outsideinroads

Life games, music, magic and all the rest. Adventures of the fringe of the fringe amongst the.. "People's Republic of Brighton and Hove"


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Home, London

Home, London. That deep grain hometown feeling in this amorphous human expanse. People don’t know the vast galaxies we made in the corners, central supermassive black holes that could pull us the world outside in a moment, translate out our activities everywhere in a neutron flash. Finding your strange style, and ours, in fashion on the west coast of Mexico, before I knew about the patterns life throws up, yes, but still I tend to think that one was our celestial fashion vomit. And the deep vein connection / anonymous comfortability. Our legs sweat against each other, bus seat thighs. Shades of skin and expression. Cosy down into this, shouty silent safety in the shadow of the city suited thieves and their machinations, illumination symbols twisting around the lot. A twilight Thames embankment walk with my work boss teaching me all kinds of meanings to this imagery I grew up with, always surrounding us. Brixton, Dalston, Brick Lane bustle and swirl, a jumble pot of lives, dreams and hurry… bright orange lights and glowing shop fronts at the top of late 80s Crystal Palace Hill, with its tall metal tower characters and Victorian monsters hiding in green trees. Feet out on grassy parks in warm summertime, humbum, people and people for centuries and miles and miles, views out of windows, from hilltops, endless endless habitations, vibrations, perception points. The mysteries made at playtime, breaking out our moves for shifty molecular twists, vibrating resonance in our threads and stories. Oh, dreams, customs, food, festivals, telly soaps, potions, gods, candles, a same but different choose your own adventure yearning, playing, building, oh joyous sore confusion in the gritty caged playspace, digging for an Otherworld in the dry dirt under a lump of concrete, beneath the holly tree.

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What if there are no men and women?

These days it seems amazing to me that a majority of people tend to largely accept the role they’ve been told is theirs to play in sex encounters, in gendered interactions, in relationships, and stick to it… I always knew this way of doing things wasn’t for me I suppose. Having sex as a woman, in the woman’s role in a hetero situation especially.. it never felt right. Being perceived in that way in the world didn’t either. But it wasn’t that I felt that I was a man inside either, at least not most of the time. I had close friends who were trans, and that wasn’t me. I also had people close to me who did seem more like I was, but we still had no way to define it, and explaining it even to each other was often surprisingly tough. Discovering the concept of gender fluidity in my early 30s was such a liberation. Things have come so far so fast. Finally there was terminology coming into people’s consciousness that actually expressed how this was, in my world. It took me a while to claim it for myself, but once I did the possibility of explaining this side of myself briefly to even people who didn’t know me, was amazing. A part of myself that had always been denied so much publically, even by those close, that I couldn’t help but repress it in myself was suddenly able to blossom, to exist.

Meanwhile though, an even better thing had been happening. I got together with the love of my life, who is trans but also genderqueer. Our embodied, imagination space, shapeshifting sexual play emerged very early on in our relationship, well before I even came out as genderfluid myself. It was felt out and in the first years boundaries were pushed, conversations had afterwards about the most intimate and scary feeling elements of our inner spaces. We held each other through openings of trauma spaces, surprising twists, stuck masterbatory fantasies that came up in this new open environment. We learned to use the bodies we had to be a multitude of archetypes and paracosmic possibilities. We learned to love the bodies that we had, and realised their potentials in a myriad of beings. It was pure joy and also embracing of darker fantasies that had always seemed out of bounds, or only for guilty moments masterbating. I grew a penis with my mind, we fucked with two pussies, two cocks, suckled from her beautiful breasts, tumbled through embodiments of feathered winged entities, insects, other animals, rolled through so many different scenarios of age play and incest, danced through every side of visions of sacred prostitution, torture, slavery, the pain of women and of men and of children and our own jumbled folk through time and place… became goddesses and gods, journeyed into visions of light and flowed into dimensions without a body at all. We did all this through exploring our bodies, and our minds, what they could do and be. Feeling into things as they emerge and being open and gentle with each other. Incorporating tantric techniques, breathwork, energy stuff. All sorts of S&M stuff too. And opening up what our bodies can be, being in them and understanding them. What can a woman with a penis do? A man with a vagina? All types of that sort of thing, sure. But even more so what if there are no men and women, only two sparks of consciousness in particular loving, powerful bodies, interacting and playing and becoming in each moment whatever is called for, feeling and responding, in ecstacy. Allowing the transitions to be gone through, and through this sometimes something in them transmuted as the forms change, something inside them healed, transformed and/or accepted inside ourselves. Sometimes something about our physical bodies or the visions we are in embraced, loved, held.

Nothing has ever been out of bounds, but we always listen to each other. Caring for each other is essential, checking in constantly in a way that doesn’t break the flow. I’d never felt so able to call things to a halt if necessary, so sure that would be heard at once. Or indeed to be able to just gently move things in a different direction as they flowed if necessary. It has made me realise how many people have not fully taken that approach in previous relationships I’ve had. And I always make sure I’m tuned in enough to be as responsive as that myself too. Of course very occasionally small mistakes happen. We’ve been at this seven years. When they do it’s how that’s responded to too, taking care and never getting defensive.

So why am I writing about this? I’m really very happy to keep this loveliness between ourselves, but I guess I want to find ways to let people know, who may not know, that we don’t have to accept that we are just what we are told we are, in sex, in the world. I want to open up the imaginative space of genderfludity and sex, and not just for those of us on the front line of gender, for everyone. I’m sure there are loads of people working and playing in similar ways in their sex lives, and in other ways. I’ve certainly read the odd blog that talks about parts of this really beautifully. But encounters with the kink world as it is out there have honestly (disappointingly) seemed to me almost as limited in really exploring these mutating, flowing possibilities of sexual embodiment, as vanilla sex is. I hope there are avenues of it that are consciously doing this stuff, and I’m certain there are loads of individuals, couples and groups who are…  but if there are wider threads that are open about and encouraging of this they don’t seem easy to find. So much has opened up in recent years. Yet the stories we are telling ourselves about sex and sexual play are still so two dimensional. And especially in the straight world they are often so overwhelmingly binary. Even where pathways open to play roles other than ourselves they are often so defined and stuck by gender…

It astounds me to remember how trapped I felt in the past into playing a role.. that importantly never felt right… but also primarily was just so limited. These bodies, these minds, our imaginations and the energy that flows through us… we are able to do and be and embody and play out so much more than we are told we are. And it’s a wonderful way to live, and deeply helpful and healing too. I hope, if this resonates and you aren’t already getting up to such things, that you go out there and play with your own deep inner worlds, find others who are open to this, unafraid and loving, or open up such possibilities with your partner. Do so on your own too, open yourself to loving all your parts, transform masterbatory experiences by flowing through the things that have made you ashamed and allowing them to be loved, felt and to twist and move.

I hope you know that you don’t have to be a woman all the time. You don’t have to be a man all the time. You don’t have to stick to the roles that would be expected of whichever of those you may happen to be mostly in life. We don’t have to stick to anything. Our bodies and minds are much more open places than they may seem. These explorations can be pathways to healing too, although like all healing it is strange and imperfect, I have really found this to be the case. I’ve not gone into details of that side of things here, but yes, and in my experience it doesn’t need to be thought about too hard, just felt into deeply with love and acceptance, and things happen. And what fun it is too! There is so much to explore!


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unpack

SONY DSC

You can feel the focus make it worse

the explanation, definition

repetition. Panicked eyes a

clarion call

to urgent unpacking, but where? No space.

You’d better get a

mat down, open some

time loops. This

could

take

centuries.

 

Hop, skip, jump

tip-toed stardancer, soft

a slow trudge

to the station

won’t save you. She never

shows her face, not

to you, not to anyone.

That isn’t part of the game.

Don’t sweat it, sweaty.

 

It’s Halloween, Samhain, so

many spirals travelled

open-veiled, too many

for such

not to disappear

at these times, a blessed

curse, this year found

many ancestors, too. Last year

you were in the process,

you didn’t dare speak it,

last year was a different thing

entirely, with scope to research,

and you forgot to light the fire.

Throughout life

the repetition intensifies,

so many loops.

You’ve never been here.

 

This time, an o p e n i n g ,

mucky pupped with

ghouls and white noise

blankets. Follow the star, remembering

how to dance light-footed, shed,

discard, unguarded, fearless.

Space can still be made for this,

in these worldly times of gathering

darkness,

and it must.

The transformation exists,

it is underneath. Its time is now.


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untitled mirror box

Sing a tilt mirror box

in unspecified definition

we

sense, another realm –

explore / create without holding back

this tangible endless shift terrain,

this mass of effect,

this prescription of non space.

 

Always refused to doctors those

moments of blinded

inability

that this being at all

that this stricture of others,

of my creation. These tender

Suffocate knots, unpickable, deep,

moulded together like

bundles, tumour growth of

horror impossibility. Those flashes, breakthroughs,

spaces. Those howling agonies,

tortures, senseless.

Those humans, those creatures, lives.

The impossibility of existence

is something I got onto early.

The only freedom from it, ever

is realising its truth.

I still have a giraffe

in my chest. Sometimes it kicks. It still wants to get out.

 

There is a peace and a vast

expanse in the connections we

make. When the desert isn’t

physical

I find the desert there.

Definitions seem to slow

down the process, are weighty.

It is easier to travel light

and while I transmute

these centuries, these millennia

weigh heavy already, spin around my

frame, a tiny mop haired desert boy,

a tall pretty prince,

a spark, a Kali-Ma,

a forest warrior girl,

a frail light footed ~ ,

they weave and spit around me,

all colours, and memories

this point of perception never made,

They plunge out

purges, and years of weeping into

single minutes. They remain, some

of them,

for now.

 

Definition would be too much on top of that.

Diagnosis would only get in the way.

Understanding is essential,

allows shifting sands,

allows lightness.

In echo of this work,

understanding

is a mutating story.

It gathers threads into

Potential. Disperses.

Allows peace.