Part Twenty-Two

If We All Declare Our Truths

Joan Ann Lansberry

December 27, 1997

The author's hand, drawn Feb. 2, 1997

With what can I reach
that will pull you to me,
get you to listen, and
see the gems of my soul
like hand-picked jewels?
These jewels I have so grasped at,
Reaching, reaching, reaching,
Greed has no end.

JAL, 12-27-97

Fortune cookie oracle says Pray for what you want, but work for the things you need.

Ah, but what is it that I really need? Surely I have all manner of material goods. And I never go to bed hungry. What is it that I really need? Perhaps it is a spiritual hungering that I must feed. Yet again, I must let loose of greed even in these realms.

Empty yourself of everything. Let the mind rest at peace. The ten thousand things rise and fall while the Self watches their return. They grow and flourish and then return to the source. Lao Tzu,Chapter 16 quoted in Returning to the Source: Taoist Meditation, by Solala Towler

Solala quotes John Blofeld, to explain 'the source':

Returning to the source is a figurative term for the unutterably blissful experience of becoming aware with all one's being of perfect identity with all that is, has been or ever could be.

THIS IS HOW A HUMAN BEING CAN CHANGE: There's a worm addicted to eating grape leaves. Suddenly, he wakes up, call it grace, whatever, something wakes him, and he's no longer a worm. He's the entire vineyard, and the orchard too, the fruit, the trunks, a growing wisdom and joy that doesn't need to devour.

Rumi, as translated by Coleman Barks, The Illuminated Rumi

Later this day...

For a belated Christmas present, I got Laura her first pair of left-handed scissors today. She is fifty-eight years old, and at last she has a pair of scissors that fit her hand. She almost cried when she tried them out. I'm not sure why we didn't think of it before.

December 29, 1997

POTATOES Mashed potatoes so light and fluffy like clouds. . . . . . You know the sky is solid blue, . . . . from horizon to stretch - your - neck - backwards horizon. For the floaty, white clouds are all in those potatoes. . . . . Yes, POTATOES! If the last meal I ever eat is mashed potatoes, I won't mind. Of course, if they come with some pizza, I won't mind that either. It could be thin-crust pizza, don't need no thick crust. Not with all those fluffy, melt in your mouth mashed potatoes. The soft blobs of earthy heaven, seasoned with milk and butter, almost float down to your stomach. They warm you, for you can feel the sun in them, which blessed them when they were growing. They came out of plain dirt, plain, but not poor. What makes the soil rich? The humblest of things. . . shit. Yes, THAT'S what makes the soil fertile. Out of these base beginnings, comes this simple joy. JAL,12-29-97

January 1, 1998

The last issue of New Age featured a survey on the connection between spirituality and sexuality. When I opened it up, I was rather surprised, even awed. It took my breath away. For oh so marvelous thing, this thing I had only begun to shyly explore in my poetry, this thing that , like Laura's first 'fiddle' experience, "Oh, I've discovered this whole new realm of truth and ecstatic beauty and how is it I am the only one to have discovered it?

Oh, that is not so, joyfully. The article said this was long a secret of the mystics. Always fancying myself a bit of the mystic, getting 'drunk' on the words of Rumi, I did not know this was also a part of this secret sacred space. In the poems "Spiritual Opening" and "I Surrender to This", I was shyly exploring this...oh so shyly, still blushing from taught shame. I am certain this was not always so. In the book from which Laura scanned some of our sexuality pages, the cover shows a phallic symbol and the latin words, which Julia translated "Herein resides happiness". Can it be people in ancient times knew this? Oh, this and what other 'drunken' discoveries did the christians burn at the library of Alexandria? One can only wonder with burning.

I avow some of my most sublime spiritual/sexual moments have gone beyond sex. It goes beyond body parts and 'what goes where'. Most sacred are the moments when Laura and I, laying side by side, naked flesh to naked flesh, gaze into each others eyes, and feel an intense connection there, beyond body, beyond spirit, to the deeper essence of what we are. People are no doubt curious as to what three people do in bed. Maybe some people read my journal, hoping to find a hint. They are certain we are the ever busy orgiests. but this (that I 'fear' this suspicion) , too, shows the most evil thing christianity ever did. Making SEX DIRTY! Just that I feel this blushing shame...that this is no subject to be talking about, this 'dirty' thing that does not belong in a public space, should not be aired....like I've lifted my skirt and spread my legs to show what's there.

Oh, for the times when there is and was not shame. JBL statues sell a goddess, Baubo. A graceful lady, she in flowing dress. But I shuddered when I saw it. I couldn't display such a statue on my window sill. Oh no, not I! What would people say? For she ever so gracefully has lifted her dress to show her pubis. Source of all life, sacred reverence for life, that fount from which we all begin our origin. NOT DIRTY. Damn those christians. I who've shuddered at Laura's directness. I say that now. No doubt the readers with christian leaning will think I've gone mad now. " She gets drunk on sensation. even a shame to enjoy potatoes so much." St. Francis of Assisi used to put ashes on his food. So they read and think I've gone drunk on something, lost all my senses, when I lose my sense of shame and expose these 'dirty' scared sacred thoughts. Oh, damn those christians. I love those people, from whom I came. I dearly love them. They can not understand, they think I've abandoned the family. God, it all hurts so much. "I who get 'drunk' in public." How is it so drunk, when I've not touched a drop? What is it I'm drunk on? Sensation, pure sensation...oh holy sensation...I feel so alive in all my senses. The nerves of my skin so alive to Laura's and Julia's touch. We are cuddlers, the three of us. The most intimate sessions, we take turns on who is in the middle, skin to skin body hugs. How the flesh hungers. Oh, I've gone mad....mad with a truth so long denied. Damn those christians.

We who dare...who will not throw away love. That is the truth of the triad. I who loved (love) Laura so much, in the newness, my heart was full of this ripening discovery of excitement at the beauty of Julia. My pulse would quicken when she'd call or a letter would arrive. Laura also was thinking she was alone in her discoveries of the exquisite softness of Julia's hands. We each were feeling awe. This, our world, was not tearing apart. It was opening to new levels. New levels, which we, already rawly bold with declarations of our first love so preciously guarded, viewed with a mind opening awe. And we were not the first to affirm this, our 'queer' love....we could be among the first to affirm the new love. It doesn't diminish the first love, it makes it more rich. Ah, that's the thing THEY don't understand. We are not trying to throw down every learned percept, us iconoclasts. We reclaim what we didn't even know in our naiveté had been stolen from us. But having discovering its fresh joy, its fresh truth, we would not throw it away "because love comes only in pairs". WHO said that? Obviously it couldn't be true. For we were finding ourselves the proof that it wasn't true.

And we are not those who deny truths, no matter how hard. What makes it hard? Only that you must have the courage to declare it, hard courage for what has been taken away. There aren't parades for triad pride. We've since discovered a web site or two, cybernetic sybarites showing all, chasing each other, constantly new partners. THAT scene, though there be nothing wrong with that. We of the committed tri-union, we declare our truth here.

If we all declare our truths, maybe we can discover what was lost.