If You Build It, They Will Come (But What If I Don't Know What I Am Building?)

My friend Lance and me as Vestal Virgins, Burning Man 2011

Originally posted September 16, 2011

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I/I took the one less-traveled by/And that has made all the difference. --Robert Frost

When I decided to move to the west coast, my intention was always to land in Los Angeles—and it still is. The film industry beckons me, as does the prospect of bringing Orgasmic Mediation to the myriad of package-pretty (but sensation-lacking) actors and actresses living in Tinseltown.

I had a plan: save up some money, buy a car and drive directly to LA at the beginning of 2012.

Only now, a pesky little gnat has taken up residence in my heart: Desire.

I recently spent four weeks out west, both in San Francisco and in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada as part of set-up and tear-down crew for the annual Burning Man festival (if you don’t know what that is, I really can’t explain it here, but trust me, it is a life-changing crucible of transformation). During these weeks, I experienced what it was like to feel validated as a sexually hungry woman. I felt creative in ways I never imagined (I painted a bunch of tables for Center Camp and gave a talk on creativity, purpose and orgasm—two things I have never done before!). I lived an existence where magic and synchronicity were the status quo. I celebrated my 31stbirthday on the playa. And I found my people. As I write this now I am starting to weep. Family. People who see all of you and love every little crazy, creepy, freaky, dirty, shiny, golden scrap of your wounded being. People, who when I say “I am sad” or “I am angry”, say “Great! Tell me about it!”—not the usual “Get over it” or “Awww, everything’s gonna be ok.” Most of all, I learned how to better express my own love. To not hold back out of fear of what the “Other” is thinking, but to just fucking stand up, look someone in the eye (with love and without entitlement) and say “This is what I feel. This is what I want.”

So now, all I can think about is how the hell I can get to San Francisco as soon as possible. Not in a passing “I’ll spend a week there on my way to LA” kind of way. But in a serious, 3-4 month energetic fortification before making my way to jungles of Los Angeles. As in buying a one-way ticket two weeks from today, donating most of my possessions and shipping the rest. Tying a hasty little bow on this 13-year love affair with New York City.

The thing is…I’m scared. Really. Do I have a job in SF? No. Do I have a place to live? Well, maybe a crash pad for a few weeks, but certainly nothing really affordable for me right now. Do I have a car (so I really need one)? A plan? Any real good reason to do this?

I mean, this doesn’t make sense! I just signed a 3-month teaching contract at the City University of New York. I have clients at the studio I teach out of in Soho. I need to be saving money now and moving costs a lot of money!

And yet…it all just feels like an excuse to me.

Because the bottom line is that my desire is calling me in a BIG FUCKING WAY to SF—right now in this very moment (oh man, here come the tears again).

I know what you are thinking: “Oh Lord, another one of these people who is making crazy life changes after going to Burning Man.” I hear you. But, this isn’t my first time at the burn, ya know. It’s my third, so it’s not as if I just experienced all this opening for the first time and I have decided to sell my life and become a monk in the Himalayas. I mean, I already started selling everything I own last April. I already had a plan to go west for the past year. And I am keeping in step with the purpose I was put here for: to perform and to bring OMing to everyone. It simply feels like I am now listening even more closely to my body, which yearns to accelerate at a pace I had not anticipated.

At Burning Man, my intention was to let go of the Good Girl/Princess and to step into the role of a Queen. Though there is still always work to be done here, I feel as if I shed a huge part of the last 10 years of my life on the playa. And in this lightness, I have found an immediacy, a weightlessness and a freedom in life. I can’t return now to the old ways of living: holding myself back, waiting for the right moment, scrimping by on “just enough”, living in the land of “if only” or “what if.” The moment is now. Always. The moment is right now. It’s simply up to me to choose which direction to go…

Dropping the Fairy Tale: Good Girls vs. Good Women

Anne Hathaway, Princess Diaries

Originally posted July 23, 2011

Once again it’s time for another one of those posts that explores the finer distinctions between two seemingly similar subjects (you may remember an earlier post of mine, What do you REALLY want: Desire vs. Craving).

Through the questions that arise in coaching sessions to observations made in nail salons to my own personal journey, I have discovered that we as women have a hard time letting go of the “good girl.” You know, the one all in pink who sat quietly in church, never tells a lie and is the apple of daddy’s eye? No, you don’t, because she doesn’t exist. As much as we try to be that “good girl,” our desire and orgasm sneak out in a lot of ways. It can leave us feeling exhausted doting on others and guilty in our inadequacy. Or perhaps we’ve rejected our desire for so long, we react in anger and blame those who “took advantage of us.”

In any case, we are grown now. Free women to choose what we want, whenever we want it…right? Well, not exactly. Our bodies may have matured, but the way that we interact with the world has changed very little from when we were 4 years old. In fact, we still live in a society that very much reinforces the notion of a high-class lady as being pre-pubescent thin, beautiful and, above all, very proper. Any other type of woman is troubled, too much, crazy, a slut, etc (you’d never see Prince William fight for the hand of someone like Lady Gaga, even if he were madly in love with her).

So I’ve come to set the record straight and help out my fellow ladies who are working on finding their voice and coming to their power. No, to break out of the “good girl” mold, you don’t have to become Lady Gaga (though I love that woman with every ounce of my being). But you will have to confront and let go of a lot of old ways of relating that kept you safe and comfortable in the past.

So, without further ado, I bring you the Top 10 ways of telling a “Good Girl” from a “Good Woman.”

1. A good girl runs from fear. A good woman embraces it.

A good girl doesn’t want to rock the boat. She’s afraid of hurting people, going outside the box…essentially she is afraid of life. A good woman doesn’t escape her fear, but she leans into it, because she knows her ultimate fulfillment comes from discovering the desire on the other side.

2. A good girl denies her hunger. A good woman relishes it.

“Oh, no thank you, I’m full.” “Oh I’ll just have the diet platter.” “I’ll skip dessert. I’m being good this week.” We’ve all heard the catchphrase of women still caught in “good girl” mentality. And we also know that women dieting are more likely than not having orgasms. And this doesn’t mean that a good woman is stuffing her face all the time and pigging out on cheetos and bon-bons. But a good woman slows down and knows herself well enough to choose what is nourishing and relish every bite…whether it’s the grilled fish and asparagus, or the double chocolate chip cake. She eats life to feed her soul, not to numb the sensation.

3. A good girl withholds. A good woman adjusts.

A good girl is going to tell her partner what she thinks he wants to hear, but in the process, she holds back a piece of her voice. That unspoken desire sits in her body and, over time, rots into shame and resentment. Over time, she will (consciously or unconsciously) do things to her partner to punish him…and ultimately herself. A good woman tells her partner the truth. She approves of him/her and learns to calibrate her words so she can be heard and received, while fully expressing what it is she wants. She adjusts her partner (and is desires to receive the same kind of attention and honesty in return).

4. A good girl receives with guilt. A good woman receives with grace.

Good girls may accept a gift, but there is always a string of “you shouldn’t have” or “that’s too much” or “you didn’t have to do this” that comes along with it. She has to knock herself down a few notches in order to make it acceptable to receive, lest she feel her hunger (and subsequent shame) that comes with receiving. A good woman says “thank you”. Just thank you. Because she knows she is worthy (without the insecure timbre of entitlement). She listens to her hunger, knows when she is full and pours out genuine gratitude.

5. A good girl does what looks right. A good woman does what feels right.

A good girl follows a tried-and-true structure that will elicit positive reinforcement from her partner and the people in her life. A good woman moves from an instinctual compass. While it may look messy from the outside, deep within her body, she knows it is the path for her.

6. A good girl stuffs her anger. A good woman alchemizes it.

Good girls don’t get angry. Bullshit. They just stuff it until it seeps out as passive aggressiveness. A good woman acknowledges her anger in the moment and feels into it so she can know where she is out of integrity in her life. From there, she can use the force of that anger as power to change course.

7. A good girl strives for perfection. A good woman lives in perfection.

A good girl lives her life seeking to perfect perceived “impurities” in her life, so she is never fully able to relax and drop into the present, lest someone catch a glimpse of her ugliness. A good woman sees every moment as perfect, with both it’s divinity and it’s humanity.

8. A good girl’s desire is frozen. A good woman’s desire is dynamic.

A good girl is bred to want the same thing every day and desire only so much as is socially acceptable. She has lost the connection to the freedom that comes with spontaneity. In fact, she will often deny that she wants the very thing that will give her the deepest satisfaction. A good woman’s desire ebbs and flows like the tide: small and humble in one moment, wild and tempestuous in the next. But it is always, always authentic and she is constantly seeking to expand her container to hold more.

9. A good girl submits. A good woman surrenders.

A good girl submits, relinquishing her power to perceived “authorities” in order to escape the clamoring cry of her orgasm. A good woman surrenders control to her orgasm, and thus holds her own amongst the truly powerful.

10. A good girl waits for the fairy tale. A good woman creates her own legacy.

A good girl is still trapped in a tower, like a virginal princess waiting in vain for Prince Charming to save her. Over time, she can turn jaded and bitter, a “victim” of the happily-ever-after story she bought. A good woman turns the key to the door, descends the tower staircase and, like a Queen, enters the vast terrain of her own pleasure. It is from this empowered place that she can choose the life she truly desires.

The Cancer of Hopelessness: How one crazy dude and two rock bands whacked me from despair

Dreams, Aaron Bohrod

Originally posted July 10, 2011

I’ve been rather low these past few days with this feeling of “why bother?” I can work hard my whole life and will it really make a difference? Am I just a dreamer who has lost touch with reality? Who cares about my selfish little dreams when there are people on the planet who are starving, being beaten and mutilated, and who don’t have the freedom to speak their minds? Shouldn’t I just shut up and be thankful for all that I have?

Well, no. First of all I know that all that talk is just my fear and my shame around asking and receiving what I want. Those voices provide a strong argument for me to NOT do the scary, hard work of being an advocate for the dreamers and the optimists and for the people who believe that if I touch just one life today, even anonymously, then that will be “enough.”

Technology is advancing at an exponential rate. Will social progress come along for the ride and bring issues like gender equality, global poverty, religious freedom and environmental conservation to light? To my surprise (and despair) an overwhelming number of people I know do not think so.

There seems to be an all-pervading cancer of hopelessness that is seeping into our culture and keeps us from living our natural state of joy, grace, pleasure and abundance. It disguises itself in many forms. There are those who sit back and say “There’s never gonna be peace anyway, so might as well let the bastards blow each other up.” Another group may say, “That’s happening over there. It doesn’t affect me. I’ve got my own to take care of.” And then there are others who are aware of what’s happening but get stuck in their anger, righteous indignation, and separation from humanity. “How dare THOSE people shit all over the planet and ruin it for the rest of us.”

We’re all stuck. For every tweet that goes out to topple the repressive regime in one country, there is another self-serving group waiting to grab power. For every step forward, it feels like we end up twenty steps back from where we started. We are all living life as fast as we can in the hopes to die number 1.

And yet…I can’t help but return full of hope. There is something in me that won’t let me quit. Call is purpose. Call it orgasm. Call it the silly dreamer sickness. Yes, we are bombarded with images of despair now more than ever. But that is in fact exactly what we need to take the first steps towards healing. GLOBAL AWARENESS. 100 years ago, someone in a third world country would not have even known that riches exist for someone like him. Now he knows it’s possible. A woman who is forced to hide her sexuality in an extremely oppressive society now knows that somewhere in the world exists a place where she could express herself. A gay kid trapped in the reddest of red states now knows that somewhere is a place where his love will be legally honored. And we can no longer turn our eyes away from the truth that another person’s pain is our own. We can now put a face to the “global issue.”

Awareness leads to possibility which leads to hope. And hope is what keeps us alive in the darkest hours. Yes. It’s gonna get messy at first. Anytime you start airing out dirty laundry, the resentments will spill out all over yourself and others. In fear we try to hold onto them and cast them onto others in blame. It may feel safe and comfortable in the moment, but that’s the easy way out. The path sustainable change is to recognize those resentments as unexpressed desires, take responsibility for them and ask for forgiveness from those we have hurt along the way. Only as the old energy passes through us are we able to clear a space for the frozen pain to melt and the wounds to heal.

A final story: I walking home this afternoon. I had my ipod on. Beautiful day. I was just starting to emerge from the feeling of hopelessness that had being weighing me down when out of nowhere: WHACK! This homeless-looking man passes me and (intentionally) hits me hard on my upper arm. I stand there. Shocked. People are staring at me with looks of confusion and concern. One girl asks “Are you OK?” I touch my arm to check for bruising or blood and nervously laugh. “I’m fine,” I say. I turn to look at my attacker and he is mocking me. The way I touch my arm. The way I am laughing. As if I am some stupid bitch. Again, I am shocked. I can see this man is clearly unstable. I drop into him and feel not anger, but a deep sadness at how far gone he is. What amounts of pain must he have experienced that he must completely check out of life in order to cope? I turned away and kept walking. One man looked at me and in solidarity said, “What a douche.” But I didn’t feel like dismissing the attacker. He was alive and real, just like me. I softly said, “He’s obviously not in his right mind.”

I continue on and notice a deep welling in my throat. Hmmm…hope. Is there any hope of help for him? And if not, what about the millions of others around the world? If hopelessness is right here in my neighborhood, how the hell can I even think to be of service to those around the planet? I feel the despair creep back in.

And that’s when the universe steps in. At that moment Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” starts to play on my ipod. OK, I know. It feels like a moment out of cheesy movie. But as I turned the corner onto empty Newtown Rd, the tears began to pour out of me. I suddenly had this rush of gratitude. Of remembrance. Oh yes, belief and hope are who I am and I am here to walk through the shadows to help others see what is possible. That there is life on the other side. That dreamers are not unrealistic fools. The crying overpowered me. My heart cracked open in the middle of the street. And then (just when I thought it was over), Ben Harper starts up next with, “When She Believes.” Now if that ain’t a sign from beyond, I don’t know what is. The tears start up all over again. Cleansing, sweet, open, grateful. I am finally in communion with that part of me that knows I am exactly where I need to be in this moment.


Next time I see that guy, I am going to say, “Thank you for waking me up! May your journey bring you freedom. There is hope yet.”

Embracing the Spiritual Paradox: The Sacred, The Profane, The Mundane

Amor Sacre Amor Profano, Titian

Originally published June 24, 2011

All right. I can feel it. This is going to be one of those entries that tries to mash up 15 journal entries into one barely coherent post. I apologize in advance. I’m not a writer. I just play one on the internet.

So, what does spiritual mean to you? Is it something high in the clouds? Pure? Is it deep and connected? Is it trippy altered states of being? Is it devotion to one omnipotent being? Is it being in nature? Or something completely different?

I say yes. Just yes. Whatever your answer is, yes. And your answer, yes. And your answer, yes. Because the bottom line is that ALL THAT EXISTS IS SPRITUAL. PERIOD. To deem one area of your life as being “spiritual” (i.e. when I do my meditation) and another as non-spiritual (i.e. when I drive my car or scream at my child) is to create divisions in your life, namely, the good, the bad and the boring. And this division leads to an underlying tension in all that you do. When things are good, fear of losing them creeps in, so you must grip, lest they slip away. When things are bad, you must reject and shut out the world. When things are boring, you must constantly seek out anything to fill the emptiness. All of these are ways to escape the present.

We’ve all felt “sacred” moments in our life. The sun making its first appearance on a fresh spring day. Sculptures of beautiful men and women. A baby being born. Our first kiss. A song. A group in deep prayer.

But what about when you are sick on your knees and hanging over a toilet? How about when you are washing lettuce? How about when your anger and jealousy consume you? How about when you are unlocking your door? How about when your marriage ends or your mother dies or you see people killing each other in foreign countries because everyone has a different name for “God”?

This post is not just about “sacred sexuality” or “sacred prostitution” (which is where most people go when they hear the union of sacred/profane). Indeed, what the hell is “sacred sex” anyway? What makes intercourse that is done with breathwork/chanting/eye-gazing anymore spiritual than a fingerbang in the bathroom of a nightclub? True, participants may be more conscious in one scenario than another. Participants may be more in alignment in their personal integrity in one scenario than another. Maybe not. But all experiences stand alone on their own as spiritual and opportunities to plug into ourselves deeper. It’s just our idea of that we believe spirituality to be that keeps us grasping for certain experiences in life and avoiding others (which is the fundamental nature of suffering).

What if we explored the possibility that THE UNIVERSE DOES NOT MAKE MISTAKES. Can we expand our perspective and hold the paradox that everything, from Wall Street tycoons to rapists to priests to crack addicts to paint drying to the Dalai Lama to George Carlin’s seven words are all expressions of Spirit and offer an opportunity for connection and self-reflection.

Doesn’t mean life is easy. Or pretty. Or nice. Or exciting. Hell it downright sucks a lot of the time. And yet if you can slow down and simply feel what is (underneath your history or expectations), you would see the miracle it took to bring you here. Mel Robbins has a great  where she says that the odds of being born in this moment in time are one in 400 trillion! Now imagine those odds coupled with another person being born in this moment AND the odds of your two sharing the same energy field. Now imagine more miracle-people moving in and out, like threads on a loom. What an incredible tapestry of life you weave. And you are an expression of Spirit. And so is the chair. And the floor. And the cockroach. All these pieces coming together for you to interact in service of self-realization in your one miracle-life.

Furthermore can we begin to see that pain is actually a gift on the journey. Your anger and fear provide valuable information as to where you are out of integrity in your life and where your desire lies. Your grief in losing a loved one is a chance to crack open your heart and cleanse your soul of past residue. War is a reminder that there is still so much work to be done in the INTERNAL landscape of our spirit (as Osho says, “You cannot change the society first and hope that individuals will change later on”).

So notice where you are fixed in your perspective in life and try to invite in a new way. Notice who or what you deem as “worthy of your attention” and who is not. Notice who you blame for all the world’s problems. Bush. Obama. Republicans. Corporate America. Porn. Hollywood. The Government. Your Parents. Whatever. Then invite the possibility that all that is just is. Begin to take responsibility for your own life. Begin to accept the challenge made to you on the miraculous day of your birth: to come to know yourself and your soul’s purpose through self-discovery in relationship and integration (not in avoidance, rejection or “rising above”) to all that is.

You chose this life. Really. If you don’t like it, you can bitch and moan and blame and try to run away from it and into the “sacred.” Or you can choose to accept responsibility for all that you are, find the Spirit that already exists in this moment and move forward empowered to create the life for which you were born.

For a brilliant (and more succinct) view on the topic, check out Ken Wilbur’s talk on Beauty and Spirit, where he explores the Good, the Beautiful and the True (in my language, the Sacred, the Profane and the Mundane). Shout out to Jason D. McClain who brought this stunning video to my attention.

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Take Responsibility for Your Orgasm (for Women Who are “Too Much”)

,

Red Sea

Originally published June 8, 2011

…and really, what woman isn’t too much? Even the mousy, little librarian types at some point in their lives got the message that they were “too much” and to manage that, they squashed their orgasmic energy down into this tiny little thimble that they try to tuck away in the back folds of their skirts.

Ladies, the cat’s out of the bag. I see you. You have a volcano of raw, potent power just aching to be expressed, no matter how many times you try to sweetly deny it, act out in anger or run for the box doughnuts. Not only do I know you are powerful, it is in fact your sacred RESPONSIBILITY to cultivate that power and use it in service of evolving the planet.

So, go ahead, do us all a favor and add ‘orgasm’ to the top of your very busy to-do list (no, not after picking Billy up from soccer and making dinner…to the top).

Because when you don’t come from nourishing fullness, deep desire and pleasure, you are running on empty. Dry. Drained. Irritated. And it’s painful to watch. And because you are trying to hide the mountain of orgasm that you do possess, your energy leaks out in some very unhealthy (and often addictive) ways. Some more socially acceptable than others, but none in the best interest of your creative potential.

Maybe you constantly seek out relationships in order to quiet that nagging hunger you feel when you are alone and use seduction as a tool for the attention you crave. Maybe you try to stuff it down with binge eating or numb it out with the latest reality TV show. Maybe you use self-deprecating humor to deflect from the pain of your void. Maybe you lash out and blame everyone around you who you perceive as trying to ‘hold you back’ or ‘violate your rights’. Maybe your passive aggressiveness seeps out the sides like a sticky tar that keeps you frozen in fear and fury. Maybe you starve your orgasm to get the ultimate prize—weighing under 100 pounds (yeah, that one almost cost me my life).

The list goes on. Ladies, the time is now to recognize our power and take responsibility for it. It’s as if we women are the size of the Atlantic Ocean and we’ve been trying all our lives to fit intoLake Michigan. We dam up our waters, keeping them tightly reined in, but eventually we spill over and all the people we love get washed away. So we feel guilty and try to suck it in even more. Or we tell off those motherfuckers who just couldn’t handle us.

But now (thankfully) you know the truth. You are an ecosystem, teeming with vitality! Expand your container. Create the space to hold your bigness. Flow out to the edges of your known world so you can discover the life that is meant for you. And from your vast fullness, you can now carry sailors to new shores. Be part of the cycle that will nourish life on the planet. Provide a home for the myriad of sea-dwelling creatures. Your feminine energy is the planet’s greatest untapped natural resource.

You might be going “But HOW do I do this???” Great question. Start with slowing down and making a gentle inquiry as to where you are in life. Are you living a life of pleasure or just hoping to make it through the day? Where are you out of your integrity? What are the little ways you cheat yourself of the fullness of your life? Where do you cast blame on others for your problems? Do you wake up in the mornings excited about your life, or dreading it? Is your sex life fulfilling or empty (or non-existent!). Stay curious and compassionate as you ask yourself these questions, as they can bring up a lot of feelings of anger, shame, fear and guilt.

Other tools you can use are creating gratitude lists, practice speaking your truth (I recommend responsibly enrolling people you trust in that game), closing open cycles, doing anonymous acts of service, taking time for self-care and letting go of toxic relationships. But the biggest piece of advice I can give any woman is to OM. Setting aside 15 minutes per day to surrender in a safe container that is created purely for the exploration of orgasm is nothing short of miraculous. You will alchemize your energy into pure gold.

It may seem selfish and weird and awkward and you may fumble on your journey towards grace and power. And that too is part of your beauty. The hiccups. The slips, trips, falls and imperfections are what make you so unique and devastatingly irresistible to all who come into your sphere.

So laugh. A lot. And have courage. Trust in who you are and what you know. The world awaits you…

Dressing for MY Pleasure: A New Look at the World of Lingerie

Simone Perele bra, Romance collection

Originally posted June 6, 2011

I’m a simple girl, fashion-wise. Functional. Perhaps it’s the German in me. I mean, I love to play dress up as much as the next starlet. But when it comes to my everyday life, if it’s scratchy, pinches, rides up intimate crevices or just plain hinders my progress in any way, I won’t wear it. This especially goes for lingerie. How can I feel good, sexy and free in something that feels uncomfortable. This also hits upon my notion of being a turned-on, sexual woman. I mean, shouldn’t I want  to like to dress sexy all the time? I mean, if it’s on the outside, of course I want to look nice—but to get all dolled-up with clothing that no one’s going to see?

And that’s where Margaret Shrum comes in. The self-proclaimed “Lingerie Goddess” (who began her personal lingerie journey at 14 with her mother) entered my life a few weeks ago and graciously offered to give me a complimentary consultation. She is a personal lingerie shopper—and with 20 years in the lingerie fashion business, I knew I had to take advantage of her wisdom.

We began by pulling out my collection of “unmentionables.” Bras that were 5 years old, but that still, you know, I might wear at some point in the future. That negligee that I only wore once because someone gave it to me. The mound of underwear that goes from two strings tied together to giant granny panties for when I’m on my period. I have to say, I was a little embarrassed to display how little I really knew and how I don’t really take the best care of those articles I wear closest to my body. But Margaret was extremely understanding and non-judgmental. I felt almost guilty that I had a lovely lingerie set that I had never worn! I thought it was like a tragic waste or something. Be she casually accepted by hesitancy with a gentle “Oh, yeah. Well if it’s not your style, you won’t wear it.” And that’s when I realized my huge judgment: that lingerie only fits into the world of occasionally dressing up to please someone else. But I never really thought to dress to please myself on a daily basis!

And really, my everyday style is pretty simple. Classic lines, delicate, sleek, satiny, seamless…and very little lace. I have to admit, I’ve never liked lace. I feel like a trumped-up, Victorian doily. The Europeans have a relationship with their intimate apparel which for many years baffled me. I can still remember my Francophile grandmother buying me a Wacoal bra at the department store because that was the best brand. I was mystified at how this could be so important to her and just not that much to me. Should I care more? Are bras more than just stretch-mark preventers, as my mom had told me?

In a word, yes. The lingerie you wear has a vital impact on how the rest of the outfit looks on your body. Many a lovely ensemble has been undermined by seams sticking out or an ill-fitting bra that doesn’t hold your shape or squashes you down to an amorphous uni-boob. Plus, you can tell when a woman is wearing something she truly adores…it’s as if she is carrying a sexy secret that glows off her skin and lights up the world. There’s more to it than just pretty underwear. It’s about knowing my worth and consciously and exquisitely adorning my body with pieces that reflect my inner Goddess.

So when we started looking at the pieces she brought based on my style preferences, I discovered a sweet, little French bra that lifted me up, had the classic, sleekness of elegance…and the lightest accent of lace that was feminine, yet young. Another judgment challenged. Lace could feel classy, yet updated (and non-scratchy—BONUS!). I actually liked the shape of my body then. It felt natural and, well…me. It was so satisfying to be seen and met at that moment. Met by elegant, sleek French lace. It totally started to break down all my thoughts about lingerie is somehow different or more elevated than my everyday attire. You can, in fact, feel sexy, comfortable and authentic in your everyday basics—especially when you are dressing for yourpleasure. That’s the mark of a truly turned-on woman—one who let’s her personal taste and desire guide her. And if it looks (for the most part) simple, sweet and comfortable, that’s just perfect.

So if you are looking to cultivate a new relationship with your inner lingerie goddess, check out Margaret’s website. It’s full of advice, recommendations and all sorts of fun finds. I appreciated how she listened to what was important to me and offered me her twists and inspirations on what I liked. She was patient, let me try on lots of different items, but most of all, she guided me towards loving my body, which is already a complicated relationship for me (and no doubt the majority of women).

Now, if only we can get to a place where I discover my love for the boy short…

PS- Margaret is also generously collecting unwanted lingerie items to pass on to low-income girls and women who can not afford high-end pieces. I happily passed on a bagful of garments that were only seeing the inner décor of my dresser.

Bah Humbug! (The Porn Scrooge has her say…)

Originally posted on June 1, 2011

I recently had a Facebook exchange with someone who was shocked to hear that my take on pornography is that (for the most part, but not always) it is a reflection of our cultural shadow regarding sex—a result of our own cultural sexual repression.

Um, ok, what?! In plain terms a shadow is a part of ourselves that we don’t claim or own. The best way to discern your shadow is to notice the characteristics in other people that you can’t stand or hate or vilify or claim as “wrong” or “sinful.” This usually stems from some sort of shame or desire to fit within an acceptable norm. However, if you get in relationship with your shadow and integrate it, you develop the ability for compassionate living with all beings because you have a compassionate relationship with all parts of yourself.

OK, so back to porn. We in the US have this thing where what we practice in our daily life looks a lot different than what eeks out in the entertainment and media industries. As “open-minded” a society as we like to think we are, we are still “one nation under God” and for most of us, that means living in accordance to a religious dogma that tells us that sex before marriage is wrong, homosexuals are sick and that anything that happens in the bedroom should stay there and not be talked about in “polite company.” But all that tamped down energy has to find a place to go; so it comes out in sexy models gracing ads for cars and beer, scantily-clad teenage pop stars being our icons of femininity and, as I mentioned, porn.

OK. So let me just say this. THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH NUDITY, NAKED PERFORMERS OR PORN. OK? I am not going to take your porn away or condemn anyone who wants to perform a sexy song onstage or watch some fun-time sex play. I myself do burlesque and will be the first one in line to do a crazy, sexy, fetish-inspired photo shoot or intensely erotic film scene. What I am asking from you is to take another approach to exploring sexuality. Much of what we see as “sex” is only one tiny sliver of the whole pie, but we come to think that this one tiny sliver is all there is. And this sliver is, for the most part, a highly-exaggerated, masculinized version of sexuality. Its focus is on sensationalism. On shock value. On money shots. On selling. On going for a goal and producing results. And that’s ok AS LONG AS YOU ARE CONSCIOUS OF THIS DYNAMIC. That it’s a business. Entertainment.

Where we can really damage ourselves as sexual beings is when we being to equate ourselves with what we see on the outside, and if any part of our sexuality deviates from that, we are somehow “wrong” or “broken.” If we as women aren’t ready give a blow job to our husbands the moment he comes home from work, we are frigid. If a man has a cock measuring less than 6 inches and can’t blow his wad within two minutes of a hot woman breathing on him, he is impotent. If our sexual appetite isn’t hearty in the “right” moments and is a raving lunatic in the “wrong” moments, we are very, very bad people indeed. And since we as a culture, tend to have a difficult time understanding the depth of our own sexuality (much less talking about it), how can we possibly teach our kids what it’s like to have a healthy relationship with their sex and their bodies? If porn (and very stifled, clinical lessons in 8th grade health class) is the only education for kids and the sexually curious, is it any wonder that shame and secrecy cloud our most intimate parts? Is it any wonder that men walk around bragging about how virile they are but freak out the moment he has a woman alone in a room (believe me, I speak from experience on this one)? Is it any wonder that women constantly beat themselves up because they don’t look like the images they see?

Another reason that our relationship to porn can also be damaging is that it all-too-often takes the place of truly nourishing sexual experiences. It’s like you see this act of perceived sexuality, you feel your hands on your genitals and there is some sort of release. So it feels like you’ve had sex. And you have. But this kind of experience lacks the very heart of what we do desperately want from our sex—intimacy and vulnerability. You are a voyeur on the sexual ride, rather than an active participant. I mean, every once in a while, you just wanna get your rocks off. You wanna go to Mickey-D’s, order the Big Man and fries and stuff yourself with dirty, greasy goodness. But if this taste isn’t balanced with nourishing, quality meals, you are going to walk around sexually starving and feeling angry, ashamed and confused about why you seem to have an active sexual life, but are somehow still terribly unfulfilled.

The antidote to the shadow is to turn right around and face it. Cultivate a relationship with your sexuality. Learn, stroke by stroke, what your own orgasm feels like and from there discover the nuances that make your sexuality unique. When you climax, it may not be a loud, crazy, screaming fit—and that’s ok. It might take you a full hour of stroking before you even begin to feel the tiniest spark of sensation in your genitals—and that’s ok. You may have thought you would never like anything that was a little too on the fringe, but have a secret desire to be blindfolded and tied up by the Starbucks coffee girl—and that’s ok (talk to your partner first before acting out on that last one).

Ultimately, it’s about shifting our secret, shadowy preoccupation with sex from one with a purely external gaze to one that looks inward towards our personal desire compass. A relationship with sex based on curious inquiry about what I truly want, not one based on what I think I should be. About connecting to ourselves, our desires and the present moment, rather than distancing ourselves from it. About slowing down, stripping away our beliefs, paying attention and moving from the instinctual body. This is a gradual process, but one that is much more fulfilling in the long run.

I am aware that there is a movement to create different kinds of porn—for women by women and based on true eroticism rather than purely profit-driven sensationalism. Cool. Fantasy is sometimes a fun choice. Not every sexual experience has to be a David-Deida-claim-your-woman’s-open-heart-and-soul-and-bring-her-to-God event. Just stay conscious about how you’re spending your energy, where your attention is and what is your true desire. If you are not sure, keep coming back to the sensation in your body. Let your orgasm be your guide and your fuel on your journey towards your sexual self.

Who knows. You might find infinitely more pleasure in the experience of pink silk slowly slipping down the length of your inner arm than you ever could have found in Alien Midget Gang Bang 4.

FYI: Check out NYU professor, Chyng Sun’s intelligent documentary on the porn industry, The Price of Pleasure, at http://thepriceofpleasure.com

Where the F*CK is that music coming from? (hint: open your eyes…)

Masada, Dead Sea

Originally posted May 25, 2011

Last night I went to an amazingly turned-on event in Tribeca with lots of great men and women in the health and coaching business. Afterwards, since the night was warm, I decided to take a stroll north and see where the road took me.

I made my way to Soho, when I began to hear music: the beating of a drum and the clang of hand symbols. It sounded far off, but not so far that I couldn’t easily get to it by foot. I strolled on and as it got closer, I began to look in the distance. Perhaps if there were a crowd of people that would let me know where the impromptu concert was happening. I got closer and the music got louder and I could hear a call and response chant going on. “Oh! So it’s a kirtan,” I thought. Perhaps there is a yoga studio or large loft nearby and they have the window open for the whole neighborhood to hear the concert. Spring St…Prince St…I keep walking north. Step by step the music got louder (even to the point where I feel it almost next to me), but I can’t seem to find a location. Not just to the right or left, but all around. I look up in windows. I look for the crowd in the distance. And the music just gets louder and louder…I can feel it almost thrumming underneath my skin…I am getting obsessed with it by now. I have to know. Where is this fucking music coming from? I’ve been hearing it for blocks now. I should have come upon it by now!

I’m just about to get to Houston when it hits me…BAM! There are five people walking on the sidewalk. They have been ahead of me for some time and I have only just caught up to them. Four men and one woman. One of the men has a drum. The others have hand symbols and all are chanting. They are in regular clothes (not long white robes as I had envisioned), so they easily blend in with the crowd. In that moment I was literally shocked into how blind I was. The whole time I was looking in windows, looking for a the crowd, trying to pinpoint exactly where that damn music was coming from and it was right there…right in front of me the whole time. Yes, moving. Yes, blending in. Yes, not drawing a big crowd. But if I hadn’t been looking all over the place for the usual signs or staring off way in the distance, I would have discovered that the music and I were walking along the same path rather near each other for some time.

I thought it to be a great metaphor for our desire. There are times when we hear the music of our desire and we get annoyed. “How dare those assholes make such a ruckus in my streets,” and then we turn away (or call the cops, aka mind saboteurs that kill our desire). Other times we hear the music and we completely ignore it. We are too cool to care. “Ah, whatever…let the crazy people have their music. I’m fine right here with my nachos and margaritas and cigarettes.” And then there are those of us who hear the call. The music is the only thing we hear. But where we get stuck is in looking ahead to the future to find the source. Or we use other people or objects as a reference point for helping us to locate our desire. Or we have an expectation about how it “should” look, so we are searching all over the place rather than seeing its true form. In fact, we are always walking with our desire. It’s right in front of us in the present moment. We can have it now. Truly living a turned-on life means acknowledging that desire exists, being willing to approve of it without expectation and opening your eyes to beat inside of you RIGHT HERE AND NOW. It is your compass on the journey…

So slow down. Listen. Let your gaze relax into the stillness of the present moment. Can you hear the music within? Stay connected to that source and you will no longer have to strain your eyes or rush ahead to try to figure life out. You will simply be dancing…

"You teach...WHAT!?"

Originally posted May 20, 2011

I was at an audition the other day and they were asking me questions about who I was: my volunteer work, yoga teaching, what types of theatre/film I enjoy doing, etc. Eventually we got around to the question, “Do you do anything other than acting?” So, I took a deep breath and with a slight smile said, “Well, yes. I am also a Slow Sex coach and Orgasmic Meditation teacher.” It was like a thickness came into the room. No one dared to breathe. The auditors (3 women and one guy) stared at me as if I were this fascinating and terrifying mutant that about to unleash its power. I relaxed into the moment. Finally the guy said, “Ok, and, um, do you plan to continue teaching yoga?” In that moment, the thickness exploded into effervescent bubbles, like champagne uncorking, and the three women went, “Wait, wait, wait!!! What is that??!!” I just had to laugh and say, “Wow, that’s interesting how he just slid right over that one, didn’t he?!”

Later, I was outside the audition room and the woman monitoring the audition saw me with Nicole Daedone’s book, Slow Sex. She had this little hesitation, then asked, “Um, is that fiction or non-fiction?” When I told her that the author was my teacher, she was so eager to hear what I had to say. A few moments later, the audition door re-opened and one of the female auditors looked at me and said, “Oh good, you’re still here! We have more questions,” and pulled me back into the room.

The bottom line? People are HUNGRY for a deep, intimate, pleasurable experience. They want MORE, they just don’t know what “more” means or have been taught that sex is wrong, bad, only to be shared with “the one”, has to come with romance, expectations, blah, blah, blah. It’s like we’ve got this exquisite set of sterling silver flatware chucked in a box in the corner of our locked, flooded, roach-infested basements and we are scared to death to go down and get it.

In Slow Sex, Nicole talks about she’s at dinner parties and at the table, she will mention that she is a sex teacher. People will drop their spoons, politely wave it off, or say, “Oh that sounds nice for my friend, but me? Everything’s great!” But afterwards, on her way to the bathroom, people will flag her down and tell her their innermost secrets, hoping for some sort of answer. And that’s where we’ve relegated the topic of sex—the hurried whispers near the bathroom rather than in the frank openness of intelligent discourse.

I mean, we can’t deny that we have a cultural obsession with sex. Every song the radio is about trying to sleep with someone, getting angry at someone who slept with someone else, feeling sad because aren’t sleeping with the person we used to sleep with. Commercials and billboards display scantily-clad, pre-pubescent women (and men). And porn is a whopping $14 billion industry in the US alone. But when I ask someone to speak a simple desire, everything from deflecting, shame and giggling to feigned nonchalance and anger arises. It is one of the biggest shadows we have as a society. Only when we can cultivate a deep relationship and reclaim our OWN sexuality can we begin a healing process to integrate all of ourselves and live the life we so desperately desire.

So really, let’s bust down the basement door and start cleaning. Get out the Raid, grab a water bucket and some silver polish and reclaim our birthright to pleasure. A magnificent feast awaits, if we only dare to re-discover the tools to enjoy it.

Then maybe in the future, my auditor can freely and openly say, “Wow, a Slow Sex coach and Orgasmic Meditation teacher? Fascinating. Tell me more…”

What Do You REALLY Want: Desire vs. Craving

Odalisque Bleue ou L'Esclave Blanche, Matisse

Originally posted May 15, 2011

I often get strange looks when I say that usher people into their orgasm and desire.  Some are fearful. Some are wary. Some are really excited, then get embarrassed after their effusive expression. Others have this painful look that says, “I wish I could live that life, but ____ won’t let me have it.” And then there is the inevitable righteous NO: Desires are bad. We should all aspire to be desire-less. Giving into desire is weak, drains you of energy and make you lose focus. There is no spirituality in the realm of desire.

However, I believe most of these people are confusing desire with craving. I agree that desire is a powerful force that brings up a lot of stored emotions, including fear, anger, jealousy and other emotions that we label “negative.” But this is just the debris that sits upon our power. Craving is a “quick fix” that keeps us from doing the dirty, hard work of digging through that debris to find the desire-treasure at the bottom.  

Below you will find my “Top 10” list comparing the characteristics of desire and craving. This is by no means all-inclusive, so feel free to add your thoughts!

1. Desire generates more of your energy, whereas craving steals it.

2. Desire brings you closer to your authentic self, whereas craving disconnects or numbs you to him/her.

3. Desire is internally motivated (i.e. comes from the need to express a personal value within), whereas craving is externally motivated (I have to have this thing so people will think I am a good person or won’t see my vulnerabilities).

4. Desire leaves you nourished and gratified, whereas craving leaves you bloated and hungry (the gourmet meal vs. Chinese take-out comparison).

5. Desire is motivated by courage and faith, whereas craving is motivated by fear.

6. Desire reveals itself as your life purpose, whereas craving reveals itself as addiction.

7. Desire encompasses the full spectrum of possibilities whereas craving looks like a rat hitting the same lever for the same food pellet.

8. Desire feels alive and organic, whereas craving feels frozen and static.

9. Desire is the bridegroom of orgasm (your infinite power source), whereas craving is in a co-dependent relationship with resistance.

10. Desire brings you to a state of empowerment, whereas craving has you feel like life is yanking you around on its leash.

How do we learn to discern the voice of desire from the voice of craving? The best way is to start to listen to your body. Your body has no judgments or shame about what it feels. It simply wants what it wants. Listen to the little hungers and notice what emotions come up for you when they speak to you. Another great way to tap into your desire is through OM, a 15-minute sexuality practice based on stroking genitals and simply feeling the pleasurable sensations in the body, without the goal of going somewhere or acquiring anything. Getting a coach that can help you unearth some of your lost dreams and discover what has value in your life is another powerful step.

Be grateful for your desire. It’s your ally, your friend, your one true north on this sacred journey. Do it now.

So…what’s one thing you are going to do for your desire tonight?