Bl(ogR)eading: Eat, Pray, Love, Dance

“We PRAY. At the altar of ocean. At the ashram of sand.”

Your eyes are too pretty for mere reading. Your ears on the other hand…

Eat, Pray, Love, Dance

And you can listen to an actual Dance Your Ass Off Party here:

http://erinriley.posterous.com/dont-stop-believing

Come to think of it your ears are pretty beautiful too.

Eat, Pray, Love, Dance

Some people need to go to Italy to Eat.
Some people need to go to India to Pray.
Some people need to go to Indonesia to Love.
But we just have to go out our own back door.
Cause here in “the Nuys” we got it all baby. And then some.

I was a 30-year-old pregnant girl when I walked into my first La Leche League meeting. Before my baby (Mollster!) was even born, I had attended many meetings. The instant camaraderie, mutual respect, empowerment of women, the love, friendship and support…it was un-like anything I’d ever experienced…from women anyway.

And now, 8 years later, I have at least thirty wonderful women in my life I consider MY FRIENDS. 15 of them showed up at my house on Friday night to shake their booties DOWN. It was freakin’ awesome. I love them dearly. I am their self-appointed social director and I am humbled to be so.

I didn’t invent any of this, but when I walked into that LLL meeting and I felt it. Well…I knew one thing.
I knew I wanted more of THAT.
I needed more of THAT.
And so I got it.

So we EAT.

At restaurants, that have liquor licenses. First Thursday of every month. Come in your jeans. Gussy up. Give it up. Gossip. How are the kids? Tell me what your man did last night. Order more drinks.
Tell me how fat you’re getting (you’re not).
Tell me how skinny you’re getting (size 6–shut UP).
Order dessert. Come on, we’ll share.
Tell us you’re pregnant, you’re not, you’re married, you’re not.
Come on, we’ll share.

We PRAY.

At the altar of ocean. At the ashram of sand. At the temple of sky. At the mosque of sun. At the church of friendship.
Beach Fridays every day of the summer and then some. Free Zuma. We’re claiming it for Van Nuys! You think the dolphin show is something until you see the moms fly ass over teacup into the surf frantically but with much aplomb pressing their children to “stay on their feet.”

The weather is always good over the heads of good friends.

Plus, it’s a magic beach. Magic to me because of our good friend JJ (hope you don’t mind, girl).
JJ was going through a divorce and the requisite financial crisis. She talked about, if not had decided on, moving herself and her two boys all the way back to Texas to be near her family.
I had her one morning in my kitchen and I could hear in her voice and see in her tired eyes that she had reached/hit despair.
Oof, despair. Oy.
In the hope of at least lessening her pain, I quickly asked the moms in our immediate group for a donation. She needed money now. There was rent and utilities to be paid and a dead beat, blah,blah,blah. She needed us.
In one day I raised $700! That’s a lot in our little part of the world.
I gave it to JJ at Zuma the next day and it was so moving.
I mean MOVING. The earth MOVED people.
She was touched, obviously, but also inspired, changed. It was moving.
She realized in that moment that she HAD family…RIGHT HERE.
She didn’t have to up-root her life there.
She had a life here.
The great thing about living like this…caring for each other without limitation, this total experience of friendship, this generosity that reaches out to take care of each other from a point of view of RESPONSIBILITY…is that we get to experience each other’s moments. When JJ realized that we were her family, we realized it too. Standing next to her I moved right along with her. Her reaction, a sigh, an exhale, pushed my heart around inside my chest. All around. I felt the strong bonds of family like the big roots of a tree, like the perpetual pull of the tides at Free Zuma Beach. By the simple act of giving.

So we LOVE.

We love our babies. We love breastfeeding and natural birth and making the best of situations that don’t always go our way. We love to push each other, to catch each other, to buoy, to banter, to cajole, to comfort, to laugh, to love each other.
We love our community, our world. We want to protect our children, our environment, all women’s rights, all human rights.
And we love each other. We are different, different, differerererererent women. We CHOOSE to love each other.
We live each other’s dreams.
I think this is something revolutionary.
I see it on Oprah sometimes. You know she gives these women cars, makeovers, shopping sprees, new kitchens, new houses and we, the women at home, not getting shit, are ecstatic for them! And I mean over the moon, crying tears of joy, clapping on the couch, you GO girlin’, like it is happening to us.
This is what we do. We really live each other’s dreams. And this is revolutionary, I think.

And now we DANCE.

We shake our hips, our shoulders, our tits, and our heads loose of the constraints of our everyday lives. We are sexy, free, funky and oh, so fabulous! We are mighty good at celebrating each other. I have so much to learn from these diverse, and between you and me, very dirty women. It is my humble desire that they continue to teach me and to dance with me.

I learned that fun is more contagious than the flu. (Watch out – it’s fun season.)
Black leather boots and Sinead O’Connor are still hot.
Back pain and blisters mean you tore it up last night.
I’m not the only one who needs more of this.
And I learned that when you are surrounded by friends, those women you love, adore, fetishize and cradle, you let everyone wear the hat.

How do you get some of this you ask?

Dream their dreams.
Be their family.
Share their dessert.
And let them give you lap dances.

Eat, Pray, Love, Dance with me,
Your Little Red Corvette

(Monday, March 10, 2008)

Enhanced by Zemanta

One thought on “Bl(ogR)eading: Eat, Pray, Love, Dance

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s