How do we battle the debilitating sense of loss, grief, fear, hate, and hopelessness?
The last two days have been brutal… Orlando has been devastated with so much violence and death…first with Christina Grimmie, the with The Pulse shooting.
We have a choice… Really, it’s pretty simple. To battle hate, embrace love. To fight fear, bitterness, intolerance, and bigotry–hold tight to kindness, faith, forgiveness, and patience. Interlace it with understanding.
Hope. Hold on to it. It’s pretty much all we have.
It’s like the Garth Brooks song says… Here are the lyrics I’m choosing to live:
The Change
One hand
Reaches out
And pulls a lost soul from harm
While a thousand more go unspoken for
They say what good have you done
By saving just this one
It’s like whispering a prayer
In the fury of a storm And I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me
This heart
Still believes
The love and mercy still exist
While all the hatred rage and so many say
That love is all but pointless in madness such as this
It’s like trying to stop a fire
With the moisture from a kiss
And I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me As long as one heart still holds on
Then hope is never really gone
I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
Think about it. Guys don’t think twice about calling their genitals what they are. Dicks. Cocks. Penises. In fact, neither do women. But when we’re talking lady parts, suddenly we speak in euphemisms. You’ve heard them. Vajayjay, girlie bits. In fact, I’ve even heard grown women refer to it as their “pee pee.” How old are we?
And then there are the derogatory names people call one another… Like cunt and pussy. The word, when used to describe a person is considered nasty and offensive. Okay, so guys can be called a dick, but that’s considered a mild insult by pretty much every stretch of the imagination.
Truthfully, I had an entirely different blog post I’d intended to write today, but then I saw a video that blew my mind. First, because these women had never seen their own vaginas. Part of me wondered how that was possible. Then the little voice inside my head kicked in and said, “You’re not really that surprised, are you? Think about how people are about masturbation or how hard they are on themselves about their bodies as a whole. With all the negative energy surrounding sex, why should anyone be any different about their reproductive organs?”
So I watched the video. I heard their stories. Some of these women touched me with their bravery, yet reminded me again why education and a sex positive message are so important. Take a look. Tell me what you think.
Did you catch what one woman said? All it took was one extremely negative statement from her first lover to completely destroy her confidence in both her vagina and her sexuality. The other woman who touched my heart was the woman who’d been raped. I suspect that one violent act made her feel unclean. Unworthy. Particularly in the vaginal area. I wondered if subconsciously she didn’t look because she wondered if she hadn’t had one, would this horrible crime have happened. Fear is not rational. Pain is not rational. Words hurt. So do actions.
Changing attitudes takes time, but the healing process can start today. With us. It can be as simple as choosing never to use genitalia as an insult word again. Maybe it starts with your lover in the bedroom. Don’t assume they know how beautiful you find their most intimate body parts. Take time to give them an honest and loving compliment. Heck, you may find it improves your sex life!
What other ways can we help improve this message of self love and empowerment? Are you the one in need of this message? What things have been said or done to you that destroyed your sexual confidence. How did you find your way back? Did you find your way back?
From here until Christmas I’m going to post at least one Christmas song a day. More than likely it won’t be the only thing I post, but sharing my love of music is one of the ways I enjoy the holiday…so you’re stuck with it! LOL!
This world is filled with so much potential…really, it is! Unfortunately, we have proved…practically since our inception, that the one thing that we’re most good at is coming up with the most creative and painful ways to destroy each other…both body and spirit. The last few weeks have been proof of that…all over the world.
No, I’m not going to weigh in on the gun control battle, though I do have my own opinion. I will say this…we don’t need guns to kill each other. Proof? China…those kids were killed by a knife. McVeigh…he learned how to make a bomb online…and took out hundreds. Where there is a will, there is a way. Sad, but true fact…
So if we can be so quick to kill, it stands to reason that we’re probably pretty good at healing, too…but it’s gonna take all of us. One act of kindness at a time. I truly believe every act of selflessness we do is one more step to battling apathy and hate. So my challenge for you? Look around you…find someone who could use an act of kindness…and if it’s within your power, make it happen. The bigger part of that challenge? Do it anonymously! Then share it with us…. See if you can’t be someone’s Christmas miracle.
With that, I leave you with this song… Reminding us…that even in the darkest times, hope can be found….Love Johnny Cash’s narrative in this song.
First and foremost, I want to say Happy Veteran’s Day. If you are a Vet and have served for your country…regardless of which country it is, know that I appreciate you and the job you did. I am sure it was not easy.
My blog posts the last couple of days have been fun and sexy, so I felt I needed to give notice…this next post is in honor of Veterans Day and is a little bit different. I was compelled to write a short story this morning. Most of you are well aware that the military is near and dear to my heart. Having grown up a child of the military has opened my eyes to all sorts of experiences and opportunities to really appreciate people and different cultures.
If you were ever made to feel that your contributions to our freedoms were not appreciated or respected, please know I appreciate you and the freedoms that you’ve enabled me to enjoy. I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. We’ve had so many wars lately that many have not always agreed with. You were doing your duty and your obligation…regardless of whether you agreed with the reasons or the politics. You didn’t deserve to get caught in the crossfire. I’m sorry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He was tired. Mentally, emotionally. The weight of guilt and grief and anger were a heavy mantle around his shoulders. Today when his little girl came home in tears because of him had been more than he could take. Feeling like a failure, he’d gotten into his car and drove.
Pete knew he should have probably let his wife know he was leaving. She would worry. She was a good wife and didn’t deserve all the hardships and sacrifices she’d been forced to face, mostly alone. He just couldn’t help himself. After looking into his 6 year old girl’s tear stained face and coaxing the story out of her he’d needed an escape. He didn’t want her to see the rage that was floating close to the surface.
Looking around, he found himself in the middle of nowhere. Up ahead, to the right, there looked to be an old abandoned church. The tiny building with it’s dark wooden doors flung open seemed to beckon him from the road. As he pulled up and put his car into park he noticed the decay. Tall weeds surrounded the building everywhere except along the rubble path and the steps made of carved gray stone. The white paint curled and chipped with heat and age.
Stepping out of his vehicle he looked up at the little cross at the steeple. He walked carefully up the steps noting the cobwebs in the corners of the door jams. Although the doors were open with welcome, it was obvious to him that no one had been here in a long time.
He contemplated the dark, scarred wood that made up the cross in the front of the sanctuary. His feet led him forward, down the aisle. Stopping at the second pew, he glanced down. They were in good condition.
“What the heck,” he thought to himself as he sat down, “I’ve got nowhere to go anyway.”
Gazing up at that cross he started talking.
“I didn’t ask for this war. I believe in this country and what it stands for. I enlisted hoping to better myself. I wanted to provide a better life for my wife and my daughter.”
He laughed bitterly. “Little good that had done,” he thought. That same little girl that he’d wanted to give the world to, whose birth he’d missed because he’d been deployed, was the same adorable face that had looked up at him, eyes swimming in tears.
“You look like you’re in a crisis of faith, son,” a voice came from beside him.
Looking over, he saw a gentleman sitting beside him. He must have been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear the man join him. In coveralls, little chips of wood and sawdust in his dark brown hair and clothing, the man was fairly nondescript. Pete figured he was probably a carpenter.
He tried for a friendly smile, but only succeeded with a grimace, “It’s been a rough day.” He snorted softly as he rolled his eyes, “Who am I kidding? It’s been a rough few years.”
“Care to talk about it?” The man asked warmly. “Sometimes it helps to tell a stranger.”
Pete didn’t trust easily, especially after the welcome he’d received when he’d gotten home from overseas. This war was doing some crazy things to this country he loved so much. Something about this man called to him.
He found himself speaking, “My six year old came home from school today, crying.”
He swallowed hard, blinking back tears of his own as her precious face swam into his memory, “She was playing with the neighbor kids in their yard when she overheard a couple of the parents talking. One of the parents said that they thought it was ridiculous that we were even in this war. That our soldiers were out there murdering innocent people for a selfish cause that nobody agreed with. As other parents nodded agreement someone else added that they couldn’t believe that soldiers just went along with it. According to these people I should have voiced my disagreement and insisted on coming home.”
Pete ran his fingers through his razor short hair and looked into the sympathetic brown eyes. “They never considered the damage their hurtful words would do to those innocent six year old ears.”
He huffed out a breath, “Who am I kidding? I doubt they even cared. I came home from the war to be greeted by picketers, hate and angry words. Why should they care about how their words affect my wife and daughter?”
“Only your wife and daughter?” The man beside him asked, eyebrow raised in a very astute question.
“No,” Pete answered. “Not just them. I left today because I was so filled with hurt and rage. I didn’t even tell my wife I was leaving. She’s probably worried sick. I didn’t want them to see me that way! I feel betrayed! I serve for love of those same people who hurt my daughter. Who mocked my trip home. I’ve done it so they can enjoy their lives. Enjoy their freedoms. They don’t know. They have no idea what I’ve seen. What I’ve heard so that they can taunt me and make my daughter cry. I still hear the explosions in my head. The screams and chaos that follows never quite go away. I carry it all with me. In my heart. Scarred on my soul.”
He looked at the kindly stranger whose face was filled with such understanding, “Part of me wants to scream at them. I bled for you. I died a bit for you. Don’t you see I do this for you? How can you turn away from me so completely? How can you make my wife and child so sad for love of me?”
The man gently put his arm around Pete’s shoulder. “I know how you feel. It’s not easy to be turned away by the people you love so much. When all the things you’ve given up or missed seem unnoticed and unappreciated. Hang in there. Give them time. One day someone will realize what you’ve done and how deeply you loved them. Go home to your wife. Your daughter. Give them a hug. They love you.”
With that little bit of wisdom, the carpenter stood up and walked away.
Pete thought for a moment about what the man said and turned around to thank him for his kindness. The man was gone. As he looked back toward the cross, prepared to head back home, he looked up again. For the first time he noticed Jesus. He shook his head. He didn’t remember him being there when he first walked in.
Shrugging he walked to the car. As he pulled the car back onto the road he realized three things. First, the guy on the cross had a very familiar face. He looked an awful lot like the guy he’d been chatting with. Second, as he thought back to that man, he remembered the scars he’d seen on his new friend’s wrists. Third, those voices in his head had stopped screaming for the first time in years the moment he’d entered that church.
He bowed his head for a moment to say thanks. Someone understood his sacrifices all too well. It was time to go home.
~~~~~~~~
The life of a soldier isn’t easy…not on them, not on their family. Here’s a song for those still in service and overseas.
So, I've been spanked, hard! I have spanked myself hard, I have spanked others even harder! I'm now heading for a different road, one that still includes all the best bits of me, all the naughty bits, all the hot steamy bits, and plenty of spanking still to be had! But this time I'm creating characters to play out my delightful erotic fantasies, I hope you enjoy the new ride as much as the previous one...
theinnerwildkat 