So, I’m all a-twitter about trying out some belly dancing. No, that’s a lie, I’m obsessed. The costumes, the make up, the hair, the henna. Drool. I signed up for a class at the end of April, and I’m scouring the Internets for a costume that can double/triple/quadruple as a wedding costume for my friend’s Renaissance-theme wedding in May, for Halloween and for the local fall Renaissance fest.
I have no delusions of grandeur about this. I had a strict no-dance policy for years, especially during the time I was having my 200 children, because I was very uncomfortable in my own skin. Now, I’m not really any more comfortable, but I’m hoping beyond hope that I can reattach myself to my body. I used to dance, though. I don’t know if I was any good, but it didn’t matter becuase I danced for me. Once upon a time, I was a club addict, especially techno and house clubs. If a man came up to dance with me, I felt invaded and quickly grabbed the closest female to me, so as to appear attached, then after the man danced away, I would go back into my own world. Dancing, to me, was never about picking up men or women, it was just a way to ingrain myself in the music I was hearing. Poo on booty dance, if I wanted to fuck someone, I just told them
So, back to my obsession. At the Retreat, my dear friend let me borrow some of her belly dance attire, and did my make up. I even wore falsies – well, false eyelashes. I had glitter, I had sparkles, and I made a lot of noise when I walked, thanks to an amazing coin belt and bra. Being a work-at-home student mom, I don’t get many chances to dress up, and I believe I shocked a few people at how eager I was to actually transform myself into Boomshanka. I think back to the days when I used to go to clubs, when I even had a wig, and I just feel all warm and gushy. That part of me never really died, it just became a fond memory. Maybe its the lack of daily primping that incites my desire for dramatic transformations, or maybe its a calling. Whatever it is, I’m hoping that the belly dance kick lasts and that I’ve found a nice new hobby that benefits everyone around me. I’m also seriously considering getting my nose pierced, which had nothing to do with the Retreat, but seems to tie in to everything.
Bearing all of this in mind, I’m reminded that until April 17th, we’re in a Venus retrograde. I think these happen about every 18 months, and so the last one was late summer of 2007. Venus retrogrades bring up all sorts of wishful emotions, people from the past, and memories. Its kind of like an amnesty period for bad relationships, either with people or with oneself, really. I guess the big question is whether all of the past that has been dusted off will stay in a fond light after the retrograde is over.
The National Women’s History Museum Act has been re-introduced in the House by Rep. Carolyn Maloney as H.R. 1700. The Senate bill will follow shortly. Please send letters to your members of Congress. Please check back for updates.
Members of Congress have the opportunity to recognize women’s successes, build on their accomplishments and empower future generations by passing The National Women’s History Museum Act, giving NWHM a permanent home.
This is our history, our legacy.
My retreat experience is still unfolding, as I go over the details in my mind, again and again, constantly gaining wisdom and insight into myself and everyone who was involved in the experience. Maybe its because my limited experience with groups of women have been online, for business or parenting groups, that I felt so stirred by the connection I felt to the others who were there. It could be that there was truly something otherworldly in the air. It could be the food, drink and other accommodations that made it so special, but I’m finding that even as my “buzz” seems to slip away, I just have to think about the weekend, and I am instantly relaxed and in a better place.
I was able to release a lot of grief and pain over the weekend, and in its place, I’ve discovered a natural feeling of inner peace. I have been strengthened by laughter, and its strength will be with me forever. I even recovered part of myself that I had put aside so that I had more time to work and for school. I’m glad to find that even when I have to let go of myself in order to walk forward, I can always pick me back up and continue the journey.
It was on this path, walking back to the house, that I found myself engulfed by nature and the sights and sounds of the woods. I don’t get to be “natural” as much as I used to be, and I forget the power that radiates from the ground, the trees, the sky and the elements within. Its an astounding feeling to truly release yourself to the world, to feel the pulse of the earth. It is magnificence with a touch of fantasy, and far too amazing to ever put into words.
I know that eventually, I will leave this suburban life and have my own Artemis Path to walk down whenever I need it. I know that by cutting out the things in my life that don’t give me joy, I am making room for newer and better things to bring me happiness. I have steeled my need to write, and write regularly, even if it means I type a blog until I have a better option. Its still writing, and its beautiful. This experience will never be forgotten, and can never be duplicated. I see my path so clearly, and I am excited to venture forth, not knowing exactly where it leads… but knowing that wherever I end up, I will be fulfilled and that the journey to get there will be nothing short of amazing.