Becoming a Woman

Netflix drops gifts into my mailbox on a weekly basis, some are expected while others are careful disguised jewels that leave me emotional and thoughtful. The recent movie I saw tugged at my heart strings and I'm glad I decided to watch "Bedtime Stories" prior to experience the horrors of "Maya".

It depicits a young girl's experience of becoming a woman and the celebration it provokes in India. The movie opens to screams of a young girl and a boy beating on a locked door. Sanjay is a mischevious young man whose sidekick in his life is his sister Maya, an equally exhuberant child. They do everything together from pranks on the local shopkeepers to sharing a bed until Maya's period comes on. The response is startling and confusing to the children especially because Maya has no idea why she is told not to exert herself, asked to wear a clothe and is suddenly a woman not a child. The family returns to the village Maya was born in to have a huge celebration and prayer festive in the honor of puberty. Sanjay is feeling left out during all the preparation for this big day yet and does things to stir up drama which further isolates him from Maya. Part of the celebration is for the family to have a holy priest precede over the prayer ceremony and to cater a big meal for the village.

It troubled me how Sanjay felt something wasn't right about the priest and no one listened to him. Too often children's voices are ignored because adults believe they know what's right. Its important that adults are aware of how children respond to other adults as they might be indicators of who that person really is.

The prayer ceremony consists of Maya, the priest and his four cohorts in a temple which was locked once they entered. Prior to entering, Maya began to feel strangely and started to hesitate but continued inside and again felt odd and resisted physically and verbally with screams to no avail. Her family waited outside the door smiling, ignoring her merciless screams and feeding guests while those men took turns raping her.

Sanjay was the only one asute enough to even try and help but his father beat him and scolded him for embarrassing the family. When it was over, Maya limped out of the temple disheveled looking while these Holy men smiled and said she had a pure soul and God really loved her. It sickened me to watch how the family catered and bestowed all this graciousness to these men that just raped their child. I wondered if the family knew what the prayer ceremony consisted of and if so why would anyone condone the deflowering of a child to a group of men.

Even though Indian Government forbids these practices, NGO's estimates 5,000 to 15,000 girls are still dedicated to such or similar practices every year.

The film was based on a few practices such as "Devdasi", "Jogini" and "Anang Dana Pratana".

"The things which the child loves remain in the domain of the heart until old age. The most beautiful thing in life is that our souls remain hovering over the places where we once enjoyed ourselves." - Kahlil Gibran

The Prize - unedited

The day always held such electricity for the adults and kids in Coffin Park. The Coffin Park neighborhood had a Halloween tradition of randomly selecting 13 houses to judge the costumes and tricks. This forced the kids to parade around to each house hoping a glass eye, severed finger, a bat wing or bloody heart was dropped into their bag. Each item had a different score to it and it changed yearly so it kept the kids eagerly awaiting the results at the bonfire.

Sampson, a ten year old with the hair and mind of Einstein with a dark side, planned out his costume months in advance with his mom at the craft store and a crayon sketch to use as inspiration. Plastic and store brought costumes were for amateurs. Sampson considered himself an expert of All Hallows Eve, he studied the origin and had read all literature about the day, it was his absolutely favorite holiday. He planned on winning the prize this year and had canvassed the neighborhood to try to figure out which houses were judging this year.

As the sun began the set, Sampson finished putting the final touches of his makeup on and looked at himself in the mirror. He then heard the howl that marked it was time for trick or treating, smiling he set out to make this his year. This year started off differently as Sampson walked outside and felt a chill move onto his sandaled feet and gave him goosebumps. The little kids skipped down the sidewalk dressed as princesses and superheroes and Sampson scowled at them. He stopped at the edge of his first house and watched as the porch light flickered on and off as an skeletal hand gave out candy. His focus wasn't the candy but the prize so he had to watch closely on what was dropped into each bag. People were sneaky.

Stepping up to the door, he began to sweat and felt like someone was behind him. He turned around and found a strange sight all the lights were flickering on and off and no one was on the street. Where did the little kids go? His hand touched the door and he shivered and held out his bag and whispered "Trick or treat" while the skeletal hand dropped a glass eye in his bag along with bubble gum. "Thank you" as he turned around to a gang of kids running up and down the sidewalk. Every house he went to he had hot flashes that were followed by chills. His bag was getting heavy and he still hadn't gotten a heart yet and time was running out. Sampson stood in front of two houses, Ms. Ruth and Mr. Jacobs. Mr. Jacobs was an old man who thought having several different pairs of dentures and sending kids into his study to find his glasses in a drawer that held more than 50 pair was funny. Ms. Ruth smelled like moth balls and never gave candy instead she had a bag full of miscellaneous items that she gave out so of course no one liked going to her house. Sampson stood between the two houses and something flew by his head causing him to move toward Ms. Ruth's house. Walking up to her door, he saw the light flicker and he heard the light bulbs pop and go out as he touched the door.

Ms. Ruth opened the door quickly, "Come in boy!"
Sampson wasn't expecting to go inside the house and he knew if he didn't arrive back at the bonfire before the final howl he would be disqualified but he let her shoo him in. Her house was dark except for the candles burning and something smelled dead. "Ms. Ruth, I have to go the bonfire should be starting soon." His voice and body tense as his eyes struggle to see through the darkness.
"No worries, young man" "I hold the key to that prize you crave so dearly"
His body relaxed and his breathing calmed a bit, "Ok, so where's the prize and what IS that smell?"
She laughs "That my dear is the prize. Come with me." She grabs his hand sending a icy jolt through his body as they head towards the kitchen and the smell got stronger with each step.
"Umm, Ms. Ruth" His eyes watching a pot boil on the stove and his feet became heavy as she went over to stir the contents "What's in the pot?"
She pulls out a ladle and a bowl, "Have a seat Sampson. Your reward is near after you have had a bowl of my Wolfat stew. Each year one person is selected to eat a bowl of this Coffin Park specialty and this is your year."
She pushes the bowl towards Sampson and the candle light flickered revealing the contents in the bowl: a severed finger, a bat wing and the heart of an animal in a garlicky broth. Strangely, Sampson began shaking and salivating and before he knew what was happening his fingers were in the bowl grabbing at the contents and shoving them into his mouth. He was disgusted by his behavior yet couldn't seem to control himself. As he ate his senses grew stronger and he heard something deep inside rumble. He felt the need to run and Ms. Ruth already had the door open as his metamorphis began. Sampson fell to his knees and ran out of the house on his newly formed paws with delight as he stopped and looked up at the moon and began to howl and happy song. He had heard the legend of Coffin Park that there were Wolf and Bat People living among regular people and he did all he could to be the prize this halloween. He trotted towards the bonfire to reveal himself to the others with pride.

Feelings

Been feeling a myriad of emotions lately. I guess that's the purpose of the fast to be more aware of my emotions and how I'm feeling but I swear I feel like skin tingling in anticipation of the unknown. I'm feeling my heart beat and skip to the rhythm of my thoughts both negative and positive. I feel like my eyes are crossed and my mind in cloudy and I'm walking through a fog but I'm not feeling the moisture cause my mouth feels dry. I'm feeling like my air is labored and it hurts to inhale or exhale deeply. I feel like I'm being bound and gagged and can't move. I feel helpless as if I am paralyzed from head to toe. I feel like the more I have to focus the more panic I experience. My mind is running in circles to no where, heart is confused because of the harden that is slowly happening. My spirit is wandering aimlessly through the life on auto pilot. No gas pedal or brake, I'm just on cruise leaving a trail of sparks behind.

I ME Wed

Things You'll Need

* Open heart
* Self love
* A willingness to throw out old habits and self loathing

Steps 1. Set Your Intention.

Work out what you want to achieve by marrying yourself. For example, "a lifelong commitment from a partner in a relationship that exudes happiness at every turn." Before you can expect this commitment from someone else, you must first promise that you will do everything in your power to give this to yourself, every day.

2. Throw Out Self Loathing.

Looking in the mirror and criticizing your imperfections? Laughing off compliments and dismissing nods to your brilliance? Flying under the radar so your super-stardom goes unnoticed? These are classic signs that you have a degree of self-loathing. Self-loathing only serves to block you from finding happiness within. When you radiate unhappiness, you attract unhappy people. Unhappy people are generally commitment-phobes. So get over yourself girl, and repeat after me: "Self-loathing is for suckers."

3. See Yourself As Goddess.

Begin to notice your perfections when you look in the mirror. Receive compliments as graciously and copiously as you give them. Say "yes, yes, YES" a lot, with revellious and delightful energy. Practice shameless acts of joy and master joyous acts of shame. Affirm yourself daily with delicious words including "magical, mystical, sparkling, juicy, ethereal, beauty, intuitive, divine." When you see yourself as Goddess, this is the gorgeous energy you radiate and hence, you begin to attract similarly gorgeous people into your life.

4. Be Your Own Best Friend.

Tell yourself jokes. Spoil yourself rotten. Keep yourself entertained by doing what YOU want to do. Write down a promise to self that you will "never put baby in the corner." Flick "friends" that dare to support habits of self-loathing. Become a magnet to new friends that are a reflection of your perfection.

5. Create Your Day.

Now that you are your own little solar system and the brightest little star at the centre of your own cosmos, it is time to invite family and friends who love you as much as you love yourself, and to help you celebrate your rocking divinity. Picture your perfect ceremony in your head, see the smiling faces of your friends as they witness your joy, play with wedding vows until you have the perfect expression of your perfect self.

6. Let the Party Begin.

Set the date, find your venue, send out invitations, and let the party of self-love begin.

Tips & Warnings

* Go overboard with fun and self-love.

* Do not marry yourself if you hear voices in your head that serve to sabotage your intentions for true, everlasting, undying, fulfilling, rip-roaring LOVE.

In medias res - The Secret Within

In the waiting room having a panic attack. I need to tell him everything! But can I?

Keith has always been a straight shooter and respected people more if they just told the truth. The consequences were increased with each word courage permitted. My hands were soaking the lap of my raw silk dress as I look over at his hulk-like body as he sits awkwardly in the regular people chairs. He is a beautiful man with an immaculately groomed goatee, huge callused hands with a huge white smile that hides so much pain. This is a big day for him but I am looking for a way out. If I walk into the doctor's office with him, as he refuses to let me do this alone, he will find out. I considered fainting but realized that it would put myself in the pit of damnation where I have no control. I'm afraid if he finds out he will love me less and worse of all fear me.

Fear is always the thing that prevents me from just opening my mouth and just telling him. But there is a time and a place for everything. And I'm not sure if there will ever be a time to tell him this particular truth.

"Babe, are you okay?" His deep tenored voice rouses me out of my thoughts as he pulls my stiff body closer to him, leans down and kiss my slightly damp forehead.


I smile weakly at him and croak tentatively. "We need to talk."


He looks at me questioning through his warm chestnut eyes and instead of saying anymore he stood up and went over to the plexiglass window to inform the receptionist that we were stepping outside.

We met under the most discreet circumstances as I am a psychic or medium as we prefer to be called these days. Keith Bachallard was referred to me by a colleague who used my services to find a kidnapped little girl named Amber. Keith wanted desperately to become a detective and join the elite special forces of this club as he was also a former Army soldier who carried quite a bit of importance in certain circles. He barged into my parlor with a chip on his shoulder and scepticism glistening on his lips as I drank my morning tea and read the newspaper on my velvet gold couch. My clientele is referral based with the occasional random curiosity seeker who heard rumors that fortunes are told here. Thankfully, my antique store with its ever-changing window dressing allows me to maintain my eccentric nature and use this to deter the rumors since its against the law to practice parapsychology.



As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew I would fall hard for him. "Jesenia Christianson?" He asked accusingly. He hands were held in a tight fist and his mouth, that beautiful mouth that sang my name, was frowning.



I slowly put down my cup of tea and folded my newspaper and stood up as I placed it on the small table beside the couch. I put my hand out to make his acquaintance and smiled sweetly. "Oh, it's so wonderful to make your acquaintance."



He winced as though I had thrown boiling water on him. It was apparent that he was the type that liked to intimidate and control people and situations. Little did he know I only deal with people's authentic self even if they have no idea who that self is. This is typical practice for me to remove the cloaks and facades within seconds and deal with only the person that is within.



The secret to my success, however, is the aching in my bones I get when there are negative and dark energies within a certain distance of me. With Keith, my bones tingled with delight so I knew he was the man for me. As soon as our hands touched, he was dismantled in a matter of minutes and five years later, we sat in a doctor's office awaiting results of fertility tests.


We find a comfortable bench across the street to sit on. Even though Keith got his wish by solving the case years ago and was promoted to detective he still found it difficult to read me. So, he sat looking at me and waited for me to begin.


Taking a deep breath and wringing my hands. I can't believe I allowed the tingles in my bones to get the best of me because no one ever understands the full magnitude of the secret I hold within. "I am not who or even what you think I am. I've told you from day one that I couldn't give you children. I suggested we adopt instead you have put me a position to tell you a truth I can't bare to share." I can't bare to look at him if I want to keep my courage but I peek out the corner of my eye and see him staring intently at me. He has always spoken about wanting to having children and told me after we had been together for two year he was insisting that I was the woman he wanted to sire children with.


"I can have a children but..." I continue because I can tell that he wants to hear me out. "I can't have children that you can raise up and call your own. It's all very complicated but even the doctor would not be able to explain this situation. I have an extra chromosome that allows me to reproduce without the assistance of a man."


"So what are you saying you don't need me to get pregnant?" Keith clears his throat which is an indicator that he is confused. He is staring at the side of my face as if willing me to look at him. I turn towards him and slowly nod my head and put my hand up so he knows I have more to reveal. Laughing nervously to myself, that wasn't even the real bomb.

"I was born centuries ago into a life where I was an orphaned outcast with a revered brother. Everyone knows of his birth and death I never understood why I was ignored and and many thought I died and didn't care to know about my rebirth. The night I died I went into labor and gave myself life again."


"What do you mean, you gave yourself life after death?" Keith was rubbing his goatee inquisitively. I stare in shocked that he doesn't seem alarmed by this nugget of information. I guess he is scrambling my ability to predict his reaction because I anticipated anger and unbelief at this point.


"Well, what this means is in order to live I give birth and..." I look at the doctor's building and count cars. This is the hard part of the revelation because I've never gotten to this point with any man in my lifetime. Usually they are seeking to Baker Act me for even suggesting Jesus is my brother and that I was born "with Christ". I've never said it out loud either but he is staring at me with an inquiry that is full of open mindedness. I close my eyes and finish "I have to eat the flesh of the seed."


I open my eyes and look at him as he stroke his goatee and stands up. He walks towards the street slowly. He gets blurry as my eyes begin tearing up, I let the tears fall freely when I hear his voice softly in my ear. "Can we keep one?"

Anew ME

This weekend, I really got into the cleaning and purging spirit in my study. During this time, I ran across pages and pages of words I've strung into a line called a sentences and pieced together to form a unique jewel called writing. Its always delightful to re-visit and touch my jewels. They remind me of the gift that I have and encourage me to spin and weave more often for the fun of it. I'm here to say...I am back, anew ME!

Watch out world, here I come to dazzle you with my wordplay and twisting plots.

If this is your first time visiting this site...I have a few stories at the very beginning with articles I found during my knowledge surfing as fillers until I returned!

VA