Cultivating Sexuality

I have been doing a lot of reading lately about self-improvement. I am not talking self-help books, but memoirs and novels with the theme of finding yourself, Zen peacefulness, your true calling, or happiness all in a neatly captured 200 pages. In the search for balance, that is inevitably the protagonists’ goal, there consistently seems to be a missing element: sex. I am not claiming that these story lines are sex-free, but sex seems to be a side plot or an afterthought. It seems that in developing their spirituality, these characters have neglected the development of their sexuality. I see a similar trend among my friends, particularly the females.

I am so tired of the notion that sex and sexuality is some secondary primal urge that we are to resist and hide rather than develop and cultivate. If we are seeking wholeness, than we are incomplete with out exploring our own sexuality. I think that sex and sexuality are intrinsically linked to our spiritual selves. I refuse to let archaic, repressed, (and quite often sexist) notions about female sexuality divide my sexual exploration from my spiritual growth.

It saddens me to think that even my progressive feminist female friends still feel the need to push their sexuality aside in order to dig deeper into self-improvement. How can we improve our whole selves when we subjugate parts of ourselves? What messages is society sending that makes us believe that sexuality and spirituality are mutually exclusive? How can I counter that exclusivity in myself, let alone help others discover that intersectionality?

I want my spiritual path to include sexual exploration. I want to know my sexual desires as deeply as I want to know my spiritual ones. This means I must think about, act out, and reflect on aspects of my sexual being with as much intentionality as I would on steps in a spiritual search. In fact I think that exploring sex is a step in a spiritual search. I seek guidance from the divine within in me on all matters of my life. Sexuality doesn’t tip the scale in the direction of shallow urges, it provides much needed balance in our search for self betterment and guides us on our path to enlightenment.

Got a (Wo)Man?

I am 27 years old and single. I sometimes find that my relationship status can make me a feel like a social leper. So many activities in San Diego, especially in the summer time, seem to be designed for couples. The romantic element imbedded in so much of the entertainment marketing just scream out, “Got a (wo)man? Why not?”

Even as the time changes and the weather turns a bit chill (for southern California anyway) I look back on some things I wanted to do this summer but didn’t because I was partner-less: moonlit kayaking on mission bay, a movie at cinema under the stars, even new restaurants and wine-tasting seems a little silly alone. It isn’t that I can’t be independent and do things on my own, or even that I don’t have friends who would enjoy these activities. It just seems they enjoy them with their respective partners. The thought of watching the infinite amount of cuddly couples (who would inevitably surround me at these events) while I sit alone just eliminates most of the appeal.

Halloween reminded me of my single-ness with its plethora of “couple” costumes. At the Halloween night party I attended, I was the only one who was not part of a couple. Even though I am pretty sociable and outgoing at parties, those odds are pretty intimidating. I don’t feel obligated to couple to hang out with my friends at parties but I am keenly aware that I am different.

What is with this subtle, yet pervasive anti-singleness? Is it my age? Does my proximity to 30 mean that I am part of a dwindling pool of singles who are sharing my experience? Is it just my friends? Is it San Diego? I just wonder how many woman have succumbed to the barrage of couples marketing and found themselves a lover almost solely out of the desire to avoid being alone.

Spiritual Youth for Reproductive Freedom

This is my youtube debut:

SYRF in Action

Everybody’s Doing It… Even Your Parents.

I discovered yesterday that my mom has an injured hip. I asked how she hurt it and she got coy and looked at the floor. A little while later, my dad leans over and says, “You know how your mom hurt her hip?” with a nod and a big old grin on his face.

Way to go mom and dad!

I grew up in a family that appears to be a rarity these days. Not only were sex jokes commonplace at the dinner table, but my sister and I were encouraged to ask questions and speak freely about sex and sexuality. As a result, I think, I never gained that learned embarrassment that most folks have when hearing about their parents having sex. I grew up with the knowledge that my parents were having sex; it wasn’t gross or disgusting, but natural and expected. In fact, there was even music that meant it was parent private time. When Sade “Lover’s Deluxe” was playing, you stayed clear of their bedroom.

I didn’t realize until late high school that most people were grossed out by their parents having sex. The fact that most people are taught to get the jitters when thinking of their parents in coitus, rather than celebrating the act that made them just shows how little our society values sex. Most of our parents are probably having sex, if they are lucky. It doesn’t gross me out. In fact, I am happy that my parents are doing it. They have been married for almost 40 years. They are still totally in love. I hope I am still having sex on the verge of 60 and I don’t mind if my children know it.

Fingers

these fingers
pallid
dry
scratch and bend
disfigured phalanges
cold
tired
rifts like ancient valleys
in the surface
of the skin
made, with lines
like paths
that life has taken
long to be hidden
soft
childlike
young again...

Second of Fifty Is Not That Bad

I was recently contemplating a move to Boston and one of the enticing factors was the liberal Massachusetts politics. Now, I have more incentive to stay in California. Thanks to the California Supreme Court (not a statement I thought I would be making) same-sex marriage is now legal in California.

A few years ago, I made a pact with myself that I would not get married until it was legal for everyone in the United States. I had come to terms with the fact that this promise may mean that I never tie the knot. I am not picking out a wedding dress or a cake anytime soon. I am not even eyeing a groom, but this step means that same-sex marriage may be U.S. legal institution in my lifetime.

The California Supreme Court decision brings me particular joy because same-sex marriage is an issue that I had hoped would be at the forefront of the democratic campaign come November. Seeing as the unelectable Kucinich was the only democratic candidate actively for the legalization of same-sex marriage, the national election won’t be contending with such extreme liberal issues as marriage equality. Even though opponents are urging a delay in the implementation of this ruling until the November election, at least my native state government saw fit to take a step in the right direction for human rights. I only hope that in 30 years students will learn about the time when the US didn’t allow same-sex marriage with the same detached disbelief that many students feel today when learning about miscegenation laws in the U.S. One can only hope.

Expectations

"Anyone who loves in the expectation of being loved in return is waisting their time."
-Paolo Coelho from The Devil and Miss Prym

I really want to know this statement. I want to know it deep in my heart and live its implications, but I can't seem to. I either try to pretend that I have no expectations (which only works as a momentary solution) or I resign myself to waste my time expecting people to invest in me the way that I invest in them.

I can't remember how to find joy in the loving alone. I am sure that I used to know.

What's in a Pronoun?

Pronoun: a word that is substituted for a noun

Personal pronouns are just that, personal. We are nouns, so our personal pronouns are a reflection of ourselves. In a few letters, they seem to define to the rest of the world a deep part of our identities; personal pronouns succinctly reveal our identified gender.

Imagine, if you will, growing up with an ideal standard of female beauty that was a constant reminder of what you are striving for (this may be a stretch for those of you male-identified folk out there). I am not talking media images or an abstract notion of stereotypical feminine beauty. I mean a real, live human being that you interact with regularly and that you have compared yourself to for as long as you can remember. This person need not abide by the social rules that dictate the feminine mystique or universal appeal, but in your mind this person's whole being exhibits what is means to be a strong, powerful, beautiful woman.

Now, imagine, that template for your strong feminine identity discovers that, in fact, they are not feminine at all. They make the difficult decision to switch to male gender pronouns. They are still the same strong, beautiful, amazing person, but no longer identifying with the female aspect of themselves. While you understand the struggle and the strength embedded in this decision, it can't help but shake, even slightly, a pillar in the foundation on which your own gender identity is built.

All of a sudden those few letters that make up a pronoun seem enormous. The casual abbreviation that, for most of us, has been there to represent us since our first language development now takes on an importance you never thought possible. The trivial is now monumental in your mind.

I amazed how that little substitution for a noun, that isn't even my own, has opened the emotional floodgates.

The Experiment

If you know me, then you know that I generally have a lot to say... in fact sometimes too much to say. It has been said more than once that I am an over-sharer. Now, I am fairly certain that many of my ideas could be quite interesting to other people.

I am a socially progressive, fat, white, female born and raised in San Diego. I have spent a large portion of my employed life working in the field of sex education. I enjoy thinking about how the world works and coming up with thoughtful (albeit, sometimes fairly simplistic) theories about how people work and how people could work better.

After careful thought and some friendly nudging, I have decided that it is time to start organizing some of these theories in a more cohesive and public manner. Here is my experiment: I am starting this blog to share my honest thoughts about life, my privilege, my struggles with my socially progressive upbringing, and my view of sex in my cultural paradigm.

Here goes nothing...