Crucify the Prudes!

It was a typo, I swear. Auto-correct actually. But how does my smart phone know me well enough to come up with such a Freudian slip of an auto-correct?
 
I was trying to write "it was a low productivity day," but instead it came out "it was a low prude crucify day." At first I thought it was just a funny auto-correct, but then it hit me just how perfect it was since my reference to "low productivity" referred specifically to not working on my book.

While I'm not an advocate of crucifying anyone, I do view prudishness as associated with the lower levels of consciousness, something that stems from fear and mis-information and serves no purpose other than feeding the ego with judgments and self-righteousness and therefore harming the True Self and society at large. Being prudent is one thing; being a prude is another. And although the origin of the word "prude" was not always associated with being conservative specifically in regards to sex, we all know that now it is. I'm not going to get any deeper into semantics here though; surely there are already books out there about this.

Now, you might be wondering what my book is about. It's not about crucifying prudes. But it is about desire, curiosity, sexual healing, intimacy, and the female body. So although my book isn't about crucifying prudes, it is a book that most likely will make prudes uncomfortable. In fact, even if you're not a prude or don't consider yourself one, it just might make you uncomfortable too. And that's part of the whole purpose of writing what I'm writing. Let's see what makes us uncomfortable, what's hard to read or speak out loud or picture or do. And rather than run from it, let's get familiar with it, intimately familiar. Get over the taboo or discomfort so that we can live fully and truly without the repression of ignorance and shame, especially when it comes to sexuality and sex. Sex is, after all, the origin of us all. We wouldn't be here without it.

Because of some of my familial and community ties, I've been keeping pretty quiet about what my book's about and where I stand on such an important aspect of life. But how hypocritical is that? Time to come out of the closet on this.

AND? This blog post is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of me expressing myself. Feel free to jump ship or shut your eyes, but I encourage you instead to stay with eyes wide open and in anticipation of what's coming next.
I'd also say I hope that even just this didn't make you uncomfortable, but if it did, in the great words of Madonna, "Oops! I didn't know I couldn't talk about SEX....And I'm not sorry."

Down with all taboo.

 [UPDATE 11/10/16: This blog entry is from before I even though of The Multi-Orgasmic Diet! ;) And now, The MOD is out in the world. You can get it here.  ]

 
Human Nature - Madonna from sueños de seda on Vimeo.

Much Ado About What?!

I'm watching the most recent version of "Much Ado About Nothing," or at least I'm trying to watch it. For a movie with what seems to be an excessive amount of both dialogue and monologue, most of the time I have no idea what is going on or what they're saying.

I'm trying to follow it, but there's a disconnect. Sure, I was distracted by some fun Facebook messaging for the first 15 minutes, but now I've been focused for the past 20 minutes or more, and it's almost painful to hear so many words, a constant stream of words, but not understand! It's worse than watching a foreign film without subtitles or being in a foreign country where you don't know the language (I actually like that!). This experience though is really unpleasant, because I do understand the words individually; they're familiar, but I'm simply not comprehending the way they're strung together. It's so disturbing. Plus, the way the characters deliver the lines are totally unpalatable to me.

I used to read plenty of Shakespeare and have seen quite a few plays and movies over the years without any trouble following the story or understanding what they were saying. But there's just something about "Much Ado About Nothing."  I cannot wrap my head around it. I don't get it. And I never have-- I have this vague memory of the previous movie version with Keanu Reeves, and a similar experience of feeling bored and not really getting it. 

As I write this now, with the movie still playing, I'm actually picking up a bit more of what's going on, just a little. But mostly it just seems obnoxious. These people never shut up. I'm pretty sure all these characters have diarrhea of the mouth in a way that other Shakespeare characters do not. Or are they all like this, and I just never noticed? Perhaps....

They have so much to say to each other and out loud to themselves. And I simply don't care. I have no interest in the characters and these lines of dialogue and monologue are sounding more and more like nails on a chalkboard. I think it's time to turn it off.

Ah, yes. Off. Silence. Mmmm, that's nice.

Geez, I did not expect to be writing something like this tonight. Back in the day, I really wanted to be a movie critic. I had a knack for it. But then I developed a distaste for criticizing and complaining.  This blog entry feels a little bit like both of those things to me, but it was also fun to write. ;)

And now?  I think I'll make a tinfoil hat and watch Karmageddon, or just go to sleep.

Yeah, sleep. Bhagavan Das before bedtime is probably not such a good idea.... And perhaps more on that another time.

Bonne nuit!

How I Spent 3 Hours at a Mattress Store

I thought I'd just pop in for 15 to 30 minutes max, especially since I had a phone call at 11 and it was close to 10:30. I'd heard an ad on the radio last night about some big sale happening at Mattress Firm here in Austin. And I need a new bed. Although I'd been leaning towards shopping for an organic bed, maybe even a futon, or shipping my sleep number bed here from Seattle, when I heard this ad last night, I felt called to check it out.

So I did. I walked in to this store and was greeted by... we'll call him John to protect his true identity. ;) I was greeted by John. He was all alone in this big store. I said I was curious about the sale, and specifically about Tempurpedic mattresses, and even more specifically about the adjustable ones that are similar to sleep number beds since I've gotten hooked on the ability to adjust how firm or soft my bed is after more more than a decade of sleeping on Select Comfort beds; it's hard not to have that option after so many years!

And when I sampled the beds this morning, at first I had my doubts. But the more time I spent lying around on these beds, and talking to John (who sincerely told me about his previous sleep problems and how much his Tempurpedic bed helped), the more I felt like this just might be the best thing for me. It was strange what happened though. I felt like crying. Very slightly. Very, very slightly. But it was there. At first I think it was body crying out for this type of comfort, this ability for a relief of pressure, the potential for better sleep, and better alignment while sleeping.

But then John started offering to throw in a "free" this and "free" that if I made a purchase today. And I hate that. I hate when sales people do that. Even when it's a nice salesman and one who isn't pushy. It just feels like pressure. And so I snapped out of feeling into what my body wanted and instead said "oh, well, I'm sure I won't be making the decision today."

But I couldn't get up. I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to leave. John said I could stay all day, keep him company, take a nap. I'd already missed my call, which was ok, since it was being recorded (an online course). So I stayed. And after saying I wouldn't be making any purchases, I relaxed again and settled back into the bed.

It wasn't long before I said, "ok, I'll do it. I'll buy this bed. Today."

John went to write up the paperwork, encouraging me to stay on the bed. So I did, and I felt like crying again. Just a little. And this time it was because I felt like buying this bed was somehow a sign of making a bigger commitment to staying in Austin, since it would not be something I could just pack up in my car if I wanted to leave. And since it was going to cost a few thousand dollars, it's not like I'd want to just get rid of it if I don't stay in Austin much longer. Oh, and if I fall in love with this bed, if it really is like heaven and improves my sleep, maybe even resolves some chronic tension/discomfort, then I certainly would want to move it with me if I decide to move.

Why would this make me feel like crying?

Fear of commitment? Or a feeling of having bigger moving expenses? A little bit of both.

The truth is, buying this bed doesn't mean I have to stay in Austin. Of course not!  But that's what it stirred up for me. And so what if I have to spend some extra money to move, whether within Austin or out of state?  I absolutely can afford the bed and any future moving expenses. And a good bed is one of the most important material possessions, in my opinion, so it's worth it. I'm worth it. My comfort and sleep is worth it.

John came back over and said he was ready to complete the transaction, so I got out of bed and walked over to his desk. And then one thing after another slowed down the the completion of this transaction. Technical difficulties. John being somewhat new to this job, and not being familiar with this store location. Technical difficulties. Time warp. That's really what it felt like. A time warp. How could it be that I was there for nearly 3 hours?

Testing out beds and talking lasted maybe an hour, or not even that long. Kind of strange now that I think back on it. But at the time, I felt totally chill. John was embarrassed about how long it was taking. I was just happy I wasn't in a bad mood or impatient, as sometimes I am and would have walked out or taken it as a sign that this wasn't right. But not today. Today I was patient and mellow. But then I got hungry.

John had asked if I recommended a place to eat, since he wasn't familiar with that neighborhood. So I offered to get us both some lunch, since he couldn't really leave for lunch, being the only one there, and since it was taking so long to process my purchase and financing plan. And he offered to pay for my lunch in return for my patience and my offer to get some food, and for making his day by being such an amazing customer! ;)

I went next door to a Thai place to order some food, got  hit on by a man who had just been stood up by a blind date, and then returned to Mattress Firm to complete the purchase and eat lunch with John. It was so, as he put it "unprofessional," but it was cool. And fun. And totally human and natural in my opinion to make the most of this situation and get some food since we were both hungry. While eating, I told him about my writing, and he had some nice encouraging things to say. And after eating, I thought about taking a nap in the store, spending the rest of the afternoon there with him, but decided to go home instead. I gave him a hug goodbye; I felt like we were old friends by the time I left! Actually, it was easy to be around him from the start; those are the best sales people, and the best kinds of friends.

So, that's how I spent 3 hours in a mattress store. And thank you, John, for helping me decide on a bed and for inspiring this blog entry after nearly 3 months of no posts.

How "Book in a Month" Helped Me

At the end of June I bought Victoria Lynn Schmidt's Book in a Month: The Fool-Proof System for Writing a Novel in 30 Days. Why? Because after getting some feedback on the first 36 pages of one of my books, the book about my car accident, I realized that I don't know a whole lot about story structure when it comes to writing a whole book. The feedback I received was good, what I shared was well written, but it raised questions regarding structure,  where the story was headed, such as to go chronologically or not and if it's ok to have the big climax at the beginning.

It occurred to me that perhaps it was time to do something I'd been resistant to doing: getting help. Reading a book about writing. In the past, I couldn't bear the thought of such a thing! Why on earth would I spend time reading about writing when I could be using that time writing? And yet would I use that time to write? Usually not. And even if I did, perhaps not as effectively so if first I'd taken some time to read a bit about writing. I just wanted to be a natural, to not need to read about it. And in some ways I am a natural. But when it comes to writing an entire book? Well, it was time for help. Plus, although I have an aversion to following "traditional structure," I do know it can be useful to know what that structure is before I break away from it! There is freedom within form. I realized this about dance a few years ago. Time to apply it to writing as well.

So on July 1st I committed to using this book, Book in a Month, even though it's for writing novels. I am writing memoir, but pretty sure I want it to read like fiction. So I figured I could work with it. And on days 1 and 2, I was an over-achiever with it and did each day's exercise for 3 different books-in-progress. I thought maybe I'd write 3 books in a month! Since I already had hundreds of pages, it's not like I was starting from scratch. So why not work on more than one at a time, right?

Wrong. Once I sat down on Day 3 to work on a comprehensive outline, I realized that only one of my books would be getting attention this month, and it wasn't going to be the car accident one, partially because there's not really an ending yet since I knew I'd have at least a few more EMDR sessions if not more. And the story that was easiest to outline, I already had 274 pages to work with, and a clear beginning, middle, and end for that story.

So I proceeded with this story about the summer of 2009-- tempting to reveal the topic here and now, but not quite ready-- and what I found was that the daily assignments were so helpful! They really got me thinking about things I'd never considered, and most of it was applicable to writing memoir.

I did each day's homework all in a notebook, by hand, and then I'd sit at my laptop and work on my revision process. Book in a Month really helped me learn a lot about character development and story structure. (I also ended up buying Story Structure Architect, which I found to be useful and interesting as well.) But most importantly, it helped me commit. Every day for one month, I worked on my book. In the fourth week, there may have been one day where I didn't do anything (or something so minimal that I didn't want to count it) and 2 days where I barely did anything. But something is always better than nothing. Oh, and in the back of the book are some stickers. One says "I'm a writer." I put that on the bottom of my monitor, and I'm pretty sure that seeing that day after day, all throughout the day, has helped me truly become a writer, committed and dedicated to the writing and revision process and confident that I will be published some day. It also helped remind me to get back to work when distracted by things like Facebook!

What a gift.

And Victoria Lynn Schmidt's advice, assignments, worksheets, and questions, her voice that comes through, were all great. It was easy and fun. It was enjoyable. And every day I felt so good even if all I did was the daily exercise or edit a page or two. The commitment to daily made all the difference, and the professional advice taught me a lot, both about writing and about myself. I highly recommend her book to writers or aspiring writers, even if not writing a novel. It would also be helpful for screen play writing, which is where I might be headed after I get at least one of these memoirs finished and published!

Oh! I almost forgot to mention how it all turned out in the end for me. Although I did not reach my goal of having a manuscript ready for professional feedback by the end of the month, I'd say I'm at least 80% there, closer than ever before. It occurred to me to spend all of today writing to see if I could get through a big chunk of what's left to do. But then I remembered an important part of this month-long process: planning the reward and then celebrating completion of the month. So today, I haven't opened up that manuscript document. And my reward? I took myself to an afternoon movie. I also feel like I officially became a writer. Not published yet, but committed to the daily work to the writing and the rewriting. Getting closer and closer to one of my longest held dreams coming true. That's a reward in and of itself.

What's next? Well, I will continue. I have 279 pages that are mostly done, at least done enough for feedback, possibly even ready for hiring a professional to give feedback. I bought a book about writing and publishing memoir. Started reading it yesterday. I'm also thinking about checking out some website or a book that specifically address scenes. I'm not setting another solid deadline, but I am guessing that some time in September I will be shopping around for some professional help. Already have a couple of connections and possibilities. And I am always open to more.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

What I Realized About "What I Really Meant to Say on Facebook"

I realized something the other night, the night of the Super Moon actually. I was thinking about the blog entry I'd recently posted about being sick of assholes and also about how much it sometimes bugs me when people are unresponsive. Please note, these two things don't necessarily go together. I think some people who read my blog thought I might be saying that they do. But they don't. My brother, for example, sometimes takes a week to get back to me, but he is one of the last people on earth I would ever think of as an asshole. I don't even think it's possible for him! I just kind of lumped it all together the other day, so forgive me if that wasn't clear. But back to my realization:

I was thinking about assholes and unresponsiveness. I was thinking about people's bullshit beliefs and excuses, including my own. I was thinking about a lack of being acknowledged. I was thinking about a lack of my words being acknowledged. I was thinking about inconsideration. Ugh, I know this is really about me! And my ego. So why does this stuff bother me so much!?

And suddenly it hit me. Kyle. It all goes back to him. Not just back to me (although ultimately, yes, it does, but let's ignore that for now). It all goes back to that night in the car when he wouldn't listen to me yelling at him to slow down or stop the car. It all goes back to my sense of safety, to my life being threatened and messed with. His lack of hearing me, of acknowledging me, of considering me, of listening to me, of responding to me led directly to that fateful accident that resulted in so much damage. I don't care that there was something wrong with the car too, that the car was, as he put it "unresponsive;" the fact is that he was unresponsive. Plain and simple.

Now, I do recognize that it's not all about that night; it's not really all about Kyle. Surely I've got some childhood issues there around attention (or lack thereof) and/or social rejection. BUT, this thing about Kyle and the car accident felt HUGE! And with it came a sense of lightness, relief, and a curiosity if now I won't get so triggered, if now this unresponsiveness thing won't be a pet peeve. Because it's not like I'm in danger if someone ignores a text message or doesn't reply to an email, right? Right. It's not going to lead to my body being assaulted and violated, right? Right. It's over. I'm safe now.

It's become quite fascinating to me how that night in the car, the experience of the ride itself, of my screams and pleas being ignored, along with the impact itself, the injuries, and all the stuff that was done to me in the hospital has permeated all of these various aspects of my life. I didn't get it before; I didn't understand that this all could be affecting my relationships with people, including with myself. To some extent, I got it. For sure. I even thought I'd worked through most of it. Thought I could just let it go and that I had let most of it go. I thought it was as simple as a choice, an attitude, deprogramming and reprogramming on my own without the help of a professional, but no. Not so plain and simple.

I also didn't want to ask for help. I wanted to believe I didn't need any. But with all of my own self-study and self-inquiry and self-help and bodywork and embodiment practices and this and that and the other thing, I certainly understood and learned and healed a lot, but there were these deeper levels remaining. I was in denial for so many years about the depth and extent of damage; I didn't want to identify as damaged. But I was. Absolutely. Undeniably. I was damaged.  And then I healed, and am still healing.

Shortly after moving to Austin, I realized this pattern of denial and vowed to face the truth even more than ever before. I was sick of the ways in which I'd been an asshole to myself, and I was tired of my own bullshit.

The timing was divine, realizing it was time to go deeper, to uncover some hidden truths, to grieve deeply, to ask for help, and then meeting someone whose opinion I respected and trusted and who suggested EMDR. It's never too late to process unprocessed trauma. And the insights, as well as physiological changes taking place, it's a trip. One I am happy to be on.

And that leads me back to Kyle. I kind of hope he doesn't see this; I cringe at the thought of it actually. But I do tend to think of him as an asshole in general, even though we talked it out years ago and I know he didn't intentionally hurt me, and something like forgiveness was expressed. I can't help it; I still think of him as an asshole; perhaps the EMDR will change that, but perhaps the EMDR is actually what helps me admit to it and be ok with it, to not feel the need to not think of him that way, and to not feel the need to apologize to him or anyone else for what I've written and am still planning to write.

The other side of this coin though is that I also often feel so incredibly grateful to Kyle. Like I'm sitting here glowing, smiling, as I type that, as I think of him. Sometimes I want to call him up and thank him for not listening to me. Sometimes I just wanna hug the guy and laugh over how crazy life is. But sometimes I still wanna give him a little shove and verbally beat him to a pulp. It's a strange gratitude/hate type of thing, something I'm still wrapping my head around. And so perhaps it's premature to express it here. It certainly is an incomplete expression. But one day, in the near future, it will be more completely expressed in one of those books-in-progress of mine.

And that's all I have to say about all of that for now.

© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Under the Willow Tree

Most of the following was written last September:

I'm going to miss it here, under the willow tree in my parents' back yard. The sound of the breeze in the leaves. The sound of the waves lapping up against the shore. The bald eagles that sometimes perch nearby. The view of Mt. Rainier, when the clouds aren't hiding it. The sunset.

But let's face it. How many days out of the year is it even this nice here? As nice as it is today? How many days out of the year can I nap outside? Write outside? Spend the majority of the day outside? And not be cold.

With smart wool and blankets, more than you'd think. But that's just the seduction of summer in Seattle trying to lure me back in, before I've even left.

Seven more nights. Or something like that. And then I hit the road. Drive to Austin. Finish out 2012 there, focusing on writing and Sheng Zhen Gong. Maybe stay longer.

The timing's just right. This has been the year for all kinds of dreams coming true. And some of those dreams were conjured up and clarified under this willow tree, or at least nearby it.

Memories of Twiggy come back to me now. She was the Boston Terrier I picked out. Her name was Precious when she first joined the family. But soon we realized we had to change her name. And we changed it to Twiggy because she loved chewing on fallen twigs from the willow tree. Perhaps it's time to release her ashes. They've been in my closet for 10 years. Or more? Yep. Now's the time....

I never did release those ashes. Perhaps I will soon. Funny finding this blog draft now as I'm just a couple of weeks away from visiting this willow tree. And it was memories of lying in the grass beneath it that recently led me to cancel my road trip plans and buy a plane ticket instead. 8 hours rountrip rather than 80 hours means much more time for sprawling out in my parents' back yard. Had a dream last night too about being back there, and about extending my stay into late September. And since my dreams have been known to come true before, I'm curious now about this one. Time will tell; it always does. 

There are so many more little snapshots of memories that come back to me as I sit here now thinking about being "under the willow tree." But I think I'll wait and see what, if any, inspiration comes to write more, while actually under the willow tree next month. 

It's also interesting to see here that I'd thought I'd spend much more time outside by moving to Austin. Not so sure that's been the case, especially this summer. But perhaps more on that another time....



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

From Grumpy to Giddy and Happy as a Clam ~ a "Sheng Zhen in Daily Life" Story

the following was written back in May! saved it to edit and, well, time passed....
 
Yesterday morning I woke up grumpy and groggy in my friend's guest room. I hadn't slept well, at least partially because I was feeling disturbed by a couple of interactions between us the previous night. Mostly our time together was great! And I was grateful to have a place to stay instead of driving home so late at night. But a combination of sadness and anger and lack of good sleep was weighing me down in the morning. I didn't really want to have to talk about it, and there was really no good time to talk about it, as by the time I was awake enough to, my friend was rushing off to work.

I, on the other hand, had decided not to rush off to anywhere. I spent some time reading and writing in my journal. Washing dishes, as a meditation of sorts. And while washing the dishes, although I was feeling displeased in many ways, I was also thinking about what was good, what did please me. So I decided to leave a thank you note. A thank you spelled out with those little glass balls that you can put in the bottom of a vase. It was pretty. And then I listed out on a post-it note what I was thankful for, such as the laughter and the food and the bed.

But then I took a step back and felt like although all this was an authentic expression of gratitude, I was creating a false impression since I was also feeling pissed. So I took out another post-it note and expressed this other side of what I was feeling. But what I wrote didn't sit right with me, especially as something to write on a post-it note of all things. So I re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. And then I went out to my car to go to a Sheng Zhen class.

On my way out, something happened that made me laugh, and when I got in my car, I was thinking about the note I'd just written and how silly the whole thing was-- not just what I'd done but even how upset I'd been. Who cares? And I was thinking about Sheng Zhen, about compassion, Unconditional Love, no worries. I suddenly felt a lightness, this sadness and anger dissipating. So I went back into the house and re-wrote the note again, still feeling compelled to at least acknowledge that I felt a bit pissed off and sad, but without the heaviness or references to why. And then I left.

On my way to class, my mood just kept improving. I stopped off at Central Market and saw a fellow Sheng Zhen practitioner walking down the road. I got out of my car and ran after her to surprise her with a hug. It felt so good, for both of us. And then I went to AOMA. I arrived between classes and went into Master Li's office. He asked me where I was in the morning, since usually I'm there earlier. I told him that I hadn't slept well, and not wanting to get into the details, I just said that I had some problem with a friend too and needed to spend some time reading and journaling and writing my friend a note.

"I was actually having a Sheng Zhen in daily life experience," I said, and when I told him what had happened with writing a note that was really emotionally charged, and then my re-writes, and then the final re-write thanks to Sheng Zhen, he totally lit up.

We continued discussing it, and I won't recount the conversation, but I just started laughing and laughing and couldn't stop. I don't think he'd ever seen me in this state. And he was so excited about this Sheng Zhen in daily life story, saying I should share it in a television interview. And then I said "Now I feel like there's not even any need for the note I left! Maybe I should go back and remove it!" I was sort of joking about going back. But Master Li said, "Yes, go back! It's ok to miss class. Just go."

I sat with the idea for a moment, wondering if that would just be crazy. And if it would be authentic or if I was just high from all the laughter and smiling and being too influenced by Master Li's suggestion. A clear answer didn't arise, so I decided not to question it and to just go. Plus, I was no longer upset at all and knew my friend had a long day and coming home to my note might feel stressful despite the beautiful thank you's accompanying it.

But to my surprise, when I went back to remove the note, my friend had returned home for a lunch break and had already seen it! I still sensed some tension in the air, but not on my part; I was giddy as could be. So I explained why I'd returned, what I'd realized, and then went back to class, laughing all along the way. Happy as a clam. What does that even mean-- happy as a clam?

Just Googled it: "The full phrase is "happy as a clam at high tide." Clams can only be dug up at low tides, so at high tide a clam is safer and secure, so therefore, happy." Interesting.... I'd say that tapping into that happiness at the core leads to feeling safer and more secure, rather than the other way around. But I still like the sound of "happy as a clam," cuz that's what I am. ;)


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.