there might be another way: sexuality, spirituality, mothering, feminism, environmentalism

Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

The Many Me(s)



Lest you suggest I’m crazy,
I’ll have you know
you possess as many you(s)
as I do me(s)…

Dreamer, thinker, lover, leader, robot me
all operate simultaneously
’til I’m the one wonderin’ about
my own sanity.

First let’s discuss
the lines that define
the who of me and you.

The most blurry of these lines happens to be the one we call consciousness. It implies we think and that we’re awake – two entirely different, even diametrically opposed entities.

I don’t know about you,
but I can and do think in my sleep.
It’s called lucid dreaming
where I think (therefore I know?)
I’m dreaming suggesting I’m awake
until I actually do wake up
as when I rise (or descend?)
out of that mysterious state
and open my eyes.

Come on! Please keep up. This train of thought won’t wait, which is a whole other point entirely, or do I speak of the same? Train that is – the one that runs nonstop, out of control, seemingly linear, most likely random, running amok through the unobserved mind.
Like mine.

There it is.
My runaway mind
that doesn’t halt
’til my head hits the pillow.
I’ll call it anything
BUT conscious.

Then I own the overtones and undercurrents.
The ones medieval and modern mystics master.
Conscious is best defined as the overtone
soaring above, observing the train of thought.
Sub-conscious would be the undercurrents
flowing below, greasing the tracks.

Back to the realm of thought if I may
and when an I think becomes an I know
– not as in intellectually, but intuitively.
Yet another layer, level of intelligence entirely.

You’d think that higher (or would it be deeper) level implies a conscious eye as it’s fully capable of seeing ahead, foreboding beyond the hill, or around the corner, but the more I think about it, I or third eye can find two levels of otherworldly knowing – higher and deeper – otherwise known as intuition and instinct.

Intuition is the third eye
oft blurred by the mind’s
thoughts that get in the way
and obscure the perfect view.

Instinct doesn’t see.
It’s in the gut –
when my belly tells me
I’m in the presence of
friend or enemy.

Tells me. Imagine that. Bellybutton as metaphorical mouth, mystical umbilical to metaphysical Mother who would not have you cavorting, consorting with such riff-raff. Ever protecting you from places or people who would do you harm.

So if bellybutton is mouth, where’s my ear to hear the warning of danger near? Surely that ear is the inner curve of my gut that clenches and twists in the midst of uneasiness. The queasiness that tells me when something is just not right.

Speaking of mouths,
let’s go down to the Holy Yoni
lest you think the penis
is the only appendage below
with a mind of its own.

Clearly a man in heat makes a point, but just as sure, a woman’s yoni knows when she yens. She’ll swell, she’ll flow, the other may never know.

My point is
that’s merely another
part of me with as much
a mind of its own as a man’s.

Just when you thought I might be done, I’m only ready to take count…

Two minds, one above, one below,
plus conscious & subconscious
make four.
Add up intuition & instinct
equal six.
I’m going for seven.

The last and most assuredly not least
are my feelings.
My heart
prone to swell or break,
ache, fake an affection
so as not to insult yours.

My feelings factor into every decision I make, setting me apart from my inner animal…uh-oh, have I found an eighth? Wild side? No. I think that fits in nicely with instinctual me. Sorry to digress – a perfect example of the many times my mind talks over my feelings. The mind being yet another mouth, always running, making meditation the metaphorical sock. Ha!

Back to heart
It really is so hard
to feel these days.

Is our current state any surprise? What am I to expect until I elevate the value I place on my feminine feeling to the level of my mental masculine…a part of me that surely knows the value of equanimity.


Joint Community Statement

Equilibrio Norte

Joint Community Statement                                                                                                  02/27/2015

PODER, Raza Roundtable, Resistencia, NAACP and Equilibrio

In response to the illegal demolition of Piñatas Jumpolín located at 4101 E. Cesar Chavez by the F&F Real Estate Ventures, owned by Darius Fisher and Jordan French.

On behalf of the owners of Pinatas Jumpolin, we call on the City of Austin to respond with condemnation and to treat this demolition as a criminal act, and to support the community affected by this racist and illegal act.

We call upon the City and APD to treat this as a criminal act and bring charges against F&F and any others who…

View original post 336 more words

My Abortion Story

Las week when the call went out to send more abortion stories to fuel Wendy Davis’ filibuster, I thought that since I never had an abortion, I didn’t have a story. But I do.

Freshman year at MIT and the condom broke. The morning after pill did not yet exist. When the pregnancy test came back positive, I consulted with my mentor and my doctor. They didn’t judge me. They weren’t even phased. My devastation was treated as par for the (college) course. No big deal. Have an abortion, duh. That’s what college women do. The baby’s biological father, another MIT student, emphatically agreed. So emphatically, he would have put a gun to my head to make me have an abortion if he could have. So emphatically, he threatened to abduct the baby after birth and send it to be raised by his mother outside the country.

Young and naïve as I was, I convinced myself that I could appeal to the church to allow an abortion in this one instance. (Pause for laughter.) Hispanic teen moms were abundant and embarrassing. I was a rarity – a promising, proud, double-minority at the world’s top engineering school. I was always in the top academic percent. I did not belong in the common teen mom column.

Too embarrassed to consult with the priest on MIT’s campus, I walked the long mile to Harvard’s Catholic Church and spilled my guts. Again with the “no big deal” bit. The priest listened with great compassion but little affect. And then…I didn’t ask my religion’s permission. The priest’s ear, his presence, his tranquility calmed my terrified heart. In an instant, I grew the fierce and fearless fortitude necessary to defend my baby, defend my life, defend my choice. I made up my own mind, in that very moment, to have the baby. In an instant, I fell boundlessly in love with my child.

With my newfound strength and bravery, I defied the bullies that were my boyfriend and mentor and doctor, and I CHOSE life.


I moved back home to face my family and my community. MY CHOICE meant that I had to hold my head up high when my parents cried, my friends gossiped, and my doctor shook her head in seeming disgust and disappointment. MY CHOICE meant I had to hold my head up high at the welfare office. MY CHOICE meant I had to take full responsibility for my life and the well-being of my child. MY CHOICE meant taking accountability for my nutrition and emotional well-being to ensure a healthy pregnancy and birth. MY CHOICE empowered me to be the mother I am today. I can’t imagine the devastating emotional and psychic consequences of a forced pregnancy as much as I can’t imagine a forced abortion or forced adoption.

You who would defy my right to choose are no better than the people who tried to force me to have an abortion. I DEFIED THEM. I DEFY YOU.

I DEFEND my right to choose life or abortion because MOTHERS must go CONSCIOUSLY AND OF THEIR OWN FREE WILL into the decision to nurture and raise a human life. Their effectiveness as a loving, protective mother DEPENDS ON IT. And unwilling WOMEN ARE NOT INCUBATORS for adoptive parents.

BEWARE Right-to-Lifers. At present, the GOP’s observation of the 6th Commandment is selective and hypocritical; consider the death penalty! Granting the government dominion over women’s bodies can not be selective. If the government can FORCE you to incubate a baby, they can also FORCE you to abort a baby. Pro-Life legislation equates to INVOLUNTARILY INCUBATION. Does the government then get to legislate your prenatal nutrition and medical treatment? It is said that it takes great love to put a child up for adoption. What if an unfit mother doesn’t choose adoption? What of them? Shall we take away that choice too!?


once, in a dance hall
alcohol induced dance trance
i was spinning, turning, whirling
channeling my inner dervish
my beautiful ballerina, my exotic latin
dancing circles around and around my center
til gravity brought me down
i fell from grace…gracefully
not even the floor could break my tall
couldn’t force my centripetal
motion kept going on the ground
i kept rolling over and over
even a toppled top keeps spinning
but even a rolling stone comes to a stop
…my moss betrays me
i haven’t been dancing in a while


I’ve finally come to identify
with the devious man who raped me
and his pathetic attempt to possess
my love, beauty, purity

Countless years in the making
my master lesson learned
transformed immense hatred and rage
into tolerance and compassion

For I too have used, confused
wanting you
with wanting me to be more like
the aspects of you I was desperately lacking

Are you free? Wish it was me
Wicked wit? I’ll have some of that
Strength, beauty, passion, devotion
Mine Mine Mine Mine

Obviously my tactics
were far from criminal
But I’m one to aspire higher
and loath to dismiss my psychic transgressions

Unhealthy attractions, self destructive distractions
from personal growth and advancement
They’ll pacify the mind ’til it believes
what it needs exists outside of your self

Now the first hint of clamor and despair over us as a pair
Is my clue, cue to delve deep into my soul
to find you’re merely the mirror
of what I am able, capable of self-actualizing

Because only in the absence of possession and lust
Rather, in the presence of friendship and trust
Can you reach me, teach me
And thus quench my obsession

How might our lives have been different
Had he, we, been told, taught
You can’t find happiness in another woman or man
And the Sacred Union we seek…exists WITHIN