Saturday, August 27, 2016

"Too Much" Woman

I cannot tell you how much this resonates with me. 
 
 
"Too Much" Woman

There she is. . . the “too much” woman. The one who loves too hard, feels too deeply, asks too often, desires too much.
There she is taking up too much space, with her laughter, her curves, her honesty, her sexuality. Her presence is as tall as a tree, as wide as a mountain. Her energy occupies every crevice of the room. Too much space she takes.
There she is causing a ruckus with her persistent wanting, too much wanting. She desires a lot, wants everything—too much happiness, too much alone time, too much pleasure. She’ll go through brimstone, murky river, and hellfire to get it. She’ll risk all to quell the longings of her heart and body. This makes her dangerous.
She is dangerous.
And there she goes, that “too much” woman, making people think too much, feel too much, swoon too much. She with her authentic prose and a self-assuredness in the way she carries herself. She with her belly laughs and her insatiable appetite and her proneness to fiery passion. All eyes on her, thinking she’s hot shit.
Oh, that “too much” woman. . . too loud, too vibrant, too honest, too emotional, too smart, too intense, too pretty, too difficult, too sensitive, too wild, too intimidating, too successful, too fat, too strong, too political, too joyous, too needy—too much.
She should simmer down a bit, be taken down a couple notches. Someone should put her back in a more respectable place. Someone should tell her.
Here I am. . . the Too Much Woman, with my too-tender heart and my too-much emotions.
A hedonist, feminist, pleasure seeker, empath. I want a lot—justice, sincerity, spaciousness, ease, intimacy, actualization, respect, to be seen, to be understood, your undivided attention, and all of your promises to be kept.
I’ve been called high maintenance because I want what I want, and intimidating because of the space I occupy. I’ve been called selfish because I am self-loving. I’ve been called a witch because I know how to heal myself.
And still. . . I rise. Still, I want and feel and ask and risk and take up space.
I must.
Us Too Much Women have been facing extermination for centuries—we are so afraid of her, terrified of her big presence, of the way she commands respect and wields the truth of her feelings. We’ve been trying to stifle the Too Much Woman for ions—in our sisters, in our wives, in our daughters. And even now, even today, we shame the Too Much Woman for her bigness, for her wanting, for her passionate nature.
And still. . . she thrives.
In my own world and before my very eyes, I am witnessing the reclamation and rising up of the Too Much Woman. That Too Much Woman is also known to some as Wild Woman or the Divine Feminine. In any case, she is me, she is you, and she is loving that she’s finally, finally getting some airtime.
If you’ve ever been called “too much,” or “overly emotional,” or “bitchy,” or “stuck up,” you are likely a Too Much Woman.
And if you are. . . I implore you to embrace all that you are—all of your depth, all of your vastness; to not hold yourself in, and to never abandon yourself, your bigness, your radiance.
Forget everything you’ve heard—your too much-ness is a gift; oh yes, one that can heal, incite, liberate, and cut straight to the heart of things.
Do not be afraid of this gift, and let no one shy you away from it. Your too much-ness is magic, is medicine. It can change the world.
Don’t believe me? Check this: All of your favorite women, the ones who’ve made history, the ones who’ve lent their voices for change and have courageously given themselves permission to be exactly who they are. Some examples: Oprah, Ronda Rousey, BeyoncĂ©, Kali, Misty Copeland, Janet Mock, Mary Magdalene . . . they’re all Too Much Women.
So please, Too Much Woman: Ask. Seek. Desire. Expand. Move. Feel.Be.
Make your waves, fan your flames, give us chills.
Please, rise.
We need you.
Author: Ev’Yan Whitney

Thursday, December 31, 2015

Heard This Week on the Massage Table

This week my first client was a lovely middle school aged girl.  When I started my music it was still on a Christmas station so I apologized and quickly changed the station to my massage music.  The young lady said "There's nothing better than Christmas music....there are no sad songs."  Out of the mouths of babes.

Politics came up and yielded some great descriptions of a couple of the candidates.  Donald Trump was described as "a 15 year old bully at prep school that never grew out of that state" and Bernie Sanders was compared to "your dad....but like 2 years past when he is really your dad".  Both comments made me chuckle while agreeing with their assessments.

Naturally Star Wars was a hot topic as well.   If you do not want to know anything about the movie you should quit reading now.  SPOILER ALERT.  Is Rey a twin to Poe, to Ben?  Could she be the  daughter of Han and Leia?  Luke? Is she Anakin reincarnated?  Is Ben really evil or is he undercover to destroy the dark side?  Why George Lucas?  Whyyyyyyyyyy?  Han Solo was my first crush! So what if Harrison Ford is the same age as my dad!  I LOVED HIM!  Still pissed.

And my personal favorite.  My client's comment to me admitting I was shocked that I did not lose any clients when we moved our clinic:  "You say that like you're surprised.  You're f@cking awesome!  I would drive to Cynthiana for a massage from you."


Sunday, October 25, 2015

Happy Halloween!




My pumpkins and the bookcase behind my desk were the extent of my decorations.  Super Moon from my backyard.  Not so scary black cat aka Oni.  And on my first visit to Raven Run, two zombies  wandered out of the woods behind a bride covered in blood--they were doing a magazine shoot for Halloween.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

My Funny Papa

Last weekend I invited my father to come hiking with me at Raven Run.  When we arrived at the Overlook and were looking at the river, Dad asked me if I knew about the time he took my mother swimming in the river.  I told him I did remember that story and the two of us had a good chuckle.  Naturally my husband wanted to know what had us both so tickled so I told him the river story.

Now, for those of you who might not know Papa Joe.....he is a dedicated Bible thumper from way back. If the church doors were open--we were there. Everyone in my family was involved with some church activity, be it choir, puppet team, deacon, pianist, drummer, etc   So you can imagine how many friends were made over the years.  And
some friends were more special.  The Miller Family was very special to our family.  Not only was our pastor and his wife close to the same age as my parents, their three sons were also about the same age as my sister and me.  We spent a lot of free time with the Millers and it was at their home when this story was first told.

Papa Joe was telling Brother Miller and his wife about what happened when he took my mother swimming earlier that week.  There was a relatively safe beachy area near our home and on rare occasions we would swim there.  Mom and Dad were there adventuring alone this time.  Dad said that he and my mother were floating on rafts when they saw three strangers approaching the beach.  It was two men holding hands with the woman walking between them......and she was topless.  He said that he and my mom quickly gathered their things and left for home.

After hearing all this and having a good laugh, Brother Miller jokingly reassured my dad that he had not committed a sin by looking once, it was only a sin if you looked back a second time.  Papa Joe says "Yessir, I know that.  That's why I took One Looooooooooong Look."

Brilliant loophole?



Friday, October 2, 2015

Shaved or Unshaven

It's that time of year again......when all my ladies apologize for their unshaven legs.  I wish I had a dollar for every time I have heard a version of  "I'm sorry.  I didn't shave my legs."  Do I care whether my clients shave or not?  Not in the least.

Since most of the unshaven moments happen when the weather is cooler outside and I live in the horse capitol of the world, I like to think of the unshaven legs as something akin to a horse's winter coat growing in.  And like the winter coat, growing hair out is a completely normal thing to do--no matter what season it is.  In fact, in many civilized places around the world it is just as acceptable for women to grow out their armpit and leg hair as it is commonplace to shave in the USA. 

I recently read a study in Psychology of Women Quarterly that explored the taboo of women  not shaving their body hair.  The women were asked to answer questions about body hair and after the initial survey they were asked to go 10 weeks without shaving.   At the end of the 10 weeks the women were asked the same questions again.  The results were:

*Many women reflected on how, although they initially framed body hair as a (sometimes insignificant or casual) personal choice prior to doing the assignment, they changed their views once they grew their body hair. Four themes (sometimes overlapping) appeared in women’s discussions: (a) new perspectives on the social meanings of body hair, (b) encounters with homophobia and heterosexism, (c) anger from family members and partners about growing body hair, and (d) internalized feelings of being “disgusting” and “dirty.” 

It was an interesting read, but it only gave the female point of view.  Men shave/wax parts too!

Soooooo for the last time (not), massage therapists are taught to practice unconditional positive regard. What exactly does that hippie speech mean?  It means we consider every body on our massage table in the same way--with respect.  We focus on what the client needs and we do not care whether you are shaved/waxed or wooly.