mama hips

July 21, 2010

Estrogen The Mighty

Filed under: balance, energies, feminism, feminist mama, parenting, transformation, working mom — Tags: , , , , , — Kim Pacini @ 12:10 pm

The scope of the world tightens and everything grand and luscious feels like it’s out there, far far away. A big shiny opulescent big titted bird swoops down on me and with those big lady talons she’s got me. And there she is- Estrogen the Mighty has returned. Ravenous, graceful bitch.

It doesn’t seem right to me that the hormone that makes women, women- the sugar sauce that has everything to do with our lovely ovaries and bulbous breasts is one that produces the most agitated state of feminine grace. Could this be another conspiracy of the elusive patriarchy to make us think we are helpless to bursts of maddness? I smell a rat in three piece suit.

So, ladies tell me: how can we channel the fury of our biological thunder to conquer the world?

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June 12, 2010

horscope said it was ok to be a narcissist this week

So Rob Brezny, astrologer to this pagan goddess explains my horoscope this week as:

“If you have long conversations with the image in the mirror this week, I won’t call you a megalomaniacal narcissist. Nor will I make fun of you if you paint 15 self-portraits, or google yourself obsessively, or fill an entire notebook with answers to the question “Who am I, anyway?” In my astrological opinion, this is an excellent time for you to pursue nosy explorations into the mysteries of your core identity. You have cosmic permission to think about yourself with an intensity you might normally devote to a charismatic idol you’re infatuated with.”

I find this timely as I am not sure what the hell I am doing, professionally speaking. I know I want to be in business for myself. I know I want to write.

Am I writer? I can say with some sense of emphatically, yes. After all these years, writing has been a constant activity. So what do I want to do about it. I want to write a book and open a program for girls. Easy enough. So, why don’t I go right to there and stop wasting my time looking to do anything other than that? Well, the thing is that I feel that it is going to happen and so I am not all that concerned about it – my question is to how to get there thoughtfully and in a way that is healthy for us. My first priority is getting money in the door and opening up our lives to allow for scheduling, that is time together, that fits our schedules. Maybe that’s why I’m not bugging out – as much as I want change to happen, I know it is happening at rate that is best for us.

I know all these things I want:

I want this blog to be well developed and thought out and to serve its purpose and marketed with clever mastery of marketing channels and have a community of feminists that begin to bridge a new reality by connecting trough the ways they have made their own choices.  I want to foster that change. I see the goddess coming out strong from me these days, in ways I have never seen before but only stood in awe of. At times, I have caught myself in a window or mirror and am so impressed by what I see looking back. Its in this state, I know I can do anything and I am riding on that most of these days.

I know I have a book in me but I need some direction. Some clear guidance. Should it be about me or of another character. What form would be the best way to present the information? What does one need to be writer? how do I develop my craft? I honsetly feel its as easy an editor. strange.

I would love a selection of wines and good clothing. All sustainable and designed by Sarah. and Betsy Johnson.

I would love land and a garden and flowers and I would love to spend days in it; taking  care of it. I would like a fire pit and a deck an hot tub. I want to sit under the stars every night.I want Danaë to run.

I want to be near the water.

I want to have fun.

Baby is stirring….love.

February 2, 2010

synchronicity

Six months ago I stepped off of the 23 bus at Ridge and Spring Garden streets to escape the feeling wanting hurl that accompanies the block by block stop and go at what has to be an enormous velocity for an hour. that is one long city bus ride but it does give me an hour to read or listen or look or sleep or whatever. I have an hour to settle into the morning’s story; an hour to connect with whatever is going on and its presence in the beginning of the day. breakfast for the mind of sorts. i see young, young girls taking theirs kids to somewhere..daycare?, i see girls their same age going to school. I see the woman they call ghetto booty sometimes – shes a connection of round jiggly bubbles that with a big ass Cheshire cat smile of some sort of bliss who always listens to music and she sings and is moved by the music and its loud and its eccentric as all hell and shes quite an inspiring thing that reminds of different planes of reality. In the murmur, there are phrases like, “one day at a time”, “just got off work”, “he’s locked up” mixed with some laughter, some “heeeyyyy” of familiar faces in passing. the bus is city living. Even though we have one the most poorly managed and inefficient public transit systems ever, i still love public transit.

on that particular day I was re-reading Even Cowgirls Get The Blues, the part about that its only catfish who can predict the coming of an earthquake. when an earthquake is imminent, catfish freak out to the vibrations. other than this extreme reaction by the only species intune with the enormous, low, low internal vibration of the earth no one can accurately predict something as friggin significant as an earthquake. all seismologists can do is predict the probability of a fucking earthquake.

this is what I am reading about when I close my book, step off the bus six blocks early into a morning that predicts spring is on the way. it was grey and raining lightly. my favorite weather. bright green and lush. right before the rain starts, when the air is heavy and wet and something is coming as the wet air hangs, silence. everyone waiting. the clouds are pregnant. and then it rains. birth birth birth  and cleansing and water and introspection. this when I feel most creative, most intune, most aware. and absolutely driven to write. sometimes, i have to. the need is to compelling. if the wet air hangs, sagging lower and lower with weight, that weight is pushing and pushing to come out and words are the only way to do it.

as i step out of the bus, getting my shit situated for my morning walk to the world when i hear dude say from the stoop behind me to whoever on the phone, “why can’t anyone predict the coming of an earthquake?’.

in the next month, my husband lost his job. our car was broken in to. my parents were in a car accident with my baby. we had to borrow money from both our families to pay our bills. every sense of security we might have had was taken away when we looked to the future, the very near future and were not sure we were going to be able to basic things like buy diapers for our daughter or pay or mortgage. but thats not the kicker.

what is fucking triumphant about this whole thing is intention. i/we have aligned myself with my intentions. i have come to evolve in the idea my reasons.  rev-a-fucking-lation! the magnitude of this is massive.

that, my friends, is some synchronicity. and synchronicity is some cosmos speaking shit.

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