Susan Senator

I just got back from coffee with a friend, a mom at my kid’s school. B. is a kind and generous person. She is very centered and knows what she’s about, which is what draws me to her, because I crave people like that, not being one myself. (She threw me a book reading/party last year which was just beautiful; just the right kind of hors d’oeuvres and flowers, etc. Warm and fun, too.)

B. lives in my neighborhood, and has one of the most magnificent houses I have ever seen. Hers makes my house look like the carriage house! It is a mansion originally built for Storrow, as in Storrow Drive, in Boston. The grounds were designed by Frederick Law Olmsted. of Central Park design fame. My friend has restored many aspects of the home to its original style, with coordinating layers of William Morris wallpaper, dark woodwork, sliding pocket doors, and kitchen with vaulted, coffered ceiling.

We got to talking about what we are up to these days — our boys are not really seeing each other anymore, they run in different circles and classes these days; the third grade set is a really good group of kids with very diverse interests — so we had a lot of catching up to do. B. is kind of a kindred spirit in that she is the first of the moms at my school who got a henna tattoo on her upper arm, which meant “wild woman” in Japanese. It was brown and the Kanji was very beautiful. It kind of set me free, seeing that. I joked to her then, “Oh, maybe I’ll go get a navel piercing, ha ha ha.”
She said, “Sure, why not? But do you really think you can lift up your shirt among all those teenagers at the mall to get it?”
Hmmm….
It took me months, but I finally did have the courage to do that. But that was after going through some really bad emotional turmoil this summer, and finally realizing that the only way out of the turmoil was to get through it — and to find a new way of focusing my energy. That is why I plunged into belly dance. Belly dance was my ticket out of suffering over a very terrible thing that happened to me. It was the only thing that could help me not only forget, but to affirm myself, the good and happy side of me. Belly dance was/is something I could do by myself, rather than something I had to rely on others for. There was no possibility of being let down with belly dance because I was in charge of it, I was doing it myself, for myself.

So three weeks ago I went and got the piercing, after researching all aspects of it, from safety to germs to pain to healing. I found a place I was comfortable going to. I asked the young man, “Am I the oldest person who has come in for this?” And he said, “Well, you’re not the youngest person I’ve had come in!” Love at first sight.

After it was done — not much pain, only pressure, which he warned me about — I felt I had done something momentous. For me, it was like a physical reminder of what was important: being centered. This bit of jewelry is right in my center, my core, and I can always feel it, the Mark of the Goddess. It tells me that I am a good person and that I know how to care for and nurture myself. I have to stay focused and remind myself of the good in life, which I can get from something within, something I do, and not necessarily from others.

I showed my friend the piercing and she was so happy for me. She knew exactly what this meant to me. She then offered to host my first “coming out” party, where I would dance publicly for our friends in her wonderful home. “Oh, we’ll have Middle Eastern food, that kind of thing.” My heart leapt with joy. I could really see doing it, and B. was going to make it possible, in such a classy and warm way.

Now I just have to get to a point where I feel completely confident of my dancing — and body. That is going to take more than a little bit of navel jewelry!