Love may be a burrito, but amusement is a latex burqa

Latex Burqa

Um. How can I not love these folks? Brilliance.

So its been a few days of roller coaster, phsycially, romantically, emotionally. Body challenges, infections, new meds, new dogs, love tackles and uphevals, people seriously returning to my world, and more… but today, having woken up after 2 or 3 hours of sleep, long conversations of truth into the night and so many more this morning… a truth was revealed.

A Colar is not a Collar.


This is not a pipe.

This lead into a stack of existentialism meets surrealist kinky boddisatva. The truth- life not knowing my own brain has been terrifying for me. Front Lobal and Temporal lobe epilepsy (the stuff thats been the major thing in the last month that knocked out my SF trip). Testosterone shifting not just my body but my brain on some levels that offend my feminist history. My emotional and psycological brain stuff. I may now recognize me in the mirror, but I don’t recognize many of my own choices, desires, and in short, my own brain.

But the last few days led to a few boddisatva truths emerging from my scull.

The first is the one above.

I’ve been drawn to this specific piece, and Magritte in general for much of my life. I keep coming back full circle to Magritte, Ducasse, Duchamp, Tzara, Breton, Miro, Dali (after I learned not to hate his capitalism, which I guess is part of my evolutions in life)… but today I truly felt another revelation in this piece.

A pipe does not care if we call it a pipe. It will continue forward in its pipe-like nature whether we call it a pipe or a prang. If everyone else calls it a prang and we call it a pipe it makes neither party wrong. If our understanding of pipe looks nothing like their understanding of pipe neither party is wrong.

Indeed, we as humans are creatures seprated by a supposedly common language. A word said that means a different eperience to the person who hears it that the person who said it has lead to war, pain, broken hearts and more. When I say prang, do you hear pipe based on your experience of life? When I say pipe are you revulsed outright because your life of pipe and my life of pipe are so divergent or put through such amazingly different filters? If this is not a pipe, what is? What makes a pipe real, or not a prang?

So, why not for love?
for a collar?

Thus, a collar is not a collar.

Its not.

We breathe.

And dream of mission burritos, love, and latex burqas.

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Lee Harrington

Lee Harrington is an internationally known sexuality, relationships, and personal authenticity educator. Having taught in all 50 states and in 6 countries, he brings a combination of playful engagement and thoughtful academic dialogue to a broad audience. An award-winning author and editor on gender, sexual, and sacred experience, his books include “Traversing Gender: Understanding Transgender Journeys,” and "Sacred Kink: The Eightfold Paths of BDSM and Beyond," among many other titles. He has been blogging online since 1998, and been teaching worldwide since 2001. Welcome to his world, and your chance to expand your mind and heart alike.

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