Category: self

The Sensual Strong Woman.

 

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A woman in a tight fitting rose-colored dress and black heels walked gracefully down the sidewalk in front of me.

Her long dark thick hair hung down her back, as she sashayed from side-to-side.

A sensual strong woman.

“She embodies the word Gorgeous,” I playfully punched my guy friend’s shoulder. We were walking to get a slice of pizza. He laughed, agreeing, but said my bottom was a little more shapely (because that’s what our friends do, right)?

We headed toward a pizza shop in this mellow college town in northern California. A place where people are more likely to wear flip-flops or running shoes than black high heels. She represented an anomaly of style and grace.

Right before the pizza shop, she stopped to put her bags in the trunk of her black Mini Cooper.

I told my friend that I’d love to be like that, especially after all these years of being a mom, and feeling less than glamorous (particularly on the days/weeks/months that I’ve had to “debate” special education services for my sons—see aren’t you tired from reading that sentence—so you can see why this Sensual Strong Woman caught my inner wild woman’s attention).

It wasn’t envy so much as it was admiration: she seemed so strong with her perfectly curved calf muscles and so sexy in the ownership of her own self. She gracefully held her space in the world.

As she opened the front door of her black Mini, I finally saw her face, and then I knew why she embodied a sensual strong confident woman because she grew into that space.

She created—over time—who she wanted to become, and even though time barely showed as wrinkles on her face, I could see that she was at least ten, or maybe, fifteen years older than me, and she embraced beauty.

The kind of beauty that comes with the wisdom of living.

In that brief moment, I knew nothing about her life, her struggles, her triumphs, her loses, or her, but I did know that she reminded me to keep being a Sensual Strong Woman as I grow wiser in my years.

She wasn’t some image photoshopped and posted on Instagram or in some magazine, but a real life breathing Sensual Strong Woman who embraced being herself.

And that is beautiful!

 

Copyright 2016 © Jes Wright

Photo Credit:  Takazart/Pixabay

 

Be Your Own Beautiful. {Poetry}

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But I don’t really to tell you that.

Do I?

You must know that you’re beautiful, right?

Do you really need some stranger to be your spiritual cheerleader? Reminding you that you’re so awesome inside and out? And yet they barely know you?

Do you need words sugar-coated with the zest of glitter and fireworks?

Does anyone—let alone me—need to be your spiritual cheerleader, bursting forth #greatquotes to make you remember the inner beauty shining so brightly from your eyes?

Nope. I’m an artist, not an effing cheerleader.

I want you to see that it’s necessary to feel those emotions—the tortured and the bliss—that’s how you figure out what’s going on. You own those experiences, and create your own sense of self-worth not based upon some trite spiritual cheerleading prose.

So I can’t do it. I’ll create my own art, representations of my own experiences, but I won’t make my pen into a Pom-Pom or a Pom-poem to soften the whatever it is that’s going on in your world because it’s your perception.

I want you to see what you uncover in the spiritual process, especially when you hit upon uncomfortable feelings. Yep, those ones that make you reevaluate your world.

Deal with them without relying upon flowery words to get you through the mess like a pill.

Dig deep into what you are feeling because once you access the uncomfortableness, sit with the emotions, then you are so much closer to stepping through to the other side.

There are no easy paths in the spiritual journey.

True, there are some things that are too intense to deal with alone, so seek out a counselor or close friends, maybe even do some art, but stop relying on the advice of spiritual cheerleaders, as they are masking the truth of being you.

Yes, you’re beautiful, and it’s a lovely message that I found scribbled on a nearby bridge, but…be be your own beautiful because the words are right there inside your soul.

 

Copyright 2016  © Jessie Wright

She Wanted Less.

Emerging

She

wanted less
holding back in the spaces between their lips,
as if their breath could be the only language in the world.

She wanted less
time lost in the rivers of the mind,
as if rapids were always more exciting than still waters.

She wanted less
living in doubt,
as if confusion should be like a rainbow of colors,
& taste like the first strawberry of spring.

She wanted less
political rhetoric about the size of penises
when it’s the width of the heart that counts.

She wanted less
smog covering the blue skies,
as if there wasn’t another way to live
in balance with our planet.

She wanted less
letting go,
as holding on is sometimes worth the ride.

She wanted less
layers of clothing,
as in peeling off the winter jackets and boots exposes us
to more warmth in the soft touch of skin-to-skin contact.

She wanted less
explaining of syllables,
as they only hold a handful of what we carry in our hearts.

She wanted less
hope,
as being in the act of loving is the dream.

Copyright 2016 © Jessie Wright