Heart Opening Moments

BLOG of a Spiritual Stripper

I didn’t mean that…

Flo Li Modeling Photo with PhotoFunia Effect

Women - mysterious, confusing, turbulent, emotional, unpredictable...YET passionate, expressive, intuitive, sensitive, and caring. Only the brave will unlock our hearts by truly understanding who we are.

Have you seen the joke called “What women SAY and what they really mean…“? It goes something like this:
She says “We need”, it means “I want.” 
She says “It’s your decision”, it means “The correct decision should obviously by mine.” 
She says “Do what you want”, it means “You’ll pay for this later.” 
She says “We need to talk”, it means “I need to complain.” 
She says “Sure…go ahead”, it means “I don’t want you to.”
She says “I’m not emotional! AND I’m not overreacting!”, it means “I’m on my period.” 
She says “Yes”, it means “No”; she says “No”, it means “No”; She says “Maybe”, it means “No.”
And my favorite – when she says “I’m sorry”, it means “You’ll be sorry.”

The men are probably laughing uncontrollably by now. Women, like it or not, there is some truth to the joke. I have to say I am guilty of the above accusation. It is a chronic syndrome I’m afraid. I don’t say what I mean – especially when it matters to me the most.

The first time it happened as I can recall was fifteen years ago. Like most parents, mom and dad drove me to college with everything they can pack into a car. We were unloading and unpacking for hours. With tears in her eyes, mom slowly made my dorm bed. She carefully tucked in all the corners and made sure the top was smooth without wrinkles. Silently, dad tried to connect my new computer he had just purchased to the school eternet. I glanced over as I hang my new Albert Einstein poster behind the desk. It was painful for me to watch how sad they were, I  privately promised myself not make such a big deal when they leave. Finally dad announced everything was settled for me and it was time for them to hit the road. I can sense the heaviness in his tone. “Thank GOD! I’m finally FREE!” I cheerfully responded. From the corner of my eyes I saw a sharp painful look flashing over dad’s face. He quickly recovered and laughed out loud. They left. I cried.

That was fifteen years ago. Last week during my birthday dinner, dad casually mentioned to grandparents Bud and Jan that I was more than relieved when he dropped me off in San Diego. In his words, the day mom and dad dropped me off at college was the day I broke free. There was once again that flash of sharp pain on his face. Something inside of me cried out “I didn’t mean that!” What I really wanted to say fifteen years ago was “please don’t worry about me and DO NOT CRY in front of my college buddies.” My cold response then was a coverup to the sadness I felt inside. Instead of feeling that sadness, I pushed it down and used my words as a knife to cut into my parents’ hearts. I didn’t want to endure the pain of watching them in pain so I took out a knife and cut into them deeply so they won’t feel sad. In reverse they will be glad to let go such a thankless child. And of course if they didn’t hurt, I won’t hurt. So I thought.

Feelings are not logical. My logical plans to detour feelings have certainly failed. Fifteen years later I’m finally feeling the sadness I was meant to feel and all the added consequences that came with it.

Yesterday once again my chronic coverup might have injured a man I really care for. I happened to put my foot where my month is – this time by using humor as a detour. Covering up my feelings so I don’t have to face my vulnerability became an uncontrollable chronic syndrome. Instead of letting him feel my affection, I felt the need to push him away. The worst part was I had to witness the pain my heartless joke had caused. This time it is serious. I’m afraid if I don’t put an end to this chronic tumor now it might end up running my life forever! It is time to say goodbye to my enlarged coverup tumor and at the same time I wish to plead for your compassion.

Men, please understand me. I can be cruel. I can be heartless. I pushed you away. I laughed when you fall. I attacked you with words of dagger. All that is just an act, just an armor – to protect my vulnerable heart. Inside this armor I’m smaller than I look, I’m fragile, I’m trembling, I’m scared, I’m afraid… I’m afraid you will not accept me for who I really am, for my softness, for my explosive passion, for my yearning to express my love… The truth is I want to please you. I want to fulfill your every wish. I want to ignite your every breathe with my fiery kiss. Can you forgive the moments I put on my armor and covered myself in untruth? One untruth adding to another untruth can spin out of control. All I desire is your forgiveness. Let’s erase all the moments I lied in attempt to conceal my vulnerabilities. Believe me, once you are unlocking my heart there is only love for you and nothing else.

Men, you can laugh at a women’s vulnerable nakedness if you like. I understand if you still find us women mysterious, confusing, turbulent, emotional, unpredictable, etc… Nevertheless I plead for you to penetrate deeper into us. In the depth of us, we are passionate, expressive, intuitive, sensitive, caring and are consumed by our burning desire to merge into Truth with you.

Disclaimer: due to the overwhelming comments this blog generated on WordPress and off WordPress, I feel it is my duty to clear up any misunderstanding — I DO NOT LIE ALL THE TIME! Just when I feel the need to protect my heart — like once in a full moon. Case closed. (Disclaimer issued on July 8th, 2011 8:34pm PST)

July 7, 2011 Posted by | Inner Growth, Self Realization, Tears | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 34 Comments


Luscious Sensuality

Luscious Sensuality - copyright 2009 Flo Li http://www.MicroscopicExpressionsOfSpirituality.com

She called me a hussy.  “It is spelled H U S S Y – look it up!”  It shocked me initially.  Her anger stabbed me right in the chest.  I couldn’t understand why wearing the mask of a super intellectual engineer, I still gave someone the impression that I was an evil temptress.  The way I dressed was too provocative for the corporate setting she said.  The way I walked was a dance of seduction she claimed.  And of course the way I smiled when I gazed into people’s eyes was a clear sign of my wickedness she insisted.  Her husband was under my spell and she shall urge all the married men to stay away she warned.

I couldn’t stop trembling.  I didn’t believe my free expression of the self could be viewed as such a dangerous weapon.  Women hated me and men blushed when I walked by.  Slowly, I noticed the way I carried myself affected those around me.  I questioned if I might have used my gaze to gain power and control.  I did not know…  Perhaps she saw the real me I never consciously witnessed.  Perhaps my high professional achievement did not come from my prized intellect but instead from my heinous sensuality.  I felt dirty and ashamed.  I was too afraid to walk.  I was too horrified to look into the eyes of another.  I was too distressed to be me.  My heart sunk into a bottomless pit and I hated the despondent sadness starred back whenever I looked into the mirror.  Within two days, I cleared my whole wardrobe and purchased horrid cloaks to disguise the real me.  I started to hunch my back and wore sports bra to contract my cup C breasts.  I purchased unwanted oversized items to conform.  I found ugly flats to match the whole ensemble.  I loathed the face I saw in the mirror.  She was revolting, sickening, and unloved.  One day someone will find out who she really is…  I did not want to be there when it happens.  I hated her.  I wish I could run away…  And so I did…

That was nearly 4 years ago.  I had to destroy my face, my body, and my spirit in order to truly fathom the faulty eyes of her judgement.  Standing in front of the mirror naked, slowly, I see the real me.  Broken, hopeful, innocent, fiery, and sensual.  It is a gift to taste the sweetness of being.  It is a playful tease of nature to savor such divine fragrance.  It is every woman’s right to penetrate the nakedness of her sensuality.

December 24, 2009 Posted by | Self Realization | , , | 4 Comments