This post had a lot of starts and stops and redactions and additions. I didn’t post it the first or second day or even fifth week I thought about it. It’s UPG heavy and deals extensively with personal issues (in case you’d rather skip it.) The reason I decided to post is because it does deal with spirit work, astral work, and other energy issues.
Here it is.
As I write I’m having a guy day. I woke up and was passively irritated to see breasts in the bathroom mirror (even though they’re fun…I mean, breasts in general. Who doesn’t like them?). Clothing my curves in the most masculine garments available in my wardrobe (baggy jeans and a long sleeved tee in gray with a sports logo across the front) I’m still not happy with the results. I’m not sure what spurs days like this when I’m so completely sure I shouldn’t be a woman, but on them I feel both closer and further from Himself.
I’m half convinced these days mean I’ve been up to a great deal in the astral instead of dreaming restful dreams. There, I am a man about seven eighths of the time. Himself doesn’t care what I look like-He’s still strong by my side, but there is a definite duality in my core that He, above all, seems to understand or at least be in tune with.
Then my question to myself becomes am I this way because I remember bits and pieces of past lives? Am I really a male in spirit, or at least part of it? Or is my spiritual self ungendered and fluid? All of the past life memories I seem to readily access are all soldiering memories and one as a hand slave in Egypt to a Priestess. My “memories” ring with metal on metal and masculine voices and the warmth in my gut from camaraderie and strong drink. There is one I remember where I was fully female and humorously enough (in that ironic way the universe seems to think is funny) it is one where I walked with Loki at my side. We travelled together as ambassadors of sorts. We were as close as two beings could be then, but I met my husband and ended up leaving to go on misadventures with him that led me here to this realm and time.
I do wake up some days feeling the epitome of an Earth Mother. On those days I rock my personal goddess vibe and dress in light feminine clothing that suits my figure and coloring, but those days are fewer and fewer between as I spend more time on the astral than I used to.
It wouldn’t be a problem at all, this desire to gender swap at will, but I find myself attracted to my spouse in a wholly different way during these dude days. I’m attracted to him the way a man would be and want to do things to him I’m not currently physically equipped to do. (And he’s expressly told me he’s not up to unless I get him drunk first and THAT squicks me as too close, far…far…far…too close to nonconsensual for me to indulge.)
So, the astral is effecting my mundane life in a way I never-ever-would have anticipated. On these days I roll with my phantom manhood and indulge my guy tendencies and ogle cute guys (‘cause yeah-I’ve always had that going for me, even in the past lives where I WAS a dude) and just-wait. I waite to cycle through this dual nature of mine until I’m back to something more acceptable to those who love me in my mundane life, which feels wrong somehow, but I don’t want to hurt any feelings. I almost feel like I need an entirely different life I can walk into on these days with a twinky, submissive boyfriend an X-box or a girlfriend ~I do swing both ways even if I tend toward men~ OR BOTH…but, I’m not essentially a different person, really. My interests are still my interests, I just find myself coming at them from a different angle.
A guy place.
Most people don’t get to live two lives though. I have one and I’m lucky to be manifested in this time and place with the people I do love.
I’m working on how to pull the strands of me together and have the duality be more a part of my core personality and less of a split.
But, that’s work, and right now I want to read Jurassic Park for the millionth time or delve into my man on man erotica stash. Instead I’m going to watch my children and try to be moderately close to normal for my spouse.
To read these words back over my discomfiture seems small when compared to world hunger and war and terminal illness and any other number of misfortunes. I’m healthy and not destitute. I’m educated. But, fuck, it’s hard to ever really be completely happy when something fundamental is off kilter inside myself. So, I’m going to hunker down and wait for long winter nights and cold days of contemplation to perhaps bring me back an appreciation for the body that I walk around in, or some sort of inspiration for being happy with the disparity.