Presents - Aging Rules Y'all!

I've received several gifts on this birthday already. Woke up at 5:30 a.m. Alone. Ok, the cats demanded some attention. But they know I'm a loner who only do what I'm in the mood for. Ok, not a loner per se. I mean, I'm human, terrestrial, et cetera. Thus, like all of us, I'm inherently social, interconnected and so on. But I'd rather be alone than get poorly triggered.

I plugged into the livestream of the alternative Swiss radio station Kanal K and two fucking appropriate songs played:

1. Cumgirl8 - Simulation

Appropriate because it plays with one of the fundamental thesis of Nexistentialism, which has, vulgarly put, everything to do with cumming. Not huge on the "girl" term to refer to womanhood. "Woman" is always the better choice to speak of adult, grown-up and mature matters pertaining to the female sex. Women can cum forever.

2. Nourished by Time - Daddy

Appropriate for personal reasons.

The list playing this morning is pretty cool overall. What more can I ask for? Good tunes on a solitary Sunday spontaneous writing dawn. My heart is dancing. The other humans and canine of the house sleep peacefully. I can hear the cats' mischief. So what? A beautifiul snowy winter landscape surrounds the house. It smells like Switzerland outside. A song in Swiss dialect comes on. Tears well up within. I feel homesick. But I won't let myself cry, even though I'm alone. Feelings can kiss my ass.

Third gift. 

I signed onto the computer to write this blogpost. I had something different in mind as I sought out this electronic manifestation of creative expression...
"I'm becoming acutely aware of the consequences of my left hip injury due to birthing a very large third child... thanks to yoga ... Harappa ... ancient yogic women's health ... female human nature ... body wisdom for birthing ... body fucking wisdom ... endurance ...."

But when I typed in "nexistential" to get to "Nexistentialism" or "Nexistential Carnival",  my blog did not come up as it usually does. I've checked several times over the years for results to the word "nexistential/ism" and nothing ever comes up in the search except my blog maybe. Or, entries about "existentialism". Today was different. It turns out there is an account called "Nexistential" on x.com. Created in 2008. The same year I started my blog. I started following. It is possible that I saw this Nexistential years ago and dismissed it as insignificant. Well, it does not feel insignificant now. 

I love listening to strange European music, it's one thing I truly enjoyed about living in Berlin, Germany and Brittnau, Switzerland. Thank God for the internet and streaming!

"Endurance" was the word I couldn't think of yesterday at the philosophy club when I was talking about the female orgasm. The Master Philosopher declared 2025 the year for women philosophers. Of course, men will be included. There's no women without men and vice versa. Yesterday, three classical Greek philosopher women were featured. Diotima, Socrate's teacher. Hypathia, the Neoplatonic genius from Alexandria. Aspasia, an influential unofficial Athenean Stateswoman. 

I couldn't help blurt out, "Maybe she was on her period!" as we read the Hypathia quote:

"Reserve the right to think, for even to think wrongly is better than not to think at all." 

I can see this über-intelligent woman lose patience with some random idiot making an asshole comment and telling him off by making it clear that the extent of his stupidity is such, that to think wrongly is better than not to think at all. Hahahahaha. The citation could be profound. It also sounds like a teacher encouraging her students to use their noggin. Think, sutdents, think! For the love of Plato, use your faculties!

The philosophical discussion turned sexual at the squarish round table, which is a good thing. Sex is fundamental to exsitence. I challenged the notion that sex should be tied to youth. In a sexually oppressive cultural context, both women and men may grow up with distorted notions of sexuality. For example, a woman may not discover the extent of her sexual pleasure prowess until beyond maturity*, if at all. Or, capitalist pigs make men feel bad if they don't have a boner twenty-four seven, so they can sell Viagra. In truth, 

Sex is sacred, seasonal and essential.

44. Some scientists seem to have discovered that there are two dramatic moments of aging in humans. One at the age of forty-four and one in the sixties. I Turn 44 today. I'm not sure what to make of this contemporary science finding. Humans attach too much importance to banal and intranscendent things. Like appearance. How many wrinkles, signs of aging? Who cares? Accept it, the body wears out and dies. So what? Enjoy the fucking ride! By the way, enjoyment requires effort, no matter the age. I revisit a poem I wrote a year ago, inspired by aging:

Old Whore / Alte Hure / Vieja Ramera

Giving an authentic, passive grimace
To the mirror,
While applying some make-up,
She knew,
It was not about how she looked,
But about what she could do.

/

Authentisch und passiv ist die Grimasse,
Die sie dem Spiegel schenkt,
Als sie etwas Schminke auf ihr Gesicht schmiert,
Und denkt,
Das Aussehen muss ihr nichts gönnen,
Es geht nur um ihr Können.

/

Un gesto auténtico y pasivo 
De una anciana mirada en el espejo
Poniéndose algo de maquillaje,
Le confirma su reflejo,
No se trata de como se ve,
Solo importa lo que sabe hacer.

Another appropriate song comes on the livestream, "Older and Free" by Denison Witman. 

"Older and Free
To do as I please
Beholden to no one else
For the first time in weeks
...
Oh the sound
The wind as it brushes through the trees
I'ts poetry
Oh the sound
The leaves as they blow out of the trees
It's poetry
Old and Free
Beholden to no one but me ..."

Aging RULES!!! Cheers ya'll! 

*****

Evlution 8

healthy (joyous) proceration => healthy (joyous) progeny despite the suffering birthing bodies experience

*****

Schwanzspicken

Menschliche Ausdehnungskraft

Schwanzkraft

*maturity as a multidimensional category characterized by, in part, biological processes, like completed brain development, prgnancy and birth, mental development, confidence in self, conscious choice, et cetera.

Nexostalgia

A man named Geroge inspired the following poem years ago. George was the muse for many of my musings of the time. Perhaps, I loved him. Perhaps, he loved me. Perhaps, not. We'll never know.

Scarlet Pimpernel (2012) 

Mysterious one,
you're hard to find
with your adventurous
luciferin 
way to shine
You blow my mind
Never to be mine
I love your kind

I dont't recall the reason for the scarlet pimpernel part. It's a flower. Does it grow in the Himalayas? These mountains were very importnant for George. There is also a play that I've never seen with that name. Scarlet pimpernel. I only know it was, for some reason, his.

Many a man received the name of Saint George the dragon slayer. The dragon slayer story is an age-old legend, not merely a Christian tale. Dragons didn't only exist in Ancient China, but in Old Europe as well! I think those kind of stories are not to be taken literally though. No George actually saved a princess from a mean dragon. Except, maybe the dragon of lust. Man slayes woman's fiery cum with dick, fingers, lips, technology or tongue. A story of how man killed lust with pleasure.

On Feminist Realism (part one)

Windy winter leaves that look like summer butterflies.

Had I known pregnancy and childbirth then,
 I may have chosen the petit brunet over the large blond. 

 

I wake up with a sense of depression this holiday season. For personal reasons. Also, planetary reasons. Climate change concerns. Afflictions of a meteoro-, astro-, and sociological nature. Christmas music evokes mini-cheer and boredom. Social connections distract from despair. To look within is to realize that growth tastes like acid. Muscle mass fatigue.

Feeling biologically low often begs the question, am I approaching the bleeding phase of the feminine cycle? Thankfully, I’ve learnt to deal with it better over time. After 30 years of bleeding. I still don’t look forward to it, especially if I’m in the mood for things other than bleeding my days away.

Sociological: political (communal habitat), economic (nature nurture)

Astrological: individual perception embedded within a cyclical universe

Meteorological: all things physical and planetary, like the weather (wind (movement), water (unity), fire (temperature), earth (physical gravity)), et cetera…

As muscle fatigue and growth pain pulses through my body, I wonder how did our human ancestor bodies deal with this transmutational phenomenon (biology)? Muscle soreness. “Muskelkater”, as it is called in German. A “muscle hang-over”. Done too much moving, too much physical partying – and parting from previous patterns for the development of “new” ones.

Did time used to be slow? Everyone is always learning something. The question is, what?

When I had my first real lover, I was nineteen, I loved to lose myself between his legs and gaze at his ball sack. With subtle movements, his testicles, like two peculiar planets, danced gently before my eyes. Hypnotizing me with their mystery. Could men be gods after all? Gods who carry planets with millions of inhabitants. No wonder patriarchy got out of hand with its masculine conceit. What incredible power men do have! However, men’s procreative prowess is laced in vulnerability. Not unlike women, men also require gentle nurture, protection and care.

* * * * *

Been having a hard time putting philosophy on paper, or on the screen. Writing requires concentration. Sometimes, philosophy itself becomes a distraction. Important conversations arise with the lad about research projects. Like discussing why Karl Marx is Hegelian. I have the philosophy club to thank for that question. The lad is working on a presentation about the Communist Manifesto.

Not a Marxist. Autumn 2023

Inspired by my yoga journey, I wrote a manifesto of my own a couple of years ago. Before I became proletarian when I joined the paid work force. My bougie wife life, characterized in part by regular free philosophizing, came to a halt. I had mastered the art of crafting time to think amidst the busyness of my unpaid labor as a homemaking mother. Things changed. Now I’m prole. Bougie turned prole. Marx would be proud.

Suddenly, I feel compelled to go back to a God-experience I had months ago. That blog post I left unfinished and unpublished. I never continued reading Nietzsche, naturally, as I was distracted by other matters.

Like teaming up with the long-limbed lassie in martial arts class to work on a Wing Chun / Jeet Kune Do boxing combo. She obliterated me with her laughter. Making fun … quite frankly, humiliating me, her mother - with love. How could I possibly feel hurt or offended by this holy honest child of mine? Whom I love more than words could ever say! I felt pain but also jolly detachment. Have I never laughed at someone? Have I never misunderstood someone’s struggle to move? Or understood it all too well?

On the way home, she realized that my arms maybe appeared smaller (particularly awkward doing hooks) because of my large breasts? Of course! I told her that the tits are not only in the way of the arms but also affect the twist to load the punch. The additional tit-weight adds force. Breast force. Sometimes, I perceive my tits as a fucking handicap. On a good day, I try to get creative and curious about their potential in moving and training. That day though, I’d just gotten my period. Which makes me antisocial. I need peace and space because I can get easily overstimulated and even overwhelmed. Plus, the breasts are swollen and hurt sporadically. My whole body feels puffy, bloated, heavy, clumsy and soft. Overcome by biolethargy. And the bloody abdominal, lumbar, uterine, vaginal and vulva cramps suck.

Thanks to weekly physical practice with yogic consciousness, my body has evolved since that training incident two and a half months ago. My breasts hang differently now. The shoulder-hip-back-front complex appears to be more integrated at large, the muscles more developed. I found myself ignoring the tits a-jiggling during the most recent sparring session in martial arts class. Of course, the evolution didn’t happen in the last couple of months but in the last several years. To put it in Hegelian terms:

Breast Force -
on the nexus of flesh and gravity

Thesis: Tits pull the torso down.
Antithesis: Muscle strength will fight gravity.
Synthesis: *to be explored* (yoga, ballet, wing chun?) 

I feel compelled to go back to the God-moment that passed. And then turned into another. Now, here we are. So, before we continue with Feminist Realism scientific musings (based in facts, experience), a quick dive into the recent past…

*To be continued*