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Raging river…

December 3, 2009

When I was a girl,

I ONCE had the experience with some friends,

I only saw in the Summer,

where we had a contest,

to see who could pee,

the farthest off the deck,

of the bunkhouse,

into the huckleberry bushes,

and salal…

These other girls had obviously done this before…

I didn’t even know how to start…

So I was immediately out of the game…

Generally speaking,

as far as I know,

women’s washrooms aren’t set up,

for group urination,

or the practice,

of peeing forward…

But the world is changing so fast,

something may have happened,

that has gone undetected,

by my radar…

In my flamenco class,

we spend a lot of time,

getting ourselves,

in the right position,

to dance…

And then we practice how to hold the position,

while we lift our skirt trains,

in all of the different ways,

that we can,

for 90 minutes,

while looking seriously,

happy…

Last night we had to stand up straight,

follow the opening of our rib cage,

up to our breast bone,

with our fingers,

and imagine that Great Spirit (Teacher gave permission for each of us to name our own higher power),

has caught us by a hook,

under our sternum,

like a fish,

and is pulling up,

directly…

This gave each of us,

at least another inch,

of chest opening,

and a platform of breast,

on which to rest,

a teacup…

While keeping this open position,

our arms move elbows first,

holding tension,

like we’re dragging them,

through molasses,

with our wrists,

in constant circular motion,

creating soft floreos…

And we could pretend it all the time...

A few months ago we worked on pelvis position…

A suggestion was made,

to practice peeing forward,

while in the shower…

There are methods to my madness…

I always start my practice,

in dreams…

And a few weeks,

after suggestion,

I had THE dream…

I was wearing a Victorian dress:

corset, petticoats and everything,

but I was pissing forward,

like a racehorse…

I was amazed by what my body could do…

I’d never seen anything like it before…

People associate toilet dreams with shame,

guilt,

and embarrassment…

Those feelings were in my dream,

as I held up my dress,

for the world to see,

but what was so much stronger,

was the energy,

of creation…

A golden stream of HOLY smokes…

Handing over our power to Freud,

or anyone else,

to interpret our dreams,

is highly problematic,

and it needs to be taken back…

If we don’t see clearly,

how can we interpret someone else’s invention,

with any accuracy,

or meaning…

Your dream is yours,

even when it is collective…

Dreams and visions are sacred gifts…

And even though I share my dreams with you,

in this public space,

they’re private…

So don’t tell anyone…

Because I’ll know…

If drinking coffee is your idea of really cool...

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