Relationships

Relationships fill our lives, shaping us and defining us from the moment we are born. As infants our very survival depends on others and we learn quickly how to engage with those others, how to please them, and interact to get our needs met,whether positive or negative, it shapes all of our interaction style to follow.

Our parents, our siblings, our peers,grandparents, cousins, extended family, and eventually mentors, all are relationships that effect and influence our lives and identities.Often, as adults when we hear the word “relationship” we assume the speaker is referring to a romantic entanglement of some sort, but the truth is every type of relationship is important and relevant to our identities, and ultimately our well being. Learning safe,appropriate ways to communicate, interact, get our needs met, share and listen to others, and care for something outside of ourselves are all facets of becoming a healthy and whole person in modern life.

Learning to soften our hearts, steel our resolve, and allow ours elves to be vulnerable to another makes us better people no doubt, but exploring the possibilities of certain types of relationships with ridged boundaries, rules and goals helps us to accomplish much more than we could on our own.

This year we are exploring the ideas of Justice. Justice being based on reciprocal respect with in relationships.

non binary systems

gender bias in the media. misrepresentation of everyone.

what queer looks like

Dr. Annie Sprinkle

Dr. Annie Sprinkle is an amazing artist, and an intelligent, insightful woman. The original sex-positive feminist. I could tell her life story but that is what she does, so I will talk about its effect on me. Hearing her speak, seeing her shameless enthrallment with the body, social issues and sexuality caused me to consider many of the taboos of our culture and wonder why some things, harmless things like prolonged kissing, or cuddling of a non-sexual nature in public, are considered taboo, while so many other things like violence or just plain rudeness, are not.

From Annie's stories of surviving cancer and how she coped going through chemotherapy with fun hats, I am left with the renewed sense that everything is art. Everything, every situation in life really is an opportunity to make art of one kind or another. To live it, breathe it, and to shatter worn out paradigms with art. Painting, performance, writing, dance, you name it. As Annie said, "Look sassy, make art, and survive".

When Annie and her partner decided to become pregnant, they held a crazy dance contest to decide which sperm donor to choose. This idea takes keeping things light, and fun, and artful out of the realm of merely using art to cope and into the idea of making important decisions from a place of playful non-attachment. Its very Zen. Very open to possibility and an embracing of the unknown future that relinquishes the ridiculous illusion of control we often try to project onto ourselves, our lives, and others. Its silly. We have no control. We don't know whats coming at us tomorrow.


"In the early 1970's Women were not supposed to like or even enjoy sex, and certainly not allowed to see porn. It was a man's world. In the press and popular culture Porn stars were depicted as victims or perpetrators, but Not invited to discussions about porn, and its impact on society". Annie worked hard to promote safer sex in porn in the 1980's. When activists and feminist protesters tried to call Annie a victim of the sex industry, they rallied against her body of work, claiming she needed protection. She didn't like feeling segregated from these women, so she went and stood with them, and talked friendly to them, until they dispersed. "If you can't beat them, join them."

There is so much more I could say about Annie Sprinkle and her incredible art, vision, lifestyle choices, and more, but she speaks for herself. I have provided a link, and highly encourage hearing her speak if you ever have the opportunity. She just might challenge your ideas about what is actually important for a happy life. She certainly reinforced some of my deepest ideas and least supported eccentricities, and that is extremely validating.

In-spite of many hardships, this woman has had the utmost respect for self and others, and life itself. Even when other could not or would not respect Annie, she still respected them and herself and grew stronger and wiser and cared for the earth more. One seven year art project involved marrying, and committing herself and her partner to the well being of the earth. She calls herself a "sex ecologist", because the earth is sexy, sensual, and a beautiful thing to be cherished and respected, and so are we. All this leaves me with a true sense of Justice, a working example of relationships of reciprocal respect on many many levels.

The exam

a (true) short story

Loading the car took less then a minute. She didn't even have to go back for the almost cold coffee in the ceramic travel mug. I quick day bag with notebook, wallet and the papers filled with directions was all she would need. It felt like a drive to freedom. It felt like a drive to the gallows. The early morning sunrise masked by the usual cloud cover as she merged onto I5.

The roads were dry, and she had left early enough to avoid rush hour, so 90 minutes early seemed like a great excuse for breakfast at the nearby Dennys. Her long hair wild at her shoulders she thought to beg a rubber band from the hostess before she left. When the appointed time approached, she walked into the room apparently calm, but tunnel vision narrowed her sight and made heavy pea soup of her mind.

Giving up her sunglasses and purse was less of a surprise then the last time, but still jarring, and then the female tester Jeanne, called her back. Everything was set out and the painfully slow baby steps did nothing to make the words on the wall register with any sense. When asked if she understood the procedure she could only nod agreement, not trusting her voice yet. She washed her hands and set the table, in a fog. "The test will now begin" the male tester said, after introductions were made. She thought his name was Darrell.

The questions came at the pace she herself set, but the long faces, heralded the silence. The lack of response to her performance was tangible. The sense of scrutiny during the demonstration was thick, and gooey. She was treading water in a vat of jelly... She needed to remember something. What was it? She kept noticing what she had forgotten instead, but stuck in the track she was already set to she blundered on, wondering what she should say or do different now.

Out front again, the receptionist said, "I try to mail the results within a week or two. You'll know then." Such a non climactic end to a potentially life changing event. She drove home with loud music and to many cigarettes. The tunnel vision slowly receded as the miles stretched behind her. It felt like a drive to freedom from the gloomy intimidation. It felt like a drive back to the gallows of redundancy. She suddenly remembered the long ago explanation about what to expect on this day, how to handle it successfully. It was a memory buried until an hour after she needed it.

The Symphony

Music has a profound effect on our brains. It has been proposed that different types of music effect and engage different parts of our brains. Nueroscience is still exploring how music and exposure to it shapes us, and how it can even be medicinal. Making music can have healing effects on brain compromised individuals.

The Symphony On April 3rd in Eugene Oregon was a treat. Marin Alsop is an incredible Meastra, and the first female in the United States to be commissioned to a major city orchestra. She is a ground breaker and a trend setter, as well as a very talented conductor. Marin got much of her start in Eugne and not only is she a pioneer for women in her feild, but she believes music should be available to everyone accross class and socio-economic limitations. Student tickets were actually, considerably less expensive.

It was an interesting concert showcasing modern purcussion soloist Colin Currie during the first half, and focused on more traditional symphony peices from Tchaicovsky for the second half. Currie is from Scotland and the musical solo was written specifically for him. He has worked with Alsop before.

All in all, it was an excellent opportunity to dress up and immerse oneself in fine culture and society, but it really highlighted the gap of income and poverty this country is facing. Sitting in the audience only slightly out of place in my second hand evening gown, I was awestruck at the first world complaints I kept overhearing all around me, something my own lifestyle and student status with voluntary simplicity has removed vastly from my experience and world.

3 people in a studio apartment

March 2012


Here it is, 3 adults and two cats crammed into a studio. Sleeping on the floor, sharing resources, humor, cigarettes and stories of encouragement. It reads like the plot for a bad sitcom I know, but it is a true story. I swear. One of many I have lived. It is a situation filled with seeming hardships and inconveniences as one would imagine, but some surprising gains and blessings as well, -enough that the gains outweigh the inconvenience for those involved, despite appearances.

The economy has effected everyone but one upside of this seemingly cramped up reality is a makeshift family of support. They don't have much, but tend to share benevolently what they do have. Living so frugally and in such small quarters allows more shared amenities like internet and tasty meals. Only a Television would make the space seem small, but they do quite happily with out. Personal computers and long walks are enough for mental space, spiritual fulfillment and shared entertainment.

So, how do three highly intelligent and somewhat educated people find themselves in such a situation? First there is Douglas, a student and forty something man with acetic tendencies who prefers the uncomplicated life of simplicity to one of material trophies. Something of a hermit he prefers to meet life on his own term rejecting many of societies "norms". The rent and bills are paid from his rather meager resources of financial aide. He has lived here on his own for several years. Living a life of simplicity and frugality that not many others can even begin to understand in a society of megalomaniacs. Douglas is an ordained priest, and rejects much materialism. He opens his tiny home and floor space to two friends in need.

Joe is a thirty something man, something of a geek. He moved back to his home town after a long term relationship broke down and caused him to reevaluate his own values and place in the world. His sister could not have him underfoot since her roommates objected, so Douglas her best friend, took him in. Something of an upper middle class childhood has given Joe a bit of a sense of entitlement, but he is a compassionate and well meaning man. He has a good job but something of a benevolent alcoholic, he has no head for money, or saving for moving himself on from the lap of friendship and sense of family he has found. Making more money in two weeks, then the other two put together in a month, Joe is perpetually broke, but good natured with a gregarious and infectious laugh.

At last there is Tara. The newest addition to this scenario. A forty something student and empty-nester, longing for connection and the satisfaction of family and someone to look after from time to time. Tara moved home looking for new horizons and old connections, after two divorces and a failed attempt at defining herself by someone else's criteria. In a late night talk with herself she decided to surrender to a deep and abiding affection, and a sense of devotion to Douglas. She wants only to be near him while she lives her rock star kind of a life -regardless of the scope of that relationship- Tara works part time at a job that she is extremely overqualified for and severely underpaid at. She buys and cooks most of the food, and is content with her boys to look after. She is quirky, geeky and intelligent. She loves clothes and is a full time student via the internet.

All enjoy the realm of intellect and compassion, of friendship over material commodities, and of humor, shared experience and of facing the hurdles of life with like minded individuals. Perhaps it is the long standing admiration, respect and deep love the others feel for Douglas, and the geeky humor that connects them in Joe's quick wit and friendly banter. But more then anything it seems to be about reciprocal respect. Each roommate giving space, consideration and forthright communication to the other two.

Its a sense of open communication, honesty and voluntary reciprocity. As a group, all 3 huddle on the tiny excuse for a front porch to smoke cigarettes together, and engage in existential conversations over coffee. Despite the close quarters there is genuine enjoyment of one another's company. Privacy would appear to be lacking but is replaced with genuine regard and holistic respect, a sort of tribe mentality prevails. An entirely new experience for all of them, there is an air of gratitude and casual, happy preference of what, to many people, would be an inconceivable imposition or hardship. How does one explain to ones family this type of lifestyle preference?

Creative healing, beaded glory

February 2012

Love comes in many forms.
A few months ago, a big container of beads that I had, upended and dumped itself out on the floor. It was symbolic of the way my life was going at the time and what was yet to come, as all the sizes and colors and types of beads ran everywhere, picking up dirt, pine needles and pet fur... I swept them up and gave the lot to my friend who offered to sort them out for me, a true labor of love. She kept them safe for several months, sorting some of them in her spare time until I could face them myself.

I had begun doing a lot of beading to try to exert some kind of control over a life that felt more like it was living me and controlling my circumstances then the other way round. Beading is tiny, tedious, colorful, creative, and gives a very intricate sense of order and control to the artist in a concrete way that paint cannot. In addition there is an end result to show for the labor involved, Something I was not getting in my last relationship despite my best and most earnest efforts. I lost a lot of my self, and many treasured and expensive possessions to leave that unhealthy scenario. I even gave up my dog. Blessed am I to have so many truly loving friends to see me through rough times.


This quarter, as I heal, I have been examining all of my oldest relationships and how they have impacted my beliefs, choices and more recent relationship outcomes. I moved to another state, and slowly began to round up what was left of the pieces of my life. Pulling together the best of my friends and all their accumulative advice, I began beading with gusto, creating new patterns using finer materials, and developing a better intuitive effectiveness with the tools. I got the bead mess back from my friend and am slowly sifting through the debris, eliminating it from my life. I find as I sort, consider, and contemplate patterns for jewelry pieces, I also sort, consider and contemplate the tiny moments and foundations of my believes around relationships and love.

Love comes in many forms, and often it forms us. As I have examined these places with an open heart, I have come to change many of my views and opinions about myself and others that once seemed set in stone. A man I have always loved inexplicably that always set me aside despite similar feelings, one that smells better to me then any other I have dated. A step mother whom I never felt good enough for and spent my life feeling rejected by. A neglectful father who actually adores me but not in the same love language that I speak. A sister that I never got to know because of her proximity in age to my own grown child. Things in these early relationships have not always been as I have perceived. All of these relationships have evolved to be more positive as I have examined the impact of my own feelings, perceptions and roles in creating them.

Stranger than Fiction!

Printed with permission of its author:

What are the Odds? What are the Odds of two sisters each being in a long term relationship with a man that that longs to be a woman? What are the odds, that both of them keep their partners secret for a period of decades, and never even know what the other is going through? Until one day when both MTF identities break out of the closet with in two years of each other...

This is real life. Stranger then Fiction. I couldn't make this shit up. The ins and outs of the details are irrelevant, MTF trans populations have a lot of literature available to support them, and to tell the typical progression of events and psychology in the journey. But this is about the survivors and the innocent bystanders of the havoc. The supportive, women used up and left behind.

I got over it, renewed our friendship and moved on with my life with a lot of help, support, counseling, medications, and new interests. I even starting dating after a few years, and eventually tried to love and trust again. I am baffled as to the meaning of anything in my life, let alone these strange series of relationships.

As a forty something woman, coming out of a bad love affair after two failed marriages, I am jaded, lonely and very suspicious of anyone eligible that is in my age range. “WHY are you single” I think to myself, because everyone knows that men of a certain age that are still single, are single for a reason. They are jerks, sociopaths, cheaters, gay, or asexual. “What did you do that makes you unworthy of any other woman at this point and why should I get the dregs”?

Some women are fine being single. My sister is excited to live alone, to have the space for her own projects and interests with out the complications of keeping someone else's secrets and preferences at the forefront of her existence. she has a full life and a successful career. Once upon a time I was excited to be single too, but now I just want the safety, comfort and security of the right man to snuggle up with at night, share my secret thoughts and fantasies with, and to nurture a real trust with. I don't see that happening for me anymore, I no longer see it as a possibility in my life, so I am left to consider the back up plans.

Travel, fast cars, and teasing younger men, generally keeping relationships at bay. Not at all honorable, but safer for me. This is my consolation prize. The untouchable, unattainable diva, the one everyone wants, but can't quite get. The one the hypocrites chase until and unless they actually get her. I know this role well. But it breaks the hearts of good men, and won't be captured. I just don't seem to do that well. This is the thing I have learned from my last failed love affair. I may long for a genuine companion, and a champion, but a cage, however pretty is still just a cage. And I must be free to fly or I suffocate it all.

This is not what I want for myself, but I am old enough to see the patterns, and recognize the signs and truths of these facts. I am a romantic, but I want the romance and ongoing interaction with out the fear, or mundane expectations. I want to maintain the place of perpetual reciprocity in my interactions with others.

Voluntary Simplicity

Jan. 29th

For a year I have practiced voluntary simplicity. I gave up my beautiful new car and all its luxuries to spent one full year on foot and public transportation. One year despite the difficulty, the awkwardness, the inconvenience, the criticism and the unexpected judgement I incurred.

I gained and lost a relationship and borrowed other people cars for the subsequent moves involved. I walked a lot and discovered the joy of urban hikes. I learned to love the weather even in the challenge it presented in lugging dog food home on the bus.

I learned to be alone with myself in a way many people never do, alone in a crowd, alone in my mind, alone even in my intimate relationships. I learned to find and face deeper issues in myself that my previous lifestyle had allowed me to push under the rug all to easily.

I came to value the walk that comprised my morning commute the way some people loathe their own 20 minutes trapped in traffic. The smell of the air, the feel of the sun and wind, the sights of local domesticated and wild life, all filled my heart along with my senses. I felt a daily connection to life and the larger community that was not possible or even noticeable from behind the safety glass of a vehicle

power of touch

December 2011

love language. Everyone has a different love language, how they express affection and emotion, and what they need to feel love and affection from others.

Some people express themselves with sweet talk, compliments, and words of love and admiration. Others express their affections with gifts and tokens and trinkets to their beloved. From material luxuries to flowers, to more practical and mundane seeming gifts, it is their way of showing they care. Still others show their feelings with service, doing things like favors, errands and tasks for the ones they love. This person will fix things that are broken, and go out of their way to find a particular item, or reinstall software on ones computer, taking loads of time to do tedious tasks. But still others need more direct interaction, companionship, shared humor and a sense of mutual intellectual stimulation and reaction to feel bonded.

Some people need an open door to verbally process every thought and emotion with thier companions , friends and beloved, while others need space and quiet mental distance, or intense privacy and extending this same courtesy is their way of showing love and respect. Still others need quiet contact, little touches, and caresses, they are sensory and need to feel the hands and body heat of others to feel connected, to express affection, and to share their love. We are all different, and while most of us are some combination of these and other styles, finding a partner that has the exact same love language is rare.

This is often a complex and overlooked aspect of relationships. But a very important one. Vital I would say. Partners with different love languages may both be doing everything THEY feel expresses love and devotion, and completely miss the other persons ques and signals for the same thing. With out an understanding about each others primary love language and an effort to identify and learn the primary language of the beloved, each person may feel neglected, empty and resentful. A sense of being alone in their intimate relationship, and that their lover is removed or indifferent can destroy any good sentiment.

While we are each very different, touch is a powerful component to affection for most of us, but not everyone. I have dated more then one man for whom touch is strictly reserved for sexual gratification and any other kind of touch or physical contact is almost non-existent. Perhaps this is a "man thing", and the psychology and obvious lack of closeness this suggests, seems lacking and broken to me, and is heart wrenching. But they feel that they are fine as they are and call me clingy. (Incidentally I have also dated men that are far more "clingy" then I).

Still, as a massage therapist and someone who has dedicated my life to sharing safe, positive, non sexual touch, and educating people about the importance of touch and physical expression of compassion, it is a huge hurdle to be in relationship with someone who is NOT touch oriented. Babies die with out touch. Human beings need contact with each other. 8 to 14 hugs a day is considered necessary for good mental and emotional health and well being. This is far more then most of us experience, but I have to think that if we all had this the entire world would be a calmer, happier, safer place, just due to the endorphins and physiological effects that touch produces in the mind and body. Can you imagine it?

Safe, positive touch should be part of everyone's love language in my opinion, for the physiological benefits alone, but the most important thing is that each participant in a relationship feels a sense of reciprocal respect. That they are loved, valued, appreciated, and that their beloved feels the same. Ultimately it is the responsibility of all participants to create a mutually conducive atmosphere of love and loving. This requires openness, communication and willingness to expand ones own language and learn additional forms of expression and interpretation. Unfortunately we cannot make this choice for another, and cannot do it indefinitely alone.

all things end

November 2011

"Reece" and "Byron" had been together forever. Well that is how it seemed to most of us. I myself had been married and divorced twice, and raised a child in the time they were still going strong, living the dream. When she came to see me the other day and said they were breaking up I was floored. She had been my model for how to make it work.

They were both fiercely independent loners, and had no children. I was closer to them then most and had watched as they lived the dream in their twenties traveling around in a big converted bus. And in their thirties, when she realized he was never gonna want children and that she had to make a choice. They lived "off the grid for a few years while she got her Bachelor of Arts and secured her dream job. In their forties they had saved for several years and bought an adorable three bedroom house in a prime location just before the economy collapsed around us all.

I was partially responsible for introducing them, and our old group of friends had all looked to them for an example of how to be happy, healthy, loving, long term partners. They were the last of the old group still together, the rest of us had wandered away in search of ourselves and fairer weather. Once, about a year ago, I had asked Byron how they did it, how they made it work and stayed happy and together for so long. He sort of started, and said in all seriousness "Its all Reece. She's amazing." I knew it seemed like she did everything in their relationship, but I figured there is always the side of things one doesn't see between two people.

Her amazing patience, and tolerance and ability to detach and let go of his moodiness and distance was awe inspiring. Her little way of sighing and laughing with a somber little smile when I asked her anything about the two of them and making it work, led me to believe that perhaps I had unrealistic expectations of men and relationships. It wasn't out of the question. After all, our culture does not provide us with realistic positive examples of men or of women. Sitcoms are filled with snide and sarcasm, and dramas are emotionally distant from real loving between couples, seeming to center around work relationships instead.

There is no workable model. Old world relationships seem based on strong gender roles that leave both people unfulfilled and women feeling empty and taken for granted. And the men of my own generation all seem like broken, overgrown children, waiting for mommy to clean up after them, and make them cozy, while they fantasize about threesomes with porn stars. It is easy to see why so many people are queer, NOT that I think its really a choice, but the clean slate of less rigid rules and expectations would seem easier. I know it is not. As my own daughter said: "All relationships end, and everyone has dirty laundry. If you're gonna have sex, you will have to wash the sheets."

Relationships are complicated no matter how you look at them. If we are in one we seem to want to change it. If we are outside of one we seem to think we can tolerate anything for the right other, just to not have to face eternity alone.We want a lot from our relationships these days and its got me wondering if arranged marriages might not be healthier and more realistic. True partnerships based on communication, respect, politeness and discreet love affairs. Why make sex a part of that?

Because in today's world we want more. We want the freedom to choose who we love, and who we marry or spend our lives with. We want a lover, and a best friend. We want passion and kindness, we want someone who will make up for how our parents didn't treat us right, but uphold all the ways in which they did. We want EROS and AGAPE. We want a companion, and a confidant and a sexually exciting human plaything. Perhaps we are all unrealistic and delusional. Yet our society and culture reinforces this desire in each of us, constantly searching for that one person who can complete us.

The truth is no one can fill that void. Once we've been through some stuff, and had a few relationships fail, we begin to realize this. Even without being particularly introspective of completing years of therapy most of us are aware. Yet we are compulsive and occasionally obsessive and continue to seek it on some level anyway. Sometimes I wish I did like women so I wouldn't have to face being let down by men. Even if my expectations are unrealistic how can I change that? How can I find that one other person on the same wavelength in the vast sea of modern stress and coping in which our country is swimming?

I realize that its time to reassess what I want, what I can give, and where to draw the boundary lines that protect and nurture myself, because I have begun to wonder if any of us is really cut out for a healthy, loving relationship that lasts. If romantic relationships are even meant to last or just a part of the biological mating dance. Most people say their kids are the loves of their life. I can't argue with that, but who wants to only ever be second best to someone? Perhaps being alone is healthier, and certainly for as complicated and unromantic as it seems, a lot of my poly-amourous friends seem a lot less miserable.

I still want to believe in the fairy tale of true love. that a commitment sets one free in ways that being alone or poly-amorous never can with trust, personal growth intimacy and vulnerability. But who writes these rules? its just the expected Norm that we have been fed by a puritanical society based on their fears and religious ideals. An ancient form of crowd control that got way out of hand. "So we sit here in our storm and drink a toast to the slim chance of loves recovery".

And I watch in awe once again, as "Reece" draws a line in the sand and begins the long slow process of separating from her partner of twenty years, to reinvent herself and finally focus on her own life instead of being a caretaker for a man that needs a mommy maid to run his life, and household; and I think maybe my inability to put up with it was not so far fetched after all. It's all about choices. Choices and timing. Its not really about how much love. The truth is we can learn to love anyone with kindness, consistency and proximity, but taking care of ourselves and doing our real work on the planet cannot wait till were dead.

Without my role model I am floundering without a map, and wondering where to go from here. Once again I get to step up and figure it out. In the end I find out that Reece had "had enough" of her time and care and energy not being reciprocated. And that seems a lot like justice to me. Not for Reece perhaps, at least not now, but in the grand scheme. Justice, fairness and reciprocal respect are vital for relationship success.

hunger part 2

SO WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DON'T GET FED? When we are unable or unskilled at knowing how to feed this different kind of hunger, when we do not have the support, or resources to help us grow to point of exploring and figuring it out we suffer. It has been referred to by Shakti Gawain as a Spiritual Emergency. Falling together can feel an awful lot like falling apart.

Ultimately the human spirit will triumph, and growth, evolution, and expansion of out understanding or consciousness will occur, but in our tiny, impatient human time frame, this journey that has no directions, or road map and for some, no mentors can seem like and intolerable or nearly impossible interim to navigate. Depression seems a natural response.

With out a way to identify or feed this different kind of hunger, many will turn to food in an attempt to fill the aching void, the ever increasing hole inside them selves that no food will ever really satisfy, but the emotional sensation can be the same making it harder still to identify. Especially with no framework or vocabulary in place, and no references to this kind of growth in our popular culture. So we eat and eat because our hunger is real, then we perpetuate the problem by obsessing about our weight, our looks, and the unrealistic, unattainable, media induced standards we have set and perpetuated for ourselves and our children keeping us in a constant state of feeling inadequate and unable to ever measure up.

The result? A lot of overweight, or weight obsessed, and unhappy people, who seem emotionally detached and indifferent, and mentally preoccupied with seemingly trivial ideals. an entire culture or subculture of addicts, be it drugs, alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, electronics, porn, or just plain rude and sarcastic behavior. Perhaps the greatest danger is the normalization of these behaviors, this particular state of existence. An entire culture or society so warped into their painkilling behaviors and lifestyles, that our children are growing up in a society incapable of true intimacy. Who suffers? We do, us, Everyone. The entire world suffers when so many souls are lost to oblivion, and our children are born and raised into this intolerable and dysfunctional way of living.

To those of use who have unknowingly helped shape this unfortunate society with its loose morals and lack of soul nourishing values, this situation is more tolerable. After all, we have been part of the problem, and who wants to wake up, own up and admit to that? But our children are suffering. To them this artificial satisfaction that we perpetuate is less tolerable, and unrealistic, and unachievable, they are starving. The result is an increase in childhood disorders from A. D. D., to depression, to cutting, to crime, to suicide. Our children are under so much pressure to conform to unrealistic, media induced standards of artificial normalcy that they are literally killing themselves trying to fit in with it. It is our fault, and all we can do is be gentle with ourselves and each other, and begin to make different choices as often as we can, supporting each other along the way.

( some sources: Harvard University Study: "Dying to Fit In", New age speakers Patricia Sun, Melody Beattie, Marianne Williamson, "Women who run with the Wolves" by Clarissa, Pinkola Estes, Living in the Light, by Shakti Gawain, and multiple digital media sources.)

How to live with an artist

fall 2011

So you have captured the heart and body of an artist, and you want to keep her/him, but don't begin to know how to keep up. Here are a few pointers.

Artists definitely have an archetype. Just think for a moment what descriptive words come to mind when you hear the word? Maybe: passionate, sensuous, inconsistent, flaky, talented, unorthodox, wild, untamed, arrogant, self absorbed, brilliant, charming, charismatic, moody, demanding, sexy, taboo, naughty, scary, unpredictable, extreme, manic, popular, annoying, unreasonable, socially inept, promiscuous, macabre, morose, brooding, sulky, dynamic, flirtatious, jealous, temperamental, unreliable, dramatic... see what I mean? and the list goes on, good and bad.

Not all of these apply to everyone of us, but most of us embody some combination thereof depending on the situation, our desires, our sense of safety, acceptance, romance and adventure, and whether or not we are actually making/taking time to play with our art.


First of all if you are sure you really want to capture *and keep* the heart of this person you have to know a few rules. -whats that you say? they have none? trust me. I am a professional, and I come from a long line of artists of every kind. There are very important rules, requirements, guidelines,they just aren't YOUR rules. Take it or leave it, but don't waffle around or play games out of bed. Say what you really mean, and Mean what you say. We generally prefer straight shooters, since that is how most of us are ourselves.

MAN DOES NOT LIVE BY REASON ALONE.
Do not get an argument about creativity VS Logic. You may win the battle but you will lose the war. Without passion, and frivolous inspiration, and beauty, and love, and the unfolding, exploration, sharing and expression of these forces, life really does seem meaningless to an artist, and they will become despondent or severely depressed if denied the exploration and sensory experiences they need like others need air.

ART IS A PROCESS, NOT A PRODUCT.
NOT making art of some kind, even bad art is a death sentence to the artistic soul. Not every doodle or silly little song can be a masterpiece. Not every photo shoot or decorating venture works out as we envisioned it. Artists really are like scientists in that they need to try and fail, and adjust and go at things from various angles and make attempts that don't work at all, to learn from. For many of us, we have evolved to the point where the end result, the fame, the recognition by external sources IS NOT what its all about anymore. Its the movement, the process itself. The full immersion and LIVING of life while we have it in our grasp.

COMMUNICATION
Open and almost constant communication is very necessary since we are constantly changing... -our minds, our moods, our dreams, our desires, our lusts, our hair colors, -at least you won't get bored. But we need discussions, speculations, flights of fancy, "tea" parties, naughtiness, body paints, times of laziness, and the opportunity to occasionally try on conventions before adding our own twist. We need to share all of this, either the process or the results, or both with other artistic individuals. We WANT to be able to share it with you, but we wont run after you for long, breaking our own hearts on your indifference or disapproval.

FEEDBACK & CRITICISM ARE NOT THE SAME THING.
Artists can be brutal, but under that cynicism and tough guy act we are an overly sensitive lot. We love to easily, and usually completely. The heavy heart cannot create freely. Creativity does not blossom with a ball and chain, so even if our hearts have been broken to the core a dozen times, our art heals us when we allow it to. Of all people, artists really can love like we've never been hurt. But we need the same in return. Negativity, disapproval and criticism cut us like knives, twisting in our tender fleshy feelings, clipping our wings, and killing the unbound joy we need to bring our light and love and art to the world.

ROMANCE & ADVENTURE
What can I say? We need it. It fills the well. It gestates ideas, and tools of the trade like a giant stew brewing the next burst of creativity. Romance isn't always about sexual conquest. In fact it rarely is. Romance can be a train ride through new territory, it can be a slow sensuous bath by candle light. It can be recognizing a kindred spirit in an old Buddhist monk. Some of the best and most memorable romantic experiences I have had were NOT in the arms of a lover. Although if I had had a lover to share them with, or to help me find them, that would have been living the dream for sure.

Feel free to message and ask me questions about how to live with your artistic lover.

HUNGER

There is a place within each of us that burns with hunger. Not for food, but for recognition, for challenge, for support, for discovery, and for a chance to shine.

Often we don't get a chance to indulge or explore that facet of ourselves because of other, more basic demands: food, shelter, protection, and a sense of belonging or of family at a base chakra level of existence. To be replaced with a need for expression, recognition, connection, intimacy with another and finally sexual gratification at the second chakra level of consciousness.

Some people spend most of their lives and attention on these things, by circumstance or training, by Nature or by Nurture, missing the whole picture of other realms of existence. Many people living and existing at this level of understanding about reality, are often doubtful that "higher realms" of consciousness can have value, because their capacity to comprehend what is valuable hinges on ideals framed by the level of comprehension they are unknowingly trapped at. They seek concrete material evidence. Material reality of houses, ho's, cars, and shiny toys, yet even with this treasure trove they are not truly happy. The feeling persists that something is still missing.

To someone who knows No other possibility of reality, or satisfaction this is the only thing that CAN make sense: Better MUST be more, bigger, stronger, faster, harder, or have a larger price tag. period. There is simply no other possibility to this person. Until their ability to comprehend has a chance to evolve organically through insight or experience, argument is pointless since it only threatens their sense of reality and what is possible to the point of seeming unrealistic and fool hardy.

Perhaps I am awful, and I am indeed arrogant, because I truly pity these people. I pity them, but it is no longer with anger, or judgement, but with compassion and a desire to open a window and share a wider sense of possibility. I want to bridge the gap, to open the door of understanding and turn the light on for those willing to consider that there is more to life and reality than anyone can know, even those of us who pride ourselves on exploring and expanding our own understanding of potential and possibility. I cannot make anyone Choose more, but I hope can help them see that perhaps there is more to consider and to choose from, if they are willing. This is my calling.

At some point in life, when the time and conditions are right, we all get an opportunity to see beyond tribal and family mind. Eventually those basic needs are sated, or fulfilled and still we yearn. We hunger for something we may not even be able to identify. We long for something more, and with out an example to strive towards or a language to identify and placate these unformed desires we are at a greater risk of doing something dire, or unintentionally propagating avoidance and numbing behaviors which contribute negatively to the self, the family and society: like drug abuse, depression, cruelty, aloofness, shutting down, bitterness, sarcasm, inventing drama, picking fights, or projecting our own unidentified limitations onto others and persecuting them for not living with in our own ill-defined parameters of "how it should be". We become a part of the problem in our struggle to be free of it.

This is a struggle with the self. Basic third chakra identity issues that we must all come to at some point in our journey. A common place for most of us to get stuck and to flounder. A place where our greatest strengths might prove to be our greatest weaknesses, and these traits we've never developed or given voice to, might be the very ones that lift us to a new level of insight or understanding. Confidence might become arrogance, compassion may become victimized, and being reserved may become apathetic. It is a place where everyone else seems to be "doing it wrong", when really it is our own ceiling of understanding and insight that is cracking up and getting ready to expand. Ultimately we can only change our selves and our own point of view and ways of looking at and relating to another or an experience. Something we are trained earlier on to resist at all costs.

The tribal or family mind teaches us to adapt our selves and our desires, beliefs and behaviors to get along for the good of the tribe. But self hood and self actualization comes at the cost of rejecting not only some of the families values but the closed way of viewing outside information, of judging "others"; be it lifestyle, choices, motivations, belief systems, which might look like politics, religion, or gender identification. All hot buttons to humans struggling with base chakra level issues. But a vital place of open mindedness and exploration, compassion, and consideration on the road to whole person-hood, and self
actualization.

trashing the dress

I recently received this letter from my pen pal...


Hello,

I have just got back from a cold, wet field nearby, watching it being ploughed and a rather strange local event. A Trashing the Dress party.

This is a very odd sort of celebration. So far as I know it is a tradition particular to the very far north of Scotland. I have never heard of anything similar elsewhere in the UK. The tradition is strong here though and seems to be growing more so. If you look in the windows of local photographers shops you will see the usual wedding, baby and other photos, as well as trashing the dress pictures.

It seems that, once a woman is well and truly married. Once she is sure she will never again need her wedding dress. She has the choice of putting it away in her wardrobe, never to see daylight again unless she can pass it on to her daughter. Assuming she has one. Assuming the dress will fit the girl. Assuming the dress is still fashionable. Assuming the daughter wants to wear it. Or, she can trash it!

This seems to be then a public statement made by a young married woman, but never explicitly expressed, that she is now happily married and will not be seeking another husband. So, she gathers her friends and relatives together as witnesses, as well as a photographer. Then she puts on her wedding dress and goes and does something that will utterly destroy it, so that it is fit for nothing but the 'rag and bone man'.

Today the young lady arrived wearing a lovely, full length gown with a short train. She had a little posy of flowers in her hands an a veil, thrown back over her head to reveal her face and held in place by a simple band. She had a pair of pretty white shoes on, with dainty high heels. Also white stockings, a baby ble garter and a little white thong. I know, because she posed for us with her skirts lifted high. Just for the photographer you understand.

Anyway. The field was being ploughed. It was rough, since the ground had only just been turned. It was also very wet, since it was raining overnight. The tractor pulled up alongside the young lady. The plough had been unhooked. In it's place a heavy, knotted rope had been fixed to the tow hook. The bride picked up the knotted rope and hung on tight as the tractor set off slowly across the muddy field. The young woman had no choice but to follow. In moments she had lost a shoe, stuck in the mud. Moments later she broke the heel off the other shoe, so kicked it off and continued barefoot. Her dress by now was getting very muddy around the skirts whilst the tractor wheels were throwing up mud all over her bodice. Soon her stockings were shredded as she walked through the foot. Finally she staggered, falling to her knees in the plough furrows. The tractor continued it's slow progress though. So, a moment later, she was pulled onter her chest, to be dragged slowly through the sticky soil for some 20ft or so. Finally, she let go of the rope. She struggled to her feet and, amidst loud applause and the flash of camera flashguns, she stumbled to the edge of the field.

An odd ceremony. Great fun to watch though. I couldn't help feeling it was a bit kinky too. There were elements of public humiliation, exhibitionism and messy play in all this.

Or perhaps that is just seeing things from my kinky perspective. Perhaps it is in fact simply an endearing pagan ritual.

Do you have anything similar in nature on the far side of the atlantic? Is this simply a bit of British madness?