Marilyn, you said it better than anyone.
We all seem to have two or many more distinctive personalities that surface at the most opportune or inopportune moments…one minute I recognize the words coming out of my mouth, the next minute a sub self with her own set of agendas takes over the show and orchestrates circumstances and events that often hurl me straight into a wall.
Then another sub self gets the clean up job, one who is far more poetic and able to quote great Buddhist scriptures.
This is all imperceptible to the friend, or onlooker, but raging inside are my many selves, many riders on a big yellow bus of a personality, that isn’t even who I am.
Beyond our many little people, we are a consciousness so huge and vast, if we really understood our power and who we are, we would bow down and weep to look up at our reflections.
But my personality is a wild bucking colt, wobbly in the knees and often times, kicking up dust wherever she goes.
Sometimes the dust clears open a glorious expanse….sometimes it will leave you coughing!
So courageous, Marilyn, so true!
But where were you imperfect?
I think you personified physical feminine perfection, but being a woman, and an orphan at that – you must have spent your life not having a clue.
If you could only see today how the public worships, adores, and still takes their beauty cues from the clues you left behind… your tantalizing feminine form has inspired make-up lines, perfumes, jewelry, clothing, films, and spans of replica products – all these years, even still, 50 years after your death.
If I walked out of my building in my best skin-tight dress, I may cause a slight stir…but more so because I may have forgotten to wear the right spanks, and Joan Rivers will be hunting me down, reporting on my bunches of wrongly displayed crunches, in that feigned, abject horror voice.
Hey! I’ve got my spin on style too…..yes, you can call it ‘style’!
Ahhhh Marilyn…you were never boring.
I loved how they thought you were dumb and ridiculous, and in the end you…..you’re the one, no one can forget.
Can you now?
Well, I’d have to say from a woman’s perspective, we do seem to be a little more interested in how we feel with a man than exactly what he looks like.
Men are extremely visual creatures and rarely give a woman a chance unless ‘visually cued up, so to speak!’, but a woman can be charmed by the most ordinary of men because of what he can provide for her in the way of entertainment, security, and indulging and serving her desires. I have found that the most gorgeous of men are often times the worst partners, and strangely enough, they are often the most insecure.
There is the rare combination of gorgeous alpha male who is also very aware that the best man he gets to be is when he is serving his Queen and making her happy.
That is a beautiful union indeed, reminiscent of Shakespeare’s MacBeth and Lady MacBeth. Archetypal, primal – hero and heroine.
Women, it would really serve us to stop defending ourselves against getting hurt from men and teach them to care for us and make heroes out of them.
There is a lost art here.
They live to please us, they really do.
I know, I know, when his underwear is basking on the floor with potato chips crumbles thrown in for extra flourish, this is a really hard sell…but – just, for a minute watch the majesty of little boys shining up to their Queen mothers – the sun rises and sets with her approval.
If we only understood and consistently wielded our true feminine power….magnificent results!
Time to investigate…..will you join me in an experiment?
I would have to say the best things I’ve done in my life were completely mad. They made no sense to anyone, but, (save me, most of the time!), and were disguised in some of the biggest detours, mad-capped adventures, and hair-raising insane notions, that the arrogance of youth gave me the bravado, (with large deaf ears) to pursue.
I was willing to pay the price for whatever choices I made,
I never thought of a single consequence until I was surrounded by them, (cooking in them actually), sweltering in a cauldron of my consequences. And yet, I still preferred that, to the safe and procured route.
My only wish now is to remain as loyal to that merciless mistress who cares not for my safety and security, and the opinions of others. Her only craving is for my true mastery. She knows my Soul’s design and won’t rest until she screams it into my ears at night, many, many sleepless nights she pursues me….I hope she continues to sway my sanity and crow in my ears with her relentless schema….life will be so boring if I persist in trying to make a living!
We resist, like crazy, our Divine Destinies….for the most part. Some people do seem to have no resistance to their magnificence, but the majority of us fight kicking, screaming into our greatness, as if we are the bastard heirs to our banished thrones, and the crown had been dented.
Why is it so hard to believe things can be amazing, and we can be singled out to do wonderful things which are designated for us and us alone? Are we not all emanations of God?
Then why would we be up to any less than magnificent expression? Astounding creativity? Ever watch, I mean really watch the clouds effortlessly drift into a myriad of shapes and vistas across a rain-lit sky? Who paints like that? We all do…where have I buried my paintbrushes?
Under a pile of lies and recriminations so thick I need a magnifying lens to recognize myself. The beautiful thing about magnifying lenses is, when the sun shines through them, enough heat is illumined and generated to start an immediate fire on whatever they are focused on….and then it burns.
A fire….. just like that…I like that.
I like that because….. I am that.
And so are you.