Cult of Personality

I was horny this (Thursday) morning. Master has been a particularly entrancing devil and what he’s done to me I can not even begin to describe. It makes me bolder when I am like this. Always, awed by the power of our innate sexuality… our deepest forms of being. I take risks, I grab what I want, set backs and distractions fall quickly aside. I throw my kids higher in the air, laugh harder at their knock knock jokes. I push my ideas in meetings and become more persuasive than I knew I could be. I start to tell one of my friends a simple story and before I finish we are both hugging, or crying, or laughing hysterically.

I look at the world around me, I see a silent co-worker, a frazzled
mother, a random, haunted beauty with hunched shoulders. I want to
touch them. I want to rouse them. More than that, I want to turn them
inside out, see their fearless, truest self burst forth. See the
surprise and giddiness on their faces when they touch the edges or
even feel the full force of themselves set free. I fantasize shoving
my energy so deep inside them, a relentless force, searching,
calling… dragging them out with my nails, my mouth, my hands, my
acceptance, my soul… ANYTHING, just to see them arrive, to see their face lit up, to watch them play unbounded. I see so many people this way, maybe that’s why I feel so strongly the need to engage. I want to make today a day in which we both know beyond all doubt that this day we have lived. But too many days are not days like that. Too many days, I ignore too much of what I really want to do.

People hide. They push away. Shove their screaming, burning,
inspired, hungry, creative, reckless selves down. It’s there though I
know it, I’ve touched it, and I can’t stop wanting to… again and
again. It is power beyond measure. Consuming. Beyond our control. Always there… Do you feel it? Do you fear it? Do you yearn to set it free? In yourself? In others? Sometimes now I think I’ve
developed a sixth sense, an instinct for other’s level of availability… other’s ability to be open. In many ways it has become the greatest determinant of attractiveness to me. When someone just shows up this way, I feel an incredible magnetism, I gravitate immediately. Maybe its an evolution toward self-preservation because it never fails to hurt, never fails to disappoint when it’s the opposite. When you hold what you love, what you believe, who you are out to someone and they can’t or don’t meet you.

I stepped onto the train this morning, across the way I caught a cute
Irish gentleman looking at me. I offered him a flirty half grin. As
his eyes dropped I saw the endearing, muted smile involuntarily spread across his face. His arm was up, holding the rail that ran along the ceiling. There were three people between us. The following stop was a transfer, all of them stepped off. I stepped straight into him, so that his arm went around my back and up over my shoulder. He stiffened ever so slightly. A woman with beautiful long, blonde hair four feet away lifted her hair, dropped it and swung it side to side to free it from the shoulder strap of her purse. We both watched, and while we did in that moment, time stood still. That did it, I knew I was going to push this further. I shrugged and as I did I slid my coat off, slowly, deliberately. His chin dropped in toward me,
watching, taking me in. We were too close for it not to feel
intimate. I looked at him. He lifted his head and turned his eyes
away. I kept looking, his eyes came back. I said casually, playfully, “the train is so hot today” and just like that he sort of chuckled and the nervousness slipped away and we talked the rest of the ride. He was wearing a wedding ring. So was I. It didn’t stop my heart from racing. I like my heart racing.

There are a millions moments in everyday, where so much more could happen… shouldn’t we seize more of them? Doesn’t everyone of these moments, every one of these decisions shape us into who we are? If we always step back or stand still aren’t we training ourselves to live as if we are finite and fragile beings that as such must settle? If we haven’t the courage to step forward, doesn’t that just mean we aren’t stepping toward what we are truly passionate about? Or is it that we aren’t willing to allow ourselves to be passionate? At least not outwardly, not relentlessly, not in spite of our fears.