The title of this post, “strange occurrence” is a phrase that I’ve liked for awhile; I’m kind of weird like that, in that some words or phrases, even if I’ve never actually heard them spoken aloud by someone other than me (as in this case) really stick with me. To me, that particular phrase “strange occurrence” sounds like something an old timey (perhaps Victorian) doc would say when he encountered things he couldn’t understand, like female orgasms or mustaches that aren’t waxed properly.
What does any of this have to do with spirituality? Well…not a lot, I suppose. Except that I feel like almost all of us go through weird times when we encounter something we don’t understand, and then just make a remark and go on our way. Spirituality is not exempt from this. I know too many people (and I’ve been guilty of this a few times myself) who read about some new awesome meditation, spiritual construct or idea, and just go “wow that’s interesting”, or “huh that’s weird” and then completely forget all about it. I’m not saying a person should develop a deep profound interest in every single little thing they come across – that makes me exhausted just thinking about it. But if something is genuinely a “strange occurrence” for you, it bears further consideration. My life is full of them – things that pop up, often repeatedly, that are odd, so I pay attention to them.
…I’m going through a weird period in my life right now. A lot of the things I believe in have changed over the past few years, especially in the past 6 months or so, and my brain at times struggles to keep up. All of me does, actually. I become exhausted, and frustrated with both myself (which is fading finally) and with the world as a whole. Which I guess is probably pretty common. I have been looking at ways to make things easier for myself, and focusing on having more fun. It helps. Also writing posts on here, like my last one about my goals, helps too.
But going through these changes has helped me realize a lot about myself. The following list is a reflection of a few of the things that I have learned, which I am not endorsing for anyone else.
- When I was a kid, the fact that I disliked the idea of eating animals got me in trouble. I have been a vegetarian now since September, and am much happier. I love animals, and while I miss chicken nuggets like a mad thing, animals are treated like shit in most farming establishments in North America. As a teen, my family made me feel crazy for being upset over this, to the point that I felt very embarrassed and ashamed of myself for…some reason. But I don’t need to be ashamed about not wanting or needing to kill other animals (because yes, we humans are animals too) to live. That is never something to be ashamed of.
- I can draw, with pencils and pastels, fairly well. I also enjoy it, especially with oil pastels, because the colors are rich and evocative. I’m not great with straight lines, and I doubt you’ll ever see any of my stuff in a gallery someday. But I like it. It helps me get my feelings out.
- Sexism, racism, and all other sorts of isms are much more prevalent than I thought as a child. I never really noticed, really SAW sexism, even when it happened all around me, because I was so used to it. Hence my recent posts about men’s right groups, my family, and misogyny. Once you see it, you don’t unsee it. But that’s tricky because…
- …seeing sexism and other forms of discrimination for what they are is hard a lot of the time. Not for everyone, obviously, and please keep in mind my background, but if you grow up around it? If THAT’S your normal, unless you have a reason to question it, that’s your normal forever. I’ve written about this before, but it is worth repeating; no one I’ve ever met who is racist, sexist, homophobic, or whatever, wakes up in the morning and says to themselves “Ah! Another day to discriminate against women and make them miserable because I hate people with vaginas and I love being sexist!” (In my imagination they then cackle maniacally and put on their top hat made of dead babies.) That does not happen. People think what they think for a reason, even if it’s a stupid fucking one. And thinking to question that reason for most means going against their family, their community in some cases. I’m NEVER excusing racism, sexism, or anything; what I am saying is most sexists aren’t the cartoon villains I typically picture them as. They’re more familiar than that.
- You can be sexist and be a woman; you can be misogynistic and a woman. Most know this, I think (hope). I did not. You can also be a sexist, woman-hating bastard and think you love women. That’s a post for another day. But my point is, as above though broader, you can be a woman who deep down thinks women are weak, shallow, stupid, or whatever, and not ever even really consciously KNOW it. But it will influence the whole of your life.
- Beauty is meaningless
- Most of society will say they agree with me on the above beauty point, at least partly, but actually don’t.
- I have excellent instincts about people
- I get bored extremely easily, and boredom is probably me at my worst. I get fidgety, spacey, and restless. I pace constantly. It’s aggravating.
- I frequently doubt the excellent people instincts mentioned above, yet it’s only when I ignore them that I get in trouble
- All those years I spent as a child and a teen immersed in books due to my shyness has been one of the greatest gifts life has given me
- Nobody knows what’s best for me except for me, and the Ma
- Sex is awesome. They were doing it wrong.
- Sex is awesome. I was also doing it wrong.
- Being sensitive is not a bad thing. Now I don’t mean just when it comes to sex, despite those last two points. Though to be fair, ok yeah. But I more mean, when I was little, my mom would always angrily say I was too sensitive. But I’m not. Being sensitive, in the way she meant anyway, just means I pick up on the moods of others really easily, and it also means I connect with my own feelings strongly. That’s beautiful.
- I am fucking great at making pizza
- I am no one’s girl, sidekick, tag along, sweetie, girlfriend, wife, dependent, burden, or dear. I’ve been accused of being much worse, but those jump out to me.
- I would prefer to never be any of those things again, though I suppose at some point I’ll want to date again. But all of those tags come with so much STUFF attached. I guess “girlfriend” is okay, but to be honest I never enjoyed being one of those either for long. My fantasies involve someone I can have a horror movie marathon with, then fuck. Then they leave. I don’t want a fuck buddy again, because that’s too casual (except for the times when I want to casually fuck). I more want a best friend I can have sex with. Not “friends with benefits”, an actual best friend that I love deeply but can also do terrible things to, around, and involving his penis. With no possession involved. But….
- ..my sexuality is a wild, strange, still partly unknown thing to me. I’m learning. I am complex. SHE is complex. Yes my sexuality gets its own third-person reference. She deserves it. But that sexuality, that side of me, was neglected, or downright mistreated, for a very long time. So maybe disassociation is not the best idea. I love my sexuality, or at least I am starting to. So no more third person stuff. And I understand more as time goes by.
So there! A partial list of some things I’ve learned. Though certainly not exhaustive, and definitely not going as deep as I could be. Someday soon they’ll be another angry post on here – I need an outlet for some stuff. But for now? This is enough. A collection of a few of the strange occurrences that I’ve followed all the way.