Tonight, I Get Bitch Slapped By the Moon

I don’t know if y’all are noticing this, but for me it seems like life just keeps speeding up and getting stranger and stranger, more and more connected, more and more intensely entangled.

Perhaps it’s simply the centrifugal force of our current cultural paradigm shift picking up energy and sucking us in to the inevitable Something Else. You know we’ve reached some weird-ass point in human evolution when people are protesting (like, actively protesting, with pickets and signs!) Ryan Lochte’s participation in Dancing with The Stars.

I know, Right? Yes, it actually has come to that!

But in all seriousness, I think many of us sensitive types do feel that we are living in Very Interesting Times, that we are coming to the end of something, or the beginning of something else.  To the end times of one way of being, to the beginning of a different way of living in the world, to what some visionaries call The Great Turning.

I’m not yet so plugged in that I have any definitive idea about what to call it, if, in fact, there IS an “it” going on. I’m not sure what’s going on. But I can feel something happening.

Of course, it could always be a mere personal experience of change that I, with the charming narcissism so prevalent in recent generations, am assuming has global resonance. Whatevs.

But.  Here we are.  And we at BITCH SLAP OF TRUTH are doing are best to bring our people (those “sensitive” types?) something slightly different, starting with an evening event that will mingle more of the Sacred with more of the Profane.

We at BITCH SLAP OF TRUTH love the increasing emphasis on spirituality in our evolving world, but we also adore the comedy, the absurdity, and the sheer magical humor that’s possible when we step out of too much seriousness.

As a demonstration of this dynamic, I’d like to share with you a little moment of spiritual-comedy consciousness that was pretty awesome and I think, if I can manage to do it any justice, you are gonna dig it.


It’s a beautiful evening in early September. Just past midnight or so. A few hours earlier, an unfairly huge juicy orange moon has risen up through the sky, threatening to take all of Colorado prisoner with its mysterious looming beauty. Now, although slightly less mysterious, it’s still hanging out, basking in its own perfection, like, “Hey. Yeah. I’m the Freakin’ MOON, fool. What you lookin’ at?”

The air is crisp, clean, cool but not cold. I’m sitting on my front porch, looking out onto the mellifluous night and the quiet city street below, which is studded here and there with friendly cars, resting like abandoned pets waiting patiently for their owners to stop looking at their computers and GO SOMEWHERE, for God’s sake.

The night is hushed, waiting, lurking with hidden potential, and I am one with this night. I am in an unusual state of mind, or rather, occupying an unusual state of being—one that comes to me every now and then.

This state sometimes shows up in prayer and meditation, and sometimes it shows up in every day life. Sometimes. You know, basically, whenever it f*ckin’ feels like it.  I wish I could manufacture it consistently, but it seems to have a mind of its own.

It has something to do with clearing my consciousness of the Business as Usual Nonsense that tends to go on. You know, those blinders of obligation and busyness and self-importance we tend to wear whenever we forget we’re wearing them.

(Oops.  I just totally forgot again.)

For a moment, sometimes, if I’m very lucky, for many moments in a row, I am free of my story, my past, my identity, my many, many, many, things to do, my many, many, many, reasons for being right, or at the very least, righter than you.

(Well, not righter than you, specifically, Dear Reader, but, you know.  Righter than someone.)

Inside this larger consciousness, I tend to see “myself” quite affectionately. “Ah, that Ellen character—isn’t she something??!! She’s always doing the wackiest things. Like have you heard about this BITCH SLAP OF TRUTH thing?  WTF, mate?”

(Did I mention that earlier I blew off writing the FAQ for the Bitch Slap website so I could watch VH-1’s 100 Greatest Songs of the 00’s? Yeah, I know. But look, do people really need to answers to their questions about the event as much as I need to know the back story behind Kellis’s 2003 “My Milkshake Brings All the Boys to the Yard”?)

But somehow, in this particular state of moon-mystery-being, none of this matters at all.

Nature, we are told, abhors a vacuum. Into the temporary vacuum of my non-judgment, all kinds of strong emotion pour in. I feel myself filling up with something huge, warm, and spacious, something that runs through the center of my chest like bourbon, only better.

I look at the moon with awe, and remember another Giant Moon: a rooftop garden in Athens, Greece, 1987. I am on a European vacation with my high school art class and Bob, who is from Germany, looks up at the spectacular moon looming immediately over our heads and lifts his drink to it, “Moon! You are Yoooge! (translation: “Huge!”)

For those of us present, this becomes a favorite toast for years.

As I sit on my porch, here, in 2016, I am filled with love for that moon of 1987, for the people who were there with me, people who tonight are grown-ups scattered all over the world, grown-ups paying their  mortgages and begging their children to do their homework or to turn off their goddamn iPhones at the dinner table. I am full of love for their houses and their children and for this moon, the moon that floats gently above us all.

Actually, to tell the truth, I am full of love in general. Wow. Where did all this come from? For just this moment I can look on everything around me with astonishment and wonder—all surrounding objects have dropped their ordinary pretense of “hey, yeah, so I’m a tree—big deal.” Instead, they shimmer with clarity and possibility and intention, with the power of something ELSE no longer hidden.

I look and feel more love. Then more love. My love rises up to meet that love and becomes more than that. I am overwhelmed with love, and I must tell someone.

“I love you!” I whisper to the trees, to the moon. “Oh, I love you! I love you!” I whisper to the night, to the planet, to the Universe. I feel all of us—me, the trees, the moon, the night, my old friends, Bob, the children and their homework and their iPhones—all of us pulsing together as one fluid heartbeat: “I love you! I love you! I love you!”

At this exact moment, a lone car shoots past on the street below.

A man is yelling at someone on a cell phone, his window open. “I hate you, you f*cking bitch!”

I love this. It is perfect.

I love this man for providing the perfect point of contrast to all this love—and for allowing me to observe that this love is large enough to include the man and his anger and obscenities. I love that the Universe brought us together at this precise intersection of each of our emotional lives.

“I love you too, you f*cking asshole!” I say to the man, now long gone down the street. “I love you! I love you! Thank you! I hope you and your girl make up!”

It’s always possible that things didn’t turn out too well for them—things often don’t for people when we talk like that.  Still, in my present mood, I’m pretty sure they made up. After all, there’s a lot of love available, some of it from sources you would not expect.

And that right there, that’s a BITCH SLAP OF TRUTH.

This evening event showcasing 6 Denver experts (and one hilarious Emcee!) in spiritual/personal development is:

  • A unique opportunity to gather in with like-minded visionary women (and a few brave men) who also love to laugh.
  • Like going to a TED Talks evening, but funnier, edgier, more irreverent and raw.
  • A chance to see a new perspective and experience a startling breakthrough in something important to you.
  • A great choice for a memorable girls’ night out!
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