the following group of thoughts/ideas came after i went through a bit of a trigger crisis connected to rape. please keep yourself safe when deciding whether or not to read. there are no graphic descriptions–but rape is rape. it’s hard to think/talk about.

Jess and I have spent a considerable amount of time talking about how difficult it is to put “walking” ideas (or ideas that spring into the consciousness while walking) into typical blog posts. My last entry was almost painful to write because I just couldn’t figure out how to express what was flowing so easily around my body.

How could it flow like water through my body, but get so badly stuck on my finger tips?

I’m not going to force anything today. I’m going to write down my notes as they flowed out. And hope that you understand.

***

These days I use Rachel’s language to tell people that they have woven their spirits into negative things and that to recover their health they need to retreat for a while, pull their spirits back, and learn to walk straight again. Would that we could follow such simple instructions, because our spirits do contain our lives and our life choices. We do indeed weave our spirits into the events and relationships of our lives. Life is as simple as that.

~~Caroline Myss, PhD Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing

***

….

What was sucking my energy at such a young age? K and F. Having sex every Saturday morning.

Having sex—–> Rape.

Every saturday, I heard him raping her.

Weird bad things happen because of sleep.

F= Rapist
M=Rapist
V=Rapist.

Sleep=The time they get you.

***

as i meditated today, i realized how many women i know, how many little girls i know, how i myself know—how quiet rape often is. how it is done in the middle of the night after everybody is asleep. how often times you wake up because you feel good. how when you figure out through the sleepy fog what the hell is going on, you don’t yell, scream, fight, move, because it’s night time, and everybody is asleep.

the night is like a different world, and screams don’t belong in it.

we’ve been taught that since we were babies—left alone to ‘cry it out’ by our parents, right?

***

Call my spirit back
Call my spirit back
Call my spirit back…

Rape.

What is it to me?
Subjecting myself. Manipulating bad situations.

Dealing with what is going to happen anyway.

***

I don’t even know if I like to write all that much. If I learned to write like I do because it was the only thing I had. The only place I didn’t have to work like hell to negotiate.

***

What do I do if I figure out I really don’t like to write all that much?

***

I read this and almost threw up.

this has been sitting on the edges of my mind since I first read about it so many months ago, and made the choice not to click over and read the gross fucking details.

Today I read it all. I spent hours surfing all the stories.

The taste of vomit swirling around my mouth, keeping me centered.

***

three men I know to be rapists, only because I knew them at night.

***

People thought that there was nothing wrong with the disappearance of the daughter

–silence, quiet, absence–

means all is well, for some reason.

Why are screams the only thing that alert us to danger?

***

I slept in the same bed with a man that was regularly raping/abusing all three of his daughters. He didn’t rape me, but he touched me–because he thought I was sleeping.

I wasn’t asleep, because I’d already been tricked once before. I couldn’t sleep. And so while I thought others slept, I forced my eyes shut, but listened to the sounds of the night. Inspecting each noise over and over again, looking….

And then the hand was there.

I did not open my eyes. I knew immediately what was happening.

But unfortunately, for all my training in recognizing the sounds, the the quiet–I had forgotten to figure out what to do if it happened again.

I had been looking the wrong way.

***

The alarm saved me that night. The blaring woke up the entire household. The quiet was gone, if only for a while. I stayed away from the house after that. Stayed away from the family I had grown to love.

But it never once occurred to me…not until later when I found out what was happening…that there was any need to worry about the daughters.

***

So many years after finding out about the girls–I still beat myself up–how could I not have seen? What would have happened if I had pressed harder? So many different situations felt wrong to me, but I said nothing.

But who was I but a 19 year old fucked up kid?

***

But you know–the thing is–that guy–he really cared. And that’s the thing I know about dudes that rape, that molest, that “try to surprise you”–they care. They really do.

Oprah says love doesn’t hurt. Others make abusers out to be these sick predators in shiny bright clothing. And I don’t doubt for one second that there are men like that–men who deliberately maliciously put on the shiny clothing.

But the three men I knew…They were all good men. Caring men. There was something wrong with them to be sure–but there was something *right* with them too. When you spend time with a man who is a rapist–you can’t help but get to know the best of that man just as surely as you get to *feel* the absolute worst of the man. That’s what rape is to me–every day living with a human being who gives you many many compelling reasons to like him/her.

I got into a fight with that man’s close friend once. And that man wound up at my door, tears in his eyes. Telling me how much I meant to his close friend. How much they all missed me. How they wanted me to come back, no questions asked no expectations.

Did I think to myself–yeah, you just want me to come back so you can finish the job you fucker!

Honestly, it didn’t even cross my mind.

***

i saw a little old man walking his granddaughter down the street.she was small, about two or three. just able to talk and walk at the same time.

he was old, graying—typical michigan libertarian sorta guy with his faded blue jeans and VFW fishing hat on.

for some reason, when i saw them, at first i smiled, but as i got closer, all i wanted to do was punch that asshole grandfather in the face.

punch him after i had explained to that little girl, ala uma thurman, exactly why i had to punch him and how if, when she grew up, she wanted to come find me and revenge her grandfather, i would not resist. but right now, punching in the face was just a simple matter of world order.

instead of punching him, however, i smiled, said “great day out, huh?” and kept walking.

***

I lay on the floor after my walk. I am shivering.
All the people I know who are survivors–they are inside me pushing, yanking, tearing, biting, using knives, crow bars, bits of glass, to unweave “RAPE” from my body.

It is hard work.
I don’t move for a long time.

***

The question is not “Why won’t she leave him”

NO
NO
NO

The question is–why are we all standing around acting like it is her job alone to stop it? Like we don’t know very damn well what disappearances, silence, quiet, submissive means?

***

Audre Lorde had breast cancer. And after a while, she wound up getting a mastectomy. She had quite a show down with the various nurses taking care of her because they kept trying to get her to wear a prosthesis and Audre told them no.

Her logic? Society did this to her–made her sick–cut off a much loved piece of her body because of that sickness. Now society could very well face what it had done to her. She would not hide the violence behind a prosthesis.

She refused the quiet.
And it was the women who were outraged about it.

***

I wrote his name down of a piece of paper and set it on fire. I let it burn out in the toilet.

before i flushed–i peed

on his burnt fucking rotted carcass.

he wants to know my body so badly? he thinks he knows me?

then here is my fucking gift to him.

Piss.
And flush.

***

My body is not me–but mine.
~~yoga saying

***

Abhyasa, or practice, is really about making something a priority. As we enact that priority, an energy builds in our life to support it.

***

MINE.

***

what will happen

when women collectively

finally stop resisting their self control

and take care to put the

world

back in order?