Every Moment Creates Beauty

A friend shared something on Facebook today about honoring how interconnected everything is, how one small event can impact a huge blessing.  It got me thinking.

I’ve been living in old wounds lately.  The last 6 months have been painful.  6 months ago I let go of someone I loved because he just wasn’t in a place to return the feelings or give me anything like what I was longing for and needing.  I stood in my power and was able to let it go but it hurt. My heart took a beating and a bunch of old fear resurfaced.

All the old tapes about not being enough, not being good enough, not being lovable resurfaced.  So of course, my inner demons latched on to those, amplified them, and created more painful stories out of old wounds.  I’ve been living there for 6 months.  Feeling like I wasn’t worthy or lovable. Feeling like he didn’t want me because I was flawed, she left because I couldn’t measure up.  I started thinking everything I touched just disintegrated.  The voice got louder and pretty soon it was drowning out the more truthful stories about who I am.


Reading my friends post today I remembered how my life has unfolded in the last 2 years. A break up coupled with my best friend moving far away led me to my career in religious education ministry and a move of my own a thousand miles from the only place I had known.  With that came a lot of hard work but also freedom, the joy of knowing my work was impactful and fulfilling, and a life and relationship with my daughter I did not have before.  From heartache I spun the fabric of a new journey, an adventure in finding what made my soul resound with joy.

What has been unfolding since letting go of any hopes for something deeper with B.? I’m not sure.  I feel like the past few months have just been me barely making it.  My practice has suffered.  My compulsive eating habits have increased and I’ve been living in the illness of that addiction. I’ve stopped writing outside of a professional capacity.  I haven’t been making any art. My relationship with my daughter has felt more like a shadow of what it was when we first arrived.  Things have been … dark.

Among the dark there has been some light.  I founded Agape House, a living collective withcandle 3 other adults.  Though admittedly, I find myself wishing for more space lately.  I will be getting more space in January when a collective member will be leaving and I may yet create that art and writing studio I longed for when I first discovered this house.

Samhain is approaching and I am considering what it is time to let go of.  I want to let go of this story and move through the pain of rejection and heartache.  I want to call back in my practice, my intention and presence with my daughter, writing and art, and healthier habits.

I call back in my ability to be moved by the interconnectedness and celebrate that every action leads to some unfolding, some choice or path that wasn’t there before.  It swirls around us, sometimes beautiful and sometimes so sharp and bright we ache all over, but it paints a beautiful canvass when it plays out.  I need to remember to pause and pray, as Anne Lammot says, “help, thanks, wow.”


Teaching My Soul to Sing

Last August, in Georgia, I sat under the bright full moon and surrendered my heart to never lightknowing the answers to questions I never asked.  Under the watch of towering pines, I gazed through a fire into the eyes of the person I loved beyond all reason and let go.  I wrote a little about that experience here.  What I remember from it now, this full moon, is how much ease I felt when forgiveness finally rooted in my heart, for myself and everyone else involved in the breaking that led to my becoming.

Occasionally I get caught up in wondering about the becoming of my Self.  What started it?  Was it the breaking of my heart?  I feel, at times, it was most certainly that moment when my becoming started.  But no, by then I had already become a person who could lean in, love beyond reason, forgive, and let my heart break open again and again while love transformed me.  Maybe the unfolding started when I felt loved for the first time, really feeling it root in my bones and become something I was sure of the way I am sure my lungs are working – I don’t have to worry about them, or force them, I just relax and breathe and they work.  I could keep going back in time trying to find the moment of my becoming but the truth is there are a thousand moments that shape who we are, who we will be.

What I do know is somewhere along the way I became someone who loved fiercely and fully.  I became the sappy romantic I used to secretly roll my eyes at.  I realized love is a synonym for God.

I never thought I would become someone who held love as their highest priority.  Much of my life, love was just a word. I had made it to my Saturn return without a lot of fanfare for it.  Then I unraveled and in doing so took down the walls around my heart, destroyed the stories about how love was for suckers, and just let myself be crazy in love.  When it all fell apart, I just kept unraveling.  I found love was something deeper than a relationship.  Love was bigger than a particular set of expressions.  Love could take something away from you and break your heart while, at the same time, giving you something precious and break you open.  I wrote about this for just over a year so I will save you from rehashing the details.

Then I fell in love again – with someone who wasn’t in love with me.  More heartbreak.  This time the unraveling really did feel like I was being undone.  I’ve spent the last few months questioning everything I had come to know about love, myself, my worth, and the goodness of life.

A boy undid me?  Pathetic.  This was ringing in my head for months.  How could a whirlwind romance with a man who was upfront about his lack of emotional availability or interest be strong enough to undo all those powerful lessons from before?  I will tell you how, childhood trauma.  All the old stories of not being good enough, not being worthy, not being lovable came back full force. So I came apart for the past few months.

Sifting through the pieces of this most recent heart break and the spiritual crisis that seemed to accompany it, I saw all the shinning edges again.  I saw another sign post on the journey of becoming.  This beautiful man made my soul sing.  There is no other way to put it.  His voice, his words, his writing, his music, the thought of him, his lips, everything… my soul would just sing.  It was like the song of the Universe lighting me up inside.  A musician, a poet, a preacher, a friend, a lover, a spiritual being – yes, my soul was SINGING.  Sometimes when I think of him, it still does.

Being undone completely, feeling 8 years of personal work slipping away, watching my spiritual practice just stop, watching my depression take over, realizing old patterns of escape were whispering to me all the time was all very terrifying.  All I could see was how far away I am from realizing some other important goals.

Then there was Nahko & Medicine for the People and the medicine of this song.

Suddenly I remembered the power I felt in leaving Arkansas last year, in visualizing a new life for myself by loading everything up and just going.  If I can change huge parts of my life by visualizing, and manifesting, leaving… surely I can visualize and manifest healing.

It’s beginning now… the healing.  I listen to Medicine for the People and sing and dance in my car. I’m finding new ways to set my soul to singing.  I’m still struggling with some darkness but mostly the light is breaking through those jagged edges again.


This is a poem written about how body hatred can cheat you out of a fantastic experience. It may be triggering for some.



I asked for the lights out.

Hidden beneath piles of your blankets,

I wasn’t strong enough to let you undress me.

When your hand accidentally pushed the fabric aside

Exposing my stomach to the dark of your room,

I snapped out of the moment with you;

That precious, much anticipated moment,

To clutch the blankets tight around my waist

In apology.


When you looked down the length of me,

I couldn’t look at your face.

I didn’t want to see you struggle to be okay with my body.

In that moment,

I regretted every French fry that has ever touched my lips.

My eyes shut tight, as if I could blank out your view,

I missed the way you gazed at me,

Imagining instead a look of disgust –

Though I have never seen anything less than love on your face.


I lost myself to the moment only once.

Your eyes latched onto mine,

Your hands exploring every curve of me.

I was lost in your gaze

And for a few minutes I could feel you.

I could feel your desire for me,

And I was too lost in your eyes

To deny it.


Words Create Reality

For the last two years I worked the the mantra “lean into love”. It shaped the way I lived my life. Using this mantra as my anchor, I left a 11 year unhappy marriage, moved out on my own for the first time, had my heart broken, learned about acceptance, presence, and forgiveness, and shaped a new reality for myself that included gifting myself a chosen family which is turning out to be very healing for me.

Choosing those words helped me create a reality here love was the boundary. I was able to lean in to discomfort and change.  I leaned in to love being found in unlikely places.  I leaned in to receiving love from the Universe and let go of my attachment to a specific form I thought it should take.  Words are important – they create our reality.

With this in mind, I have decided it is time to deviate from the mantra of “leaning into love” – the work continues, of course. The mantra for now is “holding on to good.”

So much good has come through my life in the past 2+ years.  Still, I have struggled to learn how to hold it.  I too often let the blessings slip through my hands and soon forget they were ever there. I get twisted around what is truly good and what feels good for the moment, but leads to heartache and sickness later on.

What is good?  Well, I don’t know exactly. I think I am still learning about good.  The journey continues – and I’m holding on to good.

Breaking Me

brokenI started leaning into breaking in 2010. Leaning into love, into leaving, into heart ache, into letting my heart-break open from poetry, sermons, meditations, walks in the woods.  I was broken wide open.  The light flooded in and I started changing.  It took a lot of breaking to get light into those places in my heart that had been held back in the shadows for so long.

As spring 2013 approaches, my work is shifting away from the work of leaning in to the breaking and more into leaning into the vision. My vision is grace and hope. In 2010 this “Breaking Me” blog started a journey to explore what love was, what it meant to be heartbroken, what it meant to be okay with breaking and leaning in deeper.  That work continues and from time to time will surface here in my writing. The work I wish to bring more fully to this space is the work of exploring grace, cultivating the beloved within, hope, and manifesting the vision I hold for my life.

It was nearly a year ago when the shift in my work really began. Last May I dug deep into Earth work, started a new career, and moved 1000 miles from my home.  The work continues as I learn to reshape and rebuild a new life. I have felt pregnant with a newness for my life, troubled with a complicated and stressful labor of liberating myself from invisible shackles, and finally I feel I have arrived.

With intention, I’ve changed the look of this blog.  The photograph at the top was taken by me in downtown Baltimore – a place I feel is one of many homes to my heart.    I’ve been photographing signs mentioning grace for over a year.  This sign, a church sign, reads “The Grace & Hope Mission.”  Yes! I feel like this is my personal mission right now.

I am cultivating the Beloved within.  I am revitalizing my life with hope.  I am manifesting a vision for my life. I am letting love be the boundary and grace be the gift.

“I do not understand the mystery of grace — only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.”  – Anne Lamott

Sobering Moments


It can be challenging in sobriety to experience rituals you used to drink around.  These can be office parties, weddings, 5 o’clock, or the super bowl.  Luckily it wasn’t difficult for me not to drink on Sunday.  It did provide some insight to explore memories of the past few super bowls and my behavior around drinking in general.

The last few years the Super Bowl has been my big drunk of the year.  I would start drinking an hour before the game started and do so nonstop.  I realized that every football game could be like this and started wanting to watch more games with people to have more excuses to drink until I couldn’t feel anything – not in my heart, not in my mind, and not in my body.  I would just get numb.  Somehow I thought this was great.

This year I spent the Super Bowl at an AA meeting.  I got there early and stayed there late.  I couldn’t help but think throughout the meeting that here I was circling up with people around a shared experience much like I would gather around a television somewhere with pitchers of beer covering the table.  This was better.  When I drove home I wasn’t at risk to kill someone.

addictionThe last year of my drinking I had learned to lie to people, even to myself, about drinking and driving.  I was convinced if I had coffee the last 10-20 minutes of the night that I was sober and I could drive.  I would start pulling it together just enough to convince people that I wasn’t completely out of it.  Then I’d get in the car and head home.  Somehow in my mind I really thought drinking for 3+ hours was all wiped out by a couple of cups of coffee.  I’m lucky.  I never killed anyone, crashed my car, or even got a DUI. I also think my ability to avoid these consequences made it difficult for me to own my alcoholism.

I was not a daily drinker.  I could go out and have just a beer or a margarita over dinner.  I often met people for drinks and had iced tea.  I didn’t seem like an alcoholic.  It was just that occasionally I would drink and be UNABLE to stop.  I would rationalize that I so rarely drank it didn’t matter and hey, everyone deserves to cut loose right?  So my one drink would turn into 10, sometimes more.  In the end, my final drunk, I had 16 vodka Collins in less than two hours.  It’s a wonder I didn’t get alcohol poisoning.

My sponsor has cautioned me that never really hitting a bottom could put me at risk for relapse.  At the same time he acknowledges that my firm grasp on spiritual development helped me come to the program earlier than some and gives me some advantage in being able to work the program.  I don’t dismiss his caution.  There are still times I tell myself I am not alcoholic.  Then I realize people who aren’t addicts do not have to argue with themselves about whether they are.

I never had a big bottom, but I never really built a life worth losing either.  I skated by.  I stayed in a miserable marriage, I never finished a degree or started a career, and I never managed any kind of financial stability or real independence. The only thing I had to lose was my daughter and while I didn’t lose her, I also didn’t have the kind of relationship with her that I do now.  I never started a life.

I’ve had friends ask if I really won’t drink again.  I don’t know, but I sure hope not.  I’m an addict.  I spent years trading one addiction for another.  I wasted my twenties just skating by rather than pursuing my dreams.  I don’t ever want to go back to that.  So today, I choose not to drink.  Sunday I chose to go to a meeting rather than a sports bar.  For me, it was a lifesaving choice.  It was only a matter of time before one of those binge drinking nights led me to kill myself or someone else.  I am so grateful I was able to wake up and get help before something like that happened.  I thank God every day that I’m sober.  To paraphrase Anne Lamott, I believe everything I have to offer anyone depends on my sobriety.  For those who do not know, Anne Lamott’s book Traveling Mercies directly led to my decision to get help and get sober.  Thanks Anne.

The Great Unfolding of Our Lives

The great unfolding of our lives is steeped in mystery, often comes with pain, and can be the beautiful blossom of our own becoming.

She was a great unfolding of my life.  The Universe worked through her to reach my heart in a way no one else had been able to.  She was a catalyst in many ways, helping me to untwine myself from an unhappy life.   I unraveled the tapestry of a 12 year marriage, moved out on my own for the first time, and gave up my impulse to try and control everything.  I look back and now and see the Universe teaching me how to trust God by learning to trust this one person so whole heartedly. Even with all the change brought into my life through her love, the great unfolding of my life didn’t happen, not really, until she said goodbye.


Goodbye hurt like hell. Those of you have been reading this blog for any length of time are familiar with the story.  You’ve witnessed the unfolding of my life. It’s taken me from despair to creating a new life, complete with a new city and new career. It hasn’t been an easy road.  My decision to lean in to love, to the concept of transcendental love, changed the way I processed her leaving. I drew strength from the, sometimes painful, lessons and examples of the power of love.  In our situation I found the power to endure heartache and continuing caring for each other in a new way, saw the power in love changing your life to commit to someone, felt the depth of a love born of compassion and grace when someone is willing to witness your pain, walk with you through it, while knowing their happiness is linked to your heart break.  Love got me through.

It doesn’t make any difference that the moment of great loss is a big unfolding taking you exactly where you need to go.  There is no way to cushion heartbreak so it won’t hurt. There is no good way to say goodbye.  My lover couldn’t have made it any easier.  My heart was going to break, as it did, no matter what.  She was leaving. The Universe had this planned all along.  Any doubts I’ve ever had about that are resolved when I look to their happiness or how far I’ve come on my own.  I needed this stage of my life to be completely on my own, without the influence or even the comfort of a lover or partner.  I’m stronger in this place because I know I got here by myself.  This new life I am working on is my doing.  Yet, I am still cradled by the love of friends and family, especially my chosen family.

I didn’t have the phrasing at the time, but when I think about this idea of a great unfolding I am reminded of an intense vision I had shortly after the break up.  I was standing in the center of a crystal lotus.  I intuitively knew the lotus had broken open from a solid block.  The petals held fractures and were a little rough on the edges in some places.  There was a bright light shining in and reflecting off of each piece of the crystal and through me, standing in the center. In the moment of this vision, I felt the warmth of that light reflecting through me and realized it was just as easy for me to be the source of this light as it was for me to be its recipient.

A great unfolding is the hand of God scooping us up and putting us on another path. These big life altering moments are rare, though our lives unfold continuously if we allow it. My life has unfolded, and will continue to unfold, into something completely new and beautiful.

“We live our lives from then until now,
By the mercy received and the marks on our brow
To my heart I’ll collect what the four winds will scatter
And frame my life into before and after.”

-Carrie Newcomer

Samhain – Walking Through the Gates

Beloved love within
Let my thoughts become thy thoughts
Let my wish become thy wish
My actions, thy actions;

Let thy love become my love
Let thy love become my love

– Hazrat Inayat Khan

Every year for Samhain I do work on manifesting what I want in the coming year.  Along with this work I draw a tarot card to gain insight on what kind of energy I can expect to work with until next Samhain.  This year I drew the three of wands.

On my initial look at the card, it seems to echo the work I invoked in my ritual – to manifest the Beloved within.  I chose this work because of a recent, near overwhelming, desire to be in partnership.  I feel I am finally ready to fall crazily in love with someone.  I find myself wanting to meet the person who will walk with me through life, hand in hand.  To this end, a friend suggested that in the meanwhile I continue the deep work of cultivating the Beloved within, noting that when we work on ourselves and become our own beloved we tend to attract the partner we had been so deeply desiring –someone who sees the Beloved within us and becomes our beloved embodied in another.

To do the working of manifesting the Beloved within I decided to create a poppet of myself.  This is a big deal.  I don’t typically do crafts like this and have been blocked from these sorts of projects in the past.  I usually do spell work through collage.   This work needed something else, collage just didn’t feel right.  . It needed to be able to really take on a form that would I could charge to represent myself.  So, I gathered supplies to sew a poppet.

I took longer than I usually do setting the altar up.  I set out tea for my spiritual ancestors, cream for the Fae, a small offering of fruit for all the spirits, a skull to represent my ancestors of blood. Along with honoring ancestors I also honored where I come from: a rock carried from my favorite swimming hole in Arkansas with me to Florida sat in the center with the Star Goddess candle on it, antlers set behind it, a crystal dug up from the Arkansas mud by my aunt, and buttons given to me by my still living grandmother were scattered on the table to represent the women of my line.  I also set a stemmed glass on the table, one of two remaining from a set of 5 given by a then coven sister some years ago at Yule. This glass representing chosen family lost not through death, but through choices of diverging paths.  I also placed a yoni made from clay by another previous coven sister to represent the gate of life.Then there were the usual items of candles, athame, black mirror, singing bowl, tarot cards along with craft supplies for the poppet.

Across from the altar I placed a huge silver mirror with candles at the base to give some light. This simple act speaks volumes for me.  I’ve struggled with body image my entire life.  Yet, I chose to place a huge mirror across the altar.  I do my Samhain work wearing only the cords from my mystery school.  To see my image reflected in this way during this particular work was very powerful…and beautiful.

After casting the circle I called in the guardians, my ancestors of spirit, blood, and passion, and the Fae.  I felt called to name one ancestor of blood who has been on my mind lately though I never met her and know nothing about her – my grandfather’s grandmother.  I plan to ask him about her when I go home for Christmas.  Then I began to work on my poppet.

She’s simple and took hours for me to hand sew despite being so simple.  My first attempt was a body complete with arms and legs.  It was a flop.  I realized poppets don’t have to look exactly like the person, it’s okay to be more abstract.  While sewing, I reflected on what the notion of the “Beloved” means to me, the idea of divine love, the love of GodHerself. I occasionally wrote a few words down that seem to capture a piece of the essence I hope to cultivate: grace, faith, compassion, love, passion, and so on. When I opened the bag the yoni was stored in, an old key I’ve never seen before fell out.  I took this as a sign and the key went inside the poppet, along with rice and the words I had written down.

Throughout this process I spoke with my ancestors and Gods about my intention.  I named how easily the desire for finding a partner can turn into obsession and asked for their help to ward against that.  I also asked for information from them about how to work with cultivating the Beloved within.  4 hours of conversation, singing, dancing, meditation, and sewing.  I had no idea so much time had slipped by.  I didn’t feel tired until after charging my poppet.  Then, exhausted I drew my tarot card, opened the circle, and went to sleep.

I am still not very good at interpreting the tarot.  My above reflection that going solely by my feelings on seeing the image that it reflected the work of manifesting the Beloved within was my only insight.  Today I looked up the card and found it confirmed, especially here.

The interpretations seem clear – the journey was alone, strength, success, and virtue are present and one has learned to rely on oneself.   There is a firm foundation after a long climb and an expansion and bright future.

The work continues, as always.  One ritual does not suddenly manifest the Beloved within me.  It’s a relationship, and like all relationships they take time, effort, and appreciation.

One Year

On the anniversary of heart break, I sit watching the sunset over the gulf, the waters quietly lapping at the rocks along the coast line. A perfect picture of my heart today – slowly, gently, moving in and out from those jagged lines where it was broken apart last year.  New eyes watching the light fade behind the blue, the golden hues stretching across the water as if to pull tight one last memory.

I no longer need the overwhelming crash of the Atlantic waves to quench this pain and bring ease to this heart.  The remaining lessons for me linger in the moment when the sun will finally kiss the water goodnight.  I don’t yet know its mysteries, only that there is richness in the quiet, lingering, way they kiss.

As I sat facing the endlessness of water, a pelican held space for me like a temple guard.  Her powers of reflection and ease giving me room to sort through the archives of my heart.  This last year I have learned to lean in deep, as the Pelican must at times to retrieve food from the water.  I have also learned to rise up into the realm of possibility. I’ve flown a thousand miles to heal, a thousand miles to begin, a thousand miles just to fly. Anything is possible.

There was a moment today when my heart was so full of love, I thought it would burst.  I could feel how we are all connected.  In that moment I knew the truth of love – it’s everywhere, limitless, and boundless.  These simple moments drift in to my consciousness more and more lately.  The willingness to let love change has changed me.  I am more open, more willing to risk, more willing to give love away.  Who knew heart break could lead to such expansion?

Her voice on the line this afternoon felt reassuring.  We are all exactly where we are supposed to be.  There is a sweetness between us, a kindness, a friendship that will always be there.  There is a piece of me that may always respond to her, after all she helped name that piece -this inner little girl who so desperately needed to feel the love and approval of a Daddy.  Our unconventional relationship now laid to rest, it remains still that in my heart, when I think of “daddy,” I think of her.

Watching the sun sink lower, I thought about my new crush and the way his music and words stir my soul.  I wonder if she will approve. I don’t need her to, but a little girl always, deep down, wants her Daddy to like the boys she brings home.

My thoughts drift back to the sunset and my future.  I don’t know when I will find the person I will share my life with, but as I look out across the water I know someday someone is going to be next to me watching sunsets.  Someone who will leave their energy, like sunlight, on my skin as we kiss goodnight, resting in each others arms until we wake and face the day, together, again.

For now – wow.

Untidy Boxes

Identity is a strange thing.  It can be so comforting to us. It helps us tell people quickly some important facts about who we are.  Most importantly, it gives us a sense of belonging when we find others like us in community.  So when our identity starts shifting, we are jolted into crisis mode.

I recently had a small identity crisis of my own.  For the last two years I have been confident that I would only date women.  I’ve enjoyed lesbian community and the sense of belonging I get there.  So when I found myself seriously flirting with an old male acquaintance, it’s no exaggeration to say I had a bit of a meltdown.  Luckily I have friends who, like me, believe boxes can be traps to prevent us from full exploration of ourselves and others.

In my post-modern, feminist, queer theorist circle of friends we understand sexuality and gender to be fluid.  While I have always had respect for others to identify then change the way they identify over time (and sometimes change back again), it feels different in regard to myself.  I feel a bit like a traitor.  I worry about losing my place in the lesbian community and a level of acceptance in queer circles.  Mostly, I don’t want to go back to having my queer identity stripped away from me.

It’s bad enough, as a femme, being ignored and taken for straight until a moment arises for me to work into conversation about a woman I’m dating, used to date, or am interested in.   When I dated men though, especially being married to a man, my queerness wasn’t taken very seriously.  It was like living with half of my identity being considered a trendy lie by the majority.

I think there is also some guilt of the privilege I carried when married to a man and the privilege I carry passing as straight in a variety of ways.  While femmes can come out over and over again and help challenge assumptions about lesbians and queer community, pansexuals who are partnered with men can come out but straight people don’t seem to take it as seriously. Again, it feels like it’s taken as a trend.

So, here I am with a big crush on a guy.  I felt like I was suddenly plunged into a land of confusion and despair about the possibilities of it just being all wrong.  My friend kept asking me what the worst case scenario was.  I narrowed it down to two: I’m lonely and have temporarily lost my mind and I don’t actually dig him and will only hurt him, or, I do like him but it won’t last and will totally screw up any chance I have of finding a butch woman who wants to date me.  The more I talked to my friend about this guy, the more I realized I do like him.  I’ve spent very little time with him, I mean like maybe a total of 10 hours in almost two years, but every time I laughed a lot and we had a really deep and meaningful conversation.  My friend encouraged me to quit boxing myself out of what might be a potentially happy time with someone.  So I’m relaxing, enjoying that weird stage of crushing on someone where you’ve had the initial flirting and now you are trying to figure out if the other person is truly interested. 

Maybe I just need to open up and flirt more in general.  I definitely got my flirt on tonight at the roller derby bout.  I met a really cute girl.  She wasn’t my normal type (hey I’m blowing the lid right off this box!), a sort of andro-leaning-femme with strange hair and a great smile.  I was moments away from offering up my number, but I couldn’t quite tell if she was –with- the woman she was with.  I’ll see her around town I think, seems we have similar interests.  Who knows, maybe next time I’ll ask her to coffee?

So my label is… no label?

For now. I still have my doubts about the whole thing.  My ideal partner is still, in my mind, a sexy dominant butch woman.  I’m just trying to be open to the possibility that my ideal partner might be someone completely different from what I think is best for me.

Okay Universe, do your thing.