Yeah on Creek bed mud and clay!!
Stupid/inspiring story: I was on mushrooms once, and somehow the consistency of the mud and my mindset was perfect and I just started painting my arms. (**Later I decided to take a shower ot remove it and called in “washing the hippi off”. In the end, I think that said more about underlying embarrassment with it than any “lameness”.) It was bautiful. Mud feels cool and rad. And I somehow made some awesome swirly designs that were wonderful.
Lately I’ve been trying to celebrate and reconnect with my body in major ways (Basically because it’s been given a good weathering lately and it needs some love). I’m finding make up is a cool way to do this and not necesarily self-exploitive. (I did read recently in Ms. that the sociologists are catching on stronger to the fact that women tend to see themselves through other’s eyes constantly, causing major pain.) It’s also a cool ritual. I’m finding that since I gave up working and school and my schedule’s in flux, makeup is a good way to tell yourself you are starting the day. In the end there are no clearcut answers. I can still love my body, and use it for physical labor, and flaunt it. ~H