There is speaking up and focus that makes us feel sick and there is speaking up and focus that makes us feel connected to the collective feminine. How does a woman decide? Yet maybe instead of acting offended, annoyed or trying to shame a woman to speak as softly as we expect her to speak...we allow her to move through her stages because we care enough to have her heal and grow and move and be in her life as deeply and as fully as she is meant to be and she is meant to be, she is meant to shine.
I think we can all agree that these women singing is the type of voice that makes us all very comfortable. They are soothing in their approach.
And we also may feel equally comfortable with the way Scarlett Johansson's approach
Since Ashley showed a little more fever and a little more emotion and was a little less "put together" she somehow managed to "offend"
Why? Why is it that a beautiful woman's anger is so threatening to other women? Why is that the place we begin to judge each other?
Many of us found her to be very powerful and equally beautiful as any sweet or gentle moment we have seen her portray in the movies...so why? Why is it the minute a woman shows up in a fierce way....other women become so uncomfortable?
As Marianne Williamson Writes in her Book A Woman's worth (which is a worthy read)
Mary's was a virgin birth, and the word virgin means "a woman unto herself." The actualized woman is powerful unto herself and gives birth to things divine. Today we have the chance to give birth to a healed and transformed world. This cannot be done without a major uprising of the glorious in women, because nothing can be healed without the female powers that nurture and protect, intuit and endure. What does this mean for the individual woman living day to day in a world that resists her expansion and makes her wrong for her passions? It means finding others who have seen the same light. They are everywhere, and like us they await instruction. They are men and women, young and old, who have heard the joke but take it too seriously to laugh. It is funny but also tragic, this cutting off at the pass of the life-force of half of humanity. Something new is brewing, and let's be grateful that it is. The Queen is coming to reclaim her girls.
When the Queen emerges, she is magical and enchanting. She is calm and happy. She creates order where there was none. She has grown new eyes.
When a woman rises up in glory, her energy is magnetic and her sense of possibility contagious. We have all seen glorious women, full of integrity and joy, aware of it, proud of it, overflowing with love. They shine. I have known this state in other women and, at moments, in myself. But it could be a stronger statement, a more collective beat. We don't have to do anything to be glorious; to be so is our nature. If we have read, studied, and loved; if we have thought as deeply as we could and felt as deeply as we could; if our bodies are instruments of love given and received—then we are the greatest blessing in the world. Nothing needs to be added to that to establish our worth.
Just stand there. Sit there. Smile. Bless. What a hunger is left unfulfilled in our society for no reason other than that women have been so devalued by others and so dishonored by ourselves.
Every woman I know wants to be a glorious queen, but that option was hardly on the multiple-choice questionnaire we were handed when we were little girls. Rarely did anyone tell us we could choose to be magic.
When I was a child, there was a woman who lived across the street named Betty Lynn. She was sort of a cross between Auntie Mame and Jayne Mansfield. I thought she was the most beautiful, most fascinating, most wonderful woman in the world. Betty Lynn was wild and gorgeous and drove a Cadillac. I thought it was beige, but she called it the color of champagne. She wanted a thatched roof on her guest house. She obviously had sex with her husband. She always told me I was wonderful.
Years later, I remembered the scotch and water that was almost always in her hand, and many things began to make sense that hadn't made sense when I was young. But at the time, she was a model of sorts, a glamorous woman who made me see magic when all I found on my side of the street was a lid placed on my emotions and disapproval of my more outrageous passions.
Why, in the thirty-odd years since I knew this woman, have I never forgotten her? What did she represent that struck me as so real, so passionate, so enchanted?
Whatever it was, the alcohol helped her let it out, but then the alcohol enslaved her, and then it killed her. That's clear. But why do people who have the most ardor, the most enchantment, the most power so often feel the need for drugs and alcohol? They do not drink just to dull their pain; they drink to dull their ecstasy. Betty Lynn lived in a world that doesn't know from ecstatic women, or want to know, or even allow them to exist. In former times, she would have had her own temple, and people from all around would have gathered to sit at her feet and hear her pronounce them marvelous. She would have mixed herbs and oils. But an unenlightened world began to burn these women, and the world burns them still. Betty Lynn crucified herself before anyone else had a chance to. Many of us are a little like her, choosing to implode rather than take on society's punishment. Those of us who don't must bear society's wrath. But we live through it, bruised and battered though we might be. And more and more of us are now living to tell the tale, surviving the fire, surviving sober, and, hopefully, altered in such a way that our daughters will have an easier time.
And I got something about why it makes me uncomfortable when I am told "you are just like a little girl" (Which I wrote about in my previous post) because our culture is in such a sad sate of being- that men have no choice but to experience a mature woman who has cultivated her ability to be blissful -to express and experience her as a "a little girl"
How sad that a blissful queen isn't seen as just that. That the reference point, his only reference point is perhaps his young daughters joy, disney movies and such..... instead of having the repeated experience that grown women are actively making the choice to be blissful, joyful and therefore carry their childlike enthusiasm into their adulthood.
Because let's face it, women are so busy being angry and so busy working and so busy trying to be as good as any man or we are trying so hard to change him...always trying to get something to be different (men do that too trust me, I spent 10 years with a person who could not change me no matter how hard he worked at it) we are forgetting ourselves. What a mess we've made in ourselves and with one another.
Still, I am a queen...I am not a princess...the distinction lives so deeply in me...I have to make a conscious decision and recognize...I am not being insulted. It's wild...Yet...There was a moment at an empowerment workshop where I embodied a princess who owned a peach tree and all I wanted to do was pick fruit off the tree and that imaginary frame of reference felt like the most soothing thing ever. This was indicative of how emotionally mature I felt I needed to be in the situation I was in. I felt like I was drowning, therefore I wanted to be that image. But I am not. I am a queen and I have been a queen for a very long time now...Queens can have sex, bliss, joy, love and giggle. That is allowed I have declared it so.
As Marianne Williamson writes (which is good for men to hear this)
A woman in love is drunk with something. There’s a chemical syrup that permeates her cells, a place in her being where hormones meet God. It’s hell or heaven, or both. If we could harness its power we could heal the world. And that’s the point. A woman in love can do anything. She can run a business, bear children, create art, make love, cook meals, lead a nation, and figure out how to look great. But if she is not in love, she lacks energy; and if she is in love but spurned, she can lack the will to live. Women need to be in love: with themselves, with a man, with a child, with a project, with a job, with their country, with the planet, and – most important – with life itself. Women in love are closer to enlightenment. For angels and lovers, everything sparkles.
Many of us are NOT at this time and the same chemical syrup that permeates our cells, that place where our hormones meet god...there is instead a dark sludgy syrup that is permeating many of our cells, a place where our humanity, our sense of justice and "do no harm" in our collective consciousness has had...enough. It isn't little babies crying because they didn't win. This has activated the queen in many woman and I say right on, absolutely and it is TIME!
But if she is not in love, she lacks energy; and if she is in love but spurned, she can lack the will to live.
Love is NO JOKE and it would be nice for people to get this....
Womanhood today is tentative and unsure, a thing defined more by what it isn’t than by what it is. For some women, this is not a problem. They have risen above the complexities of society's projections and misunderstandings and now fly high above the clouds. For most women, however, the resistances they encountered as they reached for the sky were so great that their wings have now drooped, and they try no longer.
Womanhood is a mass pain of unspoken depth; and when we try to speak it, we're liable to be told, "There you go--complaining again!"
As long as this is true, not half but all of humanity is obstructed in its journey to our cosmic destination. This destination is far, far away, a place so deep inside us that we have barely glimpsed its outer walls.
It's just my thoughts....
But what do I know