I told you trouble was around the corner. Welcome to CURIOSITY. This is the word that renewed and invigorated and propelled me from stuck to living. This word is the sweet spot of rediscovery. It is filled with all of the mess that you would expect from someone that knows not one ounce of chill. If I’m going exploring, I’m going. Big. Is there any fun in doing anything small? I think not…

Travis and I have been caught up in a true, big energy wrestling match that goes all the way back to the days of good ol’ 90s country fun. When I think about the defining country voices from my past, this is a master class. The number of times that I have used his advice to throw a quarter and encourage someone to phone a new friend is countless. There is just something that makes my big energy jump out of the speaker with Mr. Tritt. I love you Clay. Clint and JMM will always be near the top. But Travis meets the big me. And there is no song that can remind me that I’m here for the discovery like “T-R-O-U-B-L-E.”

One of the most confusing and complicated parts of my reconstruction has been making peace with my body. There is nothing that can wreck your self-image, sexuality, relationship to food, desire to exercise and even clothing choices like years and years of purity culture bullshit. It has ruined my ability to look in the mirror and see beauty. I’ve spent so many years feeling like my body was sinful. Initially, it was the need to not cause my brothers to stumble. I then swallowed the lie that my body belonged to someone else. I’ve spent years and years turning off what I now know are healthy, normal and very fun feelings of curiosity.

This song is a reminder of 1992- the height of me trying to put a quick run of curiosity right back into the youth group approved level of acceptable behavior. And the right clothing. And a hair cut and not too much makeup. It all mattered. Make yourself beautiful for a man, but not too pretty that you are tempting. Dress “cute” but not for attention. Make sure you don’t show cleavage or a collar bone. Those pesky collar bones…

Just play the intro to this song. And turn that baby up. Because this song has helped me curiously find new space. I LOOOOVE the reckless, untamed sound of this song. I can imagine the boot sliding and amazing dancing of those that know how to want a good dancing lead’s hands all over their Roper pocketless jeans.

I love to dance. Notice I didn’t say I was good at dancing, but I love it. One of the reasons that I have not fully embraced all that I’m now finding is that a freed body is not allowed in the world I lived in. Sure, dance in your kitchen. Dance with your husband. But don’t look trashy. And don’t let him touch you like THAT…

This song is the gasoline on my need to take my body back. It’s the ‘I don’t care what you think if I walk in the bar (or store or airport or living room) in my painted on jeans and long hair attitude to match the mood’ middle finger to all the times that I’ve felt that I couldn’t physically bring all of me to the table. It’s a new kind of something. And I like it.

The word curious has been so much harder to digest than self-discovery, excavation and quiet. It requires laying down the things I knew for the sake of meeting someone new. It requires me to be open to ideas that have been forbidden and scary. There is no curiosity without risk. Not when you have come from the world where the curious spirit is not celebrated. Creative? That’s the work of the Lord, but curious is a beast of danger. She is wild and does not censor her insides. She and I have dated for the last few years, but we decided to have a committed relationship this year. Let’s just say I’ve learned that there is more love in the land of the curious than I could have ever hoped for. So, let’s stay for the week and see what we find.