Breaking Boundaries

Will You Get The Thing Or Not? (An Essay)

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It’s not true that once you clear the matter, you automatically get the thing.

You clear the matter and see that it was never about the thing in the first place.

You clear the matter and know you’ll be good with or without this thing (or any other thing you misperceive you need / ‘deserve’ / are entitled to) because there’s no longer any weight attached to it.

And…

Sure you might get the thing.

In spades.

Or something else entirely.

Beyond what you could have imagined.

But only IF / when / how it’s true for your being.

Something you can’t control.

Ultimately, you’re always getting exactly what’s true for you anyways.

Like clockwork every step of the way.

Regardless AND because of the matter.

Which means that matter can’t stop you from getting what’s yours

because you’re never not getting precisely that.

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A Little Switcheroo (An Essay)

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As of late, I’ve been floating further away from form.

And last night it became clear that the platform / vehicle through which I was intending to showcase my upcoming collection, was no longer a fit.

Any sense of restriction,

containment,

management,

anything based on time…

any reliance on another or a thing in any way…

feels too dense / too heavy / too cluttered for me.

I need things as light and seamless and Mandy as can be.

And…

I’ve created so much art and beauty this year.

So much went on behind the scenes.

So much that’s been waiting for the perfect home.

I can’t wait to bring you up to speed.

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The Players Are Interchangeable (An Essay)

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Even as I write about men,

it’s not about them.

How could it be?

They’re my very own creation.

Birthed from the core of me.

And the quality of my experience with them (or anything else in my life) is never about, or dependent upon, them or another.

The dynamic is impersonal.

The players are interchangeable.

Because it’s all just energy, baby.

Who and what’s being presented as I play my own game is never about the specific person or thing.

They’re just the vessels through which I explore Mandyland.

The playground that has no rules.

And every single piece,

I’ve orchestrated for myself.

Brilliantly.

Effortlessly.

Whether I like what I see or not.

I’m curating all of it - no exceptions - to sharpen the blade of me.

Which is why even in the midst of this beauty,

I’m not attached to any of it.

I don’t ‘hope’ it continues.

I don’t believe this is as good as it gets.

Because I know that the energetic quality,

the purity of me and all that I create,

is increasing constantly.

Exponentially.

There’s always more for me.

And I know that all I ever have to do is be Mandy,

just Mandy,

for life to shape itself beautifully,

seamlessly,

around,

within,

and through me.

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Devoted To Truth; Not Another (An Essay)

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I’m sure I’ll be what’s considered ‘single’ for the rest of my life.

I’m not made to be in what most would view as a ‘relationship’, no matter what I’m experiencing with another (or others).

How could I ‘commit’ to a fellow human (insane).

To anything of this world.

My devotion is to my own evolution.

And to the truth of the moment I’m in.

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Truth Being Played Out (An Essay)

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While talking with the fellow about our recent ‘disconnect’ (which is not how I experience it; it’s just truth being played out moment to moment):

Me: “You felt like I left?”

Him: “I never felt like I had you in the first place. You’re a mystery to me.”

Me: “Well, no one’s ever ‘had’ me. But you’ve had more of me than most.”

(Peep the Poem)

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It Needed To Be Broken (An Essay)

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Kristen: “Will it break him if you don’t see him again?”

Me: “I don’t care. I don’t think of it. I just go scene to scene.”

I know how my detachment appears.

But attachment isn’t natural to the being.

It’s lodged in a story of some sort.

Meaning.

Matter.

Past.

Another.

It’s not that I don’t care about other people or what they go through.

It’s that I don’t care how their human is affected by me being Mandy.

I don’t take another into account when I make my moves.

Why would someone else have anything to do with what I know I must do?

Shall I factor in everyone I know and the world at large while I’m at it?

Give me a fucking break.

If something breaks, then good.

It clearly needed to be broken.

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The Refusal To Stay Where It's False (An Essay)

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my NO with him only adds to the turn on

without that being my incentive to honour it

all i know in a moment is not this

what he does with that is not my business

not my ‘problem’

not a consideration at all

and yet

what he’s done with each zig and zag of me

has been heavenly

so dreamy

and

as i continue to ride each edge

making the entrance point more narrow

more pristine for the god in me

what awaits me on the other side of that perpetual sharpening

is the more that can’t be tasted

the more that can’t be felt

were i to choose to just deny myself

and abandon what is true

and it’s that whittling down to nothing

that refusal to stay where it’s false

that devotion to truth in each moment

(no matter what happens as a result)

that creates a vortex for the ALL

the ALL that can’t be named

the ALL beyond my wildest dreams

the ALL that’s sourced from NO

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Sex vs SEX (An Essay)

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in the middle of the night

he and i had a lovely conversation about sex

and not surprisingly

based on how we met and how things are unfolding

we share a similar view on play

sex (penetration) for the sake of sex

hits no true spot

but the experience of SEX

that has no beginning, no middle, no end

that may or may not include penetration

that may or may not include touch or a release

that is not marked separate from a ‘non-sex’ event

(because it’s alllll SEX, baby)

that is where the magic is

that is what arouses more than a particular position or body type

than a pre-determined set of preferences

than a vibe of ‘this worked on her last time so i’ll just do that again’

because SEX is a dance in the NOW

(Peep the Mandy Bite)

so you can’t bring a (past) thing with you

nor can you aim for something else

you must make each move from exactly where you are

without leaving where it’s fresh and alive and new

without ever leaving YOU

because true SEX is beyond the physical

the body is just the vessel through which you play

endlessly

truthfully

fluidly

to more

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Ride and Die (An Essay)

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“What a fucking RIDE. Playing with you is unlike anything out there. Potent. Immediate. Not for the faint of heart.”

Last night’s treat in my inbox.

My spot always gets hit when I’m playing with a fellow rider.

Because fellow riders are the only ones who viscerally get what I’m throwin’ down.

I am of no use to those who want safety, time, solutions, support.

Those who are still looking to me or to others for more content to consume.

For something or someone else to attach to, to believe in, to become a superfan of.

My types are the ones who simply want to play with what’s alive right now, regardless of what does or doesn’t happen.

When you’re ready for THAT thrill,

let’s ride.

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