Week 6 Post-Brahmacharya
In my quest for equality, I am at the point where I no longer assume the victim role. I am in charge of my own destiny and no one can define who I am but me. I may look like a female Puerto Rican, but the content of my brain and the expression of my spirit transcend this costume, rendering whatever preconceived biases against my “type” null and void.
Hence, my opinion against the use of sexual harrassment laws to get back at men for being men. Even though the woman may “win” in the battle for power via a cushy settlement (Jodie Fisher vs HP CEO), she is asserting that this man “took advantage of her,” which automatically casts her as the weaker sex. How is this possible? Unless the guy did absolutely nothing (which doesn’t seem to be the case since he’s forking over a nice settlement to make the whole thing go away), she is the loser, in my eyes. She is a 50-year-old attractive woman, and she doesn’t yet understand her own power over men. When I walked down Mission Street in San Francisco, the hisses and clicking used to scare me and make me feel like a piece of meat. When a man stared at my chest instead of my eyes, I took it personally and would yell at him. I allowed them to take away my power.
When I entered the world of investors, a predominately male arena, suddenly my female costume became an asset rather than a liability. The men wanted to talk to me for all the same reasons as the construction workers on Mission Street, but once I opened my mouth to ask questions about politics and money, they soon forgot about their animal instinct and became humans treating me like a human. Instead of reacting to them, in defense on a sports team, I took the offense and began steering the game. Once you figure out how to do this, there is no sexual harrassment handicap. The man and woman are on equal ground, and become a team. Instead of the woman being a poor loser, using sexual harassment laws to her advantage, she uses the tools and equipment bestowed upon her by nature. And instead of the sexes battling each other for material wealth, they shake hands at the end of the game and shed their egos in the expression of the most naked honesty: Love.
I have gotten everything I wanted. The exact apartment I wanted at the exact price. A finished web site. Syncronicity with the universe. What more can I ask for?
Nothing. It’s time to give. Should I go out with the lawyer? Should I give him my time? All he wants to do is eat dinner and screw. Don’t really want to do this. Maybe I can invite him to a yoga class? I am starting to settle in to this new life. I am starting to accept my flaws and letting my whole personality show itself at work, in all its multiplicitous color. It’s scary. But a relief all at the same time.
If boys can say the girls in MyAmi are hawt, can I say the boys in their suits on the way to work in the Capitol of Power are soooo cute? I mean, I’m just lookin…
I wake up in another place I call home: San Francisco. I slept on my favorite couch and woke up thinking about all the dreams and art work I created there. I thought of my soul mate. We were just getting to know each other. I was head over heels in love with him. And now? Not so much head over heels. Standing upright. I am solid and independent, not building up hopes that he would define the destiny I’ve been seeking. My love has transformed into a way of life.
Like Cherry Blossom explained to me when we first met, the love was never about him…a man. It was all her. She was in a state of love. And had found the ability to share it with someone completely. He ultimately chose to share his love with someone else, just like my soul mate chose to withdraw his love from me when I left. Even though I thought I lost love without him, I still had it. And I can share it with whomever and as many as I choose.
I think about one of my friends and her husband splitting up. I don’t want her to forget that this is a pause in her relationship, that she started building something with him and that she shouldn’t forget about it, unfinished, undecorated and unfurnished. I told her I started to build 4 different homes with 4 different people and because I was too impatient and didn’t understand commitment and the art of building, I am at ground zero again.
But their foundation was never solid to begin with. He told her he didn’t believe in marriage, yet he proposed, perhaps in a fit of romance…or desperation. Romance is a nice ingredient to add to the cement mix of a foundation, but a bit flimsy on its own. Romance is good with a lover but not a sustainable long-term source of power for a household. Love, on the other hand, is renewable, and my soul mate told me from the very beginning that he never wants to get married. After 1 year and a half, he has also never told me he loves me. And so, I am moving on.
Now I am sitting at The Grind in the Haight where I met the Norwegian photographer the last time I was in San Francisco.
I suddenly think of his smile. His bright eyes. His kindness. His talent.
If I had stayed in San Francisco, would we be in love by now? I send him a message on Facebook and he is on his way here now. Instant connection. He is open to me. He likes me. A lot. I have successfully earned his attention. What do I think of him? He is light energy. Perfectionist. Wickedly talented. Skinny sexy. Bald with the shiny blue eyes of a little boy. He is a traveler like me. He is a little bit unsure of his art which is good because this keeps him humble. He is happy. He says he wants to be with a woman who has her own life and isn’t all about taking care of him. I am that kind of woman.
I am not chasing anyone or anything anymore. All I have to remember is, “I just have to be Chakra Girl and die.” Worrying takes up the most energy. It is coal. It is dirty and expensive. I don’t run on this anymore. I am solar-powered. Ocean-powered. Wind-powered. I am a goddess inside my shell.
I don’t have to make an effort to see him again. I don’t have to stress about it. The universe will cross us again when it is time.