Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Lost in translation?

Is great sex - really powerful, to the core openness, healing, ravishing sex -- a myth?

"You might have better luck with your little electric buddy," a friend IM'd me.

I reassured her that the vibrator can only do so much. There's so much more to expansive sexual experiences than batteries. There's a cosmic powered energy party of two involved.

The mythic realm, like dreams, don't translate well -- as they are free of the limitations of time and space. While ever expanding sexual tussles with an adept partner can warrant the arrest of the space-time continuum in mythic proportions, it is at the same time a lived expression of love felt to the fullest - an experience that may defy the limitations of a lexicon, but not the speechless language of the open heart.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

A new first

She received a new body for her 28th birthday, and she wanted to christen it with all she had dreamed of.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Wishful thinkin

It was one of those emailed get to know you questionaires from a friend... 30 questions of get to know you to be exact.

She paused at question 20: 

If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

She thought for a second, fully pondering what the most blissed out thing could be in the next life. And then it hit her.

'the lover of Johnny Depp...' she typed.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Crimson hoody

Before she stepped out for an evening walk, she grabbed her sweatshirt from the chair and pulled it over her head. The familiar feel of her hoody was redolent of the night prior, where he had placed his jacket over it. She breathed in deep and stepped out in the crunchy fall air, walking on cloud nine.

Napkin notes 2.0

"We should make you some dating cards," I said to her. "You know, with your number and stuff on it, and you can hand it out to your potential suitors."

Sunday, September 21, 2008


A question arose about the meaning of the word "Canoodle" during a most recent round of Cranium. Since the meaning was tangential to the game, though we all took a guess, it was put on the list of things to Google the following day. So we did.

"Let's look up Canoodle," I said to my internettedly connected roommate.

She typed, clicked and was amazed at the results. Of the guesses from the evening prior, our definitions were not so hot and heavy. This is a word with a span of innuendos:

1. v. (slang) caress, fondle, or pet amorously.
2. v. intr. To engage in caressing, petting, or lovemaking.
3. v. tr. To win over or convince by cajoling or flattering

"Whenever I hear Canoodle, I think of those foam things that you play with in a pool..." she said.

"Those are FUNoodles," I replied.

She raised an eyebrow: "Canoodling is fun too..."

Patience, young grasshopper

My friend Corinne went through a series of relationships with a line up of different men and scenarios of hook-up. Some were the obvious mutual use of each other as sex-objects, others were relationships that started and ended in a relatively short period. Overall, the common thread though the past gamut of beaus was quick romps in the sack. Unfulfilling and limply lasting.

But the recent one was different:

"It's been over 2 months, and I really like him," she told me. "We haven't had sex yet. At first that worried me. I kept thinking something must be wrong, but I still want to get in his pants. I love him."

"Wow." I replied, at once perplexed and impressed. "This seems like such a big non-move for a guy."

"Yes! And believe me, it's been a challenge. I've learned there's a difference between sex and love. You owe it to yourself to figure out the difference."

In need of a Feminine Divine costume

His father and brothers were coming to visit. She wasn't sure how she could handle it. All those boys in one small space, drinking, playing cards, belching and trying to out-fart each other. Why wasn't the house bigger...big enough to handle that with a place to escape? She felt overwhelmed by unaware masculine forces, and it was too much. She went in search of a Feminine Divine costume...

In accordance with the prophecy

He came into the kitchen, fresh from a much-needed massage that he'd scheduled that morning. He didn't get in with a female masseuse, however.

"How was it?" she asked with a grin, half expecting a semi-creeped out, homophobic answer.

"It felt good," he replied with the post rub down chillaxed grog on his visage. "I feel better."

"That's good! What was the massage therapist like? Better than the last one you had?"

"Yes. I think you'd really like him," he paused, looked down into the sink, then added: "I mean, really like him. It's guys like that that make me wonder why you're with someone like me."

Her curiosity perked at this little confession as he got ready to go back to work, on sunny Saturday afternoon.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Energy bodies

“Each memory that has left its trace with me, lingers forever, as if part of me.”
- Nizami, The Story of Layla and Majnun

Two spinning spheres, tied up and twisted and tangled up. We collide, we gravitate towards each other, we are held in some crazy magnetic force of attraction. Sometimes it's a balance of attraction and repulsion.

We are vibrant masses of vibrations - composed of all the parts of physics, chemistry and biology in the universe. Essentially, we are charged energy bodies coming into contact with other energy bodies everyday.

In relationship, this energetic closeness provides quite an exchange that's more than just fluids -- it impacts your mood, your physique, your happiness levels. Good or bad, long or short, a relationship imprints on the energetic field of the body by its impact on the nervous system and how we've processed all that information and happenstance of all those years together. This is how we get tied up emotions, learn habits and ways of reacting from being with someone over time, have trouble letting go.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

It's a full moon, any kind of madness is permissible

...by Saturday evening, the emotional turbulence was too much to hold back. She plopped the laundry on the bed and fell into a pillow as the flood gates opened. So did the convulsive sobs from deep within. She was certain that the neighbors could hear her wails through the open windows. The deluge didn't stop for 30 minutes. It left her with a stitch in her side and quiet relief from the edginess.

Friday, September 12, 2008

The hole in my heart that can only be filled by you

Perhaps Eros is an interlocutor in the space between, drumming up desire at the edges of flesh and reason. Anne Carson writes that Eros gives notice to edges, to boundaries. Between those boundaries, desire is born:

"Eros is an issue of boundaries. He exists because certain boundaries do. In the interval between reach and grasp, between glance and counterglance, between ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too,’ the absent presence of desire comes alive. But the boundaries of time and glance and I love you are only aftershocks of the main, inevitable boundary that creates Eros: the boundary of flesh and self between you and me. And it is only, suddenly, at the moment when I would dissolve that boundary, I realize I never can….

"If we follow the trajectory of eros we consistently find it tracing out this same route: it moves out from the lover toward the beloved, then ricochets back to the lover himself and the hole in him, unnoticed before. Who is the real subject of most love poems? Not the beloved. It is that hole.”

Monday, September 8, 2008

I want you to want me

"Are you happy?" he asked coolly, after a long day of packing and preparing the house.

"About what?" she said lightly.

"About how everything happened. Is this what you wanted?"

"Well, I can't say that I totally wanted a divorce. But something needed to be different. If this is the way it needed to work out..." she shrugged. "What about you? Are you OK? Do your people call to check up on you?"

"Like who?!" he looked at her incredulously.

"...family, friends, you know - your tribe." She looked at him, searching his face for a sign he was really OK. "Do you wish I had called you more?"

"No..." he started. "But that's just it. You didn't call."

"Well, we were separated, I figured you didn't want to hear from me. So, I gave you your space," she said, surprised.

"But if you wanted me, if you really wanted to hear from me, you would have been calling, emailing. Through this whole thing I never felt like you even wanted me. It's been like that for a while. And when it came down to it, that was a deciding factor for me. I didn't want to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me. Deida writes that the feminine must want her man more than he wants her... I never felt that."

She was taken aback. Deida also writes that a needy masculine is a big turnoff for the feminine. She wants a man who knows what he wants. Decisive. On task. Directed. The Yang to her Yin.

Apparently, in this case, they both missed each other's boat in terms of meeting needs and setting into practice an up spiraling dynamic of zesty l-o-v-e and healthy desire. They both seemed to hit the turned-off switch.

But, did they drop the ball? She considered this cycle: The feminine wants a man who knows what he wants and meets her desire. Man wants a woman who wants him (and perhaps to hotly get in his pants) and who meets his desire. Man who wavers on his direction makes woman test him. Man needs to reassure woman's testing to maintain his authenticity in her eyes. Without reassurance, woman will continue to test man out of his mind until he questions his every move and is rendered helpless by her puzzle (this eternal mystery of woman?) - disabling him to go in any direction. Yet, woman is still turned off by this weak Yang of a male -- and this off switch stays on lock down until he gets moving again. Once he motivates, then she's on to him like flies to a ... well, you get the picture. That swarming Desire is alive again as long as the dynamic energy between the two is flowing. Without that, nothing moves in this tennis match.

Friday, September 5, 2008


"She packed up her potential and all she had learned, grabbed a Cute pair of shoes and headed out to change a few things. Her heart glowed with a degree of happy assurance."

by Leslie Standley, Curly Girl Design

Potential energy

"He had so much potential as a person, and us together, and all that energy was just wasted after 3 years." she said to me on the phone.

"It's just like Kyle and I," I shared. "We had such great potential as an 'us,' and are such great people as individuals, but we just lost our forward motion together and came to a standstill where things coagulated..."

"... and just think of all that time spent trying to direct that energy somewhere, and to end up going nowhere after 6 years..."

"Yeah, I know. We need to find someone who matches our energy and wants to carry it forward with us."

"No more being in love with potential!" she issued.

Happy Anniversary

He sat across from her on the brocade bench by the window on the one-way side street restaurant on the day after their first anniversary, with a full view of the gallery in which they celebrated their marriage.

"I think you probably already know this at this point," he began, " but I decided I want a divorce. I want to be in mediation within the two weeks and put the house up for sale right away..."

In that moment she felt like a newborn giraffe who had just dropped 6 feet to the ground after leaving the cozy safety and comfort of its mother's womb.

She had been waiting for him to make up his mind for himself about what he wanted in the relationship, and only the speed of his delivery came as a surprise. But still, she was speechless considering the juxtaposition of their first anniversary date - not that she had ever been one for such novelties. The only sound that could be heard was the silence of her response and the blink of her eyelids as she stared at him from the other brocade bench across the table. She had a full view of the County Courthouse (across from the gallery), where they would end their legal contract of love. What a triangle. Oh, the irony...

His eyes became a bit watery as he delivered a surrender: "...I tried hard for 3 weeks, thinking of what I could do to save this... I didn't sleep that whole time, and nothing I thought of seemed to work. I really tried, and it makes me mad at myself that I couldn't make it work..."

Blink. Blink.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

The space between

It's hard enough to wrap our minds and hearts around our significant others without projections and seeing through our disillusioned visions of them. Talking to him/her still sometimes skirts the subject, or object of our affections, and some things are lost in translation. But what goes on in the space between is the opportunity for a connection that is beyond words, if we give that space the room it needs to flourish.

I read a great article today on the inherent laziness in busy-ness by Dr. Reggie Ray, Buddhist scholar, teacher and practitioner. I most liked his comments in regards to what his wife won't put up with and how she demands his presence:

"My ambition to accomplish things is going to be one of the last things to go. I can’t help it; it’s just the way that I am. I see a pile of leaves that need to be raked up and I start salivating. I love to do things. I love to be active. And you can say, “Well, that’s great.” But there’s neurosis in that. It’s a way of shutting out space. This is another thing my wife has taught me: when there’s no space nothing really happens.

"I had a wonderful quotation by Chögyam Trungpa up on my wall during my [meditation] retreat. It goes something like, “If there isn’t a complete sense of openness and space, then communication between two people can not happen. Period. It’s that simple.” The communication we have with each other is often based on agendas: negotiating with other people to get what we want. That’s not communication.

"My wife taught me that. Insistently. It’s to the point where that busy mind is just not acceptable in our house anymore. It doesn’t matter what’s going on my life. If she comes into my study, I have to be completely there. And that’s fabulous, because I’m never able to get invested in that neurosis. If I do, she’ll let me have it.

"Giving up this state of busy-ness doesn’t mean that we aren’t going to be active, creative people. We’re giving up the mentality where you can’t actually relate to what’s in front of you because you have this mental speed going on. Let it go. I’m saying it to you. This is an issue that we are going to have to address if we want to be any good to anyone."

Read the rest of the article at elephantjournal.com

The saddest part of a broken heart

Let it Die, by Feist

Let it die and get out of my mind
We don't see eye to eye
Or hear ear to ear

Don't you wish that we could forget that kiss
And see this for what it is
That we're not in love

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

It was hard to tell just how I felt
To not recognize myself
I started to fade away

And after all it won't take long to fall in love
Now I know what I don't want
I learned that with you

The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
The tragedy starts from the very first spark
Losing your mind for the sake of your heart
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start

Contract out

"Do you feel guilt?" the therapist asked from the chair across the room.

"About what?" the client asked for clarity.

"About thinking about someone else, wanting someone else, at this stage of your separation?" the therapist replied.

"Not really." The client continued, "I know I would never act on it until the final line was drawn and the terms between us had changed - I'm not out to hurt anyone in this scenario. That's not fair for any party involved. It should be clear and kind, through and through."

"That's good, as the guilt is unnecessary baggage in the process of letting go," the therapist counseled. "The heart has its own contract. When the heart's not in it anymore, you know that those ties have been cut. The piece of paper is just a piece of paper at that point."

Monday, September 1, 2008

Superfluous, or a necessary flavor?

"when i say you sucked my brain out
the english translation
is i am in love with you"
- Ani Difranco, Dialate

In a most recent discussion re: crushes with a dear pal, the question was posed: So, really, how much of your brain power was spent thinking about this person all day?

The answer was scary.

In a very recent movie I watched but can't remember (Dan in Real Life or Charlie Bartlett, maybe?) one of the lines went something like this: "You know that if you think about someone for a total of 20 minutes a day you have a crush on them?" I was sheepishly self conscious after hearing that line echoed from the silver screen, namely because I've blown that number out of the water a few times on fantastic people who barely knew me.

Besides the fact that it's nice to have lovely distractions about a person that may or may not know that you exist, something so removed from reality that it makes your heart flutter with that sweet nectar that feeds the love centers in your brain, why do some of us feel like we need another to the point that it occupies that much brain power?

"If I had a nickel for every time I thought of you..."

In biology courses in undergrad, we learned that the males are dispensable. It only takes one well equipped dude to do the necessary deed with a handful of females to propagate the species. Of course, that's just purely procreation. So what about the recreation part makes this interplay of desire so fixated and paramount? Are we really nothing more than genetically programmed hormones?

In the beginning (and end) of the movie-musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch (highly recommended), there's a tale of a circle that's cut in two and is constantly searching for it's other half. Hedwig has a musical soliloquy at one point that goes like this:

"It is clear that I must find my other half. But is it a he or a she? What does this person look like? Identical to me? Or somehow complimentary? Does my other half have what I don't? Did he get the looks? The luck? The love? Were we really separated forcibly or did he just run off with the good stuff? Or did I? Will this person embarrass me? What about sex? Is that how we put ourselves back together again? Or can two people actually become one again?"

Getting back to the most recent conversation with the dear pal that brought up this blogoriffic rumble-tumble: the other question posed was "What would it take for us to NOT have a desire to find another, or be preoccupied with another? I mean, we're fine alone, etc., but why - what is this...need? Especially, when (as we are well aware) relationships take work and are not easy and no one's perfect and people change and for some reason even if there is enough to build a relationship on it still doesn't always work out, and some of us can't stop thinking about guys who are assholes and have done us wrong, so wrong... [etc. etc. etc.]."

My mind searched the Sex & the City episode catalog with no recollection of this specific question, which seemed unlikely, and (note to self) required further research. But, on this topic: consider for a moment the Carrie and Big plot. In the meantime, it would be nice to have an 'off' switch for those thoughts that play in loops till it's madness in your head.

Is this life ever without a love story? Is bittersweet always the flavor? Desire - Eros - is a verb. It moves. It never stops, and there we are in it's wake.

Four types of relationships

Back when I began to sense that most partnerships seem to have a lifespan of about 6 years and that two people really weren't meant to spend an entire life together 'till death do they part, I learned that there are 4 types of relationships: reason, season, purpose and divine partnership.

Reason: two people come together for a reason, whether it be for growing each other in certain ways, or to learn a valuable lesson.

Season: perhaps you find each other through a brief spell, that turns and changes as soon as the seasons. This can still hold valuable lessons.

Purpose: when two people come together to serve a joint purpose -- and without that purpose, the relationship fades.

Divine Partnership: This is what you think of when you think of finding that one, you know That One. When two souls shine very brightly together and are connected on a level that (I'd hope) we all aspire to experience.

Tenderfooted & toil in love

Tenderfoot: A newcomer or a beginner at something, one not used to hardships.

This dissolving relationship was my very first one. From the outset, it's been a hell of a learning experience. I went into it knowing what I wanted, but thinking that perhaps I was a bit too idealistic and inexperienced once the reality of a real relationship formalized, so I let some things slide. "Maybe this is normal...?" I kept going with the flow - filled with self doubt, feeling like I was wrong in regards to all those things I thought I wanted, even though I got a gut vibe that this wasn't totally what I wanted. Having never been in a relationship before, how was I to know, right? But on paper, it all seemed so right.

As Jack Johnson sings: "You can't always hold your head higher than your heart."

Self doubt in the face of a strong intuition spells trouble for the luminosity of the soul as it tries to shrink into what it's been given to fit into. It just felt like work to stay there - work in terms of all the relationship issues that would arise that just didn't fit me - yet, it all seemed to be status quo. "I'm supposed to what?" Why was this human love business so hard and not always so fun?

Consider the myth of Psyche and Eros. Psyche, a mere mortal, was alienated because of her intense beauty, loved and impregnated by a god whom she had never seen, but one day did and was subsequently put through the ringer: she did away with her jealous sisters, ended up in a most unhelpful temple, was refused sage advice and assistance by the big goddesses Venus and Juno, was ordered to separate a pile of mixed grains - an impossible task - by nightfall (was helped by an ant and spared), was then ordered to gather wool from vicious sheep and get water from the unattainable river and then - THEN! - demanded to venture into the underworld and get a piece of Persephone's beauty creme for Venus's tired and stressed out mother-self. To make a long story shorter, finally Eros rescued Psyche and they got hitched by decree of Jupiter.

PS. Their daughter was Voluptas (meaning: pleasure, or bliss) -- the goddess of sensual pleasures.

Psyche didn't have it easy either, but at least she got to hook up with the immortal hunk of burning love and give birth to bliss.

Perhaps, beyond and in the midst of the human story, the moral of the stories lie in the journey, the lessons from the toil, and perhaps in both cases, it is the story of the soul searching for something more blissful - the divine partner.


"I've got a lot of love and a lot of nerve /
So watch me while I take this curve..."
- Ani Difranco

I think I'm headed for splitsville - yes, the D-word - and I feel fine. I have no regrets. It's mutual and we owe it to each other to dissolve kindly.

In other news, my happiness is slowly creeping back. I've been shrinking for too long, and my soul can't fit this limited span of love-container any more. I need more depth and richness. I deserve more. I want someone to see my soul, to see the sun shine out my ass. And, it will come in due time -- in universal porportions -- I know this.

Hear me roar

I received Robert Master's September Newsletter - the Crucible of Awakening - in my inbox this morning. The essay this month was on Feminine Anger, so I checked it out for his insights on this very powerful matter.

Clear female anger is fierce heart-compassion beckoning her beau (or whomever the anger is directed to) to wake up. I've felt this. I've voiced this. I've roared to my boy. (And, I'm not sure he really got it even then.)

But, it amazes me that it takes that much of a reaction for the female voice to be heard by her male counterpart / consort at times. I mean, really - this rage takes energy. Sometimes it feels like I need to harness my inner-bitch (who is much closer to the surface at certain times of the month) and risk being called such trite labels as 'overactive', 'nag' and 'fun-ruiner' by an unreceptive audience. The ninja-force of a clear-cutting goddess roar should never be missed or leave you unmoved - unless you wanna get booted to the curb or drop kicked into the next universe.

Robert Masters eloquently writes:

"Anger is culturally held as far less legitimate an expression for women than for men. The result is that for many women anger is unavailable as a resource. And a woman marooned from her own anger is very likely going to have a much harder time maintaining healthy boundaries; she will tend to feel more helpless, more fearful, more prone to despair and depression.

"When her anger cannot be depressed — kept or pressed down — its energies may be routed into resentment or bitterness. And what a pity this is, given that anger can be, whatever its degree of fieriness, a form of caring. In my work I have often seen a woman’s anger — full-out clean rage, free of sarcasm, blaming, and shaming — cut through the cognitive muddling and emotional dissociation of her partner or others, waking them up to what they’re actually doing.

"Yet a woman expressing non-abusive rage is no murderess, psycho, or Medusa gone into isolation, but rather a potent awakener, the power of which is present to varying degrees in “everyday” women whose anger is significantly infused with caring.
Wrathful compassion. Anger and love are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Anger can be full-blooded, fierce,and fiery, and still be rooted in compassion. Heart-anger.

"Just because many men fear openly expressed female anger — retreating like frantic sperm from the suddenly engulfing power of the ovum— is not reason enough to slander or suppress it. A woman who is out of touch with her anger is a woman who cannot stand her ground or give full voice to her needs, a woman who cannot sufficiently protect the little girl in her, a woman whose love lacks the guts needed to manifest real integrity."

One fish: Starfish

When you're gone, I sleep in the middle of the bed and starfish.

There is nothing better and more free and sprawling.

This is why I don't really miss you.

Boy talk?

Whenever I came back from a walk or dinner out with my girls, Kyle would always asked if we talked about our men all night. To which I pretty much said: yes.

"I mean, don't guys talk about their girls and relationship issues when they get together?" I asked him.

"No." he replied with a blank look on his face.

"Well, what do you guys talk about then?" I asked.

"I dunno, but we don't talk about you."

Wow, I thought. I couldn't imagine a conversation with a close friend not covering the current state and status of our relationships. It's how we deal and commiserate and offer advice and wisdom to each other. It's our outlet, release, and way of knowing that we're not alone. In a way, I sometimes feel like we are sharing the story of all women in a fundamentally essential way by sharing our own stories about relational scenes and scenarios.

If men don't seek this outlet with each other, where do they find it?

The guy that cut my hair said to me once: "As a whole, our society doesn't give us or promote the tools to we need to react and grow consciously, in relationships - with lovers and acquaintances."

Another darling male BFF wrote to me on this very issue: "It seems that there's a lot I take for granted about relationships. I wish they were better circumstances that brought about this discussion, but men don't often have this kind of dialog - I mean the kind that goes beyond what's covered in Cosmopolitan. I don't know if women do, but it seems like a lot is lacking the the social knowledge bank."

So, what's lacking in the social knowledge bank? More importantly, WHY?

Ever since Kyle and I started counseling this summer, he's been waking up to a new game plan when it comes to himself and his relationships -- one that squashes the tired, residual fratboy manual of the ol' in and out. The first book that was recommended to him was The Way of the Superior Man, by David Deida. After I read this book, I was doubly impressed and felt it should be required reading in Sex Ed - or future classes I forsee taught in schools of the future on Relationships: the energetic You and the energetic World.

Kyle has bought this book for a handful of his friends, and they now meet to discuss it. Some even bring to the table success stories -- things that worked -- in relating to the essential feminine in their lives. He pitches the book to them as: "If there was one book that would answer all of your questions, would you read it?"

So far, it's been a resounding yes from his circle of friends.


"Even though he's going on the trip, I didn't cancel it because I really want to go to Spain regardless." She admitted, not too bummed about the pending breakup.

"Yes," I said as we walked through the foothills. "And you will find a hot Spaniard named Enrique Alejandro Diaz... he will have dazzling eyes, and a thick head of hair, a warm smile, and a seductive presence... he will teach you to tango and you can make out with him in front of what's-his-name..."

"I can't wait to practice my Spanish..." she gleamed.