I've been comfortably referring to myself as a "bitch" for years now. I'm not meaning a person who nags, complains and/or projects all of her shit onto others. I'm not one of those - I never have been and I don't plan on ever being one, either. (Typically, I'm way too allowing. Yet, this has been problematic in that I can swallow the yucky behavior of others only to then vomit it back out when I've been pushed too far.) Rather, what I'm referring to is a "female dog," or, rather, a leader of the pack.
Being an owner of two black labs, one female and one male, I, years ago, would tell both of them - though, especially Sweet Pea, our girl - "I'm the bitch around here. You hear me? Me." It's a simple assertion of my rightful place at the head of the throne. And, my firm assertion, as well as gentle strength, is the safe container that allows my dogs to fully express themselves, with ease and joy. When I own my inner "bitch," we all feel as though there is right in our world.
Last Sunday, while enjoying community moments in time and space on a dance floor, I owned this title of mine to a dear brother. His immediate response was, "Now, can you own your Queen just as easily as you can own your bitch, Cara?" Ha! Touche. However, if you know me, then you also know how thoroughly I enjoy a challenge. ; ) (Bring it!)
Years ago, I recognized a deep schism within me. There was the me who moves around a dance floor - smoothly, with grace and with complete abandon. On the dance floor, I sashay up to everyone and anyone and ask him or her to dance. I am "rejected" often, yet I never take it personally. I simply move on, into the next moment and beat. Conversely, I also noticed that there was an entirely different me out in the "real world." This person moved around in fear, continuously believing that she was being negatively judged by every passer-by. Finally, the insight dawned on me that I could simply apply the skills and tools I use on a dance floor to my movement out and about in my day-to-day life.
I have experienced such deep success with this simple shift that I can no longer relate to ideas of judging someone simply based on a first impression. My gaze always lands on beauty and love - no matter if you have a booger hanging out of your nose, are missing your legs, or are hundreds of pounds overweight. After all, the body is simply a container - I always choose to see Spirit. So, now I've recognized that, in order for me to own my Queen, I must allow that each and every person whose eyes land upon me will also see the very same as I always do when I am looking out - bee~auty and love.
There's nothing more.
