its indoctrination of such isms.

Love and sex, like day and night, shall never meet at any point of our human journey to justify murder.

The fear of being called "gay" is internalized homophobia, misogyny, and transphobia, I believe.

Goddess bless!

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Opus & Self-oppression

Opus & Self-oppression
If she doesn't love opera, she is not an opus.

The other has no bearing on what my forgiveness' fruits look, shape, and/or taste like, and definitely not when they ripen naturally on the tree.

If she doesn't listen to music at bedtime, she is not a classic.

If your snoring doesn't sound like bel canto of nymphs to him, he is not your Romeo.

Manhood, as it has been constructed over the centuries, is self-oppression, so it's no wonder why men seek to then oppress each other and women, as the other, to mirror their own oppression.

I believe that we, as sentient beings, engage in gossiping for two very different, distinct reasons: a fun way to learn about and most importantly to recognize the darkness in us all as inherently human; the other is to distance ourselves from and deny our own darkness, in a vain attempt to feel superior or in control of it all, but mainly for we have not the necessary tools to navigate such and most darkly human territory at its core.

He has been a dumb one
Who thought he was a Don Juan.

Some perpetrators will apologize to you, but in the same breath retract the apology; I guess unbeknownst to them, for what is the point, then. Well, maybe, most likely manipulations of some kind.

Oh, how the darkness seeks to extinguish the light, when one does not embrace ​both, in order to allow them to coexist in nonduality.

Friday, May 19, 2017

Offense & Sentence

Offense & Sentence
Love assayed needs not justify herself; love assayed is always reciprocated, for she is her own, intrinsic reward; love assayed is cosmic freedom, for she is expansive: the more she gives of herself, the more she multiplies exponentially...

Perpetrators should not get to define and pinpoint when and where offenses have occurred, then how and when forgiveness bears fruits​.

How boonful it would be
To commit an offense,
Be judge and jury
For your sentence?

Folks, with very little to no coping skills and a self-care regimen for the inevitable storms along the journey, will search for in others a need to sacrifice themselves in order to relive familiar, learned, and dysfunctional relationship patterns.

When one lives life responsibly, forgiving another, especially if one believes in the self-poisonous act of consciously or subconsciously withholding forgiveness, in general, is fairly easy; thus, the rub is in actively creating fertile ground for self-forgiveness to take root and flourish within, especially​ when the external world is constantly sending directly or indirectly messages of revenge or justice to reciprocate any level of perceived offense.

I ruminate, therefore I write.

I write, therefore I flourish.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Fallibility & Compassion

Fallibility & Compassion
We are hormonal beings, who, with patience, lots of practice, and self-love, are rational or wise at times; therefore, we should be self-compassionate always, especially when our wisest intentions are not reflected in our choices and actions - - short-term or long-term.

Fear of abandonment may utter words of romantic love - - but never love assayed - - but it is only and purely fear or dysfunction, for love, of any kind, and fear will never meet at any point of our human journey.

Knowing better does not always translate into doing better, and that is why self-compassion is so important; we are fallible creatures, at our most human core.

Helen of Brooklyn has taught me inadvertently, that it takes one to initiate a want or need for a conversation, but two to converse, and not to waste my time at attempting to hold a conversation with another who is not of the same mind and goals.

Knowing and applying are not always mutually inclusive.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

A Mythical Idea

A Mythical Idea
A lot of so-called "self-help" jargon is finger-pointing or blaming the individual for not reaching an outside goal, which tends to pass for spirituality, or worse, mental health advice.
"You-are-standing-in-your-own-way" kind of hyperbole, which reframes a mythical idea to pass for a novel idea of motivation or self-help.

Spurning a man because of his facial hair is like scorning a woman for she has breasts.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Would You? (continued ... )

Would You?
If I were social anxiety
Would you befriend me
Without ignominy of insanity?

If I were Romeo
Would you be my Juliet
Without cuckolding me with Leo?

If I were a therapist
Would you my patient be
Without being a virulent pessimist?

If​ I were a student of human life
Would you be my cosmic compass
Without any minutial strife?

If I were a mental illness
Would you destigmatize me
With or without a witness?

Lies are the quicksand under which any intimate, but dysfunctional, relationship eventually disappears.

Monday, May 15, 2017

Would You?

Would You?
If I were a millionaire
Would you run your fingers
Through my hair?

If I were a mayflower
Would you keep me within
Your bosom every Winter hour?

If I grew facial hair,
Would you hold me longingly
To canoodle me there?

If​ I were a bird with a fractured claw
Would you tend to me
Like an unwritten law?

If I were at bedtime soft music
Would you not furrow your brow
In performing your antic?

If I were a Strauss' aria
Would you sing me
In the shower with euphoria?

The catharsis, in journaling, lies in being completely honest, and vulnerable with yourself, at least upon reflection with your aloneness, not in keeping data for self-analysis.