turning off the filter

I’ve been thinking a lot about taboos. The power of these unspoken rules about what is deemed acceptable to acknowledge and discuss. To avoid awkwardness, discomfort, offence, to stay in connection, for safety, and likely to avoid some other unknown consequences.

Just because the topics we deem verboten aren’t being discussed openly doesn’t mean they aren’t there at the edge of every conversation, nonetheless. I think the less we address these elephants, the more power we give them and the more they come out sideways.

I’ve realized recently that part of my process of unmasking has been looking these arbitrary, but loaded subjects dead in the eyes. I think part of this is growing up with conservative Christian parents while also generally struggling to track all the abstract, opposing and shifting societal rules and social temperatures. First of all, it’s a lot of energy and, second, my brain doesn’t always get subtlety.

Growing up I was made to feel that I should just know to avoid all flagged topics without being told what, in fact, they were. I think a lot of us are. If no one is supposed to talk about them, how do we get any clarification? So we learn how to avoid, evade, downplay. Probably after learning the hard way what we’re allowed to acknowledge and what will lead to disconnected or shame.

So what are some of these taboos? Top of mind: money, death, sex, mental health, big inconvenient feelings, probably anything related to bodies (odours, physical changes, puberty, genitals), to name a few. All the most juicy of subjects, let’s be honest. The real real. There were also vaguer, nebulous things that I couldn’t quite predict. Subjects that my parents didn’t agree with like sexuality beyond hetero, gender exploration (though awareness around this was extremely limited generally in the 80s/90s in Toronto), evolution, yoga, certain tones of voice, and numerous other things I couldn’t quite name but worked hard to steer around in certain company.

Now the way I internalized it all, through the lens of my experience with neurodivergence, may not entirely have been the intention of the adults and community around me. What I do know is that I became extremely vigilant about how I could express safely and this extended into different spaces with my peers where the rules shifted perceptibly. If I didn’t know what the subtext meant, but others seemed to, I would act like I got it because questions were too exposing and may lead to stepping on a landmine I couldn’t see. Likely similar to the reason the adults around me enforced the vow of silence on subjects we shall never address. And if I didn’t get it, that was definitely some major irreparable shortcoming on my part. So pre-google, I would live in my ignorance in hopes I wouldn’t be found out. And some things simply aren’t google-able. Subtext, for one. Direct questions about topics were risky business. Unfortunately, if you can’t ask clarifying questions and it’s dangerous to not know, than you make a shit ton of assumptions. There is also this rather inconvenient side effect of thinking that there are only to options: perfection or parish.

Ok maybe not parish, but giving up for sure.

A few years back, this masking and contorting had reached the point where I felt so deeply disconnected from my authentic self, it was hard to even see all the beauty right in front of me. I was operating so much from the external lens of confusing rules even in my most private moments. I didn’t know how the hell to turn it off or who the heck I was at my centre outside of these sources of approval and validation.

I suppose with that in mind, it’s no wonder that this many year’s long journey towards myself would have me confronting the big bad social taboos that started it all. Or at the very least, played a supporting role. Some examples off the top of my head? I have been avoidant with money and it has not served me well. Understatement of the century. Not knowing how to talk about death has meant that I have not been the support I wish I had been in my younger years to people I love in their own grief and it has also meant taking for granted life’s fragility. And sex. Well. I’m still learning what I like and how to ask for what I need. And the body stuff has been an ongoing journey of acceptance and compassion and sharing and it’s own kind of grief. In fact, I’d say they all have asked me to do quite a lot of grieving.

On the astrological side of it, the timing makes a ton of sense in my life. My north node is in the 8^th house in Gemini. What does that mean? Well, the north node is a point in our charts that marks what we are evolving towards in this lifetime. Where our soul wants us to grow and heal. It will likely be an area that feels sticky for us and hard to face. One astrologer I adore, Jessica Lanyadoo, often talks about how typically we don’t come into our north node until around 40 and I must say it rings true for me. I know this is the long game and by no means do I have it figured out, but I can see now why I need to look there. That I’m ready and readying myself for the next layer. Why taboos? Well, the 8^th house is literally the house of other people’s money, sex, death and taboos. Bit on the nose, no? And it’s also the house of transformation. Gemini is a sign associated with many things, but what rings most true in this moment for me is communication, curiosity, and community.

What is my favourite taboo to chat about currently, you ask? Recently I was joking (not joking) with a friend that my current special interest is sex and it’s not far off. Perhaps at its root it’s women’s sexual embodiment and self-expression and what, as a society, we miss/dismiss. My obsessive romantasy/romance/smut reading has resulted in not only more pleasure, but also a lot of questioning around how we view women’s pleasure and the role it plays in our life force, health and empowerment far beyond the bedroom. What is missing and how to access and ask for what I want and need has been so multifaceted. It has been so fascinating how quickly all those rules began the fall away as I unlocked these parts of myself. How arbitrary they seem, but also suffocating, restrictive, confusing and unnecessary. Because they are made up! How deeply they have lived in my body and run the show in many ways, without even knowing it. Layers I’ll be untangling, perhaps, for the rest of this lifetime.

What would a world be without these restrictive constructs? How might that feel in our bodies? Would there be more space for grief, pleasure, connection? Less space for fear and shame? Perhaps if we weren’t all operating half blind around resources (how to get them, keep them, grow them), we wouldn’t all be clutching to what we have with such ferocity. Maybe we would be content with less and share far more. What do we lose when we control and filter the subjects we most need to educate around?

I don’t have all the answers, but I know how it feels begin to release myself from the strongholds of these societal rules of engagement. It feels easier to be honest, freer, I have access to so much more compassion for myself and others. I am able to be more present, curious, messy and embodied.

It doesn’t mean I won’t offend someone out in the world with far fewer filters, but that’s not my main motivator anyway. Not anymore. I can speak without a filter and do it with kindness and respect. I can’t control how I am received, but I trust that you can set your own boundaries if I’m not your cup of tea. If my current fixations are not really your thing. But I can’t shrink anymore to uphold the rules of a system I don’t really want to perpetuate.