I bought Mamma Zen over the weekend and just this morning read a chapter on time, reflecting on the artificial demarkations of time (for example, day v. night, which cease to exist with someone whose stomach can only hold four oz).
Cohiba and I have spend the past several weeks looking for a place to move. While our current apartment is actually quite nice and I really like it, (though the drive sucks), we thought we had to move because the apartment is tiny for our needs.
Rather, our accumulated shit is too much for our home.
Sacred: “means revered due to association with (with something) considered worthy of spiritual respect or devotion; or inspiring are or reverence”
I believe that all rituals, religious or otherwise, are sacred. Rituals connect us to a deeper current within humanity, something we are all connected to, and I think that current is God, or part of God. So I love rituals, though I don’t often focus or think about their place in my life. Therefore, I’m glad to think about them in this (albeit late) response to a daily prompt.
I follow a blogger called everyday gurus, who is involved with Bloggers for Peace, a collection of bloggers to like to write on, you guessed it, peace, at least one post a month. This blogger posted a challenge for B4Peacers to blog about empathy as this month’s theme for peace.
It’s almost two months that I’ve been married, and last night I did a memory book of the detritus I had collected during wedding trip in Disney World. (Yeah – I’m a Disney bride.) Now I’ve got my Sherlock pipe and I’m ruminating on things that are different now.
One big change since I got married is that people respond to me differently. When I called him my “boyfriend” or “fiance,” they responded less seriously to it than when I talk about my “husband.”
For example: “I need to talk to my boyfriend/fiancé” about a decision means they’ll keep talking to me about it. When I say, “I need to talk to my husband” about the same decision, they shut up. Like they respect the role of “wife” more than “fiancée” or “girlfriend.”
Anther difference, and I’m sure this is normal, is that I’m thinking longer term. Will we buy land? What kind of house will we build? Where? Can we raise a family there? The cool thing is, I’m thinking about this stuff, and I’m not freaking out. I’m a bit of a commitment-phobe, so this is a big deal.
I know yet even more what I want: I want to build a tiny house. I want to write more, a book. I want to live more in faith. I want to act in the Renaissance Faire. I WANT to do these things, even though I may miss on something better that comes along. For so long in my life I’ve been drifting around hoping to catch the Better Thing that people stumble onto, but now I don’t think that’s real. I don’t think Something Better will come along. Maybe it’s all Better. It’s just a choice.
Moreover, I’m not afraid to try things because I know my husband is behind me, is with me. Which brings me to my last point: I’m not alone anymore. I was so alone before him, and I didn’t even know it. What a wonderful discovery, and even better that I can make it with my Cohiba.
Update: I also second everything my Texan sister said. (Except for the surgery on the honeymoon part – that sucks.) How funny that we posted this on the same day!
At the end of March, President Obama made April 2014 National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month.
Sexual assault: Unwanted sexual contact that stops short of rape or attempted rape. This includes sexual touching and fondling.
I’ve survived this. I’ve never said it in this way before, but I have survived this. Twice.
Those times weren’t traumatic. They weren’t violent. I knew both the guys. (Many survivors know their assailant!) I didn’t like it and I felt icky afterward; I still feel icky to think about it. Despite this, I never thought of it as sexual assault. I’ve always thought: You know, we were both drinking the first time, and he said he was really ashamed about it afterward. And the second time, well, I was “sewing my oats” that summer and that was just part of it. You got burned. I never considered it assault.
But it was.