In Which Carnita Visits the Commune and Writes the Usual Letter That Will Not Be Sent

I am listening to organ fugues and solo cello concertos by Bach. Mmmm...

In a "why I like you" letter to Peter that I will most likely keep to my little self, I wrote yesterday (after returning from my visit to the intentional community where he lives):

[...] In no particular order, and in the knowledge that this is all very young, a few of the things that I adore about you and relating with you so far:


> The contagious effect of your comfort in your own skin--your way of shamelessly seizing, moment-to-moment, the experiences that you desire and value.

> The ease with which you seek and gain trust that is clearly deserved. Existing next to you, I feel naked. And let me tell you, the air outside of all that shame we are taught is crisp and inviting. You carry that air with you. If for some reason you decided tomorrow that sharing space with me isn't what you want or need, I would nonetheless feel incredibly grateful for your influence at this time of accelerated growth and metamorphosis in my life. Your intentions are something I know I can trust, regardless of the outcome of the relationship. I welcome that sort of energy because it helps to crowd out more chaotic varieties. I know that I cannot "protect" myself completely from needy, not-entirely-sane, or spiritually sick people because my life's purpose has much to do with helping them. But interacting with you has been a potent reminder that I need people in my life whose companionship represents trusting bonds with like-minded peers [....]

> Your highly individualized and refined balance of masculine and feminine essence. Without letting to much judgment enter the discourse (cuz Lawd knows I am an ally for trans liberation and whatnot), sometimes I have to wonder if some of my genderqueer and trans friends sell themselves short by missing out on the deeply spiritual significance of gender beyond body politics, questions of "presentation" and "passing" and "privilege," and the preoccupation with social identity. All of these things are important and present some radically liberating perspectives on the construction of gender; nevertheless, all of these discourses have in common that they never transcend the ego as the site of liberation. In this way, truth will always remain a question of social, cultural, and psychological relationships. I believe that if some of these friends of mine were to endeavor to imagine a realm beyond identity politics that speaks to a deeper truth about the ineffable relationship between embodiment as biologically sexed and socially gendered creatures with the dynamic interplay of energies in the cosmos (and the sub-atomic and cellular and and and)...well, I believe that if they would do this, they might find themselves living in greater abundance and balance and self-love. I experience you as a person who has that shit down.

While sexuality certainly isn't the only sphere in which this balance and dynamic interplay counts, it just as certainly does present a dramatic living metaphor, no matter the gender or sex of those involved. And this brings me to my point: sex with you feels almost genderless. My queer friends want a genderless society, but I wonder if any of them have experienced fucking a spiritual androgyne. (I have! And wow!) Perhaps if they did, they could calm down a bit, relax some tension in their poor shoulders that are perpetually harassed by anger, and stop bristling like cornered raccoons every time someone gets their preferred pronoun wrong. [...]

> Of course, ohmygawd, your lovely body. I imagine that you'll indulge me an animal metaphor here: your beauty strikes me as an equine sort. Running my fingers over the soft turgidity of your perfectly chiseled hipbones, your skin sortof shudders, almost imperceptibly, the way a horse's skin seems to crawl out from under a fly's legs. Unlike the befuddled fly, however, this subtle shiver just makes me want to have you in my mouth even more. If I'm ever upset and you need me to chill the fuck out, just unzip your pants and push my head under the table...

Speaking of which, the idea of you ordering me around is really fucking hot. How would you like to try being handed absolute power for a day? Do you think you could handle it? I certainly believe in you. My whole problem with experimenting with dominance games and role play in the past is probably pretty typical for strong women who desire to submit: it takes someone pretty special to make me believe it at all. You, on the other hand, could be an authority I can get behind...or on top of, or under, as the case may be. Any preposition in combination with any verb you desire, really, as long as it involves the imperative mood. (See, grammar can be sexy...)

That basically explains a lot of it. I had a fantastic time hanging out in the woods with Peter this weekend. We had dinner with people from his communal house, hopped in a sauna, had lots and lots of beautiful sex in a tiny cob cabin, took a little hike up into a gorgeous woodland holler, had more beautiful sex, talked a lot, and said hasta luego.

More later if I have time. Life is lovely and busy and wild right now!