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Standing on the shifting sands of pleasure

photo by Andrea Macie

photo by Andrea Macie

“If it acts like a duck (all the time), it’s a duck. Doesn’t matter if the duck thinks it’s a dog, it’s still a duck as far as the rest of us are concerned.” ~ Seth Godin

For the past few months, I have found myself dreading the prospect of writing this weekly blog.  I panic the night before it is due, and crank something out to you just so that my words may be out on Monday, when I promised, back in March of 2012, I would consistently write to you each and every week.

It is to this promise I have lately felt shackled to.

(I feel shameful admitting this.  And it’s true.)

In all honesty, the topics I have chosen to write on don’t seem to fit any more.  In fact, not a lot is fitting me these days: not my clothes, not my single life, not the solitude, not the food I eat, not all the company I keep, not even the way I have been living my life…

I’ve been quietly sitting on this shift, feeling restless, feeling numb, feeling disconnected and, more recently, feeling small.

It is so easy to play it small – especially when you are at the leading edge of (yet) another growth spurt – and stay stuck in inertia so as not to shake sh*t up – so as not to feel change. It’s no wonder! From the time we’re children, we’ve been encouraged to let the other one win so we don’t make her feel bad, to minimize our beauty so our friends won’t get jealous, to tone down our genius so others won’t feel threatened, to dim our light so no one feels dark in our shadow.

And dim is what I have been.

I enrolled in Mama Gena’s School of Womanly Arts this Spring with the intention of gaining more confidence around building and monetizing my coaching business: to shine my light out into the world.  And I was ALL over it.  In fact my name in the school is Artemis, Sister Goddess of the Hunt.  And hunt, I did.  By the second month of the program I had hired Business Coaches and brought in more clients and more money than in all of 2012.  Everything seemed to be going amazingly well from that vantage point.

By the third month, I became aware of a slight sense of emptiness, perhaps related to the after-wave of my success. I wasn’t quite certain.  It wouldn’t go away.  It kept niggling at me.  Artemis went to rest.  My business got placed on the back burner.  I dropped all kinds of balls.

I felt guilty, crabby, unsettled and could not shake the feeling that there was more at play than what I could put my finger on.

So, after 3 years of single-hood, an impending empty nest , and the encouragement of my son, I thought I might investigate (thinking it might be the missing piece.)  If I had a partner, then this might go away… I wasn’t ready to date as I had before (not that I really dated in the past….  The typical scenario played itself out this way: Meet man, date man, marry/stay in relationship with man way past the expiration date. Leave man.)

I wanted to do things differently this time.  I wanted to date on my own terms.  I wanted to feel I was in the driver’s seat.  I wanted no true commitment.

I wanted to do research.

Research? Into what?

Why, into my pleasure.

That takes ovaries.  Cojones.  Chutzpah

Well, yes.  This research (which has been going on for 3 months now) has pressed me up against all of the issues I’ve not wanted to confront: am I sexy enough, am I beautiful enough, smart enough, young enough, desirable enough to hold the interest of a guy?  And will I have the audacity to ask for what I want?  Oh, and, how do I even ask?

Oh, and more importantly, what is it that I want?

This is where I needed to begin….

With getting clarity on my own desires,

even before I set foot on the dating dance floor.

So, Sisters, I’m going to take you on a trip for the next few months.  A journey on how this sister is getting her groove back and how it’s changing the facet of everything she thought to be true.

Even her business (which is changing as you read this.)

Come back next week for the beginning chapter on this journey.

In love, service and pleasure,

Joëlle

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