I'm hesitant - I'm not
I'm smellable - I'm snot
I'm refusing 2 - B hot
I'll be lessy instead

~my poetic walkout marker
Missed Handkerchief Nite 

Lessy Shame Walkout

I’m not hot because I’m a researcher. We are not the walk the red carpet group. I’m not against that group. Butt I am no longer for cosmetic beauty WITHOUT its NUDY component: purity of mind, not ingredients.

NUDY is listening ~ NUDY is siddhic listening ~ NUDY is awareness

{purity of mind??? NO MEANS NO EVERY TIME. including messy old waitresses not waiting to be cherry picked by influence in order to shine}

Last night, bussing back from New York City on a glorious Greyhound (no longer), I stepped into embodied wisdom. I think it was my first conscious rodeo…aware I had stepped. Or, not stepped…Onto a Chelsea street block.

Instead of stepping unheeding into misplaced sentimentality, I said no. I did not go down that same street. (street physical, embodied metaphysical)

May I? I need your patience. I do not have support to keep writing on this momentous step RECOGNIZED as knowledge. So, I won’t. I will share the NUDY sun photo I took. Read the caption?

After the shortest round of processing I’ve ever recalled, I leapt. Last night riding the bus, I changed this blog’s subheader from this to this —

my messy shame walkout (August – October 30, 2026) became my lessy shame walkout. I am feeling this MESS sooooo much less! So messy middle? I celebrate you…becoming less! No one’s permission needed.

Something about not taking that Chelsea street block KNOCKED me into knowing. No, not knowledge. Embodied knowing. As in mystery walking, as in why YOU COME TO ME for knowledge. As in WISDOM, as in YIN as both knowing (I know) and wisdom (I don’t know). <<<Thanks to the poet Rudd who lead my stray back onto the path of not/knowing.

I’m preparing for a major post next year on cosmetic beauty and misaligned influence. NOT as fuck you; as consequence. I took this trip while so incredibly sick. I know only my gifts walk me out. What I mean? Researchers report on their findings. There is zilcho at a state level for women with old Commanda R instances, meaning advocacy for their restorative justice. I have to make it up.

I refuse to attack

I’m revoking. I’m walking out. No makeup. What is known (media advocacy as my breath) and unknown (self-esteem with men). This blog is what it is BECAUSE I had nothing else to guide me out. If it sounds like research? That’s because researching is my mind’s breath. Like peace organizing, I cannot NOT do it. Big difference from the misleading pressure existing under the big top in the BIG BIG.

I’m done being a victim in this field of shame fighting what I cannot see ~ I do not have to marry this mess and make it “my calling” to help others. I don’t have to have a program called from mess to less, butt you help yourself to it.

I’m not against women. I know they are not listening. Just like old messy me. 86-old MJ!

Wear the Out Batteries

This shame walkout of mine still ‘qualifies’ as mess. Messy, messy shame. Don’t I, don’t you, need a sunray of HOPE? hope came to me in Chelsea, I received it, I held it ’til I became it. Now here I am, sharing it.

THAT’S how I hold it. Sharing~!

I share that walking changes things. That shame confrontation is survivable. That no one need brand nor microphone to have their Commanda R count.

Here’s to wearing out the batteries on messy shame programming. In this void, I hold a future where culture of NUDY becomes EARNED on the inside. Where together we are lessy~

(((A)))