Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Is it Fantasy, Imagination or the Naked City?

Well, it happened. I may be one of the least repressed people that you have ever met. I grew up being comfortable seeing my parents nude, my kids grew up seeing me nude. When they closed their bedroom door, I started wearing a house coat. Nudity is the way we came into this world. It is something that feels too good. Today, it was too much!

It was 9:30 in the morning. I pedaled over to my local drug store to get some vital purchase, and what did I see? Down the aisle comes a woman dressed in a fishnet. The holes were about a ½ inch. I think that the Fantasy Fest criterion is naked nipples. Well, her nipples were there, naked and proud. There are times and places where I would have celebrated this demonstration of personal power. Not at 9:30 in the morning! Not at my local drug store!

Yech! I saw, I retreated. I saw, and something got stuck in my craw. This is a family place; it is the local drug store. There is a party zone, just down the street. We are not in the party zone. So, I spoke up…
“You are dressed inappropriately for this location. That is for the party zone. This is a place for families.”

I don’t know if I scored one with her, I did with me.

Since, my mind has been running wild with ideas. How do we keep nudity inside the party zone?

They say that they, the alleged “they,” are writing tickets. I haven’t seen anyone writing tickets. How would that go?

Officer: “I see your private parts. I am writing you a citation for indecent exposure.”
Exhibitionist: “Where do I put it?”

insert tasteful image of a naked person at fantasy fest

Image unavailable. 

So, mind spinning, I came up with a possible solution.

We, the citizens and residents of Key West can take some responsibly toward making Key West a fantastic place to live and raise a family. If we choose to keep our residential areas free of gratuitous nudity, we can become proactive.
Idea one: have those fence / guardrail things at each entrance and exit to the party zone, they have them on Duval street anyway; Parade time; closed off streets; we could put those barriers across the access streets.
Have an officer/ concerned citizen at each exit point prepared to warn partygoers that they are leaving the party zone, and either thank them for coming, or warn them that their attire, or lack of, is unacceptable outside the party zone.
Image Source: architecturendesignIdea one, part two: have downtown businesses design and create a bag, like what we would do with garbage bags in a rain storm, a hole for the head and for each limb. These would be made out of biodegradable paper because they will wind up on the streets.

The person at the exit points would then inform the party goer that they, the concerned citizen, are authorized to write a ticket for indecent exposure as a citizen’s arrest. In lieu of writing the ticket, the party-goer could wear the above-mentioned bag until they are dressed more acceptably. The bags would cost $5.

Now, why would anyone want to buy a paper bag to wear? Because it will be one of the most exclusive souvenirs of Fantasy Fest. Not only will the businesses put incredible illustrations on the bags, there would be a check-off list of the body parts bared, and there would be slogans like:

Wait until you see what’s inside!

Come to the Party Zone and see!

As a courtesy, the inns and hotels within walking distance of the party zone could have stacks of these bags, and distribute them to their guests.

Let’s be proactive and take back our Halloween Celebration!

Tuesday, November 26, 2013


Tuesday, drifting along, passing the markers as we allow; these markers, each one, delineates how our choices are reflected in the illusion of life and perceived reality.
Have we any influence on the passages taken by spirit? Does each assumed decision change the course of our life stream? Is there eve a way of knowing, within this paradigm? Does it matter?
What are you thinking about?
I sit here, foot still broken, residing in someone else’s home, and I wonder if I could have made a different decision that would have had a different outcome.
In the infinity of time space, there are an infinite number of me’s, making an infinite number of choices, living an infinite number of lives. Why am I here now, doing these things? Is this a problem?
I guess that the real question is if this is a problem, certainly not, no problems.
It’s like riding downhill on a toboggan. It’s better if you lean into the curves and prepare for the jumps. It’s great to ride as far as possible, and roll off when it stops, and it’s great to go soaring through the air over a jump and lie in a heap in the snow. Whatever, it is the ride that counts.
We are here for the ride.
We are here to share the ride with whomever shows on this sun filled hillside this time.
Enjoy the ride for it will snow again, and you will have another opportunity to look at the freshly fallen snow, and pick the way you will aim your toboggan.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

What if Life Had Sub-Titles

I have been watching more foreign movies on Netflix recently. Last night, as I lay there, I realized that I understood some of, most of what they were saying. I could get the gist of the film by watching the action, and catching some of the dialogue. I would glance at the sub-titles and fill in what I didn’t catch. At the beginning of the film, I would keep a keen eye on the sub-titles, to familiarize myself with the language again, and by the end, I could understand most.

At the point in the film, where I had transitioned from reading most to understanding most, I thought, “What if life had sub-titles?”

I have been pondering that since. It could be so easy, if when we are sarcastic, a little sign flashed on our fore-head, “Joke-Joke-Joke.” People might still be slightly offended, since there always is a truth underlying sarcasm, and still, they might laugh with the perpetrator, or orator.
When arguing with your significant other, wouldn’t it be nice to have this tool to let them know that whatever hurtful words come out of your mouth that the dialogue really is “I love you very much. I am very hurt and confused. I cannot express myself with love because I never learned how. I just want to be heard.” I know this might have saved several relationships that I have experienced.
Or, when speaking to your boss, instead of saying “Take this job and shove it;” your thoughts are translated as, “I enjoy working here; I have some problems with some of the policies and communications.”

Perhaps, that will be the glory of telepathy. The words that escape our mouths will be translated directly into the other’s mind as the loving expressions that sing from our hearts. 

Saturday, July 27, 2013

A Winter of Depression

   The journey of being Barbara is the goal; it is the process. This time my assignment is to experience diversity. I chose a stocky body that would ground me a little in the maelstrom that would assail me as I journeyed through life.
Then I chose to be Cesarean born, so that I would have to seek out and create my own boundaries and link myself to the dirt for my own grounding. The challenges have been so much fun and so educational.
I remember it was just after my 27th birthday; I had read Gail Sheehy’s book, “Passages” and connected with the passage she described for that age. I was no longer young; I was married with a young son; I was becoming depressed.
What is it they now say depression is, repressed anger? I guess that I was angry; I was left at home alone with a baby who cried. I thought that it was my fault; I thought that I should know how to fix the situation. He was my first child. I was learning how to be a mother. He volunteered to be the angel who would guide me. It took a while.  
The angel who was my husband would come home from a hard day of work and I would almost throw the baby at him, so that I could do something, anything else.
Why else was I angry? Those feelings are lost in the mists of time, safely locked in the memory of a mind full of life.
I decided that if I was going to be depressed, that I would “BE” depressed. I figured that it would last about 3 months, like in the book; depression at the passage. I moped around, I cried, I anguished how tough my life was. I told my friends that I was depressed. I did this for about three months. I wallowed in depression, I relished each tear. I felt the anger and fear.
Suddenly, as the daffodils poked their heads out of the ground, and the lilacs budded on the bushes, I opened my mind to the love and beauty around me and released the idea of being depressed. I had survived the winter of depression. I took this opportunity to live in joy again.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Peace on the Porch

I like to go out on the porch for my first cup of coffee. I sit there listening to the birds and watching the orange pink splash of sunrise crawl across the sky. It is a wonderful way to start the day.

There is a drawback in this wonderful summer season.
Yes, the air is crisp and cool. I could open the windows and doors and allow the fresh air of early morning to sweeten my home.

Yes, the song birds are singing their sweet melodies as they serenade the world into a new day.

And yes, the panorama of the sky and trees entertain my eyes and heart.

If I listen carefully, I will notice a soft buzzing. Sometimes it is around my head, sometimes I cannot hear it. Sitting, being in the presence of Eos, I slowly become aware of a spot on my foot, or arm. It is a slight awareness. I move my foot and notice a small buzzing thing flit away. It flies erratically, coming near my head or my other leg. I know what it is, this blood sucking monster courting my feet. I wave my hand, not in welcome, more like “go away.”

Yes, it is mosquito season. The daily rains have lain in the assorted containers around Old Town long enough for another bloom. Peace on the porch is not happening today. Today it is mosquitos at dawn. Call mosquito control, they already got me twice.

Thank you

Look Here

While meditating, I came up with 2 ideas for today’s writing, “Exploring my space” and “Hey, Look at Me.”
The two can combine nicely. When I am in my space the only one who can pay attention to me is me. The only one whose attention I can attract and who will fulfill that need is me. It is my own attention that I seek. It is me who shares my space, for IAM the one.
Perhaps, instead of exploring my space, I simply explore space; the material space and the mental or perceived space that IAM.
Come. Look at me. IAM all, IAM everything, IAM fulfilling your every dream, your every fantasy. It is simply that you don’t know it yet. You are afraid to let go and allow the wonders of being to cascade into your present reality.
Stop. Pause for a moment. My space is filled with the things, ideas, concepts  and loves that I have placed there. These things are carefully placed to attract my attention, and to comfort me.
I have come full circle. I am complete.
Thank you,

Friday, July 5, 2013

Me in Motion

Me in Motion
Emotions – Energy in motion, or me in motion; I am moving through life surfing a wave of time and space, staying just behind the curl.

And, when I close my eyes I can move my energy in motion anywhere, and any time. The time machine is real; the worm hole exists just behind my eyelids.

The joy of being on the crest of that wave, seeing existence unfurl in front of me comes in the awareness that IAM. 

Thank you