Love Dogs from 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧 by Lyndsey Scott

This song courts the shadows that collide where our sensual and spiritual freedom want to come out of hiding.

“𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨.” ― 𝘙𝘢𝘮 𝘋𝘢𝘴𝘴

Inspired by this Ram Dass quote, this song was born in an airport. This small town girl feels immense wonder wandering the gates, shamelessly staring…… basking in the liminal space between departure and arrival, people-watching more flavors of human in an hour than I typically behold in months. The first layer dropped in as I enjoyed this meditation, waiting for my plane, beholding G*d in each being, curious about their story, their pain, their dreams.

Building on this invitation of wonder, can I also welcome in the political history of drag culture and honor the sacred bravery and soul force of those who have embodied their sensual fullness in a society that criminalized this freedom? What can I learn from them? How do I honor them? How do I see and lift up those who are doing this work now?

The second layer came later, and inspired the title for Tony (A-Rhodd)’s substack**, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙚 ("I hold the pain & beauty of surviving inside the U.S. prison system. I let my words wrestle with and lead me back to my full & complex humanity.") A foundation for our ongoing outside-inside conversation is the shadow work required for abolitionist practice — the skill to hold our own darkest places, and so grow the capacity to hold each others’. Do I dare know the real you? Welcome both your glorious sage and your terrible monster? Can i hold your wHole? Do I dare bare mine?

The third part comes like the pot boiling over — giving voice to the longing and maybe even the repressed or ravenous parts of ourselves we can let loose through voice. I found a playground to cycle between the constriction of “coolness” and the erotic/chaotic aliveness that comes when the aspects of us that have been damned or estranged finally receive Welcome.

The song was titled by this poem which names my sacred longing to grow up to be a holy fool:

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘨𝘴 (𝘣𝘺 𝘙𝘶𝘮𝘪)

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨,
“𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘩, 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘩!”
𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨,
𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘢 𝘤𝘺𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥,
“𝘚𝘰! 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶
𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳
𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦?”
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
𝘏𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱.
𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘒𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴,
𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬, 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦,
“𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨?”
“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴
𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.”
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮
𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱
𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘱.
𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧.
𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

In the exploration of this 3rd layer, the full-on Love Dog moan, I let my jaw work the tension between the contained HOLLA and the wholehearted ALLAH. I let myself feel the newness of tasting on my tongue a name for the Divine from a tradition not my own…. “Is this ok?” I let myself feel the willingness to make mistakes in the pursuit of truth. I let myself ache for my human family by trying on their syllables for the most sacred longing. (In the past months, praying “Allah” in this way, with this tension, with this devastating longing, is when my heart was most able to break open to feel toward those experiencing genocide in Gaza. Fall to my knees pray-then-act to show up alongside their cries for mercy, justice, and liberation.)

I don’t suggest you sing these words unless they tell you to. Instead I offer to you the inquiry, the syllables, to explore your own voice, jaw, glottis, throat, shadows —---what wants to open and be loosed in your being? What wants to move to make more space for your true, free, unfettered Love?

** https://anthonyrrhodd.substack.com/

(she/her) is an artist-goofball-yintennae devoted to priestesSing the Heartland, (lit & fig).  Weaving community singing as a "technology of Belonging," she gathers soul circles that decompose oppressive scripts thru Song, ritual, & heart-share. Her jams get you skippin easily between the sacred, sexy, and silly: your inner child, exiled banshee, + wise elder are all very invited to the party 😘

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