Prefer to listen? Here’s the sound cloud link to audio for “Vaginas are Portals to the Unmanifested” read by yours truly.
For the last couple of months, I’ve awaken from my sleep with no place to be. For the first few days it was really giving my mind a flipping workout. Oh how my mind loves to take situations of which it has never dealt with to try and make sense of it; to fold it ever so neatly and place it in a cute little box, perfectly wrapped for the season and say, “Here you are, Victoria; the perfect solution.” How does one come up with the perfect solution to an issue you’ve never encountered? How Sway? Your mind will have you convinced of the lies you tell yourself.
Yes, the perfect solution backed by repetitious behavior patterns and familiar learned responses that haven’t worked out once for you, yet. I mean what’s a girl to do every single morning with no place to be; no one besides me to carry me into the temporary bliss of orgasmic forgetfulness. Although it is a familiar state of being, it was out of place for me in my recently acquired position as an educator. Dealing with such would require quite a bit a of reprogramming…but from how or where?
I went for a walk. I talked on my walk. At first, I talked to myself. Then I started talking to the the little black dot in the upper left corner of my phone screen. This just felt like something I needed to capture…purposes yet unknown.
I took a short trip. First, to SoFlo where Mike met the kids. Then a longer, one to Colorado with my sisters. It’s what I do in these situations. I leave. Funny thing I’ve noticed is that as often as I leave these situations, these situations never leave me.
After each of my getaways, I got exactly what I needed. I needed to refresh in order to process this particular situation with renewed perspective. I needed the space to separate manic from manna which requires a significant amount of manual labor if you will. Here, I understood that this was a situation that did not require a solution and certainly not one I could offer from my own mind.
Prior to entering the Universal year 11 that is 2018, I asked what I might need to bring on the journey into the new year. After two days of meditation alone in my place, the answer was a single word: COURAGE.
I printed an image of Courage the Cowardly Dog, traced and painted him on canvas, then hung the piece on my bedroom wall as a sign post not unlike the ones in the Colorado mountains reminding you to take caution in the curves ahead; Caution not fear. Those signs didn’t say don’t go nor did they say turn back– I just understood this. Any who, I brought Courage into 2018 with me. I didn’t know what it meant or why I would need it. Although it is very, very clear to me, now.
Fast forward through one of the most amazing years of my life, hands down no competition, on the literal cusp of my 33rd year I find myself entering yet another season. The universe says to me, “Those old behavior and thought patterns can no longer serve you, here.” Thanks for the word. If old patterns won’t work, what of new ones, of any at all?
Lost yet again, I look to my cards…my guides often speak through them. The response came swift. “The answer is within,” they said. Still lost and now a bit frustrated, I decided to dive into “Becoming”, Michele Obama’s book I had preordered months prior and had just gotten around to downloading on Audible.
I love Michele Obama. She is exactly the bare-bones, January 17th Capriquarian I’d expect her to be (my birthday twin)…unlike Steve Harvey but then again, he’s also a man encouraging women to think like men (ewwww!). I was half hoping that reading about the life of a different person born on January 17th might offer some insight to my own life. It worked…kinda…not in the way I had expected.
Just as I was about to download Becoming, another book populated my phone screen…The Power of Now. I’ve known about this book for a while and I’ve owned it for perhaps a bit over a year and had been waiting to get my hands on it for longer than that. It ended up finding me in my usual place; lost among books in a thrift store. It was obviously time to read it now.
The (useless) Attack
There is a savage attack against sexual freedom and the freedom of sexual expression as we speak. You can educate yourself via this wonderfully written post by my blogging colleague, When will we stop fearing sex? Sorry guys, no more of my lady boobs on Tumblr.
Maybe it’s nothing and maybe it’s because the Universe is expanding at an extremely rapid rate (go look it up) and the fact that vaginas are portals to the unmanifested (you’re free to research this as well). It also might have a lot to do with the fact that the energy being released into a rapidly expanding universe is similar to that of the rapidly expanding waist lines of pregnancy in preparation for labor.
Maybe it is because such a labor is used to give birth to new consciousness and I’m not talking breeding and procreation. You can keep pretending you don’t feel this energetic shift all you want. Pretending you can solve life situations with old muddled mind habits. You can’t. You could also write this off as a conspiracy theorist rant because that’s definitely an option, too.
I remember being in labor with my daughter and the midwife yelling for me to “wait, wait, wait,” because she wasn’t quite dressed to receive the birth. My daughter came through anyway and as a result, I received seven cute little stitches. Moral of the story…ready or not, here it comes.
Teen Pregnancy Revelation
This past August I attended a workshop at the Woodhull sexual Freedom summit about teen pregnancy. I’m not sure or at least I can’t recall what I might have been expecting to hear at this workshop. However I was not expecting to hear what I heard.
We’ve all been taught that teenage pregnancy is “bad”. Ask anyone and you’re likely to get the same kind of answer for the same kind of reason. What I learned at the workshop is why teens pregnancy is seen as a bad thing and why there is such a huge campaign against it.
You might think these stats come from maybe mortality rates, maybe health departments, maybe premature birth rates, perhaps even Child Protective Services, or something of that nature but no.
The facts are that individuals who become pregnant as teens are less likely to receive college degrees, less likely to hold “better paying” jobs, and therefore contribute less into the country’s GDP which is how much money the country makes. Makes total fucking sense to me, now!
In conclusion, teen pregnancy is a bad thing not because of the risk to the parents or the children but because of the lack of contribution to the revenue or the profit that this country makes.
You can look that up, too.
So if you’re expecting anyone to be honest about the uninvention of sex or if you’re accepting the whole, “We’re protecting our children,” speech as truth, I invite you to wake up. If there is any protection to be had, any that is necessary, knowing is the only protection there is.
I love sex conferences. I learn more at sex conferences, particularly more things that interest me than I’ve learned at any formal institution I’ve ever attended. Interest may have been sparked at these institutions. For example, my interest in sex beyond the physical act was sparked in my GSU sex and society class junior year in college. However, this is not where or even when actual exploration of the subject occurred.
My exploration of sex actually came from a budding spiritual journey hence the name Pretty Pink Lotus Bud with reference to my pretty pink (*) spiritual journey that is constantly shedding old petals for new ones and all those other things that lotuses do and represent.
I launched this blog in February 2017 and attended my first conference just six month’s later thank’s to my blog squad and a beautiful crowd funding campaign that allowed myself as well as two others the financial privilege to embark on this journey of sexploration. I can say, never before had I been welcomed into any community with such embrace. Not in my own family, not in “work” family, and certainly not in any church family. I have made the most unexpected wonderful friendships with individuals all over the world of which sex is not a no options game. #relationshipanarchy
Since then, I’ve attended a number of conferences throughout the US and one in London.
During the most resent conference, I attended the Punany Politics workshop hosted by the legendary TyShaw. I could try and explain to y’all what this workshop was about, but I won’t. I couldn’t do it justice if I attempted. It was a language, spoken in english with several references to tribal deities that only my soul could understand. She was actually talking too fast for my mind to do anything with it and I’ve come to the conclusion that this is a great thing.
In 2010, I graduated from Georgia State University with a bachelor’s degree in marketing. With that degree came classes on macroeconomics and microeconomics, finance and accounting, and a ton of bullshit on supply and demand.
And with all this knowledge on supply and demand I’m still confused as to why I’m not legally allowed to use my pussy to capitalize on the riches that are on the other side of my orgasm.
It’s my pussy. All of this knowledge that I have about sex is my intellectual property. How does this capitalism thing work again? Never mind. I think I’m pretty familiar. It only works how mostly men making those muddled mind habit decisions I mentioned earlier believes it should work. That why part is what always gets me stuck.
Why do you care what I do with my pussy? Why is my pussy such a threat that you need to make its use for monetary purposes illegal? Why is my pussy such an issue that you need to make my individual choice to abort a pregnancy illegal? Why is my pussy such a threat that you do your best to make it illegal for me to even post pictures of it on the Internet?
Because vaginas are portals to the unmanifested and we are in labor to birth a vision this world could never perceive.