Sunday, February 25, 2007

Soft Belly

a poem on writing practice
by Jennifer Browning

Click.
Rustle.
Scratch and scribble.
The ring of the bell.
The breath in.
The breath out.
The smell of coffee.
And paper.
And ink.

A prompt.
A sword to the heart.
Soft belly open to possibility.
Bleeding on the page.
Real life.
Real death.
Real writing.

Like blue faced Picts
facing the hordes
we rush forward
fear inspiring our courage
brandishing only a pen
for battle
for defense
for life.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Belly Story

From a belly buddy...

I had a fun belly moment last night:

I was cooking and my fella was there standing behind me with his hands wrapped around my back. He was playing with my belly roll ... tapping it rhythmically and squeezing it and such.

In the past I wouldn't have been able to stand this because of how much shame I have had about that part of my body. Last night was different though.... I actually felt comfortable while he was doing it: empowered, even if just for a few moments.

He was being playful and laughing as he did it, and eventually his laughter triggered me and I blurted out, "Hey, now, don't be squeezing my beautiful bodacious belly and laughing while you do it!"

I noticed myself wanting to collapse into a victim energy because of the old emotional charge I have had about my belly, but I didn't. His reply? He smiled and said, "Why can't I? Your belly makes me happy ... and I think it is really cute."