violet goddess

In a moment of firsts, I was looking forward to spending Christmas with the eyes of a child with rainbow kaleidoscope glasses, watching the radiant sun, cottony clouds, bluest sky, undulating waves and briskly palm trees turn into the glowing moon, twinkling stars and roaring tides as we walked the shores of Cabo San Lucas. When we saw the notice that the luggage had been searched and the bare vial, our hearts dropped. In an attempt to salvage my wish, he diluted the vial with water for me to empty the contents.

Within minutes, my body was taken through whorls of vibrant purples, magentas and fuchsias of fractals and mandalas by a dark-headed goddess. Those who witnessed my short journey in blast off likened my undulations to be an extended stay of a similar journey. Not understanding where it was taking me, I just wanted it to stop as I was spent.

By today, we realized that what appeared to be barren had only had the alcoholic medium evaporate, and my second experience with the medicine was enough for three. While the goddess guided me through visuals that my eyes and mind had never seen, my muscle-fatigued body was ready to get off her tour, not quite understanding her message.

blast off

The 'God molecule' can be found in numerous plant species and at least one toad species. Trace amounts have also been produced endogenously in humans, perhaps in the pineal and retina. From my recent experience with psychedelics (sweet as sugar), I had some reservations as to the effects on me, especially as the shaman had noted that it is a very individual experience. However, as I interacted with many who came out of the ceremonies over the last couple of days, the one common denominator was the 'positive' vibes and 'no regrets' emanating from everyone.

My goal was to count to 20, but at two, it was as if I was at full throttle, going at light speed through the universe. The moans seemed distant and from pain or release. Yet, I did not feel any negativity. Was it orgasmic or torment? I felt a whisper in my left ear that I could not make out. Eventually the moans stopped, and waves and vibrations took over my body. While I was present in the room, with the music and conversations, my body was paralyzed, other than the constant vibrations radiating throughout.

I had no memories of the universe, God, love, goddess, etc. that others recollected. However, I was told that I laid back, arms spread out, still and with a smile on my face as if I was in bliss. The moans did not come from me, but from the other person sharing space with my experience, and somehow I shared in his journey. While I was not oozing with some ethereal glow from my journey, I also was not disappointed but rather left wondering what the message was for me.

* * * * *

Update December 24, 2019:

It was him who whispered in my left ear with the message of 'I love you', or so he says...

* * * * *

Update February 9, 2019:

Hoping to vary my experiences, so that I would not channel others experience, I tried a solo journey. The medicine was same-same but different, and I had time to lay down gently before traveling at warp speed. While still not having any conscious memories, I maintained the position of bliss. The journey back ventured into waves and vibrations, feeling as if the violet goddess was back as my tour guide. The music made the vibrations ever so potent, resulting in more muscle fatigue.

sweet as sugar

The miracle berry (synsepalum dulcificum) grows in Africa and contains a glycoprotein molecule called miraculin, which binds to the taste buds, resulting in sour things to taste sweet. Ironically, the berry is low in sugar content. For the winter solstice, it seemed fitting to throw a 'flavor tripping' party for a friend's birthday party, introducing the miracle berry to discerning taste buds.

My first experience with psychedelics (11:11 (part 11)) was a growth experience for me. Although the night was meant to be a 'flavor-tripping' shindig, I found myself having my own 'miracle tripping' with highs of some of the most stimulating visuals of sacred geometry and vivid colors to lows of hibernating in a fetal position. It was a long night, unfolding myself from the womb to realizations of my experiences mirroring my internal dilemma. What was initially my frustration with my inability to help others who do not want to help themselves was a reflection of my frustration with my inability to help my Self.

That night, it occurred to me that every experience and person that I manifest in my life is a mirror to my soul. It was a difficult lesson to grasp, even more so to put into practice in every moment. Yet when two new friends came in to check in on me, I was so touched by their grace, thoughtfulness and kindness, knowing that I had manifested them to help unfold me petal by petal to bloom in the security and confidence I needed to get me out of my shell.

I missed the entire flavor-tripping portion of the night but as dawn creeped upon me, an experience that started sour began to taste a lot sweeter as my plant medicine wore off, leaving me with the dew of the lesson unfolding before me.

a frog's kiss

The waxy giant leaf or monkey frog (Phyllomedusa bicolor) is a bright green tree frog, native to the Amazon basin, whose waxy secretion has been used for its powerful emetic or purgative effects. Kambo, named after the shaman Kampu who learned about the medicine from a forest spirit to heal his tribe, has been used to eliminate toxin, increase strength and stamina, or dispersing negative energy. Thought to emit a light green glow to attract prey, it is also used to aid in hunting to reduce need for sustenance and minimize the human scent.

While the frogs are not great at hopping, they have adapted to their environment, such as climbing trees and producing the secretion which protects them from drastic temperature changes and predators. They are listed on the Least Concern on the International Union for Conservation of Nature's (IUCN) Red List. The secretion is 40 times more potent than morphine or microbicides and peptides that could help prevent HIV transmission, as well as inhibit cancer cell growth. It is also known to treat chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, herpes, Parkinson's disease, Alzheimer's, depression, hepatitis, diabetes, menopause and a host of other ailments.

As with any 'healing medicine', the results vary by person and usually provides what the person needs at that moment. Preparation required fasting all day and intake of lots of water. I was not prepared for the copious amounts of water, which resulted in my body having the shakes. The medicine is applied onto gates upon the skin, created with a hot stick which causes the top layer of the skin to blister.

As the medicine moved throughout my body, it controlled my shakes while causing my body to intensely purge. The experience was very uncomfortable, practically hugging a bucket as there was no warning for the bile and toxins seeking refuge. The denouement were drops of the intense sting of sananga to the eyes. As part of the ceremony, we returned our collective refuse to Pachamama underneath a cherry tree.

It is recommended to do kambo at least three times during a lunar cycle for the optimal results in removing toxins. However, after one session, for some, they were able to let go of some pent-up trauma. For me, it provided clarity and perspective for something that was plaguing me that day. For those in the ceremony, it was a shared experience that further connected each of us to each other and the universe. For a family that pukes together will always be connected with the dots, sealed with Dragon's Blood, signifying our badge of courage.

* * * * *

Update February 19, 2019:

Perhaps due to the bountiful rain that has finally ended the 7-year drought, the cherry tree is in full bloom, after looking as if it had been on its last legs in the last few years. However, I am sure that the offerings we provided to the Mother were returned in the blessings of the beautiful blossoms on the cherry tree.

hamster wheel

Convincing my mother to allow me to adopt one of the newborns from my teacher's children's hamster's batch of babies was probably my first lesson in negotiation skills (full circle (part 6)). One of the traumas in my life was experiencing the death of Fuzzy, which similar to full circle (part 4) resulted in my mother never allowing us to have any more pets.

Fuzzy was a gentle and loving soul. He allowed us to hold him in the palm of our hands and fall asleep while we caressed him. In hindsight, I realized that when I needed to feel love or calmness in my life, I would pick him up and hold him in such a way. For a period of my life, he was love in a world of loneliness.

At some point, I wanted Fuzzy to explore the world (of our house). I convinced my parents to get him a clear ball rather than the hamster wheel in his cage for him to run around and see different things. Perhaps his gentle spirit and having Fuzzy be one of the family resulted in his trip to run errands with my siblings and parents that ended up in his final moments without me.

In the last few months, it seemed as if the universe was giving me signs of my growth and progress. Perhaps I got too confident in the experiences that were being manifested. In a moment of truth, I finally saw how he saw me in relation to others in his life, and realized that my progress may have been a hallucination for me to have manifested someone who made me feel 'unworthy' in his eyes when I know I am not so. I now understand how Fuzzy felt in that plastic ball that allowed him to see different things but yet the reality is that he is still caged in a hamster ball and not truly running free.

kitty litter

Everywhere in Morocco (e.g., Marrakech, Chefchaouen, Casablanca, the Sahara, roadside pitstops) were covered with stray cats. Usually in my travels, I run into stray dogs, especially in Asia or Central/South America. Ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred, but did that carry over to Moroccans? Traditional Islamic beliefs has God providing for all as well as it being God's will for all living creatures, which deters neutering animals.

However, rather than viewing them as nuisances, many of the locals would leave food and water for stray cats, partly as they do not believe in throwing away food so leave scraps for the birds and cats, and partly appreciating that the cats take care of other critters like rats from the medinas and souks. Sometimes, people would pick up a stray to give it some love. It was amazing to see how the community took care of them as well as how they fit in as part of the community.

Unlike with stray dogs where feces can be seen on the streets, the stray cats' wastes did not appear to litter the streets. Although in one of the cities, someone had created a 'maison de chats' to shelter the kitties from the weather such as rain, but there was no apparent kitty box for waste duties. However, in the Sahara, it was interesting to see a cat dig a hole in the sand and then cover it  back up after it had finished defecating.

These creatures do not need domestication, as most would assume. Upon observing stray dogs and cats sharing a cardboard mat under a covered walkway during the pouring rain, a local recited a local fable about dogs, cats and mice, noting that the only one missing from the scene was a representative from the rodent family. Moral of the story was that humans teach animals to hate.

one hump or two

After camping in the Mojave Desert (11:11 (part 11)), I felt prepared and was excited to camp in the Sahara Desert. Yet while they were both deserts, I would describe the Mojave as a dusty arid land while the Sahara was a vast ocean of fluffy sand. Luckily, we had camels to transport us to camp as each step would have had us sinking in the sand.

The Sahara has the one-hump dromedary camels rather than the two-hump Bactrian camels. They were 'saddled up' and ready to go by the time we got there. It was not until the next day that I realized that the 'saddle' is not much of a saddle but a cushioned ring around the hump with a blanket on top. My derriere had to fit somewhere in between the hump and the back of the cushioned ring. Camels, like horses, follow the more 'alpha' one, which is why the trainers usually has an order in how they have the camels line up. 

With a life expectancy around 40 to 50 years-old, my camel at the ripe age of 41 years-old, led the pack. Perhaps because of such maturity, she was not amused by my silliness to put boxer briefs on her camel toe.

Vendors in and around the desert often displayed fossils and artifacts for sale. Sections of the desert had mounds of wells drilled for water. While the Sahara gets very little rain, it has an abundance of water underneath the sand dunes, resulting in the mythical oasis. The fossils tell a story of when the Sahara was a lush land and/or ocean.

As the temperatures dipped, I soon realized the lack of another body to share in body heat unfortunately resulted in a very cold night, making it difficult to sleep even with 4 wool blankets to anchor me down. However, like the Mojave Desert, I soon discovered my love for the beautiful sunsets, sunrises, and optimal canvas to showcase the twinkling stars, glowing moon and dancing clouds that can only be found in the desert.

Saharan sand angel

triggering

It was with the intention from full circle (part 9) that I chose to approach 11:11 (part 11) from courage and vulnerability. Upon introspection from the experience in the Mojave, I realized that subconsciously I had been avoiding any reminders of my ex from moments that matter (part 6). My reaction seemed to not mirror the environment at the time perhaps from residual carryover.

In an inexplicable way though, we both seem to trigger each other for different reasons. However, I soon came to the conclusion that I am no longer that person and he is not my ex. This seemed to be the universe's calling for me to connect the dots and truly learn to balance my boundaries with unconditional love. 

Although I had moments of feeling exposed, I chose to push my comfort zones and be emotionally vulnerable. It was also my opportunity to experiment with my love language of touch with someone who spoke the same language. Feeling exposed though oftentimes left me confused. Listening to my gut and sitting in my discomfort, I voiced my confusion of trying to balance what I perceived as his need and want for intimacy with what I perceived as his desire to be free. The confusion was further exacerbated with my challenge to myself of being more intimate and letting someone in. Perhaps my actions that seemed monumental to me were not enough that would lead someone to misinterpret my actions and/or seek it from others.

It was interesting to later learn his Mars/Venus combination:

"You are not an easy lover to understand, however. You alternate between sexual adventurousness and vulnerability. Your lover will frequently wonder if it’s freedom you need most, or if closeness and intimacy are most important to you. The truth is, you need both, but it can be hard to know when you need what."

Cafe Astrology, Mars in Libra, Venus in Scorpio

During one of our 'painful' reconciliations, I experienced an intense déja vu moment where I knew I had dreamt or had visions of that exact moment. Normally, all of this would scare me and/or quickly validate reasons for me to walk away. Yet, I am a different person and rather found myself drawn like a moth to a flame.

When we were finally saying goodbye, in a moment of clarity, all I felt was love. 'I love you' does not come easily to me, even with family. Perhaps in my journey of unconditional love, it seemed so quick that I was surprised by the emotion. With the luck of fate, my voicemail did not go through and with another luck of fate, I had the opportunity to say it in person. I was initially reticent as I felt eyes burrowing onto me, but it was a door that I needed to walk through, and he made it easier when he embraced me as I said the words I needed to say. It was cathartic and genuine, and left my heart full, with no expected outcome.

We come from different worlds but have many similarities. Both of our Mars/Venus combinations note that we are both dichotomies, with balance of private and people persons, as well as warm and loving yet detached for different reasons, causing confusion for our partners.

"If I am I because you are you, and you are you because I am I. Then I am not I and you are not you."

Alan Watts

I believe we are both spiritual and courageous at this juncture in our lives to appreciate the triggers for the growth opportunities, so that I am I and he is he, and we both understand and appreciate the other for the polarity as we are on the same magnet - as spiritual beings having a human experience.

11:11 (part 11)

It was a weekend of firsts, camping out in the Mojave Desert with a 24-hour music festival. While he may have thought that he would be my guide, the universe had different plans. In an explosive moment, we both ended up crying for different reasons that had triggered us. 

While I do not feel as if I had hallucinations, I did lose sight of my space-time continuum whereby certain events seemed longer than reality and vice versa. As I laid staring at the open sky in the desert, I wondered if my journey will always be alone despite the best intentions of planning a trip sitter. It did not scare me in so much as I was resigned to my fate.

In retrieving the things I left behind, we crossed paths again, and it triggered hurt that I hadn't truly felt up to that point. Despite my attempts otherwise to release him from any obligations, he chose to stay. We finally went back to a story that he never fully relayed about unresolved things with his best friend. After working through it with a therapeutic cry, the universe gifted us with his best friend showing up with his girl to check in on us...the gesture, in and of itself, was the resolution they both needed.

Lo and behold, as we were all laying in the tent with our own cuddle party full of love with the deep beats of techno, it dawned on me that the best friend had found my LED-lit tutu which I had lost during my solo journey, and he had randomly found, not knowing it was mine. Yes, I still believe in magic and unexpected outcomes.

* * * * *

Update October 26, 2018:

I witnessed both 11:11 earlier, which made me smile. In processing the trigger from the weekend, I am left wondering what and why I am manifesting the relationship(s) before me. Then I happened upon:

"It's a long shot, but every so often sweet talk proves to be sincere. Just when you finally accept a hard truth, you might be presented with evidence that shows you something you thought too good to be true is very much real. However, all aspects of your life won't immediately fall into place. But this glimmer of magic demonstrates there's still a place in your world for faith, hope, and love. Manifestation is built on belief."

~ Yahoo, Virgo

Perhaps it may be the belief that I am a step closer, rather than a step backwards of feeling as if I am here to help others (stone skipping (part 12) and supernova) rather than myself.

"I just want to thank you again for everything this weekend. It changed my life, and you were an instrumental part of that process for me. I know you don't want me to say things I don't mean, but I love you, Trang. You're an amazing woman, and I'm so incredibly thankful for you and your contribution to my personal growth this weekend. Thank you again for coming. Those memories will last forever :)"

supernova

When stone skipping collides with moments that matter, it is as if the heart experiences a supernova. Something in the crisp night air woke me, and what initially started as absolution and when it rains, it pours seems to have had its own full circle.

Hurt, anger, disappointment...never showed up when that door opened, just two souls connecting with gratitude and sharing our growth in how we both impacted the other. It serves as a reminder that in living love, if you wait ... magic happens.

stepping out

Today is #WorldMentalHealthDay. Some of my favorite YouTube channels are School of Life, Ted Talks and Druglabs, as well as documentaries. It probably was not coincidental that this video, "The power of vulnerability | Brené Brown," popped up on my feed today.

When someone states 'showing up and being present' as part of their intentions (full circle (part 9)), one would think it should be a general default in life. However, in the world of technology, passive aggressiveness, flakiness, etc., the actual declaration as an intention is very powerful and valuable to someone's whose love language is Quality Time.

An experience last night made me realize that while many say 'no expectations', most do not really mean it, and have expectations to the contrary. I initially chuckled when one of the men from pig in mud (part 5) stated 'open to physical connection with no attachment to any particular outcome' as one of his intentions. The sincerity and vulnerability of stating that upfront, as well as other consistent gestures, has made me realize now that it truly came from a place of genuineness and authenticity.

Sulking and attaching guilt or shame comes from a negative space that is wishing someone some form of comeuppance, and truly not being grateful for the moment(s) and shared experience(s). It is also not from a place of vulnerability or honesty. In my quest to build my tribe, I realize the importance of not giving someone squatter's rights in tainting the beauty of moments for me.

In honor of #WorldMentalHealthDay and in the spirits of Christine Blasey Ford and Brené Brown, I chose to be exposed and vulnerable to a community that I know are not all as supportive and non-judgmental as I would wish my tribe to be. However, in sharing code of silence (#sue, #secretsociety123) on Facebook, perhaps it can pivot one person's life towards the light of joy.

reclaiming the cunt (part 9)

"Powerful men do not harass. Powerful men seduce. It's insecure men who harass and assault, who use their power to extract sex. Let's not mix the metaphors." 

~ Esther Perel

With the country being torn apart, a woman, who felt as if she needed to do her civic duty, has inspired many to speak about their own personal experiences of harassment, assault and rape for  the first time to loved ones. #BelieveSurvivors and other renditions of the hashtag has been added to the #MeToo movement. While it would seem as if we have lost this battle, the war is not over, and hopefully parents will raise their sons to understand 'enthusiastic consent'.

Since missing in action, the concept of the 'bad boy' or the rebel, for me, seems to be a 'mix of the metaphors' for many. Lack of self-confidence is a deal breaker for me. Someone asked me earlier this year if I date a lot of 'assholes' when I state that. Many confuse 'cocky' for confidence, and like 'powerful', the negative connotation comes from insecurities. The age-old myth that women are attracted to 'married or taken men' (who tend to not come off too strongly as they have someone to 'come home to') or to 'assholes' stems from their inability to distinguish 'confidence' as self-confidence vs. cocky.

Like truly powerful men who seduce, confident men also do not feel the need to brag or prove themselves as they are comfortable in their own skins and in their authenticity, know that they would only want to be with people who value them for who they are. With the rise and unification of our voices (emptying my coffers and pussy riots), fortunately women are joined by the deep baritone to tenor pitches of these confident and powerful men. A few of them (full circle (part 9) and pig in mud (part 5)) have blessed me by being part of my tribe.

stone skipping (part 12)

I originally signed up on Reddit a few years ago when the man I was dating was constantly on the site, and I wanted to understand what the hype was. I still did not grasp it and left my account dormant. However, I resurrected it a few months ago as my friend got a software engineering position there, and I really wanted to understand the projects that she was working on as well as the Reddit lingo that she was using.

For a couple of months, I would catch myself spending hours on it daily. Something about an anonymous forum where people can dispense opinions and advice seemed captivating. I learned some interesting things on Reddit but it became a complete time suck. I did find myself gravitating towards sex positive and/or dating advice forums.

While relationships of any fashion are complicated, the games, assumptions and expectations that people come in with yet seem incapable of active communication seem to just add fuel to the fire. In its pureness, pig in mud (part 5) is also working through old templates as well. Perhaps it was from the place of my own journey and understanding the importance of having even just one person believe in you and see you for the person you cannot see yourself (moments that matter (part 3)) or from the butterfly effect of a random stranger's gesture in hug it out that I focused my comments on the importance of confidence. Sometimes, I would have people reach out to me on their own issues, seeking advice, after seeing some random post I made.

My friend and I went to see the latest remake of A Star Is Born with Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper. We were both supposed to catch up on each other's lives over the last year but found ourselves lost in our own deep thoughts that were triggered from what we saw onscreen. It left me with an overall melancholy which I am processing. While Cooper's character (Jackson) gave Gaga's character (Alli) the love and confidence to propel her to greatness, it was also at the expense of himself and his own self-care.

I have not been on Reddit for a few months as I realized that it was an escape and disconnected me from the world of engaging with live people. Although I may be a natural introvert, my love languages of quality time and physical touch left me wanting. There are moments where Redditors will show gratitude to the immediate advice, but it is rare for someone to provide updates weeks or months later, especially how a few simple words may have made a lasting impact.

Shortly before I had signed off, I had received the following from someone who struggled with matching with someone whom she believed was her type. From my exploration to learn more about myself, I shared my learnings from face of the girl (part 1). 

"YOU!! I OWE YOU A HUGE THANK YOU!

You were right. I needed to change up what I was looking for. I had been too complacent and not focusing on finding guys that portrayed the qualities I was looking for in their pics. A week after I found a guy. He was swimming with sharks in his profile and I wouldn't have normally swiped because he only had one face shot. Turns out he's just as unphotogenic as I am. Now three weeks later I'm in a relationship with him and couldn't be happier. He can even keep up in bed it's amazing.

<3 BEST INTERNET ADVICE EVER! THANK YOU!!

/u/hardtopleeze, Reddit

In the same vein, this morning I woke up to a post on a thread that I have no recollection of whatever advice I may have provided. Yet it was kind of him months later to find the specific post and related comment thread to provide his update. Judging from his comments, it may have been in regards to being yourself and naturally you will find the person who will love you for your authentic self.

Apologies for not getting back sooner. 

I took your advice and asked her in a second date which went really well with only a slight awkward bump at the end (she was tipsy and misheard something I said). 

We went for date number 3 a week later and it was a complete sh1tshow - on exactly zero of the dates could I relax and be myself and I don’t blame her at all for saying at the end of #3 that she wasn’t interested. 

Weight came off my shoulders immediately - I texted her later that evening to thank her for giving us a chance and apologised for the guy she’d met which want the normal me. 

She was flattered at a couple of the comments I left with those parting remarks and I’m happy that it was left amicably. 

I beat myself up completely for a few weeks - friends commented that it wasn’t all my fault etc. but I still firmly believe that it was. 

I resigned myself to not dating for a while. 

Bizarrely at one of the lower points (and while a little too drunk) I signed up for a dating site and when I sobered up had a few matches and went on a couple of dates with varying degrees of success but nothing long term. 

Even more bizarrely I matched with the profile that I can only describe as being the most amazing person (on paper). 

Went for a sober dinner date thinking zero would happen and just happy to be not sitting home - had zero expectations so was just myself. Didn’t even try to kiss her goodnight. 

We texted when both home and I said I’d love a second date - and she agreed for some reason! 

Date #2 went even better - both sober as driving 

She would be very pushy normally professionally and socially but, at short notice, we had date #3 during this week at a local cultural event I was invited to (her sober but I had a couple). 

We’ve arranged to meet up again tomorrow and I can’t wait - I’ve been nothing but myself an I can’t explain for a second why she’s interested in me. 

When I say she’s out of my league there’s no false modesty at all - I’ve separately showed two friends (1 male, 1 female) who asked about her a picture of her that she sent while out with her friends and they independently agreed that she’s stunning and that the pic could have been from a photo shoot. She’s also a little younger than I’d normally date (late 20’s) which could be an issue for her long term but I’ve been open about my own age and doesn’t seem to bother her (yet) 

More importantly to me though - she is absolutely hilarious! I mean I have actually laughed out loud at some of her texts/comments - ascerbic and sarcastic but as intelligent in those as she is in the rest of her life. 

I’ve no idea if date #4 will turn into 5 or 6 or beyond but I’m not over thinking it at all and just enjoying spending time with an incredible person. 

It’s weird to look back on my original post now and see how rattled I was about wanting to date that other lady and how many knots I was tying myself in 

Thank you for your advice then though - it definitely helped me to take a step forward then and even though that relationship didn’t work out the advice has stayed with me through to know and the current relationship that I’m enjoying so much. :)"

/u/throughway2, Reddit

We are somehow all connected, and in the end, we will be able to see the entire matrix. Jackson took care of Alli, but who took care of him? In one scene, she noted that she only wanted his happiness, and alluded to even if that is without her. While not all situations end in happy endings, I would like to think that we are all richer by each connection, even if that is to trigger more growth than we would have had otherwise (supernova). 

thelma & louise (part 3)

The annual Folsom Street Fair was over the weekend. I joined the hosts of YUMmy and their crew with the intention of stepping out of my introverted self in order to build my tribe. In separate discussions with a few new acquaintances, and hopefully budding friendships, it was wonderful to see how generally supportive the women were to making the world a much more positive experience for other women.

Although they did not initially know each other like the other thelma & louise series, I met two authentically fabulous women. Both have not only made the best of their past situations but also have followed their bliss in living out their passions. Pixie has made an entire hobby/career of living on the edge, not knowing what is in store each day, for the last 4.5 years, and trusting the universe to provide for her adventures. She truly hypostatizes carpe diem when she resolutely walked up to volunteer for a flogging demonstration in public at the fair. It was only later that I found out that she has never been flogged. One day I hope she writes a book of all her moments of happiness.

Krystle serves as a reminder to me that sometimes we fall into things that turn out to bring us joy. She pursued that joy to complete her various certifications in yoga and paddle board yoga. Both have managed and/or are creating ventures in order to finance their international travels as well. In their lessons to me, I am reminded of my plan in the girl with the dragon tattoo. They provided me a quick kick in the arse that while the universe has held me here to explore and discover my tribe, I should continue to follow my compass towards grey hat. Full of such vivacious energy for life, they both embody such courage, love and inspiration.

pig in mud (part 5)

Vitruvian HUman by Amanda Sage

I am usually not nervous before or during dates. I think it comes more from the place of just being who I am and letting things happen organically from there. Most of the time, we progress naturally based on mutual attraction or not.

However, lately, I have met two men who seem to have this effect on me (full circle (part 9)). In their authenticity and their approach to life and love, they represent who and what I have been wanting to be and surround myself in the last few years of my search for bliss. Intentions, coupled with honesty and vulnerability at all times, are great in theory, and more than I expected in practice.

As I walk through this door, I am experiencing a mix of giddiness and nervousness, an insecurity I have not felt in a long time. Yet there is a lot of power and comfort in knowing that I can be completely vulnerable and it will not deter them from being honest and loving and welcoming me into their lives. I know this is a new chapter that I am approaching, and in deleting all the online apps to allow moments to happen organically, I am really looking forward to meeting and building my tribe.

full circle (part 9)

"You are one of the most agreeable Lovers of this type, always ready to compromise and anxious to please; but this does not make you the easiest to love. The fact is, you are more apt than any Mars in Aquarius Lover to shut out those you love from your emotional life. Your self-sufficiency means that even people who want to be close to you find themselves loving you from afar. You are a warm, witty, and exceptionally sexy Lover, but you can’t expect people to truly care about you if they can’t really know you."

~ Good Golly, Mars in Aquarius, Venus in Virgo 

I first read that last year, and whether one believes in astrology as an alternative science or not, it resonated with me. I focused on the positive aspects that allow me to intimately connect and find pleasure with a partner without the usual emotional attachment (face of the girl (part 1)) that many women require.

As a first born (family ties) from a first-generation immigrant family, I have always had to be self-sufficient (full circle (part 8)), whether I had wanted to or not. In some ways, Italy seemed progressive such as creativity in their relationship paradigms and in other ways, traditional. One discussion I got into was with a woman who was professing her liberalness yet complaining about how men have been emasculated. It was not until her cousin explained to me that she had made it her mission to let the entire family know that her husband has not had sex with her for over 11 years that it occurred to me the irony in her emasculating her husband rather than working through their issues as a couple, rather than trying to practically bully him by embarrassing him in front of others.

Throughout my time in Italy, I often got into conversations regarding relationships and gender roles. In the same breath, the men would grumble about Italian women wanting men to take care of them and yet want to be in charge. I am pretty sure that is not just limited to Italy. Many confuse the concept of feminism, which is the right to be equal among the sexes. It does not equate to being equal in all things. For example, generally, men have been noted as having better spatial cognition. That does not mean a woman is incapable of packing luggage in a car trunk.

During a fun debate on the topic, it was noted that a man's ego and masculinity drives him to want to protect a woman. As noted in beach angel, while I can take care of myself, I would love to be protected. But as we were talking, it occurred to me that I never really allowed someone to do so. My friend remarked earlier that day on how a close family friend always opened the door for her. Of course, jokingly, I commented that he did not open the door for me. Rightly so, he retorted that I hopped in the car so fast that I never gave him the opportunity to do so.

A few days earlier as we were having lunch, I arranged to pay the bill mid-meal. I had learned over the weeks that in Italy, the early bird gets the worm. Yet it is very common for the men to cover the bill so I was rejected by both the waitress and owner, as my male friend is a regular patron and it is usually assumed that he would cover it. Since he is American though, it only took a few whispers for him to get that overridden. However, my other friend's Italian husband would have none of it. If the American man was not going to pay or pay a portion, he would pay as he views it as offensive if a woman pays for him. In the end, we ended up splitting the bill, with him paying for me and his wife and me paying for the American man and his female friend.

Later that night, as I had to listen to the gripes of the American man penny-pinching on what he had to cover, which was half of the drinks bill at the last bar, splitting amongst the men, rather than everyone splitting the bill, I realized how chivalry seems to have gotten lost, especially as his lunch was technically covered by me. My friend had to explain to me how not only her husband but also his family and friends feel the same way in regards to women paying. As I parted ways with the American man and for the rest of the trip, nobody blinked as the men fought over who would pick up the tab.

I have gone Dutch for as long as I can remember, partly because of equality with all of us having careers and partly because men cannot expect any favors later in exchange for drinks or food (reclaiming the cunt (part 3)). However, this has also been taken to the extreme as I have noticed lately that some men will intentionally go to a bar early to order and pay for his drink so that there is no confusion on who is covering his date's bill. I personally prefer to take turns treating each other, just like taking turns asking each other out. Either way, I realized that following my friend's instructions not to insult the men by offering to pay became a bit more challenging than it should have. 

As the family was pimping me out, I found myself hesitating, and rationalizing my behavior as not wanting to hurt a gentleman. My friend kept reminding me that they are adults and are responsible for themselves. I found that it was a similar apprehension as when I met a man from YUMmy and subsequently, his friend, prior to my trip to Italy. 

The respect they had for women and each other, their communication styles, their honesty and transparency with each other and me...it is difficult to explain why it gave me pause. Prior and during meeting, there were communications on intentions and check-ins to ensure people were aware of the other's objectives/plans, even if fluid. No games, just transparency and living in truths and authenticity. As my hair stylist reminded me while I relayed this to her, this was exactly what I have been searching for in the last few years. While I have always noted that I have met great men in my life (pig in mud (part 4)), there was something very unnerving about how these men disarmed me.

As with protection and simple gestures such as picking up a tab and opening doors, while subtle, there is a significant difference in expecting them and allowing someone the pleasure of doing them. As with my lesson on communication of intentions, it takes away any anxiety and/or assumptions when it is clear what the 'rules of engagement' or simple pleasures that make someone tick are. Like 'need' and 'want', it is 'same same but different'. It always troubled me when hearing people comment that I am difficult to get to know as I would like to think I am an open book about anything and everything but perhaps this steadfast 'independence' is the barrier they see. Between 11:11 (part 10) and these moments, 'letting go' and 'letting others in' also means 'allowing'.

My friend's Italian husband also loves to cook. He and his mother usually are a hoot to watch in the kitchen as she tries to supervise him while he blatantly tunes her out. As the family often utters, they gain weight when he is in town. My friend has learned to cook in order for them to have quality time in the kitchen together. She fries cutlets better than him while he loves to grill and makes a mean bowl of pasta.

In naturally trying to be self-sufficient and in the quest for equality, I missed the most obvious lesson of feminism. It is about unmasking the expected gender roles and embracing the ability to do what each person enjoys, even if that happens to be within the 'traditional gender expectations'. It does not make me any less of a woman than it makes him more of a man. Like being sexually liberated, even in the choice of being a sub, the freedom is the choice (and consent) to do so without being bound by the expectations of being one. By the last day, I was feeling less uneasy about men being chivalrous that I almost forgot to express appreciation to them for such gestures. Another lesson I cannot neglect. Similar to my surprise in identifying my love languages, what I thought I did not need turns out to be exactly want my soul desires.

11:11 (part 10)

Since 9/11, I have made a pact with God and/or the universe that I would try to minimize overanalyzing things and embrace what was put in front of me (cougartown). That has how I have approached this trip to Italy with only a one-way ticket in hand. I was excited to see my 'baby sis' (from another mother and father), whom I have not seen since I repatriated. While I knew she had married an Italian, they are also living in Japan. In a moment of serendipity, they were visiting Italy for their first anniversary around the time I would be in the country.

When we finally connected, it was uncanny to find out that Valdobbiadene was the town they got married in a year before. The place that I had wanted to take them to after lunch (self service) turns out to be the spot that they took many of their wedding photos including one that she has posted as her Facebook profile picture that I had loved, and she reminded me and pointed out the spot which was less than 10 feet from where we were sitting. I happened to be in Vietnam last year during their wedding and had attended the wedding with her family via FaceTime. When she had said that they would meet me in Valdobbiadene, I had no idea that the place was of significance to them.

It was great to be able to finally meet the people who were part of the ceremony and/or behind the phone enabling us to participate. I have never seen her more confident or happy in life. When they asked if I would change my initial flight to spend more time together, I jumped at the opportunity and rolled the dice two hours before takeoff to make it happen. At some point, her husband decided to play matchmaker.

What I had thought was an initial joke as coordination to get a ring I had purchased but was getting resized in Padova turned out to be less so in pimping me out. Yet because I have an aversion to such machinations and to avoid repeating any drama from reclaiming the cunt (part 8), I have to admit to playing a bit ditsy at any attempts to get us alone. Perhaps as admiration for his repeated attempts and/or to give my friend some quality time with her husband before our flights the following day, I agreed to drinks after dinner.

Too many events in my life (the girl with the dragoon tattoo; when it rains, it pours; and 11:11 (part 4)) have occurred for me to believe that anything is coincidental. So when during our chat over Aperol spritz and prosecco, the topic of knowing the future and paths to follow naturally made me think of Sliding Doors. As I asked if he had seen the movie, he noted that he just brought it up in conversation during dinner. I missed it either while trying to pack at the same time or as they were discussing in Italian. While his point at dinner was that our decisions impact the paths our lives take and who we become, like the events of 22, it reminded me of the discussion with Jay, and I viewed it as a sign from my male spirit, taking away any hesitation on how the night would unfold (23 vs. 42).

At the beginning of the trip, one of my friends had messaged me to download Book Club to watch on my trip. I had forgotten about it until I saw it on the menu on my flight home. In one scene, Vivian (Jane Fonda's character) spouting an interpretation of Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken," which sometimes, as is in my case, is erroneously referred to as "The Road Less Traveled".

It turns out that Frost wrote the poem facetiously for another poet (Edward Thomas), who oftentimes was indecisive, pondering the path to take in his life, and usually later lamenting that he should have taken the other one in hindsight. Many have interpreted that the road less traveled represents individualism. However, Frost has been known to correct people when they utter anything other than 'road' such as path, since roads are paved and man-made, suggesting that the road is not unique nor individual. Vivian's interpretation, which is supported by comments by Frost, is that both roads are actually the same.

"Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back."

Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken" (excerpt)

Upon looking back, both roads are comparable and equally untravelled, carpeted by newly fallen autumn leaves. Instead the poet has turned an 'impulsive' decision to follow the one that was perceived as less traveled into an intentional decision. While our decisions in life and the events beyond our control shape who we become, our lives unfold through conscious design that come from constructive narratives rather than dramatic actions.

The writer and director of Sliding Doors developed the storyline from a near death experience. As he was late in meeting a friend, he hesitated on running to catch the train or to simply call his friend from a public phone. On impulse, he ran across the street, nearly getting hit by a car. After talking about my brush with death during 9/11, my 'baby sis' shared a story where she almost got clocked by a car as well. We both commiserated on how those moments give us pause and end up shaping us more than we think. Gwyneth Paltrow received a note years later from someone who ran into her the morning of 9/11. Because of the celebrity sighting, the woman did not make the subway train that would have taken her into the World Trade Center at the time of impact.

In the end, we are shaped by our decisions and experiences. We choose how to react to every situation even those out of our control. As Frost notes, even knowing how things unfolded, I am such a different woman than whom I started that I would not want to double back and take another path. This takes me back to my views on Sliding Doors, which is regardless of our decisions, the universe has a way of directing us to become who we are meant to become, even if one road leads us to get there more quickly than the other, where fate and free will collides (22). 

So while my drinking companion, like Thomas, who at times tend to second guess his life decisions  and wanted to know his future as some form of assurance that things will turn out alright, we were both where we should have been at this point in time, regardless of whatever decisions we would or could have made in the past.

spooning

Between the appetizers and main course, the waiter in a restaurant in Castelfranco reset our place settings. He naturally provided me with a spoon to go with my pasta dish. However, while others also order pasta, he only laid forks next to their plates. This begs the question: to spoon or not to spoon one's pasta?

As it turns out, he singled me out as the American, who must have learned to eat pasta with a fork and spoon. I personally never used a spoon to eat pasta, and had mistakenly viewed myself as uncouth for doing so. When I was younger, I slurped, and as I got older, I just bit off the hanging parts that did not easily twirl around my fork.

In most of Italy though, it is considered low class to eat pasta with a spoon, and is only acceptable for children. Rarely would an Italian ask for a spoon, especially at a fine dining establishment. Another un-Italian activity is drowning one's meal with parmesan cheese. Similar to dashing a lot of salt on one's dish without tasting it first, a lot of cheese takes away the true flavor of the dish.

As I spent the last leg of my Italian journey with my friend's Italian in-laws, it also occurred to me that they eat their pasta before their salad, rather than the other way around as is the case in the US. Antipasti is usually served first with dishes like prosciutto and melon while the family gathers around the kitchen as the chef and sous-chefs are preparing the primi (first) and secondi (second) dishes. A small bowl of pasta is usually served as the first course with salad and/or meat dishes as the second.

On the last day before my flight, the family made chicken cutlets for the second dish for lunch. I soon learned that chicken (and veal) parmigiana is not Italian. While eggplant parmigiana exists, the meat variety is purely an American fabrication. Other dishes that are not authentic Italian are pepperoni pizza and spaghetti & meatballs, which are usually served separately. In fact, 'peperoni' means peppers. The only salad dressing available in Italy is olive oil and vinegar.

There must be some secret formula to how the Italians dine, as I felt that with all the pasta, risotto, pizza and cheese, I developed a 'pasta pancha'; yet, it would seem as if the weight distributed itself differently as my weight seemed to be the same before and after all the gastro culinary delights of Italy.

squatter's rights

My friends' parents split their time between Rome and Long Island now that they are retired. The father inherited an abandoned apartment in Rome that took years for the government to determine and certify the rightful heir. After putting investing in renovating the place, it is a wonderful place for them as it is conveniently located in the center of Rome within steps of Vatican City.

The apartment was in such disrepair that they had to practically gut everything and move walls and the basic layout. Squatters had used old furniture to burn on the floors of the apartment for heat. It was difficult to imagine what the place looked like prior to their renovation as its high ceilings and vintage shutters made it seem as if the apartment had such character all along.

As I traversed throughout Italy from the South to the North, I was amazed to see so many obviously abandoned homes. I have always loved houses with great bones and character, which explains why I purchased my homes in Houston and San Francisco. While I like certain modern amenities such as upgraded kitchens and bathrooms, it is rare to find high ceilings and the quality wood and materials used in the old days that withstand Mother Nature like earthquakes and hurricanes.

From the outside, I am so curious as to what resides inside these old walls as the external walls has such character that only old European homes have. Similar to California though, Italy has very liberal laws for squatters and renters. In addition, rental income is taxed at 50%. In San Francisco, many landlords may rent but do not invest in upgrade or maintenance of their properties as doing so would also increase property value and the related property taxes that would not be covered by the rental income despite the steep rental fees.

Such policies keep these properties abandoned throughout Italy as owners age and/or move but keep the property in the family rather than renovate to sell. After time, it also becomes fuzzy as to who is the true landowner as was the case with my friends' father.

As I spent more time with my friend during this trip than the entire period over the last 20+ years that I have known him, it occurred to me that like houses, we also require frequent upkeep and maintenance. While he blamed and complained about others and their effect on his confidence, the reality is that he has abandoned himself. He allowed squatters into his home. 

He justifies his negativity by complaining about people criticizing him rather than supporting and providing him advice. While I constantly had to reiterate to him that some of his friends (and family) stopped trying because he would get defensive at any advice they gave, he would try to say the words that someone (I) would want to hear rather than how he actually processed things by continuously noting that he agreed with my observations and was listening and trying to process my advice, but when asked by my 'baby sis' on his life at an attempt to get to know him, his quickly blamed me for all his problems and failures, which he later clarified upon her prompting that he should not care what others think, that everyone says the same thing about him.

At times it seems as if his reality is based on an entirely alternative universe. He oftentimes gets distracted with his phone and walks away social interactions under the guise of business. As we went to his favorite bar one night, he left us for hours as he kept himself busy playing behind the bar. The next day he comments on how it was such a great night hanging out with all my friends and the new friends we made. It left me scratching my head as everyone kept asking where he went all night.

So it came as no surprise when two men who just met him for a few hours at dinner, commented on separate occasions how he comes off as if he is hiding something. One man noted how my friend is either bored or somewhere else in his mind when the man was talking to him as his eyes were vacant to the point that it made the man uncomfortable. The other man also felt as if my friend was hiding something and not trustworthy for the man to invest significant time with him.

While he had other 'friends' coming to visit him while we were in Valdobbiadene, there were many times where I found myself entertaining his friends while he would disappear, again under the guise of business, when I knew otherwise. His alternate universe also had him believing that all his friends were having sex with all his exes as well. Although it should not have surprised me, I was amazed when he told my friends that it was because of him that one of his friends was interested in me in reclaiming the cunt (part 8), when the reality is that it was despite him.

After spending weeks trying to help a 'friend,' it occurred to me that like (wo)man in the mirror, trying to help an owner renovate an abandoned house, when the owner has chosen to abandon it himself and allow squatters to trample all over it, was a complete waste of my time and energy.

* * * * *

One of the bars in town center of Valdobbiadene is Bar Caffè Roma which probably also has the best view of the piazza and people watching festivities. I was shocked to find their restroom taking me into a time warp and for a split second, I was confused as to whether I was back in Southeast Asia. Europe, including Italy, is considered a Western and modern world. It made me wonder how much of Europe, with its old buildings, have not been upgraded and still have squat toilets in its establishments. I ended up walking out as there were no hooks or shelves to keep my personal belongings from sitting on the tiled floor. Truth be told, although it was relatively clean (compared to the ones I have experienced in Southeast Asia) (farmer's tan), I was looking for an excuse to bail as with the prosecco in my belly, it was more likely that I would have tipped over or fallen in. 😳

pimping me out

The French are generally known for being more sexually liberated (lost 'n found), especially in comparison to Americans (reclaiming the cunt (part 3)). However, it would seem as if the Italians may be more open in nudity, sexuality and variations of relationships. In the Amalfi Coast, Gennaro (with new templates...the party continues) disclosed that he never felt the need to have a girlfriend until his mid-30s, when he felt the responsibility as the only son to procreate in order to continue the family lineage. It would seem as if he was not the only one with that mindset.

In their search for happiness, some have even been able to balance family time and individual time (family ties). Although the friend from reclaiming the cunt (part 8) had stated that if he were me, he would not have been so open about my personal life - again his projection of his insecurities and fears of judgment, it did not seem to phase any of the Italians that took part in any of those discussions. In some ways, there was still the typical 'sexist' mindset when some men are practically being touchy and flirty with other women in front of their wives. Yet, in other ways, it was refreshing to not have the feel of 'creepy eyes' boring into you from the slight suggestion of cleavage or skin.

After a few attempts to spend quality time alone, a close family friend who was following on his motorcycle did not continue his way home but rather stopped at the end of the driveway. After my friend's husband went to check on him, his brother then joined in the male huddle after a few minutes. I was not really surprised when they came back in the car and declared that they basically 'pimped me out' in frustration of my perceived cluelessness. The entire exchange was comical as it seemed so archaic yet transparent.

With mild hopes of some sympathy from Luci (thelma & louise (part 2)), I was amused at her reaction after informing her that her sons were pimping me out. In typical Luci fashion, she declared that if I did not 'scopato' (what's in a name?) the family friend, she would. Then, she mused and pimped me out to her single son. Without pause, she postulated that he must be homosexual as like his father, whom she disclosed only wants to do it 3-4 times a week (it was not clear to me if she meant it as the past or present as they are in their 70s), he does not seem to want sex as much. Of course, she had us in tears of laughter.

thelma & louise (part 2)

The matriarch (Luci) of my host family in Meolo is one of eight, of which three are women. Gina, who is the oldest, has two children, whom seem to overpower their spouses. While attending a birthday party for Gina's husband and her son-in-law, her children were energy suckers, overtaking others in their braggadocios, while their spouses mostly remained silent. During the dinner, Gina oftentimes would comment on how the meat or dishes were dry or cold because of our tardiness in arrival.

Luci (middle) and Paola (youngest) are unlike the traditional and passive-aggressive Gina. Even with a relative stranger (me) in their midst, both were unabashed as they spent quality time together sunbathing in their underwear. Both had no qualms as their family members would touch their breasts and jokingly comment about sex and other perceived taboo topics.

As her youngest son noted, what you see is what you get with Luci. She is brazenly honest but has a good heart. She had a few miscarriages before her firstborn, and while a part of her always wanted a daughter, she has opened her heart to her daughter-in-law and even me during the few days I spent with her. It was with wistfulness, and not bitterness, when she relayed her childbearing stories including the names of her sons (and their related female versions with hopes of the child being a girl). In a case of opposites attracting or the ying to her yang, Franco, her husband, is a calm and patient man.

Her motto is to never leave home without either lipstick or heels on. In the case of nature vs. nurture (family ties), her sons have clearly inherited her frivolity in life. After checking out my chipped 3-week manicure, she quickly brought out nail polish remover and hot pink nail polish. After I jokingly asked if she was grooming me to pimp me out to a family friend (pimping me out), she quickly brushed it off and noted that a man is irrelevant, and it is always important to look good for one's self. She patiently sat next to me and supervised my manicure, correcting missed spots or rubbing off polish that got on my skin. As she showed my newly manicured nails to her sons, one of them jocularly noted how it looked like a puttana. Naturally, Luci took it as a compliment and a sign of her youth.

Had I not been told, I would have thought Luci was in her 50s rather than her 70s with her energy, zest for life and openness and intelligence. She was a woman with no judgments and kind heart. As I told many, including one of Gina's children who was a bit shocked as Luci is known as the crazy old woman, I would love to be Luci when I grow older. Hopefully, I resemble much of her already.

culo up

Since a spontaneous yet fateful motorcycle tour around Bangkok, I have always loved motorcycles. The irony though is although it is on my bucket list to own one, I have not quite learned how to ride one, which would require quite a bit of customization given my size.

In some countries, it is fairly common to own a scooter, motorbike or motorcycle, yet I have found that there is some common personality trait that would draw someone to owning certain types of motorcycles, and perhaps that is the trait that appeals to my adventurous side (face of the girl (part 1)).

So when offered a trip to Caorle to see the Adriatic Sea on the last weekend of summer on motorcycles to avoid the traffic, given the crowds, I was more than game. My motorcycle host though was coming from his family's country estate in the mountains, and while he owned a few motorcycles, his options were limited to what he had stored at the country house.

My friend dubs it the 'culo (ass) up' bike. It is designed as a motorcycle for racing, and not very practical for passengers although it has an option to attach a passenger seat. Given its design, the passenger is sitting higher up than the rider, which results in a very uncomfortable position that probably works for shorter rather than longer rides. With the ride being approximately 40 minutes each way, my body was definitely sore for days. Luckily, my companions offered to provide massages, including one whom I found out had studied to be a professional masseuse in his career explorations.

Caorle, known as Little Venice, is a beautiful little beach town with colorful buildings and history. The Sanctuary of the Madonna dell'angelo had its own claim to a miracle in 1727 when the entire town was flooded while the church on the sea was left unscathed. It even has its very own leaning tower, one of the few circular bell towers in Italy.

The Adriatic Sea is shallow in general, with average depth of 173 meters. However, most of the northern part of the sea is less than 100 meters, which was amazing to see and great for families with small children. It was as if everyone is walking on water for as far as the eyes could see. With shallow water comes warm water temperatures even for Northern Italy.

The fellows' idea to take motorcycles rather than a car was a great idea given the immense traffic at the end of the evening as families were taking advantage of the last days of summer. While it was great to be able to swerve in and out of traffic between the cars on the way home, I did miss the ability to hit high speeds on a racing motorcycle. My host though was kind enough to oblige when he could with a few pop-a-wheelies and slowing to a crawl in order to hit speeds of 160km/hr, even if for a short stint. Though sore and tired, we ended the day with great laughs over pizza roulette.