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I am a wild creature.

This thought strikes me as I’m perched in a low squat, naked, on my balcony in the spot of sun, bowl of haphazardly combined mushy cooked veggies in one hand, other hand covered in oil and spice remnants from shoveling scoops of this mix into my mouth. No silverware, no clothes, no care about any of this. All of this was happening spontaneously and seeming to be the most natural things I needed to be doing. That is up unto the moment when seeing a car cut directly horizontally across 8th Avenue snapped me out of the animalistic stupor I was in. During dance in the morning I wiped a pile of saliva from my mouth without thinking it was gross at all. The product of the efforts of my dance combined with the intention of letting go and I find myself drooling. No fucks given about this. Again it seems so natural. I go to drink water and it spills out of my mouth onto my fuchsia bra. No minding. Friday night I host one of a series of Tantra play parties I’ve co created. After our opening exercises I quickly flit down the stairs to a hot tub and strip down and jump in. A few brave souls join and many others wander by with eyes wide for some time. I experience kisses with so many people at the party. I’m present to feeling totally free. Later I reflect how I need so much freedom to feel free! All this seems so natural to me. I wonder if all women need this kind of freedom to feel fully free or if I am truly just wild. I love this part of me. I love when she likes to be tame also and wear heels and straighten my hair and be proper in yoga at my fancy gym. But this wild creature is never far. I love her.


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