This is a perfect example of pandoramancy.
I had never heard of this song before – and yet it was suggested on my recommended play list on YouTube – and because I’d left my playlist on autoplay, it played through without my having chosen it early yesterday morning.
But it conveys certain aspects of my feelings quite well.
❤
I have been wanting to write and I promised to write – it was the reason for this month’s writing project (which was not so playfully named ‘Keeping it 100’*) – but as you might notice, I haven’t been keeping up with it this particular July/Month for Loki.
There are reasons, and I am trying to decide if I really want to get into all of them, because Heaven knows, I had plenty that I’d planned to write about, plenty that I’d promised to write about.
It’s more serious than usual in that not only had I promised myself that I’d carry the project through the whole month, I promised Him that I’d write about these topics and that I would carry it through by writing in this blog every day for a month.
We struck a deal of sorts, and I reneged in the sense that I did not follow through on my part.
I had promised to tell a story that I have not told.
It’s not that I had a shortage of posts, or that I never intended to tell the story. As a matter of fact, I have enough posts sitting in draft as well as several other posts written that only require that I cut and past them from the file folder on my laptop where I’ve stored them. They are in order, as I had planned.
You see, it is not that I stopped writing. It is that I did write but I refused to post, and that was what I promised Him that I wouldn’t do. I promised Him that I would share as much of the story as I could, no matter how uncomfortable things got, no matter how controversial the topics were….and yet…
I have not.
So what happened?
I got sick around the 15th of the month, as I may have mentioned in several of my latest posts.
A few of my friends pointed out that if I hadn’t been keeping up with my writing, of course that was understandable.
If I was ill – and I still am recovering from that double ear infection and sinus infection – that it stood to reason that I should rest and recuperate.
Several opined that I was being too hard on myself to think that He wouldn’t understand, that He would insist that I write anyway.
But I wrote every day. The writing is not the hardest part. It has never been the hardest part. He knew (just like anyone else who knows me well) that the purpose of the project had nothing to do with a writer’s block or an inability to express myself.
In essence, what He asked for was that I stop censoring myself; that I stop hiding – privatizing posts, or posting my thoughts in my less-frequented blog. He was asking for me to make my writing entirely public and highly accessible, to post ‘where it counts’ meaning where people could see and respond to my thoughts if they so chose.
He wanted me out of my comfort zone. It was an exercise to force me out of my social anxiety.
And so, He wanted me to stop keeping secrets, to be authentic and unashamed of who I am and what I am and what I do — for one month.
Just for one month, and then I could go back to ‘hiding’ if I so chose.
He didn’t care (because, if you know me, you know that I argued with Him) if ten thousand other people had written about such things ten thousand times before I wrote about them, before I would write about them.
He wants His people to express themselves fully, and He doesn’t care if you’ve all heard the stories before; He places great value on self-expression.
Perhaps it’s more than that: It’s about self-knowledge. It’s about fearlessness.
He wants us all to tell our stories….or at the very least, be fearless and unashamed about telling our stories.
~~~
*Believe me, you have heard this story before:
And yet, you’d better believe He never gets tired of hearing that story.
~~~
So, as you might imagine, I haven’t any VALID excuses.
To this entry.
This song will not seem to get out of my head.
I have heard this song at least a dozen times today, through various channels and means, so I thought that I’d post it….
Y’know, just to acknowledge to the Universe that I’m hearing it.
If anything, it seems to imply that I have some ways to go in dealing with my anger issues.
So.
We are halfway through the month now.
There is so much that I still need to write about…and tonight, I got this little bit of pandoramancy that seemed to confirm that.
This song:
Evidently, Someone seems to be waiting for me to say something in particular
…as three different friends of mine have pushed this song on me in the last two days:
Do you know Drowning Pool? No? Not so much? Well you’ve got to listen to this song!…it’s a great song. I promise you’ll like it.
and then,
Do you like Drowning Pool? Well, this is my favorite song of theirs. Listen to it!…
And finally…
Hey. Listen…listen to this song, OK? I think it might be… important.
And so, I did.
One friend even sent me a link that to the first copy of the song that she found on YouTube that not only played the song along with lyrics (since I prefer to look at the lyrics while I listen to the song for the first time through) but then had the song lyrics posted a second time through – without the melody – for a total video length of 7 minutes, 40 seconds.
So, it was as if the Universe *really* wanted to make sure I had the access and the opportunity to study the lyrics not just one time through, but twice. O.o
So what could it mean?
Perhaps this song has a specific message that is supposed to serve as a nudge toward me.
Perhaps it’s supposed to be some subtle encouragement from Him
to continue along the same vein as I have been
concerning the story that I’m supposed to be telling this month.
You know, that story that details the main things that I’ve learned on this path, followed by discussion of several of the major ways that my path has changed?
Yes, that one.
Or maybe, there’s no message; the song might signify absolutely nothing at all.
But still…this is a powerful song that has created quite an earworm for me today.
~~~
Oh…and in case that I had it in mind to
I dunno
Start running away from Him
again
here’s another bit o’ pandoramancy:
Point taken, Sir.
After an amazing 6 day trip to Arizona, I returned home on 28 June.
On 30 June, I attended a concert with my husband, V, to see the metal band, In This Moment perform at the Hard Rock Cafe in Orlando.
It was an enjoyable concert.
In This Moment’s singer Maria Brinks conveys a rather powerful stage presence that pairs incredibly well with her band’s heavy chord driven sound and passionate heavy metal lyrics. As well, Maria struck me as a consummate show-woman in that there was a theatrical and choreographic quality to her band’s show that was quite reminiscent of Lady Gaga in several ways that I hadn’t expected.
But it wasn’t until their final encore that Brinks’ message hit me in full force.
The song – ‘Whore’ – I later discovered is a song that In This Moment often performs as an encore.
Brinks’ speech that opened the song began with an intonation of John 8:7, thusly:
So when they continued asking Him, He lifted Himself up and said unto them, “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”
This was followed by Brinks approaching center stage, wherein she spoke a litany of words
Stupid. Ugly. Useless. Unworthy.
(They would) call me – Whore.
I am (here to) take back the power of that word!….
(And since my device crapped out in the middle of things, here is a strikingly similar performance ^^^ from ITM’s San Francisco’s ‘Blood at the Orpheum’ in January 2014.)
Lyrics here
Meanwhile, I stood in the audience, goosebumps rising on my skin, marveling over how Maria Brinks’ words resonated within me, as she spoke of her desire to reclaim the word, ‘whore.’**
Amidst cheers from the crowd, she continued on upon the importance of being unashamed of being who you are and what you represent.
She expressed the desire to inspire others to become secure in their sexuality, to be aware of their personal power…. and the power and freedom that is possible when we can come to be comfortable in our own skin.
~~~
Maria Brinks’ words struck me profoundly as I stood there considering how, just a few short years ago, such discussion of words like ‘whore’ would have dovetailed nicely into a ‘class’ I had taught several times concerning the inherent power of certain words to make thoughts and ideas manifest.
And how the reclaiming of certain loaded words could lead to spiritually cathartic work… in BDSM.
You see, a few short years ago – around the time when I re-discovered Loki’s presence in my life – I was teaching classes that concerned Words as Ordeal, and how words alone can create a very powerful intersection between spirituality and BDSM.
It was strangely evocative of my class on re-framing shame and transforming discomfort into spiritual energy.
Funny that I should be reminded of that particular portion of my personal history now.
Hm.
~~~
** Frontwoman Maria Brink told Steppin’ Out magazine that despite its title, this is an empowering, beautiful song for women. She explained: “Everything that the word ‘whore’ means, that song rebels against. That song is sarcastic. It’s kind of about learning how to let go of the power that we let other people hold over us with their words with their belittling. Nobody can control us, nobody has the power…. kind of freeing ourselves from the vulnerable, weak parts of us.”
“When somebody calls you something demeaning or hurts you,” Brink added, “we’re the ones letting them hurt us by letting their words be that powerful. It’s about letting go. If you listen to the words: I am the dirt you created. I am your sinner. I am your whore, but let me tell you something — you love me for everything you hate me for. It’s all reverse psychology.”
Brink created the term Women Honoring One Another Rising Eternally to give new meaning away from the derogatory connotation of the “whore” word. “This is an honest and raw movement that needs to be heard,” she exclaimed. “The message behind this song is taking back control. It is about taking the power from a disgusting and degrading word and turning it back around on the accuser. It’s about self-empowerment, love, and liberation.”
Guitarist Chris Howorth added: “One of the best things about the song ‘Whore’ is all the feelings and thoughts that the word alone provokes, and that’s great, but at the end of the day, it’s just a word. The only power it really has is the power that we give it. It’s really just about taking the power back from the word…”
(From Songmeanings.com/whore)
A Facebook friend posted this video in my feed today:
And it triggered a lovely memory that I have that is related to this song.
~~~
In April 2015, I went to small weekend-long Pagan sexuality event called Body Magick.
Though I attended by myself, I quickly got the impression that this event was geared towards couples.
I was one of only three other ‘singles’ that attended that weekend.
One of these singles – an older man named Kevin – left before the end of the first day when it became clear to him that Body Magick was not a ‘kinky poly swingers’ event that he’d been assuming that it would be. (I think the event organizers were somewhat relieved that he left on his own, as his attitude that colored the ‘first impression’ that he made during the introductory circle rubbed several folks in all the wrong ways.)
The other single – a young woman – seemed guarded and cautious. Though we did converse several times — simply for the fact that we were likely the only attendees with insomnia in the campsite who weren’t actively entertaining/engaging a partner in the late hours of Friday night into the wee hours of Saturday morning – I didn’t find out that much about her. She told me how she had recently experienced a rather lengthy and contentious divorce, and she sought to attend the event simply to recover herself and get back her spiritual bearings.
And then, there was me. Alone, and perhaps a bit lonely. (My husband – a non-Pagan – had chosen to stay home that weekend, and he had some prior work commitments, as well.)
~~~
But I must say – even though everyone I came in contact with was friendly, the event rituals were well-done, and the energy flow was welcoming and pleasant – I could not shake that dull achy feeling of being at loose ends throughout my weekend at Body Magick.
~~~
So there I was, on Sunday morning, sitting in a lawn chair outside the ‘mess hall’ with a belly full of breakfast pancakes, listening to music on my iPhone.
My earbuds had somehow become damaged, so I decided to listen to my Loki playlist on low volume, as I waited for my husband to pick me up.
As he wasn’t set to arrive for over an hour, I felt like I had some time to kill, so I half-dozed/meditated in the overly-bright April sunlight, with my iPhone in my lap.
And then this song came on.
The song had played about halfway through when suddenly I was shaken out of my reverie by a friendly voice.
What is this song? I love this song.
I opened my eyes, and I looked up to see a slight, older woman standing in front of me. She was smiling.
The sun was behind her, so I was grateful for the shade she created. I returned her smile. I couldn’t help it.
It’s Walk the Moon, I replied. It’s called, Shut up and Dance.
She laughed, Would you mind playing that from the beginning?
So I clicked back, and she settled down beside my chair, to listen. Thank you so much, she whispered.
I watched as she closed her eyes, and she smiled broadly as she listened, her face upturned towards the sunlight.
Again, the song reached the half-way point, and another person – a young woman, her arms loaded with camping gear – walked past. I guess she had been on the way to loading up her car.
Hey! I know that song! she blurted out, stopping short in front of us.
She dropped her heavy gear-bags at my feet with satisfied sigh, as if relieved for the sudden excuse to take a break.
She turned toward the woman on the ground, nudging her. Don’t you just love this song? she burbled.
The older woman opened one eye: Yes, she grinned broadly, looking up. They knew each other, so the older woman stood up to greet her with a hug.
And the young woman, unburdened by her gear, warmly embraced her friend.
After a few moments, they broke from their embrace, and the young woman started to sway.
Won’t you play it again, please, the young woman turned toward me, insistently, I feel like dancing!
OOh, dancing sounds like a great idea, the older women agreed.
So I did.
And I watched as they danced, the movement of their bodies mirroring each other. I admired the ease and joy of their dance – they seemed entirely unself-conscious and comfortable in their bodies as they were taken up by the rhythms of the song.
Then, they began to sing.
They both looked at me.
Doesn’t this song just make you want to dance? they asked me, during the first instrumental bridge.
The older woman motioned towards me, welcoming me to join them.
I demurred, too shy to dance.
But I did sing along with them.
Suddenly, these two women dancing and our combined singing drew the attention of several other campers on the way to loading their cars.
Next thing you know, a loose half-circle had formed right there in front of me.
Soon enough there was a crowd of twenty or so happy people dancing, singing, enjoying this song, in a spontaneous swirl of swaying color, sound, movement…and laughter.
And I must have played that song four more times in its entirety before our impromptu dance party ended.
And I honestly believe that Loki was pleased.
Though there are other versions of this song – namely that the song was originally written by Keane – this version by Lily Allen is my favorite version because of the sweet animation that is this video.
~~~
I can be in the shittiest, saddest mood
– as I have been lately –
but I find it comforting, if not downright soothing to watch this amazing ‘animation process’ video.
Perhaps it is the combination of that lovely process animation along with Lily’s lilting voice.
The words, the melody, the forest/nature imagery – both within the lyrics and through the animation – resonate deeply with something in my soul:
I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you’re gonna let me in
I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you’re gonna let me in
I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don’t we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don’t we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I’m getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you’re gonna let me in
I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don’t we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don’t we go?
So why don’t we go?
This could be the end of everything
So why don’t we go
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
Somewhere only we know?
I don’t know, but every time I need a little lift to my spirits, I listen/watch this video.
It makes me think of Freyr.
You’ve got your ball
you’ve got your chain
tied to me tight tie me up again
who’s got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I’ll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I’m so lost for you
You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream
Touch your lips just so I know
In your eyes, love, it glows so
I’m bare boned and crazy for you
When you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream
If I’ve gone overboard
Then I’m begging you
to forgive me
in my haste
When I’m holding you so girl
close to me
Oh and you come crash
into me, baby
And I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
and show your world to me
In a boys dream.. In a boys dream
Oh I watch you there
through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I’d like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me
I hemmed and hawed about writing this post, as yesterday was a meaningful date in my personal history.
On the evening of Friday, 19 October 2007, my father died.
I would not find out about until the next day – Saturday – as my mother called me almost 8 hours later, leaving a four-word message on the home answering machine, to inform me that my father had passed.
My husband, my sons, and I had returned from a local skate tournament to see that little flashing light notifying us of an incoming call that we had received earlier that afternoon from an unfamiliar number.
I had been estranged from my parents for several years at that point. To put it bluntly, my mother had ‘disowned’ me in 2005 over something so incredibly petty that I am ashamed to admit now that I honored her wishes for nearly 2 years. And, unfortunately, my father did, too.
But I remember that last conversation that I’d had with my father in early October 2005.
Cancer had returned – malignant melanoma – but my father had insisted that it wasn’t such a big deal.
We danced around the subject of the impending surgery that would require the loss of his right eye, and, in typical form, my father joked about his options upon coming to terms with the reality that he’d probably have to wear an eyepatch.
He insisted that he couldn’t decide if he should tell people that he’d become a pirate, or if he should tell people that he’d given his eye to Odin, for knowledge.
I didn’t know what to say; I was just pleased to be speaking to my father, and I told him that I would be delighted to support him in either choice. In a roundabout way, I was trying to comfort him, but honestly, I would have agreed to support him in any way that I could, even if most of the time my support of him simply required that I cheerfully go along with his jokes.
That was my father. That’s the way that he coped best with adversity – through joking about it.
Though I didn’t want to discuss our own adversity — that elephant in the room — concerning how he missed me, and how he hoped that my mother and I ‘could somehow work things out’ so that he would be ‘allowed to talk to [me] again.’
I was inwardly furious that he felt like he had to sneak around – while my mother was not home – just to talk to me. (Of course, I was too stubborn to look the other way concerning my mother’s obviously toxic and controlling behavior. I was well aware of what a rare occurrence it was that my mother was not at home.)
Despite this, I truly thought that my father and I would speak again.
But we didn’t.
After my father died, my brother told me that the cancer had spread rather fast – but my father was overly proud man and it surprised no one that my father insisted on downplaying the debilitating effects on his quality of life – but as a result, my father refused to allow anyone to contact me concerning this reality.
I’ve no doubt that my father thought that he’d live forever, as long as he could joke about it, but he told my brother that he was even more ashamed to be seen as sickly or frail by anyone, let alone, his daughters.
Please let them remember me the way that I was was what I was told that he had said.
It turned out that my older sister -who was also estranged, also ‘disowned’ by my mother – didn’t even know that he’d died until two months after the funeral. While I am grateful that at least I had been informed in time to actually attend his funeral, I’m ashamed to admit that I was told that she knew but that she just didn’t show.
I regret that I didn’t question that further.
~~~
But, my dysfunctional family aside, I miss my father dearly, even now, even today, eight years later.
So what do I do to honor my father?
I will hold a ‘silent supper’ for him this week, wherein I provide him offerings of his favorite foods. Steak and potatoes. Blueberry pie. Sardines. Figs.
As well, it is likely that I will go to McDonald’s today. I will order – and mindfully consume – a Big Mac and a strawberry milkshake. It was the meal that my father loved, the ‘last meal’ that I was told that my father would often insist that he wanted – and then insist upon eating – even though I’d imagine that his body could scarcely have handled digesting such ‘junk food’ towards the end of his life. (Though that wouldn’t have deterred him, however.)
But I will enjoy it, as he would have wanted to enjoy it. (I mean, what the hell, I can imagine him arguing, I’m dying. I don’t worry about nutrition now. Fuck that. I want McDonald’s.)
As well, I have a playlist of his favorite songs that I will allow myself to listen to, and it is very likely that I will have a good cry over this one:
Perhaps I will read him Philip Levine’s poem, ‘Starlight’
(This is the poet, Philip Levine, reading ‘Starlight’)
~~~
This is a photo-booth photo of my father and I from 1974ish or so.
It is one of my favorite photos that I have of my father.
This is a photo of a self-portrait that my father painted in early 2007.
~~~
I miss you.
I love you, Dad.
bloodteethandflame 