Belly Aching

Definition of "Womb"-A place where something is generated. An encompassing protective or hallow space. A place where something is made or formed.

Birth, new life in the real sense creates an indescribable act of miracle and yet this same place from which this miracle is created is the most vulnerable place on our body. It protects some of the most vital parts of our body. Out of the womb also comes the origin of emotions, the core of where our feelings are released and where they are held. This energy of emotions sets forth in motion a psychological journey in which we embark on daily. What will be birthed from this journey is something all together one must decide.

I paced back and forth in my in my room pouting and cursing all the while every other minute was a glance in the full length mirror in my room. I was running out of time to pack for my trip to LA for memorial day weekend and nothing seemed to be the right thing to wear. I poked and prodded at my belly, stood side ways, sucked in, stood straight, slouched in and cursed this protruding nemisis on my body. It was a control freak and an unwanted visitor that had seemed to overstay its welcome. It spoke a mind of it's own telling me what to do and what to think. "Don't wear that, Wear this and Don't even think about trying on that. I finally fumbled around and stuffed my bag with clothes out of mental exhaustion and a pissy mood. I most definitely was over it, although I knew this battle was far from over.....this battle has been waging as a full blown war and assault on my mind and I am not the only casualty. Women write obituaries to their self esteem and bury the most valued treasures of self in a shallow grave of body image.

Women cringe over so many parts of their bodies but one of the most fascinating to me is the belly, the womb, this most sacred part has created sacrilege for many of us. A place where so much power is held has become our weakness. We have become addicts, overdosing on our own distorted views of the center of our womanhood. We don't place healing hands on our womb but touch it with rejection and malice..malice against ourselves. It's a crime in which we make ourselves serve time... valuable time lost in this false imprisonment. Body Image.. it's a culprit of sorts, a trickster of the mind taunting us. We sometimes cry and buckle over clutching our stomachs in deep mournful sobs and yet when we eat and are full we rub it in sheer delight, how do both these things exist in one place? I imagine that this sacred place is often confused as energies flow to and fro in a bundled mess of misdirection. Why can't we seem to get this message straight?

There is an audible and visual broadcast of propaganda handing us psychological pamphlets of the definition of the society's image of a woman. We read them and often believe them, reciting them by memory until we think that we were the ones that made the conception, but it's an immaculate conception of sorts in which unless the last time I looked we were no Jesus. So how does it all become truth.. truth for every single woman, laid down like law. Well the jury is out and we are guilty for believing...

Unlike the constitution in which all men are created equal... women were not created equal. They come in all shapes and sizes predisposed by nature and genetics to be who they are. Yet they are given this canvas in which they must work with to create the picture of themselves in which they deem a masterpiece. It's an original one of a kind piece that no one can duplicate. No one tells an artist what they shall create..

what is it that you shall create? what is it that I shall create? An artist decides every stroke of the brush is important and in the end it matters not if the final piece is adored by the onlooker but what matters most is that it is a work admired by one's self who created it.....

with soul,

artistic soul