For years now, I’ve been feeling the back and forth between boyhood and manhood inside of me. This entire website has been sourced in my inner search for my adult self. I’ve become so intimate with the changing forms of my inner landscape that I can now feel the difference between being a boy and a man as a totally visceral experience. I have kept shifting between them for years.

Yesterday, I had an experience of sitting in a cafe working on my laptop. I’ve always been a bit ashamed of my hands. I’ve judged them to be quite effeminate and delicate hands. Big worker hands don’t run in the family. Yet yesterday, as I sat in that cafe working, feeling the afternoon sun warm my face through the window, I looked down on my hands. And in that moment, a simple recognition arose in me. I was looking at the hands of a man.

So how do we know that we’ve become men? Some people say “when I became a father”. Others say “when I started living my purpose”. Most say “I don’t know”. I identify with being in that latter group, but it’s a not-knowing filled with wonder and awe. Yet in that simple moment of looking down on my hands, somehow I knew.

And as all things in life, this too will change. Yet, there is something enduring here. Something which is not fleeting. It’s a simple experience. Nothing fancy. And it’s what I’ve been wanting for so long.

Now, over to you. When did you know you were a man? Or do you not yet consider yourself as one? Curious to hear.

Warmly,
Eivind

Expect the review as soon as I’m done with it. Sooner rather than later!

I look forward to writing this review! Thanks for your support

Cheers,
Eivind

I know you have suggested plenty of great movies on the suggest movie page.

And still, I will pick the next movie to review from the comments below this post.

The one who suggests the movie I go for will win a free coaching call with me. (if several pick the same, I will pick at random)

Ready, set, run competition! It ends Friday March 15 noon CET (see counter below).

Cheers,
Eivind

COMPETITION HAS ENDED

Things seemed to be progressing in the direction I desired, albeit slowly and with frequent yellow flags, but nevertheless, I finally felt confident enough to share something more personal with her than our daily chitchat about our lives in and out of work. She knew I was a writer and that I’d had a book of poetry published because I’d spoken about it during our many visits. I decided to offer it to her and find out if she was interested enough in me to read it. I asked her if she might like to see the book, and she said she would, so I brought a copy to work and gave it to her.

I didn’t want to appear too eager or overly invested in her opinion of the book, so I didn’t bring it up again after giving it to her. One day, while we were outside walking during a break, she mentioned she’d finished reading it. Doing my best to appear as cool as possible and not betray the anxiety that had been building ever since I’d first offered her the book, I said, “Great. What did you think?” And she said:

“I think you’re abnormally sensitive for a man.”

Obviously, this was not the sort of response I was hoping to hear. It’s not the sort of response any man ever wants to hear, any time, from anyone, most certainly not from a woman to whom he’s attracted and with whom he’s just taken the supreme risk of showing his vulnerable side.

It was a painful experience for me, to be sure, but not the first. I’ve heard variations on this theme all my life:

• “Don’t be so sensitive.”
• “You’re too sensitive.”
• “You need to stop being so sensitive.”

Shy. Thin-skinned. Wimp. Pussy. Queer. Faggot. Whiner. I’ve heard all of these and more for as long as I can remember, and the message is always crystal clear: “There’s something wrong with you and you need to change it.” As if I haven’t tried. As if I could.

Sensitive boys and men are all too often treated as pariahs in a tough guy culture. Sensitive boys in particular are easy prey for bullies, whether they’re peers, older kids, or adults in positions of power and authority like parents, teachers, and coaches. I was humiliated countless times as a boy for my sensitivity, by both adults and other children. I learned to regard it as my enemy, as something that only brought me shame and scorn, and as something to keep hidden away, not only from others, but from myself.

It was simply too dangerous to my well-being to allow my sensitivity out into the open any more than I had to, so I tried to harden myself up. I got fairly good at it over time, good enough to survive through adolescence and into young adulthood, but I felt lost most of the time, and I was. That’s the inevitable price of denying any core element of who we are.

I continued to maintain an uneasy relationship with my natural sensitivity through my twenties and thirties. During that time, I was gradually transitioning into feeling a bit more comfortable with it because I’d learned that trying to deny it completely only made me sick and miserable. But I still carried the shame and the stigma of feeling and being seen as somehow “defective” as a man because of it, and I was still disowning a large part of myself and my experience as a result. I was also still being reminded by others that I was not okay the way I was and needed to change, as in this statement from a close friend after I’d confided in him regarding a problem I was having:

“You need to stop being so sensitive. I’m not judging you, but sometimes I just want to shake you and tell you to get over it.”

Same old message: You’re wrong. You’re defective. You’re weak. You’re inadequate. You need to change. You need to get over it. At least he didn’t actually shake me to help me do that. Prior experience with that sort of “help” from others tells me it doesn’t work at all.

That incident was a pretty good example of the state of my relationship with my own sensitivity as I moved into my early forties. I’d made a lot of progress toward reconciling with the softer, vulnerable, more tender parts of myself, and I was even beginning to feel more confident in giving them a voice, but I was also reminded on a regular basis that I was still just as likely to be scorned and shamed for my sensitivity as I was to be accepted and supported. Deep inside, I still felt like an outcast and a freak in a culture that defines and characterizes tenderness, compassion, and sensitivity as primarily feminine qualities. And I remained haunted by the same dilemma that had plagued me since childhood: How can I be as sensitive as I am and still be a man?

It was during that time that, quite by accident, I stumbled across some material that profoundly changed the way I saw myself and what I’d come to regard as my “curse” of sensitivity. I was in a bookstore looking for something (I don’t even remember what) when a title caught my eye: The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You. I’d never heard of this book or seen anything like it, but when I began to page through it, I knew I had to have it because this book was about me.

For the first time, someone was describing my inherent sensitivity as a positive trait rather than some sort of shameful aberration to be corrected. Furthermore, the author, Elaine Aron, described the experience of what she called a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) as the natural, inevitable result of having a nervous system that is, as she has put it, “uncommonly sensitive.” In other words, the sensitivity with which I’d been struggling throughout my life wasn’t all in my head, it wasn’t a weakness, and it wasn’t a choice. It was rooted in my physiology.

There was something else, too, something equally big, as summarized by Peter Messerschmidt in his blog post “The Challenges of the Highly Sensitive Man”:

Dr. Elaine Aron, along with other researchers studying the trait of high sensitivity, often cites the statistic that approximately 15-20% of the population fits the definition of a “highly sensitive person.” Furthermore, the indications are that equal numbers of men and women are highly sensitive.

This was more than an eye-opener for me. It was a game-changer. For the first time, someone was telling me that I could be not just merely sensitive, but highly sensitive, and still be a man. This was a possibility that had never been presented to me before, not in person and certainly not in the culture at large, and it was the first step in beginning to own my sensitivity, not just as a valuable element but a defining element of my masculine identity.

The path is still not easy. It’s an ongoing challenge to see my sensitivity as an asset rather than a weakness to be feared and hidden from others. Men and boys are already living in a no-win, double bind situation around vulnerability; it is amplified for highly sensitive men and boys. If most men lead lives of quiet desperation, they also know that society and most of the people around them prefer they keep it that way. A man or boy who shows sensitivity and expresses vulnerability is always taking a risk. Shame and scorn, whether from other males or from females, remain some of the most powerful tools for keeping men and boys “in line.” Most men are not highly sensitive, but many men are far more sensitive than they want anyone else to know.

For men like me who are highly sensitive, being who we are in the world, in our relationships, and even with ourselves is often a work in progress. We tend to need more down time than others. We have deep experiences that we need to process and understand. We need to make time and space for feelings that we may have never learned to experience and express because we were never allowed to do so. We receive and process more sensory input than most others do; consequently, we can sometimes find ourselves feeling overwhelmed in contexts that others find routine. We tend to proceed carefully, to get a sense and an understanding of the whole situation, before diving in.

These behaviors and qualities are all assets, but they frequently run counter to the values and practices of an overstimulated, Type A, 24/7 culture that wants more and more, faster and faster, all the time. This is a fundamental conflict that has a profound and often severely negative impact on all HSPs, whether male or female, and results in a lot of pain, confusion, and even physical illness. I’ve learned the hard way, as many others have, that pushing yourself “like everyone else does” when you’re a Highly Sensitive Person is like pounding nails with a microscope.

In another blog post titled “Highly Sensitive Men: The ‘Hidden’ HSPs?”, Peter Messerschmidt writes, “Society has an alarming ability to ‘steal the souls’ of Highly Sensitive Men, leaving them feeling sad and confused.” This is an experience and an ongoing struggle I know all too well. I still want to hide my sensitivity a lot of the time, and I still do. Sometimes that’s because of old fears and conditioning; sometimes it’s simple pragmatism. I know I can still be deeply wounded if I’m not careful and therefore I try to choose my opportunities accordingly. Sometimes I still get hurt when I’m open with others about who I am and what I feel (as with the female coworker I liked and the friend in whom I confided). Sometimes my feelings are so deep and acute that I can hardly bear them in private. I probably struggle as much with my feelings in private as I do when I’m with anyone else. The shame and the scorn I’ve experienced throughout my life in response to my sensitivity has been internalized deep within. I don’t need anyone else to criticize and belittle me for it now; those voices are already right here inside me.

In his article “Healing the Highly Sensitive Male”, Ted Zeff, author of The Strong, Sensitive Boy, has written, “By disowning their sensitive side, many males become half a person.” Having spent most of my life living that way, I know it’s true. I also know that, whether I allow or disallow my natural sensitivity, there’s a cost to be paid, and likely some very real pain to be felt either way, and I often stumble in the face of that choice. I still frequently feel angry when I’m actually sad because it feels safer, more manly. I still frequently pull away from others and shut down when what I really want is to connect and feel close, because I don’t have the courage or the stomach to risk the sting of being rejected or misunderstood. I still pull away from myself, most of all, because of the stigma and the fear that’s been conditioned into me, and the absence of skills never learned for being with everything I perceive, sense, and feel.

No one likes pain, and I’m no exception, but I’ve slowly come around to the belief that the pain of feeling is preferable to the pain of not feeling, and that the pain of being who I am is preferable to the pain of being what I’m not. As author Seth Mullins has written, “Sensitivity – even when it comes at the cost of great suffering – may be all that renders worth to existence in the end.” I think one of the important points he makes with that statement is that sensitivity is not the absence of toughness, but is, in many ways, the very embodiment of toughness. It takes a great deal of inner strength and resiliency to maintain your sensitivity in a world that seems to go out of its way to beat it out of you, often literally. If that’s not a demonstration of strength, courage, and resolve consistent with any reasonable definition of masculinity, I don’t know what is.

So yes, I’ll say it: I am a Highly Sensitive Man. I’m not abnormal. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m not a weakling, a wimp, or a pussy. I’m strong, passionate, and courageous. I’ll fight for what’s important to me. And I’m just as tough as any other man. I have to be, just to be who I am in a world that wants me to be something else.

And I am not alone. There are many of us. As many as one in five men, if the numbers are correct. Think about that. You know many of us. You may be one of us. Some of us are hiding. Some of us are hurting. Many of us, young and old, boys and men, are still trying to find our place in a world that is often openly hostile to our very natures. But look at that world, and try to imagine what it would be like without us. We may be scorned, shamed, invisible, and undervalued, but we are here and we are needed.

I am a Highly Sensitive Man and this world needs me, just as it needs all of its highly sensitive men and boys. Every one of us. No exceptions!

Links

• This blog post on Rick Belden’s site
• This blog post on Good Men Project

Also by by Rick Belden

• My Life with Iron Man
• Iron Man movie review

Messages men have received over the past several decades about the inherent negativity in the masculine essence has severed the connection of many with those parts of ourselves which are powerful, wild. But losing contact with our instinctual wild side has devastating consequences. It robs us of our vitality, sexuality, self-respect, integrity. In the end, we become disempowered men who forgot the art of loving ourselves. And tragically, it puts some men so deep into misery that they come out of it severely broken, leaving pain and destruction in their wake.

Clearly, the status quo isn’t working and I will explore if there is a better way forwards. I will write more about this in the time to come. For now, it will suffice to say that I would love seeing you there.

Cheers,
Eivind

I’ve also wanted to make more of an impact in my homeland Norway. I’ve understood that if I’m ever going to turn my passion into my livelihood, I will need roots in Norway. Over the last several months, I’ve been focused exclusively on that.

Together with my facilitation partner Pål Christian Buntz, I run workshops, courses and Authentic Games Nights under the Authentic World Norway umbrella. In October, we put on our first ever KWML weekend workshop, and it was a smashing success. We are looking forward to hosting more such workshops in the time to come. For those of you who are still waiting for my KWML home study course, know that I haven’t worked as much on that as I liked, simply because I’ve arrived at the place of realizing that this material is hard to teach online – it’s much more suitable for experiential learning. At this point, I’m unsure whether I will ever produce it. If I have a breakthrough in my understanding of how to convey the material in an engaging way even online, I probably will.

I’ve also started coaching and will focus particularly on computer gaming addiction for young boys/men in the time to come. It’s a huge problem in today’s culture that is disempowering an entire generation and since I’ve lived that story myself, I have significant gifts to contribute.

And the big one which is simmering in the back of my mind is a Man-Woman symposium with local and international speakers and healing work in order to usher in an era of collaboration as opposed to strife. That one is huge and I will keep you posted.

I will probably write another movie review again in the not too distant future. I don’t want this site to die – it has meant a lot to many. I also know that several people are planning to post user reviews. But right now, this site is simply not the main focus of my work in the world anymore. You will have noticed that already I’m sure, but I want to make it official.

If there’s anything you’re wanting from me or the site in the time to come, please tell me below. Thanks for staying around.

Be well,
Eivind

The Fountain is a movie with such depth, I had to watch it seven times before I really understood the concept fully, and even then there were details left to explore. It is a visual thrill for the eyes and a soothing musical experience for the soul. But most of all, it is a journey of transformation for anyone who has ever felt unable to cope with loss or walked this earth in hope for redemption.

Tom Creo (played by Hugh Jackman) is a doctor and a researcher, working on a cure for cancer by testing on animals. His wife, Izzie (played by Rachel Weiz) is sick with this very disease and Tom is having a very hard time coping with the fear and high probability that his wife is going to die. Overworked, stressed out and a visible mess when confronted about the issue by his boss, Tom is determined to find the cure in time before Izzie passes on. A coincidence cause him to try a new compound for his experiments, a piece of root from a tree in central America. Meanwhile, Izzie is working on a script for a story. Tom asks how it's coming, to which she responds she is almost done. She has written most of it into a book of blank pages, using ink and a pen. One night, Tom sits up, unable to sleep. He begins to read the book, and a literary landscape opens before him. Suddenly, he is no longer Tom Creo, but Tomàs, a Spanish Conquistador in Spain during the 1500's.

Tomàs is just as fiercely determined as Tom, but for a different cause - he serves a queen who is being ransacked of her lands by an evil and fanatical Inquisitor. Tomàs is certain that the only way to save his Queen is to weed the Inquisitor out with a crossbow-bolt between his eyes, but he is interrupted and called to the Queen's Chambers instead. On his knees before the Queen he weeps that he is saddened to see Spain brought so low, but the Queen insists that there is hope. A priest has found a dagger in the jungles of central America, a dagger that has proven to be more than just a weapon - it is also a map. Convinced that this is the path to salvation, the Queen asks Tomàs to save Spain by venturing on a quest for the Holy Grail. He boldly accepts this, certain that what his Queen wants is what is best for Spain. As a reward for his stoic and unflinching willingness, she gives him a ring and the promise that when he returns, "she will be his Eve".

As we return to Tom Creo, we learn that there is yet another version of him, a Tommy who is functioning as a sort of astronaut-monk 500 years into the future. Here, Tommy has found a way to cope with his restlessness and his anger, meditating and practicing a sort of martial arts-like dance to calm his temper. Living in some kind of bubble ascending through the universe, Tommy has also brought with him a tree - the very same tree that the past versions of him sought to use to their own ends. I'm not going to spoil absolutely everything, but there are some very strong indicators that this tree is, in fact, Izzie.

The three versions of Tom continue to intermingle and play on each other throughout the movie. They mean a great lot to each other, because they are connected through time and space. What Tomàs does in the 1500's has consequences for Tom Creo, who in turn causes the events that lead to Tommy traveling the universe in his bubble-like spaceship. This is the real strength of the movie, as there is no final solution to the riddles and issues that are presented throughout the story. There is just your personal interpretation and how the combination of extraordinary visuals and sound speak to you.

That is not to say there's not a theme though. I decided to stray away from explaining all the story in detail, but there is a hard, hands-down concept here that is so well-handled you can almost touch and feel it. Tom is obviously unable to handle the loss of his wife; He goes about it with a lot more aggression than the usual Hollywood flick would portray. But the death of your one, true love is an ugly thing indeed and there is no real nice way to go about this sort of thing. Is Tom being more honest with himself than most of us by showing his anger and sorrow so openly? Is his complete and utter rebellion against death actually just fear of dying himself or is it something else? By the end of the movie, we learn that Tom has learnt quite a lot about loss and Tommy has found something that looks like Nirvana. Does that mean there is hope for even the most lost of us? Tomàs and Tom paid dearly in their versions, but Tommy seems to have made it through as "the victor". Is redemption not possible without sacrifice? What can we expect to give up in order to keep the things that means most to us?

The bond between Tom and his wife is portrayed beautifully by the magnificent actors Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. The one shot where Tom remembers Izzie running through the hallway is repeated in the movie and it gives a chilling, almost horrifying idea about what it must be like to lose the one closest to you, when a memory like that is burnt into your brain stem for all time. The combination of this beautiful girl, laughing and the music of composer Clint Mansell working his magic creates a symbiotic, almost euphoric sensation, providing some insight into just why Tom is taking this the way he does.

There's a scene where Tom is left alone on his bed for the first time. Hugh Jackman makes an insane sacrifice as an actor and a human being in this scene, as he lets the darkest pits of his soul pour out while he succumbs totally to the sorrow that Tom Creo feels. He picks up the pen and the ink and make a wedding ring on his finger from it; the symbolical value in this is very important to the ending of the movie. Hugh Jackman has himself said in interviews that the Fountain has been by far his greatest challenge as an actor, and particularly that scene must have cost him quite a lot.

This raises some questions; Is redemption being able to finally let go of the facade? Is it wrong to feel shameful about sobbing, heartbroken and worn? What is it about us men that so often makes us believe that crying is weakness and determination is strength? I'm not saying that determination is not strength, but so often it's either black or white. As Tom begins to understand some of the things that Izzie has told him during her last days with him, he seems to understand that giving in is not the same as giving up. Tom, however, is a warrior archetype - a modern warrior, who fights his battles with a low brow and the very determination I just mentioned. Tomàs, very much the same, bud clad in armor and shielded with his religious conviction. He fights like a zealot would; Is it possible to still be a zealot in today's modern society without believing in a God? Is the belief in love with your close one enough of a zeal to turn you into a fanatic? And why are these people so often depicted as psycho's when they are really about the most romantic thing ever? The old fashioned romance is dead and gone in 2012, but Tom is a traditional lover and what he had with Izzie was heaven for him. Of course he would want to fight for that...he would fight until his dying breath. This, in turn, reveals more about why the loss is so hard on him. It's hard to find that you failed where it counted the most and the consequences are irreparable.

This leads us to Izzie; Just who is she really? Kind hearted, unafraid, universal and a believer. She stares death in the eye, flinching but once and even then she goes about it with an honesty you don't find in many women. Speaking about your own death when it's happening is hard on most people. Izzie seems to manage just fine. Her infatuation with death through rebirth and the divinity of the stars seems silly to Tom, but it turns out, eventually, that her deep interest wasn't so misguided after all. Maybe knowing that you're going to die gives you perspective in a way that is simply impossible to obtain if you're healthy and you know you're going to stay that way. Maybe Izzie knew something that Tom simply could not fathom until he decided to give in and accept his fear of loss as a part of being human?

As Tomàs in 1500's Spain, the Queen is Izabel, (also played by Rachel Weisz) a different version of Izzie. Speaking with the air of authority, composed and very beautiful, there is no wonder why a man would go on a dangerous mission to save his beloved country when you are promised eternity with a woman like that. As Tomàs accepts the quest, he is given a ring, a ring which he holds very dear for the rest of his time. In modern time, Tom Creo loses his engagement ring when he washes his hands in the laboratory. In the scene I mentioned earlier, he picks up the pen and makes a "ring" by continuously plunging it into his flesh with the ink. This ring is transferred over to Tommy, 500 years in the future. The ring itself is not so important as what it symbols; His bond to Izzie and his undying love for her. The fact that it, symbolically, travels through 1000 years in order to end up where it rightfully belongs - on his finger - is a powerful show of just how intense a relationship can become with another person. I guess it's what they call "true love". But the most important aspect of this is that their love never really dies out. It transcends, evolves and burns on, regardless of the challenges it faces. This may come across as rather naive and wishy-washy thinking to some, and I can understand that. Most real life love stories end rather badly, I think the divorce rate is nearly 50% here in Norway at least. But I still believe that divine love, as it is being portrayed in the Fountain, can exist if you allow yourself to fundamentally change the way you see time, death and rebirth. It is the time we have here on earth that is the most precious to us, at least if we relate to western values and our "system" of materialism, beauty and power. If you were suddenly to know that the time beyond your death would be even more precious, how would that affect you and your actions?

I decided to not tell the entire story and instead just ask some difficult, important questions around the themes that the movie represent. I wanted to write something that makes you want to see the movie instead of an aftermath-this-is-what-I-think kind of review. I think the movie should be enjoyed in a quiet, dark room lit with candle lights, red wine and your one true love by your side. It's a dark, but very beautiful movie, full of strangeness and visual wonders, a story that will haunt you to the end of time and a musical score that is going to make your spine twitch and your chest hairs crawl. It's by far one of the best movies I have seen in my entire life and it can be watched again and again and again without ever really losing its appeal. A philosophical journey about death and love. That's what it is. And I recommend it from the bottom of my heart.

Eyes Wide Shut is the masterpiece of a dying film-maker. Kubric was busy with the profundities of life in all his movies. That he should make his final film about love and relationship – choosing a real-life husband and wife to star in it – says much about how important he must have considered the subject matter. Such gravitas enriches the carefully coded study of love that the film is. But here all is not what it seems: The most dramatic episodes are the least significant; the most domestic ones the most heavily charged with meaning. It seems to be all about sex – but it is not: It is about relationship. Cruise and Kidman’s marriage did not survive and I wonder how much the intensity of playing in this film contributed to it. At the time Helena and I wrote to them to offer them therapy, but of course we had no answer!

At an unusually slow pace, the film obsessively deals with the subjects of love, relationship and intimacy, though to the casual observer it is steeped in excitement and eroticism. The truth is that there is plenty of sexuality in the film, but more accurately the role of sex is – as it is in life – to be the catalytic force which creates, impels and changes us. This is the deeper side of sex which our culture generally overlooks. Interestingly, some Native American spirituality features Sex as a catalyzing element that is placed in the centre of the Medicine Wheel, while other post Christianity versions of the wheel omit this. Principally the film is not about sex, but about seeing and transformation.

It is about whether we look beyond the surface of things, whether we live behind our masks, whether we can be really bothered to look into another person, and dare to go for intimacy (into-me-see). Otherwise we may treat the other as only an image, and therefore an object for our desires or fantasies. This is deathly. What is shocking in the film is not the eroticism (that is not even very arousing) but the extent to which humans can exploit each other as if they were objects to be used and then disposed of. This is acutely demonstrated through the characters of the party-host and the costume-renter. These two abuse their power, feeding off and destroying the innocence in their care.

A mythological journey

The film is like a dream or mythological journey. Time spans are not literal, and characters are like archetypal dream figures. The Tom Cruise character is the perfect handsome dutiful husband married to a glamorous woman, played by Nicole Kidman. But there is something in their intimate life which seems not to satisfy her. One night, at an opulent party, she resists a seducer, who attempts to tantalise her with the notion of marriage as a launching place for selfish hedonism. Later, having temporarily left the rational world through taking drugs, she challenges her husband about his fidelity. He responds that he would never be unfaithful: he loves her, she is his wife, and she is beautiful. But this won’t do: she is enraged. We, the viewers, can imagine that this is because it is not about her, that she feels objectified. He can own her, want to fuck her, but can he care about her? Their current level of married bliss is no longer enough for her.

So she tests him further by describing her fantasies concerning a single glance she once received from a naval officer. The passion which this look promised was enough to make her risk everything, even her family; and yet it made her love her husband even more. In other words, she needs more than a basic static level of married intimacy – she needs passion and dynamism to enrich her love.

But the husband just does not get it. He becomes jealous and feels cheated. He becomes obsessed with his fantasies of her and the sailor. The picture that runs inside his head is not one of intense intimate passion, but of raunchy sex between strangers. And next, he sets out to get some for himself, by means of various chance encounters. Through one mythic night he acts-out in secret and puts himself at grave risk. However, he fails to satisfy his excitement and curiosity. He never actually finds what he is looking for. But he does run into unexpected intimacy. The most intimate scene is when he is with a masked woman with a perfect body, and he wants to see her face. Eventually, she gives her life for him.

In effect, he receives nothing but utter kindness from all the women he meets. At the same time, his wife goes on a parallel dream journey, in which she is an object of shame. But they are in separate worlds, polarised, and drifting apart.

The power to transform

After his long Odyssey, the husband finally comes home. His wife is asleep, and next to her, on the pillow, he sees his missing costume-mask. In a flash, grief and remorse overtake him. He finally realises that she has been living with half-a-man, one who has been masked and blind. He sees that he has been running his life from his driven ego-personality, (persona is Greek for mask), from the power of his role, rather than from his soul. Now that he is finally able to really feel something, he is able to look at his wife fully in the face. She (and the other female/Anima characters) have provided him with a mirror in which he is now able to see the catastrophic journey he has been on, driven by his own fantasies, servicing his own neediness, to find an erotic adventure. He has awoken to his shame, not a neurotic shame as Adam and Eve’s (where the whole cultural mess started) but to his existential shame of how he failed to honour his ‘naked’ truth, and relate honestly to his beloved.

Now that he has ‘seen’ himself he can awaken to her – if she still wants him to. The closing words are spoken by the wife: “We have one thing more to do – we need to fuck.” This ‘fucking’ is something which is neither naive nor obsessive – it is awoken, intimate, jointly chosen. They have polarised, and now they have grieved – to complete their healing they must unite in the age-old simple way. This is awakened power and sexuality: it creates an alchemy which we call  ‘Potent Intimacy’.

Eyes Wide Shut accurately describes how easily men and women miss each other and drift apart, to polarise as enemies, or settle for a quiet loneliness. It is inevitable, for men and women are different in their centres of charge and in their imaginations. They have entirely different fantasy lives. In her imagination, she harbours a longing for intimacy, which needs to be satisfied before she is ready for sex. He, for his part, needs sex before he is ready for intimacy. He leads, as is were, with his genitals, and she with her heart – a very common inter-sex impasse – see our book Sex, Love and the Dangers of Intimacy. No wonder it is so easy to miss each other!

The eyes are the tools of the heart, and if they are shut the heart will be too. But when through his search the husband awakens to his heart – and the medium is grief, as it always is – and can make it available in the relationship, she opens to him sexually, and the circle can be completed, the medicine wheel has been spun.

I’ve been ill over the last couple of weeks. This has given me time to read a lot of stuff online. I have observed what I judge as woefully inadequate communication skills. I observe an Internet full to the brim of people spouting abuse at one another, as if the intention is discord and not a deeper sense of shared humanity. It’s really quite disheartening. What got people to communicate this way?

I have observed my own communication with others as well. Based on all of this observation, I have compiled this list of ways people try to manipulate each other in communication. Don't do it – and don't fall for it.

Borrowing strength from group affiliation, professional title, gender, age etc

This is an insidious and really nasty way of communicating. Here are some examples:

• “We women like/don’t like that”.  In my observations, women use statements like this more frequently than men. Perhaps because men are generally more individualistic by nature? No matter our gender, it’s a dangerous statement to make, because its basic premise is that (in this example) as a woman, I can read the mind of 3,5 billion people and use their opinions to support my own. I've noticed that feminists use this way of communicating frequently. For some reason, feminists often speak as if they do so on behalf of all womankind and when faced with 3.5 billion people who disagree, many a unprepared man is left in shameful tatters. I suggest you proceed with caution when faced with this communications device.
• “I’m old enough to be your father. Now listen up..” Arrogance covering fear. Generally a reflection that a younger person’s resources and intelligence feel threatening and since actual communication skills or life knowledge is lacking on the part of the older person, he plays the age card like a fist to the solar plexus.
• “I’m a doctor. I get all of that. But here’s what you don’t get.” Of course you’re a doctor. We both know that. But by using that as an argument in and of itself, you put your actual knowledge and experience in question, because that is what should have provided you strength in the first place, not the title. I'm now a patient who no longer trusts I'm in good hands. For good reason.

Shared humanity threat assessment: High

Assuming I know who you are

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from authentic relating work, it’s that relationships go down the drain once people start assuming they know who someone is (e.g. their spouse of 30 years). Examples are “You are being such a…”, “You are so…”, “you always do…”.

Sometimes, assuming I know who you are may involve responding to you on the assumption that you have a certain intention, oblivious to the fact I made a false assumption. For me, there is very little that infuriates me more than being imprisoned by another person’s mistaken interpretation of my intention. If the misinterpretation cannot be clarified, I suggest you leave the conversation (it is toxic by default).

Note that a lot of the time someone makes a “You…”-statement, what they often communicate is their own character. What is their statement saying about them?

If you are vulnerable to this habit, I can more or less guarantee you that it’s harming your relationships in a massive way. Try instead to transform your language into a more authentic expression. Instead of saying “Gee, you are being so stubborn!”, try on (deep breath) “It would mean a lot to me if you saw my perspective on this point. Would you be willing to hear me out?”

Shared humanity threat assessment: High

Emotional hooks

The category above is a form of emotional hooks, but it's unique enough to warrant its own listing. Here's a comment on all the rest: Much of the communication I've seen online while ill is in my judgment emotional drivel. Well-reasoned arguments are scarce. A lot of people seem to feed on conflict. I speculate that it lets them forget their own follies for a moment. To fan the flames, a lot of people throw out outrageous taunts. And most often, the other responds in kind. Rare is the ability to just stop and consider "why?".

And yes, this also happens in face to face relationships. In fact, this is how a woman might test a man's willingness to protect his dignity and boundaries. She may do so to test his ability to love and protect her when she needs him to. How do you deal with it? Well, online I would simply ignore it. But if we are talking about your significant other, however, other measures may be called for – probably something outrageous and playful that expresses freedom and love at the same time.

Anyway - please try avoiding throwing out emotional hooks. They contribute to heated communication based primarily on knee-jerk reactions. And make sure you don't take the bait when it's thrown at you. You always define what beat  you want to dance to. Trust me - the reactive dance is no fun.

Shared humanity threat assessment: Medium to high

Irresponsible use of pronouns

A lot of the time, people who convey an opinion or relate experiences from their life take special care not to use the pronoun "I". "I" signals responsibility and that I actually have a choice in the matter. "When so and so happens, I feel like I don't have a choice" is a completely different thing to "When so and so happens, you don't have a choice you know?" Can you perhaps feel it just from reading it?

I already described above how using "we" inappropriately can be incredibly toxic in certain situations. For the most part, however, misuse of pronouns is a matter of personal power. When I offset responsibility for my behavior and life to an abstract "one", "you" or "we", I lose ability to actually direct it with power. This is manipulation by default, but it is primarily manipulation of self. And a person who manipulates himself into a victimhood-mentality is hard to connect with and prone to irresponsible and subversive communication.

Shared humanity threat assessment: Low (but high over time)

Have you been able to identify other types of manipulative language? Please tell me about them in the comments below!

First, a tiny bit of context

Sex in our culture is made out to be a huge thing. It's the holy grail for many men (“if only I could have sex, I'd be happy”) and it is often inextricably linked with porn. And as you may have noticed, people rarely have fun in porn. They just fuck, moan and generally play out roles as each other's sluts. I have become bored with porn and rarely watch it. And on the off-chance that I do, most of it just seems like two disconnected people creating friction with their bodies. It appears to me largely uninspiring.

Yet, the reality is that porn often midwives the birth of sexuality in young boys. They have generally been hypnotized with sexual imagery for many years by the time they have sex for the first time. So of course it's going to feel like a momentous thing! It’s natural that they are excited. But when their image of sex is formed through the lens of a movie camera and porno theatrics, they will feel disconnected from it – trying to live up to a (bad) template of what sex looks like as opposed to connecting intimately and joyfully with a woman.

If only they had an elder tell them about sexuality in a mature way, they could realize it’s not some disconnected porno thing. It’s also, I judge, not this spectacularly important source of self-confidence and fulfillment that many believe. I feel confident in saying that great sex alone will not fulfill anyone. Human beings have done it for millennia. Animals do it. So give sex a break - it's just sex. But it is a very important, joyful, life-affirming ingredient in an integrated, mature life.

Having fun with it

As you probably already noticed, I’m not a fan of seeing sex through the lens of pornography. How boring are these people’s sex talk anyway? “Oooh yeah, fuck me – fuck me with your big cock. Ooooh yeah. You like that? You like that you dirty boy? Oooh. Aaah”. Gawd! No connection at all, no inspiration! These are the words of people trying to be sexy, but without opening their hearts or in any way claiming each other in an intimate way (intimacy is for their partner after they leave work and go home).

Since pornography is about disconnection, objectification and spacing out in erotic fantasies, in my judgment, to truly enjoy sex, we need to leave the template of pornography behind. And when we start leaving that template behind, when we are able to turn off the script that runs in our minds, our deeper desires and intuitions start rising. How would I really enjoy to connect with this woman right now? For me, connecting to that part of myself involves connecting to a very playful, almost childlike part of me. Not sexy to a woman, you may think? You think wrong.

What this playfulness may include for me is, like recently with a lovely woman I’ve been seeing, latex sheets, custard, whipped cream, oils, a cute whip, filling water pistols with wine for mutual enjoyment, balloons (hehe, don’t ask) etc. And then just making art out of it. I’m not going to go into details, but we had so much fun we couldn’t stop laughing, spraying wine into each other’s mouths from across the bed etc.

Would it surprise you that the sex was really enjoyable? Oh, how much more fun and liberating sex is when it’s freed from the influence of pornography! It’s just freeflow in the moment – two people who love and appreciate one another giving way to the moment and absorbing all the pleasure that’s on the plate.

It’s at times like that I feel really grateful that I’m not attached to sex looking a certain way. I definitely don’t stress about making her come. For the most part, I don’t think about that stuff. I just want to enjoy her and connect with her in an embodied way. Turns out women like that too. This woman says she is relieved that I’m not obsessing about making her come. That means she can enjoy herself and not feel forced to live up to any porno fantasies or “goals” in my head. And it also means that she has started having deep orgasms through intercourse for the first time in her life. Strange how that works, isn’t it?

Be irreverent (if you like)!

There really is no need treat sex as some epic event of unending importance. I invite you to be irreverent! Have fun – hedonism is allowed once in a while. Embracing who you are and learning to enjoy that in an uninhibited way sets her free – and the pleasure you are able to experience together will reflect that.

Being irreverent, perhaps even childlike, in bed is so refreshing in a world where most want to play out their porno mentality and/or prove themselves when they're having sex. Trying to prove yourself will probably contribute to your having issues with premature ejaculation and getting hard. And I assure you, good women can spot a man feigning mature masculinity a mile off anyway. They spotted me. They'll spot you. So why bother?

Play at the level you're at. Embrace yourself. Learn to have fun (even coming too early can be fun with the right mindset). And don't turn any of this into rules that you need to live by. Not even the part about not turning it into rules. This is yours to discover for yourself.

Have fun guys.

To your pleasure!
Eivind

PS! I'd love to hear your experiences with having irreverent fun in bed in the comments below. Some of you are probably masters at it!

PPS! If you want me to write more about sex in the future, please say so below. If you don't, I probably won't.