Archive | August, 2015

A Wild Man Is A Force.

I found this on Facebook the other day and it is so delicious. As I develop a new softness within myself, within my sexual identity, I find that I want to be a safe place for men to rest. I still don’t know exactly what that means, only that it feels good in my mind to say it, and my body feels light and happy when I think of it. I take this as a good sign.

For whatever reason, I find that I want to help heal men in some way. Sex can be healing and sex is a doorway to expression for most men- especially the ones who remember their wildness. Relational sex therapy is not something I choose to do. So…..

I don’t know what shape safety and healing for men will take in my life or my practice. Or even if it will happen beyond my marriage and the man-child I am raising. But I know creating a safe space is first, always first. I am learning to do that with books and new ideas. And with practicing, fucking up, and practicing again.

This poem reminds me why I do this. And what the gorgeous outcome could be: a healed, wild man.

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A wild man is not a boyfriend,  he is a force.

Can you love me in the blinding heat of a birthing star, when I shower warmth on distant moons?

Can you love me in the hole of the cosmic Black, where no one can reach me? Not even you?

Can you love me then, too?

Will you love me if my beard hides the scars in my heart, from battles I cannot explain?

Will you love me when I lack courage, when I am defeated, when I won’t let you patch my wounds?

Will you trust me when I smell of sweetgrass and sage, and when I stink of whiskey and sweat?

When I drink from the cup and play in the astral light, will you anchor me to Home?

What happens when my words don’t work, and I can speak with only my eyes?

Can you love me enough to let me go, without asking me where I’ll be?

I am no poodle to lay groomed on a leash at your feet. I am the wolf that fetches the bones of truth.

A wild man is not a boyfriend. He’s not built for animal husbandry.

He is a force.

He is a cause for an effect.

He is a mission.

Are you afraid to let me inside you? Not just my flesh, but my soul.
The wild man is neither burglar nor vandal. I will not take anything from you.
I am the sun on flooded fields and the fire for tangled webs.

Don’t be scared lover, maiden, mother, crone. Take me as I am.
Even if I have the power to destroy worlds, I will not destroy you.
A wild man is a protector. A father. A warrior for all that is good.

When the chaos seeks to obliterate you, sheering your flesh from bone, I will hold all the pieces together in love, until you are ready to reassemble.

When your seas boil, and your winds throw cars at corn fields, I will wait patiently for you to catch my eye, so that both of us can laugh.

When Hell opens up the fiery gates, and sends all the cosmos against you…I plant my heels deep in the ground. I lay my shield low. My sword is sharp then, my love. The steel swings sweetly. My last breath is a farewell kiss. Today is a good day to die.

For ours is the oldest love affair. The greatest story every told.
Cupid and Psyche. Shiva and Shakti. You and I.
Same same but different. Would we have it any other way?

A wild man is not a boyfriend. He is a force.

-Aubrey Marcus

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It has taken me three days to get this post up (the kids aren’t in school yet!). And in that time, I’ve been reminded of the ways in which men have been trained (and choose) to behave poorly towards women. It makes me so angry and so sad. There are things within me that need to be healed, or at least recognized, so that I can be a safe space.

And so, I have turned to Jeff Brown and his work at  I’m thinking about taking his online course, Sacred Feminine Rising. If you, dear reader, would like to join me, drop me a line and let me know. With a few emails and a Facebook page we could have a good time helping each other.





Worth sharing.

If you need a little erotica (of sorts) in your life.

Or you want to know more about how to make a woman come.
(It’s all there; pay attention.)

Or you like to find out what gets other ladies off (because curious).

Well, here you go:

To be clear: This is Not Safe For Work.

But it is grand to read.

Happy Monday!




Speaking Your Truth (Heals)

Hey! Last week I was in the Lac Brome area of Quebec, vacationing. I left you all those lovely pictures, planning to write loads when I got back.  So sorry! That is not what happened at all. Here is a picture of the lake…and a new post.



For almost a year now, I have been on medication for an under-active thyroid. And while my bloodsugars have stabilized and my joint pain has gone away, I have also gained 12 pounds and lost 3/4 of my hair.

This was not the outcome I was hoping for. 
(In addition, it seems I may have blown out my adrenals and hypothalamus. Yay.)

As I was pondering what else I could possibly do to help myself, I realized that I had not really thought about the spiritual implications of my low thyroid diagnosis. I have been doing lots of work on the physical issues – how it functions, what it needs to function well – but not much on the emotional or symbolic side of things.

They thyroid is located in the throat, and – spiritually/symbolically/energetically – the throat has to do with communication. This idea comes from Ayurvedic medicine (a system related to Yogic philosophy) and the chakras. Chakras are invisible wheels of energy that interact with the body and provide energy for various functions of the body.

I thought that a ritual of communication might be helpful. I realized there were certainly lots of things I have left unsaid in my life– and perhaps those were just sitting in the chakra, making the energy (and my thyroid) sluggish.



On the appointed day, I sat at my home altar, lit candles, asked for the support of anyone I could think of (we’re not picky when we’re needy), and said a prayer- that whatever was no longer needed, no longer useful, no longer necessary, would find its way out of my throat chakra so that my thyroid could heal more. [I also set up a little ‘energetic filter’ – asking The Great Whoever to only let through the filter whatever energies were helpful. Anything else just dropped down to the Earth to be washed and recycled.]

For the next hour, I said whatever came to mind. Much of it was negative – things I wish I could have said to people, if I’d had the guts or the quick wit. Some of it was positive- things I had not said to my children about their goodness or capabilities.

What surprised me the most, though, was what came up about That Guy.

For twenty minutes I said things I wish I had said for the last four years. Some of it was angry, some of it was sad, but most of it was about beauty.

Over and over, in many different ways, I have held inside of my throat the desire to tell him how beautiful he was to me.

It was not just about how he looked (although, certainly his physical appearance aided my attraction and the blooming of my sensual and sexual feelings).

It was about how he talked. And what he said.
The hurts and questions he shared with me.
The wishes and dreams.
The way he smiled (sorta crooked).
The anger and frustration he felt.
His loyalty and precision.
His darkness. His past. His weariness.
His dedication and missed joy and impenetrable patience.

Over and over, I wanted to show him his beauty.
Because that was all I could see.

I talked about many other things in my life that had gone unsaid. Things to old bosses and boyfriends. Stupid women I cannot stand. Entities and theories got my words, too.

At the end of the ritual I offered my humility and gratitude (again), said my prayers, and blew out the candle.

My throat didn’t exactly feel different, but my mind and body felt lighter.

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Reflecting on what happened, I made a very important connection and completion: the beauty I saw in him was the emotional connection I felt for him.

During the phase of my most intense feelings for That Guy, I knew I didn’t love him. I lusted, for sure. But not love- not even close. I could see from the ritual, it was his beauty that drew me in. And the desire to tell him of his beauty.

I think he was someone that needed to be encouraged, to be seen for his goodness and beauty. And, above all else, I am a fierce encourager and supporter. To find someone who needs what we so easily give…that is very compelling.

It was compelling enough for me to want (and need) to say it, all these years later.

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What I also remembered was that the beauty I saw in him was the beauty I needed to see in myself. I, too, am as compellingly beautiful to my own soul as he was to me.

All the good I so easily saw in him was also goodness in myself. I needed to accept that and welcome it into my new awareness of myself.

A day later I sat at my altar and cried for my own unrecognized beauty – and began to accept it as the goodgoldjoy of my soul.

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There are at least three healings that happened as a result of speaking my truth. My psyche and spirit got cleaned out. My understanding of myself and my attraction to That Guy got clarified. And my awareness of my own beauty increased.

My thyroid, well…that remains to be seen. With energetic work, you never really know.

What I trust is that what needed to be healed through that ceremony was. 
And that is a huge gift.




Recycle your heart.




Turn your demons into art, your shadow into a friend, your fear into fuel, your failures into teachers, your weakness into reasons to keep fighting. Don’t waste your pain. Recycle your heart.

-Andrea Balt

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Where is your deepest heart today, fellow traveler? Listen to it. Sit still, breathe fully, calm down – and listen. It has things to tell you; things that will heal.

All my love. -J