I just got off the phone with Nina. Nina Hartley feels like my big sister who I happen to have hot incestuous interactions with from time to time. She’s walked parts of my road for far more years than I have, and yet sometimes her pervy kid brother surprises her with a bit of insight or a mirror to her own journey that it’s pretty darn cool.

She was putting me in my place. I called her stressed out about my inability to help all of the world. That there are some people I just can’t seem to help, that it’s black holes (or in her words, bottomless sewer pipes) of pain, need, anger or frustration. I’ve been brewing with this for the last month or so.

Nina was pretty straight and to the point. Stop it. Set boundaries and limits. Safeword and then get the hell out if your safeword is not respected.

Okay, that last part was my language, not hers.

And then it hit me. I have to put on my own mask before assisting others in putting on their masks.

On airplanes they tell you that you can not put on the masks of others first because you need to be breathing oxygen first before you can help others breathe. In the world of being a lifegaurd, you can’t let someone who is drowning pull you down, becuase then two people are pulled under.

I feel like I am being pulled under. Not in some grandeous please save me sort of way. In that awareness sort of way. There are individuals who I just… well… can’t help. They may think I can, want me to, and splash around in the water screaming “save me.” I swim out, and they grab on to some fault or fear or truth or joy of mine with full force. They begin to grab tighter, as I start to slip under the waves.

I am realizing how hard I am splashing, trying to stay afloat.

The metaphors are getting mixed, and you know what, it’s okay.

What is hard is that I feel a lot of shame about not being able to (a) fix them (b) have the capacity to help everyone who asks me for it (c) needing my own energy to help myself. I feel shame about not knowing how to draw firm limits and boundaries for myself and my capacity. I have shame.

And dear friendly readers, please know that “you shouldn’t be ashamed” does not help. I do feel shame, and should/should not feels like an invalidation of my emotional experience.

So here I am with my shame, trying to put on my own mask.

I am trying to figure out how to discern what I can give. I know this past weekend I overdid it. 4 classes, 1 panel, 1 reading, and demo bottoming for the fantastic Danielle Dv8, and forgetting to eat until Jerry dragged me away to eat pizza. Saturday was the most work I think I have ever done in one day (except maybe when on staff at a Dark Odyssey event) during my career (all the above except 1 class was in one day), and this was only my second conference back on the circuit. I overdid it, and yet I survived. So there is this part of me that screams “but LOOK, you SURVIVED, so you CAN DO IT!”

I hear you desperate screaming self who wants to be a super-hero. I hear you. I hear this part of me and its need to do more, reach more, help more, touch more lives, live more. Voice of the more inside me, I hear you.

I speak back now as the voice of eagle medicine, view over the big picture voice, the one who gets to be in this body for the long run voice. This voice says that if I don’t set boundaries and limits now, I will be drained dry and be a shell of my full SELF. I say now “I deserve to give greatness over the long run, the world deserves me to give greatness over the long run.”

So here I sit, shame self, screaming self, big picture self. We are having a conversation.

Being my own husband is making me stop and pause. Would I push an external husband into the world to be drained in the ways I have been being drained, work as hard as I have been working amidst my health recovery, would I… no. No I would not. I would ask him when he will be slowing down, bringing him a cup of soup on the days it is hard. So why am I so hard on this husband called I AM?

I deserve more than double standards and being latched onto by those that do not mean to drain me so. I can tell they are unaware. I find myself thinking again the questions of “Are You Hungry?” That the way a handful of individuals function operates in my energetic and etheric body as a pump that empties me out so much faster than others do. And this is not their fault. It is how we happen to be compatible with each other. Their fangs drain deeper than others do, based on the density of this thing called ME. They are not bad people…

and neither am I.

I am not a bad person for acknowledging that some individuals, or types of encounters, or specific events, drain me faster than others. And unlike the proposal from another sexuality educator years ago that I should ask for “hazard pay,” I have to instead say no.

So how does someone sitting with shame say no?

I reach for the mask. I stare at it. I try to lift it up to my face.

I try, starting today, to love me and all my needs. Because I deserve to have needs. Beyond my NEEDS.

One of my habits in the world is to put others whom I value on any level before my own needs, wants and desires. NEEDS (such as air, food, water, a place to stay) are often put first, but not always. I have often believed that the NEEDS of others outweigh my lower-level needs. And when someone says to me that they NEED something, my brain has historically made the assumption that that NEED fits in the same category as air, food, water, and a roof over their head. It has only been very recently that I have finally started to break down need and NEED when hearing it from others, as well as discerning my needs compared to my wants/desires.

In my own lexicon:

NEEDS are things we need for core survival.
needs are things we need to be able to function fully.
wants are things that would help me move fully as an individual in the world.
desires are the things that would make me very happy.

When NEEDS, needs, wants and desires come together, I thrive.

I have had times when I thrive, connected fully to myself, deity, and the world. Present in the place of love and being LOVE, embracing my dharma in a huge hug, working in the world as I am called to do, and soaring as I do so. I thrive.

But to thrive I need to discern that I in fact have needs. I know I have NEEDS, but sometimes knowing the needs level has been hard for me. And if it hard for me to see it in myself, it makes sense that I have had challenges discerning between the four in others.Instead, I morph, ever the shapeshifter, into what they need to fulfill all four, because I heard them say they “need me” and what I heard was “what you have I NEED.” They need it for survival. And I can help them survive. And if I can help them survive without killing me, of course I will, I think to myself.

But shapeshifting is hard work. It pushes me into a thousand forms that are me and more, and can leave me disconnected from the core that is I AM. And without I AM fully present, I do not thrive. And if I do not thrive, I do not deliver the best of myself into my own life or the world.

I have joked that I have become an avatar. There is Lee. And then there is Lee Harrington, the avatar, the many-faced mask of teacher/guru/spirit worker/performer. Lee Harrington is projected onto, has dream-walked, has become something that can exist in the world and beyond me. It has become Kermit the Frog that can stand alone without Jim Henson.

This avatar is mistaken for me, for those who project their fears, truths, hopes, desires and processing onto Lee Harrington. I am grateful that Lee Harrington exists for them to examine their fears, truths, hopes, desires and processing with and through. It is important, and I am glad it exists. But when folks want to latch onto Lee and drink when they are craving Lee Harrington… it has left me shameful that Lee Harrington is not all I am.

But I am not on stage. I am human. I am a person who NEEDS to eat, shit, and love.

Nina said I need to work through this shame. She did about twenty years ago, or thought she did at least, until an unintentional vampire came into her world. She bled, bled, and then realized she was bleeding.

I am bleeding. I am thrashing in the waves.

Historically I would have said that I have gills, so I will swim underwater. And I do, and I can, swim in the stress.

But I will not thrive there. I am more than my merman self, though I value my gills so profoundly. It is an amazing skill to have amidst days like Saturday, where I swam, and for moments did in fact thrive in the water.

And yet, the shore calls.

The shore calls.

So I lift up my arms above the waves, and see the eyes, see the eyes.
I sit with the shame.
I cry and acknowledge my capacity.
I breathe deeply.
and I work on it… one day at a time.

Today I start by saying:

I can’t answer every personal email (gods, that SUCKS to say).
I can’t do every event that wants me (I am limiting myself to one big event a month, and one smaller thing, here forward).

There, I said it out loud. And the shame. Oh, my shame self, it’s screaming. The screaming self says “but you COULD if only you tried HARDER.” And the Eagle medicine self… nods, and whispers to himself that some day I will have the courage to narrow it down further.

But not today, and that is okay, and he feels no need to forgive me because he sees how hard I am working.

I kiss my husband on the lips, and curl up for a while.

I go to bed early. Paperwork and emails can wait until tomorrow. I need it.

That does not mean that Jacob Marley was not once a man.

Recently I was told a picture of me could not be me because I am a 32 year old man, and the person in the picture was a woman in her mid twenties. I lovingly pointed out to them that I was transgendered, and that I used to be a female adult performer, but now I was a guy. In response someone else spoke up and said I had never really been a woman, I had always been a guy, just a guy who had stumbled in front of a camera.

The second one hurt more than the first.

I have this piece of art by Brian Andreas hanging in my bedroom

There are many trans people who want to wash away their past, or have it understood that their current identity has always been their truth. They are the gender they have always been, and let any photographs of them be cast aside as a painful reminder of life lived in-authentically. I powerfully understand and appreciate that, having had a partner whose past name being used in reference to him would lead him into an emotional tailspin that often crashed and burned. But that is not my journey… though it does get me thinking about my own.

I have no one who is my Slave at this time, and I still consider myself a Master. That one feels easy. Sir, Master, these feel etched in me. Even when I was a 24/7 Slave myself, people still Ma’am’s or Sir’d me.

Ah, but Ma’am. Am I still a Ma’am? I can respond to it, but no, its not really me right now.  Does that mean that I was a liar, or putting on a mask when my former Girl called me Ma’am? No, I was authentically Ma’am at the time, and proud of it. I was a Mistress, and in that time was fully and truly the Mistress of the men who served me. I was not some dude putting on the skinsuit of a femdom and riding it around for voyeuristic and sadistic thrills. I was authentically me, as I knew me to be at that time.

I have been a female adult film performer, a hot porn clown, a baby butch dyke. Just because my current identity and truths do not encompass those things does not mean I never was. For I feel like I am asked to traverse the land of never was.

But you, you were 7. Now that you are 47, does that mean that you were never 7? Was your 47 year old self peering out from behind watchful eyes, planning and predicting when your true self would bear fruit?

If I embrace my slavery, for I am a Slave, under a public eye- will I have never lived the years in-between my slavery to Masters and my experience with my Matron now? Is the rest a lie, a passing tale, a false truth?

I believe humans are complex beings. That our identities and expressions shift over time. That there are things that were that are not. That there are things that are not that will be. And that there are things that were and will be but are not right now.

Let my center have wheels, moving easily in the slightest of breezes.

Diamond is the female lead of the house, a woman whose service to the world and her tribe is delicious to bear witness to. Many in the kink world would know her as “one of Murphy Blue’s girls,” as he has three incredible women who come with him to events- two who live here at Harmony House. But she is so much more.Powerful, beautiful, hilarious, loving, and mindful of her tribe, her friends, and the conscious construction of a world she wanted to live in. “I knew the shape of the thing that was the void in my life,” she said. “I always waited for them [the science-fiction or fantasy characters] to come and take me away to a land where I fit, and they never did. So I figured I needed to become one of them, and make a place where others could come and be taken away.”

Living at Harmony House, there are 6 adults and 4 children. Dinner is always on the table at 6:30pm, and Friday nights are older kids friendly movie nights. Love abounds, and someone is always there to give directions for friends who call, or to help a kid with a scraped knee or math homework. The walls are decked out with novels and dvds, and laughter abounds.

I am in love with Harmony House.

I told Diamond about my desire to find others for my own tribe, dreams of similar setups of sorts. Of Aiden’s vision of horses and tribe of all ages, of my desire for chickens and space for everyone and yet having shared spaces and so much love. Where love was not about who you were with, but a whole collective and those beyond the walls as well. She smiled, nodded, and understood.

Looking around I feel the heartbeat of Harmony House.

The difference, Diamond says, between her and other poly houses she has met that later exploded, is that that heartbeat was established for years before they made it tribal. That she did not try to form a poly house before she and her first mate were over 30 and already established life tracks. That her mother was a passionate being, and never separated work from life from love.

Between Erosong and Harmony House, I feel like I am starting to not just get, but grok, how to make it work. Some of what it would take. That I am starting to see it form around me, a vision and smoky theory that is cropping up amongst my tribe at large. Seeing friends in Maine slowly take over an island. Feeling the beat of Florida and the altar of love constructed there. Knowing the joy in San Francisco on black leather wings of desire. Because it works, and not just for a few years until it explodes.

Diamond worried that she had just read too much Heinlein.

I think Heinlein looked ahead and read Diamond coming, and wrote about her dreams.

I had had my hysterectomy less than 6 months earlier. And the reality is that my body is not the same.

I was emotional. He asked why, and I said it was because I was a fisting bottom, and can’t be fisted any more. He paused, then asked me if I came. Well, yeah…

So, what is the issue?

My identity was wrapped up in the notion of being a fisting bottom. If I am not this, then what else am I? What does my body really want? The reality was, I did not know what my body wanted. I had been on erotic replay for most of my life. It’s like finding that favorite restaurant and always ordering the same thing. I knew the twenty things that did it for me, and hit rewind, re-play. With different lovers, in different settings, with different music and lighting and levels of dramatic effect- but the same menu items.

I realized it had been a very long time since I had simply explored with no expectation at all of outcome. A few years, but even then had layers of past truths. So if I am not able to be fisted in my front hole any more- what does my body want?

More than that, am I okay with it? With not being a vaginal fisting bottom? Because that is identity, right there. It had become a  “who am I” rather than a “what I do.” When our identity is attached to what we can do, and what we can do changes, our world can seem to fall apart.

I was hospitalized related to my long-term health four+ months ago. And the reality is that my body is not the same.

I was emotional this week. I asked myself why, and realized it was because I was a guy who traveled for work, who worked his ass off, who went out to where his students are… and can’t do that to near the same degree any more. I paused, then asked me if I was still reaching my students. Well, yeah…

So, what is the issue?

My identity was wrapped up in the notion of being a hard-working traveling presenter. If I am not this, then what else am I? What does my being really want? The reality was, I did not know what my being wanted. I had been on work replay for most of my life. It’s like finding that favorite restaurant and always ordering the same thing. I knew the twenty things that I did well and could help me fulfill what I saw as my dharma, and hit rewind, re-play. With different people, in different settings, with different music and lighting and levels of dramatic effect- but the same menu items.

I still reach the world, a few students, fans, friends, and allies at a time.

In fact, a year ago I even said I wanted to eventually cut down to only working 1-2 weekends a month. And yet, now that I am here, mandated by my physical reality- I find myself lost. Because my identity is wrapped up in doing “so much more” Working harder, not smarter. Going OUT to the world rather than having others come IN.

So, what does my body want? Sexually, and career wise, as someone who has had identities attached to the “what it is that I do?” Who are we each when we separate these two from each other, and begin to explore without judgement.

I like two fingers, sliding in and out as my hips rock and my lips moan into a slow growl. We’ll see what the next explorations bring.

I have been slowly meandering my way through Brené Brown’s book “The Gifts Of Imperfection” for the past four months. The book makes me think, has me chewing on my own spirit and my own perceptions of reality. I find myself asking “what is this thing called life I am living” and “why do I do what I do.” You know, easy stuff.

There has been chewing, butt kicking, and the occasional moment of “uh huh.” There are exclamation points and stars etched in the edges, brackets and circles. This is a book I had to take notes in, not leave pristine. Will I loan it- yes, with the caveat that the next person do the same in their own color of pen.

In Guidepost 9 (it’s like chapters in part two), she asks us to examine what makes our work meaningful. For many years I have stood by the fact that I must have meaningful work, or else not do it. She argued another route… the slash.

You can be a poet/banker, carpenter/king. Any combination of thing is available if we dig in deep and listen to the fullness of our hearts. Listen to the silence that speaks at 3am and knows our best intentions at heart.

The funny thing is, knowing my ideal slash is an amazing tool for figuring out where to invest my juice. My spoons. My battery power.

I am an author/educator/performer/shaman.

Or perhaps an author/educator/shaman/performer.

Somewhere in there. I am called to reach out, connect, inspire. I have tribal affiliations. I touch hearts. I resonate in these forms through the guise of bard, poet, philosopher, blogger, priest, guru, and nice guy. But these four are the vocation known as my journey.

I keep being told to focus in. I mean really, does that shaman gig pay? If your income is really from the first two, do it smarter, do it wiser. Educate at intensives and big weekends only, do college lecturing mostly, write books that will sell 10,000+ copies only. Write that sequel to “Shibari You Can Use” already.

But a job is real even if we don’t get paid for it. Our juice fills back up *while* we are working instead of on the weekends when please oh please we are away from our work. I want my Work, not just my work. I want to thrive in my vocation.

The trick? Listening. I keep not listening, though I am getting better.

When I open up a file to write, what juices me up? What makes me feel juicy? Right now it is poetry. I am pouring it out of me like water, refreshing water that I feel like I am sailing on. The second is handouts and notes for how to teach, because there needs to be more skilled folks who can skillfully pass on information and wisdom to others. The third is my collaborative project with Mollena.

Note that “More Shibari You Can Use,” which has had the first 3 chapters and entire outline done for 5 months, has not moved in 5 months. Because today my spirit says no. It says it is not part of today’s work. Will it come out, yes, at some point. But right now, if I focused on it, I would not be listening to the authentic voice that governs over my slash.

So I let the words pour forth. I book gigs like Westward Bound, Fetish Fair Flea, and Kinkfest to teach at, that will fuel me. I stop and play, because sometimes my performance is for me. I sing and dance. I use my tarot card app for actual divination working. I love, and live, and dream as I work. Because I am Working.

I am Working, in my slash.

November 20th; Giving Thanks:

This month, Lee Harrington spends some time giving thanks- to his tribe and more, and asks in turn what you are giving thanks to in your sexual and spiritual journeys, and beyond. Thanks becomes an awareness of capacity, stories of identity, and how our identity is often wrapped up in what we think we “should” want. Perception becomes thanks once more, and a bit of sacred sensual poetry is thrown in for good measure!

Lee, however, wishes to apologize for getting totally ahead of himself. In the podcast he references that when the podcast goes live it will be just after thanksgiving and it will also be on his birthday. He realized a few hours after recording that this is not the case, and that there is an extra week between… so happy Thanks Giving everyone

http://www.eroticawakening.com/ea154-giving-thanks/

December 10, Circles of Kink:

In this episode of Erotic Awakening, Lee Harrington interviews Lady Pandion, Scott (Silent1), Doug (yojimbo), Preston and Becky, after the 6 of them were part of the Sacred Kink intensive “Circles of Kink” in Ft. Myers, Florida. The conversation dances from event debriefing to personal exploration, fiber magic to intention building, community to connection, costumes and candles, and so much more. Join this herd of seekers and kinksters, shamans and healers, switches and witches as they dive into their hearts and share them with you.

http://www.eroticawakening.com/ea158-circle-of-kink/

Date: Saturday January 21, 2012
Time: Noon-1:45p, 2p-4p, 4:15p-6p
Price: $45-85 sliding scale per student
Location: A private home in Bushwick, Brooklyn, off the J/Z (Chauncey) and L (Wilson)

This is a limited attendance event, with 8 total spaces available. It is a single training, broken into 2 components, but you can not “opt out” of a segment.

This intensive is best suited to beginner and intermediate experience educators, but may have some material of interest for more experienced educators. Lee will dialogue with more experienced educators on the appropriateness of their involvement.

Noon-1:45p:

Finding Your Unique Voice as an Educator

What sort of presenting really calls to you, and why? Do you want to lead group discussions, lecture in front of an auditorium, provide one-on-one mentorship, or give skill demonstrations? What sorts of topics are you called to present on? Physical skills, emotional experiences, the psychology of what it is that we do, history and academics, or perhaps something totally different? Many of us start out presenting because we are well known for something we do and others want to learn, or because no one else would step up on a topic- but what do *you* want to teach on? What styles will best carry your message and your specific voice? Let’s look at what styles and content truly call to you, and also examine options for both you might not of thought of that may be your calling waiting for you.

2p-6p:

Effective Speaking and Presentation Skills

Have you always wanted to speak in front of a crowd but are too jittery? Perhaps you are an experienced speaker or educator who wants their lectures and presentations to stand out and be remembered? Come learn how to effectively use your voice and body language to communicate your message in a wide variety of teaching and speaking environments. From claiming of space to audience empathy, use of vocal range to hiding your nervousness, we will plunge in together and come out more certain of our ability to deliver our message.

Though the skills we will be using and developing are good for all individuals, examples and stories will be from within a BDSM, Kink, Leather, LGBT, Queer, Poly, Swinger and beyond context.  Bring tools for taking notes, wear comfortable clothing, and have an open mind for exploring the joy in passing on our passions.  Students will receive a digital take-home packet, beyond in-class resources, for further developing their unique voice and skills.

What to bring:
Comfortable clothes
Reusable water bottle (optional)
Notebook or other note-taking device
Sense of openness and willingness to engage
Your business cards, smart phone, or other networking tools

Please come fed in advance. Optional group dinner available afterwards for those who want to continue the conversation.

To register please contact Lee@PassionandSoul.com to see if there are spaces available

See you there!

Who is Lee Harrington?

Lee giving the Keynote Speech at Transcending Boundaries Conference 2010

Lee Harrington is a passionate spiritual and erotic educator, gender explorer, eclectic artist and published author and editor on human sexuality and spiritual experience.  He’s been traveling

the globe (from Seattle to Sydney, Berlin to Boston), teaching or talking about sexuality, psychology, kink, faith, magic and desire since 1996, and has no intention of stopping any time soon.  Along his journey he has been a brainy academic, a female adult film performer (under his previous name Bridgett Harrington), a world class sexual adventurer, an outspoken philosopher, a long-time sexuality and spirituality blogger (since 1998), a spirit worker and priest, and an award winning writer and artist.   Overall, Lee is a nice guy with a disarmingly down to earth approach to the fact that we are each beautifully complex ecosystems, and we deserve to examine the human experience from that lens.

As an educator, Lee has lectured in large university halls, led intensive 3-day retreats, performed learning rituals and stage shows, done one-on-one coaching, facilitated group discussions, run interactive workshops, and spoken at the front of a wide array of classical classroom settings. In 2010 he taught at the first ALPSEC (Alternative Lifestyle Presenter Skills Educational Conference) at the Leather Archives & Museum in Chicago, Illinois. He is regularly called upon by alternative sexuality organizations to help them make decisions on planning, and as part of that consulting work, has come to deeply appreciate the hard work it takes for any presenter to speak from their authenticity (whether it be as a bard, coach, pundit or something else entirely).

His books include “Shibari You Can Use: Japanese Rope Bondage and Erotic Macramé,” “Sacred Kink: The Eightfold Paths of BDSM and Beyond,” the “Toybag Guide to Age Play,” and “Shed Skins: Journeying in Self-Portraits.”  He has also worked as an anthology editor on such projects as “Rope, Bondage, and Power” and “Spirit of Desire: Personal Explorations of Sacred Kink,” while contributing actively to other anthologies, magazines, blogs and collaborations internationally.  Check out the trouble Lee has been getting into, as well as his regular podcast, tour schedule, free essays, videos and more over at www.PassionAndSoul.com.

So I look for the Old Gods, the beasts, and the faeries,
I speak of their names and their sigils I mime
their stories, perpetually grand invocations
are secrets preserved in the midst of rhyme

And what did we learn down the yellow brick road?
And what did Alice really find down that hole?

Well…

It’s a shaman’s journey if ever I saw one
and I ought to know cause I’m continually on one

-Storm Faerywolf, from his poem “The Faerie Tale” in The Stars Within The Earth

I was talking with people last week in my new yoga class. I mentioned that I do fire spinning. Later, someone asked where my favorite place to visit was, and I said out of the country it was a hard split between central Cappadocia in Turkey, and Manly Bay in Sydney. They blinked. Later that day, I ran into one of the girls from the group…

“You are totally like a ken doll.”

Stories in my head run through about gender, not having outed myself, and internal thoughts on not having external genitalia- my differently gendered boy a line between ken doll and angel. But instead I asked, “How so?”

“Because you are totally too good to be true.”

I look at my life and it is true. It would not surprise me to see someone make a movie from my life (starring Maggie *and* Jake Gyllenhaal) that folks would read as a fantastical fiction. Child of army intelligence folks, art nerd and punk turns christian faith organization database administrator while shooting porn on weekends. Car crash leads to porn full time, leads to international travel, leads to becoming a sexuality educator and dedicated spirit-worker. Gender transition, heart breaks, heart string…

My former boyfriend Mars used to joke by calling me “Sydney” a la Alias. “Uh huh,” he would say,” You HAVE to be in Berlin next week for a video shoot and performances. I should keep my eye out for assassination reports.”

I have come to realize that I have come to live down the rabbit hole. I am an acclimated citizen of Palimpsest. I have walked along the yellow brick road, having journeyed the OZ. What is odd to others is my day to day.

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”

-Jack Kerouac

I have danced with demons under the pale moon light. I know the smell of bodies wrapped in leather and packed onto the dance floor. The sound of the earth’s rhythm and sylphs singing has rocked me into sleep and frenzy alike. These are… life. My life.

I do not intend to have judgement, but as I look up from down the rabbit hole, I see the Victorian era on the other side and see it as a strange dream. Here, I look across the gap and find I just don’t quite understand the thoughts and processes of the “average” person, the supposed soccer mom and blue collar, white collar worker. I have spent too much time with pink collar workers, have seen authentic self exploration as the day to day of perverts, tantric visionaries, gurus and those very same soccer moms, blue collar, white collar workers on their weekends. My mind does not get it. I don’t understand the close mindedness…

and yet, that perception of close mindedness is itself a judgement. A perception that the mad ones are better. That the faerie tales are more awake, more alive. That the beauty of Oz and Wonderland somehow outweighs the beauty of monster truck rallies and golf courses, jam competitions at state fairs and time at the spa with the girls. Different beauty is all. Mindful of my judgement, I breathe, try.

Try to see the beauty of it all. Of it ALL.

From here, down the rabbit hole, I try a breath at a time. A breath at a time, I try.

Wrapped in invocations
wrapped in rhyme
wrapped in mystery
wrapped in time.

I try.

Join us as we explore desire, faith, sex, passion… and falling in love with our planet through consent with all living things.

Listen to this episode HERE.

Podcast resources, links, and details

Asrik contact information:
http://cartographersoftransgression.wordpress.com
https://fetlife.com/users/349846
http://twitter.com/#!/Asriksrava

Environmentalism and Game Theory resources mentioned:
Ishmael by Daniel Quinn : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0553375407
Cradle to Cradle by Michael Braungart : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0865475873
The Ecology of Commerce by Paul Hawken : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0061252794
Worldchanging by Alex Steffan : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0810997460
Worldchanging website : http://worldchanging.com/
Finite and Infinite Games by James P. Carse : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0345341848

Sacred/kink books mentioned:
Radical Ecstacy by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/189015962X
Sacred Kink by Lee Harrington : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/055721176X
Spirit of Desire edited by Lee Harrington : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0557992419
Dark Moon Rising by Raven Kaldera : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/1847288928
Sacred Pain by Ariel Glucklich : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/0195169433
Spirit + Flesh by Fakir Musafar : http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20/detail/189204157X
Lee’s Sacred Kink Books Collection http://astore.amazon.com/pass-20?_encoding=UTF8&node=11

Events mentioned:
Dark Odyssey, DC/Maryland : http://www.darkodyssey.com/
AIS, Ohio : http://adventuresinsexuality.com/
Twisted Tryst, Indiana/Wisconsin : http://www.twistedtryst.com/
Circles of Kink, Ft. Meyers, FL : http://www.circlesofkink.com/
Sacred Pleasures, London : http://sacredpleasures.co.uk/
Sacred Sex Roundup, NYC : http://www.sacredsexroundup.com/

Movies mentioned:
Scenes of a Sexual Nature : http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0475380/
The Brothers Bloom : http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0844286/
(not mentioned by Asrik wished he had in an environmentalist context) Princess Mononoke : http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119698/

Fetlife groups mentioned:
Hard polytheism – https://fetlife.com/groups/13864
Sacred Pain – https://fetlife.com/groups/20261
Spirituality & BDSM – https://fetlife.com/groups/388
BDSM and Spirituality: The Spiritual Side of Leather. – https://fetlife.com/groups/1029

What is Poi (pronounced Poy) :

Lee Harrington contact information:
http://www.PassionAndSoul.com
http://www.FetLife.com/passionandsoul
http://twitter.com/#!/PassionAndSoul

In the United States, I have a close friend named Jim Forest. When I first met him eight years ago, he was working with the Catholic Peace Fellowship. Last winter, Jim came to visit. I usually wash the dishes after we’ve finished the evening meal, before sitting down an d drinking tea with everyone also. One night, Jim asked if he might do the dishes. I said, “Go ahead, but if you wash the dishes you must know the way to wash them.” Jim replied, “Come on, you think I don’t know how to wash the dishes?” I answered, “There are two ways to wash the dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes.” Jim was delighted and said, “I choose the second way — to wash the dishes to wash the dishes.” From then on, Jim knew how to wash the dishes. I transferred the “responsibility” to him for an entire week.
- Venerable Master Thich Nhat Hanh, from “The Miracle of Mindfulness”

Today, a shortened version of this tale came across my mind, a gift as my partner read to me from “Wide Awake: A Buddhist Guide for Teens” by Diana Winston.  This book was purchased because last weekend on retreat at the Brooklyn Zen Center, it was recommended to him by the teacher he had met with.  We have been discussing Buddhism a fair amount, because he used to be a lay monk, but has been out of practice.  We are building a space for him to sit in meditation, and him going to the silent retreat was a chance to re-immerse himself in a part of his spiritual practice that has profound meaning to him.

I have come to refer to Wide Awake as the Buddha Book.  I have always fascinated by Buddhism, and especially through my friend JD, I have come to find profound appreciations for a number of the teachings.  But much of Buddhist teachings have felt out of reach for me due to the denseness of the language, and the wide variety of approaches to what Buddhism looks like that seem sometimes at odds with each other.  But he is reading the book to me, just as I am reading Phantom Tollbooth to him.  We tried to do Palimpsest, but yeah, that’s a hard one to follow as a bedtime book read sporadically.  And as he reads, we pause, we process, he thinks, I think, we talk about what came up for each of us.  I am diving into his mind and his spirit, and in turn he asks me questions, I face demons of my own heart, and more.

Today, the comment of “wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes” came up, I was stunned.  And then, before any true thoughts came to my mind, my mouth spoke.

“I want to write to write.”

We had been having a very heart-wrenching conversation about how my writing under deadlines, and just for the purpose of “will it sell” had been hurting.  How I have doctors who want me to do some pretty intense care plans, which may affect my capacity to go out of town for more than a few days at a time.  I have been in a panic state at times over fear of being unable to pay bills again – how can I commit to conferences for 2012 if I am unsure if I can fly cross-country before the con begins, and back afterwards?

He kept encouraging me to be here, now.  To live in the moment.  How can I live in the moment, I argued, in a career where I must plan my reality 4-8 months in advance, or have no work available to me?  Being a keynote speaker, headline presenter, etc… we are the first booked most of the time for events so that producers can use our names to advertise.  I respect and appreciate this, but when I’m not supposed to leave town for more than a few days at a time- I keep finding myself paralyzed.  I have said yes to a few conferences for next year, and even in those, I have fear.  I do not want to live from a place of fear, but so often as of late that is the word that comes out of my lips.  Fear of loss.  Fear of inability.  Fear of pain.  Fear.

My fear has kept me from writing.  In my journal, on my writing projects.  I have to pause from panic as I look at deadlines.  The book I am co-authoring was due to the publishers in September.  We are nowhere near done.  December is our earliest hopeful date at this point.  I feel blessed that the publishers have not dropped the project. But this thing, this fear.  I have been writing to share stories I feel *should* be shared.  I have been writing messages to communicate what *needs* to get out there.  I have been writing for a paycheck.  I have been writing for fear of feeling inaccessible to my friends or world at large.

I have over 1500 emails in my inbox.  Those are not spam.  Those are people who I want to respond to.

I have 4 books partially written.

I have 21 subject notes for blog posts I want to write.

I have 170 lines of overarching concepts of projects I want to do on my to do list.

I…

If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes , the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While of other thing, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus, we are sucked away into the future — and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.

I pause.  I breathe.  If while writing, I think only of the outcome that comes from the writing, thus hurrying to get the project done as if it was a nuisance, then I am not “writing to write.”  What’s more, I am not alive during the time I am writing.

I freeze.

I stare.

I am not alive during the time I am writing.

Tears fall.

*

I have spent so much of my life attempting to live up to the expectations, needs, wants and desires of others.  I stare at myself and feel lost.  If in the thing I proclaim to have such passion in, I am not even there- where am I within my own statements of truth.  I espouse to the world that a life without passion and soul is not one I care to see.  And yet, in this thing I claim to have such passion for, I am not even present in.  I adore food, and yet, I cram another wedge of orange in my mouth without ever tasting it.  I say I love you empty…

and then stop myself.

Over dinner I say I love you, and stop.

“What I meant to say was thank you for being vulnerable and open with me, it makes me feel safer to show you more of my heart, and I feel very special in it.  That is what I meant in that moment by I love you.”

He stares at me for a moment, then smiles, and says thank you.

*

It is easy in our society to replace the depths of our heart with brevity.  In a world where psychotherapy sessions are strapped down to 50 minutes, where classes are timed, where our work is set by hours on a clock rather than what needs done in a day- it is to be expected.  I find myself in a world where we have more technology, and less time to do what we want.  Where I know more people, and have less time for them.

We shorten down hello to “howsitgoing” at 30 miles an hour.

If I gave the eyes locked, deep breath, shoulders rise, fall, smile, hello I long to give- where is the time to say hello to everyone else on my facebook friends list?  This is what my spirit longs for, to give fully and freely to every spirit on this planet.  I want to let each person I meet know how much I see in them.  That yes, you, you before me- you are AMAZING!  You light up before me, and I delight in the fullness of you.

And yet, if I do so, what is left?

I stand empty, hungry of heart.  Which I know, is a lie.  I stand in the mirror with my eyes empty for myself.  But with one other set of eyes, I see in them the love that I am.

I pause, breathe, look in the mirror.  LOVE.  This is why it is there.  LOVE.

“God is love,” I said weakly, and the moon flickered through black branches.  I believed then that it was so.
“When you say that, and I say that,” said Qaspiel, I do not think we mean the same thing.  You mean it only as a metaphor.”
I brooded on that, and the angel walked beside me, the hematite in its hair like black tears.
-Catherynne M. Valente, from “The Habitation of the Blessed: A Dirge for Prester John Volume 1″

If I am love, for I am, I know this as a core truth of my heart, soul and body, then I know the knowledge that is love in my pores.  This is love, this breath, this moment.  This is love, this moment.

And by loving myself, I know that you too, you, there YOU – you can go look in your own mirror, and know you too are AMAZING!  My eyes are not the only mirror.

I breathe.  Tears fall.  Love.  Smiles, beauty, truth.

I step away from the computer.

Learning again, full of love, having written to write.