Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Yearning to Linger


‎"Discovering this idyllic place, we find ourselves filled with a yearning to linger here, where time stands still and beauty overwhelms." 
 That's michfest to me. So very full of beauty of the most unimaginable sort. I yearn for it today, missing my festie sisters and the magic we create just by being together.

Tuesday Night Ritual

Having just arrived that Tuesday evening, first embraces with my fest family shared, first laughter, first beer had, my friend C and I made our first magical journey through the land. I cherish this first visit each year, soaking it all in, the sites, the sounds of home, strangely familiar and yet new each year.Memories flood me of this tent or that set up previous years, they live in my mind like shadows.As we continued through the woods, past a rather ill-fated campsite from the year prior, laughing at the drama of the previous year, glad to be a year out from it all, the clouds overhead hung low and full, casting shadows upon everything as they held back, waiting until just the right moment to burst forth their cleansing showers.

We walked and laughed, breathed, shared, through the woods and out again, past the kitchen, past the Cuntry Store and ended up at night stage just as the Tuesday night ritual was about to begin. It felt amazingly wonderful and powerful to be there again, with so many familiar womyn. The ritual began, we called the spirits of the various directions as the spirits of the west made themselves known as the rain, gently at first, and it built as we danced our spiral dance amidst smiles, whoops, laughter, just simply joy. I feel joy to be safely among my sisters. Though I may not know every womon I see year to year at Fest, we gather here every year for this greater good that is Michfest, this community within the woods. Recognizing my sisters among these unknown faces year after year is comforting. Michfest is far from perfect, nothing in life ever is, and more importantly, it is not perfection I am looking for, but connection. I felt it under that rainfall in this clearing, surrounded by the woods. I feel it now, today, thinking back to all that is Fest, my sisters, my friends and family-of-choice. I am thankful every day for the pathways that converged to bring me to Fest, to my dear friends - you know who you are. I stood that night smiling, struggling a bit with my rain-soaked glasses, but finding the joy and wonder in it all.

The ritual ended - it felt quicker than previous - it could have been the rain, it could be my level of bliss. C and I decided to head back meandering towards our site out in RV, up the sacred-to-me Lois lane for the first time this year. We stopped by the nightly movie to see if we could seek a slight refuge from the wondrous downpour, but the rain had squeezed the event into a tent and it was quite crowded - I'm sure the weather was to blame. We laughed at the awe of it all, and headed on up the path towards home, joking of salmon swimming upstream, the small river flowing down Lois Lane was impressive. It was an amazing, cleansing rain.

We made our way out of the woods and out to RV, headed up to our (wonderfully borrowed) pop-up to get changed and into some dry clothes. As we both sat there laughing at all that had just transpired, the most unreal crash of thunder, lightning, just ENERGY literally flashed through the RV, causing both of us to jump a mile high, startled and again in awe of Mother Nature's strength and glory. We both commented how we FELT that just fly through us in the pop-up. It was probably NOT as amazing an experience for those in tents now flooded, their week worth of supplies now in a puddle. It was a nerve-wracking (to say the least) experience for those in the DART area, as we later found out, when that loud crash ended up being lightning striking a tree in their area, causing a power outage, and a terrifying experience for many (and thankfully no one was injured!!) From our safe distance, and unaware of the danger, I found it amazing. I was thankful for our cleansing, exhilarating welcome home.  

I love my time at Fest each year. I dream of it through the dark, cool winter. I miss you all, my dear fest family, but I am certain we will be home once again. Until then, I will dream of dancing under nature's showers, that drenched walk up the path. I will dream of sunny days, laughter, sharing a meal or a drink with my cherished friends. It warms me on this cool fall evening. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Because I am a Womon

I am a Womon, and because I was a girl, my grandfather believed it was his right to molest me, repeatedly for years. Because I was a girl, it was okay for him to expose himself to me, touch me inappropriately and violate my body. Because I was a girl, it was okay for boys to grope me, to demand of me, to treat me disrespectfully. Because I was a girl, I was told it was not safe to walk or play outside at night. Because I was a girl, when I spent the night at my friend’s house, it was okay for her older brother to come in the night to tease, to grope me, to attempt to fondle me. Because I was a girl, I was told time and again I was not “Pretty” enough. Because I was a girl, I was told I was too fat, shamed and told to lose weight; I was not given breakfast or money for lunch, because I was told I needed to lose weight. Because I was a girl, I had to walk around with my jacket tied around my waist because once again, I had my period and I had bled through my jeans. Because I was a girl, I was in the bathroom doubled over in pain with cramps, but had to hurry to class before the bell rang so I would not be in trouble. Because I was a girl, I was told how to behave in order to make boys and then men interested, I was taught how to cater to males in order to please them, to make them like me. But I was also told to be on guard from them, because men were inherently more powerful than I was because I was a girl. Because I was a girl, I had great shame in myself, in my body, I wanted to be quiet, to be hidden, to never be visible. Because I was a girl, I learned to smile to hide the pain.

Because I am a womon, I knew I was supposed to grow up and marry a man. Because I am a womon, I did get married to the first man I seriously dated. Because I am a womon, I became pregnant by choice and a male doctor told me I could not be trusted during childbirth, science and research knew better, my body was inherently dangerous, my instincts to walk around, to move during labor were wrong. Because I am a womon, I was put under general anesthetic, my body was cut against my will, and my daughter was ripped from my womb and removed from the room. Because I am a womon, I have a scar on my abdomen, had no faith in my body’s ability to work as it should, and a daughter I love very much. Because I am a womon, I became pregnant again by choice, and was told again that my body is broken, my instincts are wrong, I am inherently weak and dangerous, and my body is not my own. Because I am a womon, I was cut against my will a second time, had my second daughter ripped from my womb, but at least this time, I was able to keep her with me in the room. Because I am a womon, I have two scars on my uterus against my will, and two daughters I love more than I could ever explain. Because I am a womon, I became pregnant a third time. This time, it was unexpected, but my then-husband and I welcomed her.

Because I am a Womon, I took my power back. Because I am a Womon, I told the doctors-with-their-research-and-knives to go fuck themselves, I would be having this baby on my terms. Because I am a Womon, I listened to MY instincts, and the Womyn before me guiding me on this journey, and I had my baby at home. Because I am a womon, I rocked, and cried, and fought, and moaned, and yelled, and danced, and breathed and pushed, and worked, and finally laid down in bed and growled, moaned, and felt the most primal,guttural, powerful feeling ever as I birthed this baby on my own. Because I am a womon, I have three daughters who I love more than I could ever explain. Because I am a Womon, I found my faith in my body; this liability became my most powerful asset in healing. Because I am a Womon, my body is powerful, I am strong, and I am a warrior for my three daughters. Because I am a Womon, I nourished my children with my milk, I helped them to grow, and develop and flourish. Because I am a Womon, I have three daughters for whom I would give my life. Because I am a Womon, I must teach my three daughters that they are strong, they are powerful, but men are still potentially dangerous. Because I am a Womon, I teach my three daughters to LISTEN to that voice inside them, to trust their instincts. Because I am a Womon, I teach my daughters that they are LOVED, they are WORTHY. Because I am a Womon, I tell my daughters every day how strong, powerful, and intelligent they are.

Because I am a Womon, one night I sat completely alone and realized I am living an entire life decided and planned by someone else; I realized I had lost myself very early on as a girl, and I had to somehow find my way back. Because I am a Womon, I realized that this life I had created was not the one I wanted, this was not my path. Because I am a Womon, I reconnected with my spirit, I rocked my world, and I made it MY OWN. Because I am a Womon who loves Womyn, who believes in myself, I am finally living my truths.
 
Because I am a Womon, I was molested, treated badly, treated as less-than, as dumb, inherently unsafe, objectified, abused, neglected, told I was broken, told I was UNWORTHY.


Because I am a Womon, I will be LOUD, take up space, laugh, dance, feel fierce, CRY, CELEBRATE, feel loved, feel LOVE, feel worthy, feel POWERFUL, feel beautiful, feel STRONG, feel SAFE. Because I am a Womon, I am standing proudly here today.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

My Religion

Inspired by so many experiences from Michfest, inspired by so many moments with my own children, just generally inspired:


Leaves rustling in a breeze, branches reaching out above us, up to the sky, the laughter of innocent children telling giggly secrets about who knows what, the rain pounding against the windows, against the roof of a tent, while you’re huddled inside holding one another in warmth, or love, or joy, or gratitude, whilst thunder booms overhead showing it’s power, the will of little seedlings, saplings, weeds, and grass poking through the cement laid with force, but not the same determination, lovers holding hands down the lane as birds fly by singing carefree in the sky, a woman and her guitar belting out tunes that make chills run up and down my spine, poetry being read aloud and with conviction, a good book, a smooth cup of coffee, the silence of being alone, the loud chaos of a house filled with love and happiness, the heated intensity of peering into a lover’s eyes, into her soul, the electric touch as I slide my fingers across her skin, the delight in peekaboo with a tiny baby, a mind full of thoughts, or quietly pondering, filling with compassion, tears falling, moved by strangers, the sweet crunch of a juicy apple, a purring cat brushing against your leg, demanding the love it needs right now, because for a cat, when else is there? A child anxious for the destination; begging are we there yet? ARE WE THERE YET? When we’ve only just begun this journey, and really, is the destination even known? The blossoming flowers on the trees or on the ground, the fruit, the labor, the living, breathing, life-giving growing things that keep us, that feed us, that nurture our bodies, OUR bodies, the struggle, the triumph, the joys, the sorrows, the everyday moments that complete us, mudpies and movies and heartbreak and harmony, waves crashing against the shore and the birds diving down out past the surf, and birth, and strain, and pushing past that which we are comfortable with, breaking new ground to the unfound, uncharted territories of our hearts or of our heads or of the places around us and just being. Just listening. Helping. Wondering. Hoping. Feeling. Seeing. Truly hearing. Knowing. And Loving. Just simply loving. With all of your being through thick and thin, just loving. That’s my religion.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Welcome Home

I 'm originally from Oklahoma, now I live in California, but for the one glorious week in August each year, Michigan Womyn's Music Festival is my home. "Welcome home!", everyone cheers as you first drive in, but the magic of this community is palpable far before I first hear those loving words every August. I feel it driving down those country roads, that final turn down the dirt road that carries me there. The woods, the spirit of this community just wraps itself fully around my soul. I am home. My instinct is always to reach down at some point, soon after I am there and just lay my hands on the land. I love feeling my bare feet on the earth, my hands, it feels like a connection to something so much greater than myself. This space is magical because of all who come here, who build this place with our love, our intention. We, together, are a community of intention, love, support, and respect for one week out of the year. We come for many reasons, of course, but the community created together is unlike anything I've experienced before. My breath is deeper, my smile larger, my spirit begins once again to grow beyond the bounds of my body, and I feel truly a part of something so much larger than myself. I am so grateful to have this space; grateful to those womyn who have come before me, Lisa Vogel and others who helped to create this space, grateful to all who (when able) come together for this one week each August.

I'm thankful to have this space, to have this feeling of truly being welcome home.