I didn’t know I was a volcano.
The dust has finally settled and left a bit of grit in my teeth to remind me.
Hi. If we haven’t met, I’m Colette.
I should I set a signpost here:
“Welcome to Alice’s tunnel into wonderland.” Bizarre objects will float up as you fall. I encourage you to eat the yummy ones.
It’s 3/1/25. 9ish am EST. Playa Del Carmen, 🇲🇽
I’m currently poolside, attempting to share something with you (it’s been a few years).
So here goes…
I met a gorgeous soul at the pool yesterday.
We shared a moment.
“I’m here because of a break up,” she said through her bronzed sunglasses. I could just make out her tender eyes, and her long lashes.
“It’s like I was left at the altar and this is my solo honeymoon trip.”
I could relate to those words - more than she knew.
“I just had a break up, too.” (This is my birthday solo trip.)
She’d come with a male friend (a friend friend) to shake the sadness. It wasn’t exactly working, not in the way a woman is really asking for.
“You did!?” She lit up. She felt instantly seen, known, understood - it’s all she’s ever wanted. So she showed me more, and I loved it, “I’ve cried every morning over breakfast.”
Earlier, I had been crying, too.
Salty sweet tears of humility and liberation.
The ocean is just beyond me as I’m writing this. The sun is already pressing beads of sweat to express from beneath my breasts.
I feel my body. Ugh - she yearns for places that press against her in heat and simultaneously offer instant (on demand) relief via cool, cleansing waters.
The contrast is cathartic - the intense sun presses in on me, beads of sweat slide down my abdomen and pool.
I gaze into the lip of my belly button. The cord has been cut now. I remind myself.
Glistening blue waters beckon me to cool off at any moment.
The Universe is a seductress, a flirt of magnitude, and she’s brilliant at it. She knows me, that I get wet for such ready service.
“I just love how service oriented they are here.” I tell my ex (my other one). “I am at your service, the taxi driver and the Airbnb host tell me.
Oh, She knows the way to my animal.
Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s them - it’s not them…it’s the River - She calls me. If you know the River, you’re reading beyond my words.
Ooh, that turns me on - being seen, being heard, being known.
My ex does, too. The same other one. (Knows how much I enjoy service, silly.)
“Not yet” I tell the undulating pool, lapping the edge with her tongue. “Let me get a little hotter.”
I need to reach the point where I can’t take it anymore. I’m not quite there yet, but when I am, I’ll enter her and receive her fully.
“Soon my darling,” I acknowledge her invitation. (You should always acknowledge her invitation or she’ll leave you with yourself, all locked up with your own boring thoughts.)
Soon, I’ll receive her as she drenches me in her waters, washing away the memory of the heat, its edging pain.
Until I’m ready for more - pain - that is.
Pain and pleasure spin me around; dance me deep into the darkened ground. Thrust me up when the blackness pervades; tempt me when light’s insistence offers no relieving shade.
Contrast.
Intense contrast.
I’ve always loved it, craved it, needed it to fuck my cells into ecstasy and rapture or explode my bounds into infinite space - that feeling that has always felt like God to me.
“I need it like people need the razor’s edge.” I told my sweet friend. (She doesn’t know it yet, but she’ll be my maid of honour one day. A nod to her British.)
Aww, isn’t that cute, Hope is here now, too. I have a bit of a chemical romance of love-hate with the Hope fairy, but that’s for another time.
I’ve just awakened to the pattern I’ve had of seeking after intensity. It rapidly revealed itself, as if my life (all 42 years) had presented themselves to me like little marching soldiers all in a row, all in order, all making sense.
“I think I’ve been seeing this intensity that takes me beyond the edge of what I’ve known through experience, external or internal, as love, as God, as coming alive.”
And I crave that fresh rush feeling. Don’t you?
“I think I think intensity is love…like I interlaced them together somehow, but this kind has its pendulum swing, and there’s always a big drop off.”
Enter the breakup.
“He just kicked me over the cliff, tossed me out like I didn’t matter. And two days - only two days - after he said he was in love with me, loved me from the beginning…”
Ooo. Enter the intensity.
I needed it - this time, not like the drug of the past. I needed it to be harder - hard enough to kick some sense into me.
And I finally did. (Spoiler alert - we are always the spirit of love behind our projected antagonist trying to get ourself to see something; look open hearted enough and you’ll see it.)
I think I’ve been seeking the intensity because it somehow meant I was really loved, really desired, that I really mattered and here’s the linchpin - to someone.
But, the pendulum will swing all the way to attention starvation. I’m gonna die from dehydration - dry AF like the Sahara desert. It meant: I wasn’t, I didn’t.
Enter my chemical romance.
Suddenly seeing myself is what made me cry, and realizing why I couldn’t actually ever feel that BIG RADICAL LOVE I’d always wanted. It was ALL I ever really wanted.
“I love big and radical and all the way…why can’t I find someone like me?” (More on why that actually doesn’t work later. It does and it doesn’t. Everything is what it is and it’s also its opposite. See we’re falling now. Stay with me.)
Now - there is someone who loves me like that…and it’s fascinating because I don’t desire him. He doesn’t edge me. You know?
“You should just find someone boring, boring and stable. He may not be exciting, but he will be consistent and he will take good care of you and never leave.” (Advice I internally cringed at from my co-worker. She was both right and wrong.)
My chemical addiction comes online at this advice - visceral and dramatic - so like her.
“But boring is so…Boring! I’ll die!” (Picture her coughing from dehydration on the sand, lifting up a weak hand while mouthing a perfected “help”.)
It literally feels like I’ll die, and it would be a death in some physiological way. My cells so love to be fucked open by that rush.
Have you heard the song “God Needs The Devil”?
Read these lyrics:
I need you like God needs the Devil, honey
Someday soon, this dust's gonna settle
Come real quick and get inside my mind
'Cause when I'm all fucked up, I don't feel no pain
Won't you run to me, run through my veins?
Baby, won't you come and get me high?
Boring doesn’t do that.
“I think my nervous system has been aiming at the wrong thing this whole time. Like it’s really been seeking love thinking it was in the big, bold, all consuming expressions - whether God’s, Life’s or a man’s.” I continue. My friend continues to listen attendingly, spaciously and to the me beyond my words.
1 Kings 19:11-12 -
11 Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.”
Hmmm.
“I think I need to teach my nervous system to aim in the middle of the spectrum - in the stable, consistent.” I externally process with my private coach in another dialogos. (She’s amazing, too, by the way).
All these juicy birthday conversations got deep, so I won’t go into the full explanation about how when you ARE the fullness of your being - unbridled, full-on, yet held as your own impeccable boundaries and how with your internal aim at stable, consistent, full-on presence (not hiding or withholding) then…it’s quite literal magic.
And I won’t explain at length how when you are the fullness of the space of your being - you ARE the intensity ALL the time without the push and pull/the highs and lows/the ecstasy drug with its crash and burn. The edge of expansion without the fall.
And that makes the intensity CONSISTENT, giving it a still point which makes it STABLE and that is hot AF.
I’m turning on just writing about it. My breasts tingle. That’s what I want. I feel my body having a *new* chemical romance.
One I can turn all the way up and never crash, never have to fall off a cliff because it’s everything I’ve ever wanted - EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE.
Because I still want it all, you know? 😉
I’m energetically play smacking you with my hotdog fingers because now I want to wrestle with your essence.
It’s hot 🌶️ here in Playa, so I’m both literally dripping with sweat and figuratively liking the idea of you and me in a mud pit right now. Wanna play?
Alas, the heat has finally taken me over the edge.
I’m panting for Her waters, and She knows it.
It’s time.
🌊
