Sliding doors

As I was driving home from my boyfriend's place tonight, I got to thinking how much my life feels a bit like the movie "Sliding Doors" the last two months....except instead of seeing two alternate realities of life based on choices made or not made, my alternate realities exist because of life circumstances that happened within close proximity to another. One amazing door opened shortly before another heartbreaking, tragic door closed.

I met my future boyfriend on October 23, 2012 and the best most loving friend I've ever had in my 35 years on this planet died November 19, 2012. As you may imagine, this turned my world completely upside down. I thought, "What the hell, universe? How could you open such an exciting door of possibility at the same time you took away the one person who often knew me and loved me better than I knew and loved myself?" This made absolutely no sense and totally fucked with my head, more so my heart. I felt angry. I felt confused. I felt guilty for focusing so much on this new man in my life and more so for being happy in his presence when I *should* have been in mourning 24/7 after Rajiv's death (or so that critical side of me told myself).

Two months later and it still feels weird, though I'm not going through extreme emotions anymore. Now I just find myself thinking of my life experiences and memories in terms of two significant time periods: "Before Dragos" and "After Rajiv." In order to understand the significance of these time periods, I must explain why I see my life via these 'sliding doors.'

Door #1, "Before Dragos" (there was Rajiv)

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have relationship issues (or lack thereof would be more apropos). One would think that most 35 year old women have had a plethora of significant other relationships, including even being married by that age. Not me.There have been men I briefly dated, exciting crushes that fizzled out/went nowhere, and developing feelings for male friends. All of them had two things in common: emotional unavailability and no prospect for long term potential.

Though I met my best friend Rajiv a year or two prior to approaching my 30's, he knew my terrible romantic history all too well. Not only did he know my history well, he had this almost magical power of predicting my romantic future (for good or bad) when I'd give him a snapshot of my experiences with a particular guy I was feeling unsure about at the time during our six and a half years of friendship. He was almost always right, my magic 8 ball best friend. "Outlook not so good." "Most likely." "Don't count on it."

While I usually felt clueless when it came to men romantically, Rajiv grounded me and brought me back to reality. His perspective always helped me in some way, even when he said something I didn't want to hear. In some strange way too, I feel like I got 'practice' to completely be myself with a man....open, honest, and intimately knowing one other (minus the romance/sex aspect). He didn't know it, but he was "preparing" me for an emotional intimacy I would soon also share with Dragos.

Here's where the sliding doors emerge.

Door #2 "After Rajiv" (Taking risks without my magic 8 ball)

It's now been 3 months since Dragos and I started dating, 3 weeks now into the 'in a relationship' stage. Rajiv died before I even had a chance to tell him about Dragos. The first man with whom I'm truly embarking on a new and exciting relationship (and chapter in my life) and the man whom loved me so completely unconditionally for the good, bad, ugly and everything in between....these two will never meet, will never know each other, will never know me through the eyes of the other. I will never get to share with Rajiv all the exciting "firsts" I have experienced or will experience with Dragos....or the various thoughts and feelings I have as the relationship progresses. I'll never have my magic 8 ball to give me the thumbs up or thumbs down on this man, though sometimes in my mind (when I'm spending time with Dragos) I picture Rajiv smiling at me or laughing with me.

Dragos will never know what a gift Rajiv gave me....that of feeling worthy of a caring, intimate relationship and capable of going beyond my comfort zone despite how scary it feels because the rewards far outweigh the perceived costs. Dragos will also never know how little things he says or does at times remind me of Rajiv in a funny or comforting way.

These sliding doors that initially gave me an existential crisis now give me an abundance of opportunities....that of love, meaning, growth, and most especially the confidence to become my own magic 8 ball.

Love you always and forever, Rajiv. "It is decidedly so."

Are you stuck in 'the friend zone?'

I'm trying to remember the first time I heard someone use the term 'friend zone.' I believe it was back in 2007. Interesting twist....the person whom shared with me that he often gets stuck in 'the friend zone' with women also had me feeling as if I was stuck in the friend zone with him....despite the fact that it seemed like we both started off liking each other. Arghhh. Thus began the cycle that perpetuated ambiguity and confusion. What happened? Did I miss something along the way? And is it just me or do you hear people talk about the dreaded friend zone all too frequently nowadays?

How does one get stuck in the friend zone exactly? At what point does a flirtatious or magnetic attraction  become friendship and nothing more? Has the friend zone phenomenon always existed or is our current society responsible for its more frequent rate of prevalence? How much of it has to do with more ambiguous and liberal interactions between two people? Is the friend zone more likely to occur between two people of the opposite sex or is it a phenomenon just as prevalent in the gay community? And what (if any) is the connection between the friend zone and its evil twin 'friends with benefits?'

Unfortunately, I have no answers to these questions (sorry dear readers...I'm notorious for asking more questions than providing answers or solutions). I'm curious to hear what others think about this topic though.

I wonder if we're greedy when it comes to dating, courtship (does that even exist in the 21st century?!), sex, and monogamy vs. "keeping my options open." Or perhaps we become overwhelmed and paralyzed by too many choices. Then there's also the definition of friendship, one fraught with too many gray areas.....which at times can include too little patience for sexual tension and not enough for platonic endurance.

It can be easier to get stuck in the friend zone if you are interested in Person A, but there's also Person B, C, and D that you may be curious about or attracted to for a whole different host of reasons. You may not know what you want exactly or perhaps you're not confident enough. Or you're afraid to risk revealing the feelings you do have because you don't want it to take away from the strong friendship already in tact. Maybe you're not direct with communicating your thoughts, feelings, or agenda.

If you truly want to explore a more than friends relationship, either you or the other person has to speak up. It is wrong to assume that just because you're stuck in the friend zone (from your own perspective) that the other person wants to be in the friend zone with you. If neither person brings it up, both are to blame. You then must decide to either accept and appreciate the friendship without exploring that Pandora's Box...or the next time around when you find yourself in a similar predicament with another individual: Take a chance at being direct, even if it means falling flat on your face. You may get some scratches and bruises after the fall, but at least you'll pick yourself up off the ground knowing exactly where you stand: zone-free.

Trust: the "faith" of relationships?

There are numerous reasons I could list on why not to trust someone, but I'm more curious to ponder the opposite: What is it that drives one to take the blind leap of faith and choose to trust another human being? Is it dependent upon the relational dynamic? Is it easier or harder to trust an individual vs. a group entity? Are we more likely to trust others with our secrets, feelings, passions? How much trust do we invest when it comes to trusting someone with our life, fidelity, money?

These are questions I've been pondering since I watched the Martin Scorsese movie "Casino" last night. Throughout the movie, I noticed and found it funny that characters repeatedly (and emphatically) made comments about needing to be able to trust one of the other characters....funny because it's a movie that centers around the mob and  there's major underlying deception going on among multiple characters. As much as they can hold their own in certain situations, the ultimate downfall is that the characters chose to trust when it wasn't in their best interest to do so. And the price for trust? Loss of money, loss of mental sanity, loss of love, loss of friendship, loss of life. With so much at stake, why do they trust? Why do any of us trust?

Perhaps trust is to relationships what faith is to religion....belief in something "higher" or better despite the unknown lurking in the shadows. A yearning for connection on an intimate level (whether with a friend, lover, or spouse) overpowers the risk it takes to trust and the consequences that may unfold as a result of that trust. Could it be that we would rather see the humanity in each other than be jaded and completely closed off? Maybe there's hope for humanity after all. Or so I trust.

I raise my margarita glass to you

Dearest Rajiv,

I could write something very deep and serious about you here, but in many ways you were very much a private person to the outside world, choosing to share that private side with only a select few. Honoring you and celebrating your life isn't about a eulogy of meaningless facts or even sappy sentimentality. No, when I think of how I want to remember you it's in the mundane and unique details that are "you," the weird, random, and funny shit I will always carry with me just as much as the qualities about you I most admired and cherished. So here goes.

I always loved how you'd get passionately angry like a mama bear and throw around the best of foul language when someone (especially someone you cared about) was being screwed over or hurt in some way. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by and always made me laugh a little inside.

I will never forget when you were dogsitting years ago for a guy you didn't like...you didn't have kind words for him but told him "I wish Doolie (the dog) the best." I laugh every time I think of that, just as I laugh every time I think of the night you showed me a very cheesy porn scene with the woman who propositioned a man for a sexual conquest because "Would you be so kind as to.....? I don't want to be a rookie for my husband."

Your distinct and infectious laugh as you'd clap your hands excitedly, usually followed by "Oh my god, that's hilarious!" How your dance moves got crazier the more alcohol you drank, especially the time we had a dance party in your living room one night and your knees hurt so bad the next day because you were busting out dance moves all over the hardwood floor.

Your love of Mexican food, especially avocados and Garcia's margaritas. You always got Eddie and I in trouble with insisting on ordering that 2nd pitcher we most certainly did NOT need. There was something magical in those Garcia's margaritas, an elixir of sorts that brought out all the best conversational worlds of wit, weirdness, silliness, waxing philosophical, and even sweetly sentimental. I will always think of you when I drink a margarita, especially from Garcia's.

For years you would absentmindedly and accidentally address me as Eddie or Eddie as Katie, then catch yourself. "Hey Eddie....I mean, Katie." And though I can't remember any at the moment, there were the Rajiv quotes....things you'd say that were unintentionally funny, perhaps because the way you unknowingly worded things and they only sounded funny to Eddie and I because we're not from your country.

Then there was the time we almost got kicked out of the casino on our Michigan trip, not only because we were taking pictures inside but because for whatever reason you gave security the impression that you looked suspicious or a potential "threat" with your man bag and they briefly put out an APB on you.We were the youngest people in that senior citizen-ish casino. They had probably never encountered a stylishly dressed 30something year old with a man bag before that cold December night.

Far more mundane but no less memorable....listening to music in the Lakeview apartment (Peaches!) and trying on a bunch of your old silly Halloween wigs, watching indie movies together and talking about/analyzing them afterwards, eating Thai food at your favorite Thai place at the top of the Bloomingdale's building on Michigan Ave, you bluntly and honestly telling me at times things I didn't want to hear but always helped me in the end, your comments over the years about "the girls" or our occasional "TMI" stories.

Of course, I will always cherish your softer and kinder side....but it is your playfulness, quirkiness, laugh, and sense of humor that will provide me endless laughter and smiles for the rest of my life, far surpassing any tears I am now shedding right now in this time of raw emotional grief. I love you, my weird and sweet best friend in this world. You better be greeting me on the other side with a margarita when it's my time.

Love,
Katie

Organically intimate

Opening up. Letting go. Surrendering. To oneself. The moment. To opportunities for organic intimacy with the self and with friends or lovers. How often do we allow ourselves this in the age of iPhones, iPads, texts, social networking, cyber chats, busy lifestyles and instant gratification? How often do we pick up the phone to share something of depth and meaning with another? Share laughter, spark intellectually stimulating conversation, swap life stories, or otherwise hidden secrets?

We fidget, we resist, we avoid ourselves and each other, we escape into machines and addictions. The humanity that can be found in connecting is fading in the dwindling creative process that takes place when people interact and relate in organic ways....face to face, heart to heart, verbal conversations, eye contact, touch, body language, expression of visceral uncensored emotion, vulnerability (being emotionally "naked," open, honest, and transparent with nothing to hide behind/from).

I could be in the minority that finds these experiences few and far between, but I highly doubt it. Having recently experienced a significant number of these experiences more than the usual (ie, rare), I got to thinking how much different I feel with them vs. without them. Connected. Alive. Joyful. Hopeful. Seen, wanted, desired, understood, known. Real experiences evoke real emotion. Virtual is an illusion that numbs and leaves one extremely wanting. It's no wonder why we as an American society are more depressed, disconnected, empty, unhealthy (physically and emotionally), and overly medicated now more than ever. But it doesn't have to be that way.

It will likely feel very uncomfortable to relax and completely surrender to your physical environment when you've been tethered to the ease of virtual living for so long. But you will feel alive. Earlier this week I had one (of many) such moments. I've recently discovered a new interest and appreciation for relaxation yoga and meditation, something that never struck my fancy until I was at my wit's end with a painful rib injury that left me desperate to try just about anything to heal that much quicker. Sadly, this was my only motivation for going. I'm oddly grateful for that injury though because it gave me the priceless gift of yoga. It's done wonders for my soul. I'm able to relax and let go completely, which speaks volumes since I can rarely turn myself completely to "off" mode. Since I've been practicing this yoga once a week, it's becoming a little more natural and likely I can do so when I'm not in the class.

Then there's meditation. I've never been one to meditate. I never thought I could do it the "right" way, even thought it to be boring, futile, and even a little pretentious. The other night, however, proved me wrong. Within minutes of being asked to think about and visualize those in my life who have been my greatest teachers, mentors, and loving supporters....my eyes (which were shut) filled with tears as I found myself surprisingly overcome with emotion, triggered by memories of people dear to my heart. I was filled with such joy to be reminded of this love and gratitude that could have gone unnoticed otherwise.

As I have been challenging myself, I challenge you to seek out opportunities to live in the organic....that which kindles intimacy and self-discovery, sparks genuine self-expression.

Real is slow, organic, random, messy, risky, at times even ecstacy. A puzzle to be put together. Layers of an onion to be peeled. A gift to be unwrapped and savored.

Sexuality/memoir book recommendation

It can be challenging enough to write about the taboo subject of those who engage in the BDSM and swinger lifestyle, let alone write about it from a perspective of self-discovery and intimate honesty. Suzy Spencer blends and balances the two perfectly in "Secret Sex Lives: A Year on the Fringes of American Sexuality." In between the voyeuristic sharing of her interviews, correspondence, and in person interactions with her subjects, Suzy also courageously explores her own sexuality with curious wonder.

What I most respected and loved about this book wasn't what was said, but how she said it. Not once did I feel the writing was contrived, patronizing, condemning, or even glorifying....which I imagine is difficult not to do when writing about taboo sexual practices. Suzy did not always agree with her subjects, nor could she oftentimes relate to their practices...but she always respected them and she turned something that could be construed as stereotypically "dark" and "dirty" into a very humanistic desire: Finding that sexual spark or passion that exists deep within human beings, yearning to be ignited....to be authentically wanted, seen, and known.

Sexual compulsion and the internet

As a mental health therapist working in the community mental health system, I'm constantly challenged by a myriad of presenting problems clients would like to work on in therapy. While I've been working in the field of co-occurring disorders (ie, addiction and mental health) since 2005, there are certain disorders I'm very skilled in and others I have very little knowledge or experience to draw from.

I'd venture to guess that an individual presenting to therapy is confident that their therapist can help them tackle any and all presenting clinical problems. Unfortunately, this is not always realistically possible. Sometimes the problem is totally out of the scope of a clinician's educational or professional competence. In these instances, referral to a more appropriate professional specialist is warranted. In a majority of cases, however, it is important for clinicians to take the initiative to seek either (or both) supervision, case consultation with trusted colleagues, and self-motivated professional development via continuing education classes/workshops or reading professional literature on the particular subject.

With that said, I was recently presented with a case involving compulsive masturbation and addictive online sexual behavior. I found myself (internally) floundering within this extremely sexually revelatory session with my client....not out of discomfort of the subject matter being discussed, but out of not knowing how to specifically help someone with this particular issue. Especially given how vulnerable my client felt telling me and wanting the client to continue feeling confident or courageous enough to proceed with treatment.

I found myself both intimidated and intrigued by this newfound clinical challenge, that of sex/cybersex addiction. Immediately and somewhat ironically, I searched various sites online for well-written and highly rated professional books on the topic. Much to my surprise, it was a disappointing and difficult search. While there are a plethora of books promoting "healthy" sexuality and how to explore one's sexuality in healthy/safe ways, books on sexual addiction are few and far between. The book I ended up getting wasn't even one I thought would be very helpful, but it ended up being decent.

"In the Shadows of the Net" by Carnes, Delmonico, and Griffin explores and analyzes the dangerous allure of the Internet on one's sexual proclivities, especially given the technologically dependent society we live in. Although certainly not to be used by any means as an excuse to act out compulsive sexual behaviors, the availability of sexual content and ease of anonymity online makes it that much easier for an individual to get sucked into a downward spiral of unhealthy and unmanageable sexual behavior. Chapters in this book include identifying problematic behavior ("Do I Have a Problem with Cybersex? and "Understanding Problematic Sexual Behavior on the Internet"), analyzing sexual arousal and intimacy ("What Turns You On? The Arousal Template" and "Courtship Gone Awry"), and how to change/recover from sexually addictive behaviors ("Boundaries," "Taking That First Step," "Changing the Way You Live," "Preventing Relapse: Maintaining the Changes You've Made," and "Family Dynamics and Cybersex"). I found "Understanding Problematic Sexual Behaviors on the Internet," "What Turns You On?," "Courtship Gone Awry," and "Boundaries" to be most helpful.

Upon reading the second half of the book, I realized recovery for sex addiction is very similar to alcohol and drug addiction. The author posits that there is a stronger propensity for relapse with sexual addiction than other addictions. Not sure I agree with that, though the relapse prevention model is very much akin to those used in alcohol/drug recovery programs and seeing that made me feel more confident in my professional capabilities to help a client seeking recovery for sexual addiction. I might even take it one step further and pursue a training to become a Certified Sex Addiction Therapist.

Who can say their work is never boring or that they're always learning more about the human condition?

Therapists.

Closeted free spirit

 Photo taken by me, Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, August 2012.


It's funny how you think you know yourself well....but then one particular day, week, or month comes along to reveal something about yourself you had not noticed before. All this time you gravitated to and admired others that had this special presence about them, not even recognizing maybe the reason is because deep down....you are just like them.

Travelers. Independent thinkers. Unconventional lifestyles that go against the grain of the status quo. Intelligent. Quirky. Friendly and approachable. Walking contradiction. Incredibly curious. Spontaneous. Worldly in one way or another. Crave meaningful experiences and people, no matter how fleeting. Love learning. Open-minded. Dare to be different. Creative. Explorers. Seek adventure. Challenge themselves mentally and physically. Take risks. Usually fearless. Compassionate. Appreciate both the simplicities and complexities of life.

Go ahead. Admit it.

You're a closeted free spirit.

Get Your Gaggle On

I came across this book ("The Gaggle" by Jessica Massa) quite randomly and unexpectedly after reading an article about it on CNN last week. I'm not normally one to be drawn to typical dating/relationship advice self-help-y books....which is exactly why I loved this book so much. While most dating/how-to-find-love books (particularly those geared towards heterosexual women) harp on all the stereotypical "do's" and "don'ts" in order to snag 'the one,' "The Gaggle" turns the focus to one of self-discovery. Incredibly refreshing! It caters to those of us navigating through the confusing post-modern dating world who are looking for something different. After reading this book, I have more insight, optimism, and an overall more relaxed outlook on dating/relationships in the 21st century. I had an epiphany of sorts. Part of my problem had been my mindset. I was going about it all wrong....dating and/or pursuing a long-term relationship in very black and white terms. "The Gaggle" encourages women to explore those shades of grey with an open mind, awareness, and sense of adventure(aka, those various men in your life whom serve a very functional and/or meaningful role without you even realizing it...until you read what's in this book!). I have a great 'gaggle' of fun, intelligent, attractive, and caring men in my life. How can I not feel excited and grateful to have SEVERAL guys in my life that fulfill me in one or more ways?

Melting ice in Annawadi

Pulitzer Prize winner Katherine Boo eloquently and brilliantly captures what is truly a heartbreaking level of abject poverty in a slum of Mumbai (Annawadi), India in "Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity." Boo weaves intimately detailed narratives of a handful of the residents, respectfully revealing the gritty nuances of their day to day existence. Tragic tales juxtaposed against tremendous resiliency and ability to adapt to destructive forces (particularly in regard to inescapable political corruption).

I finished reading this book several hours ago and I'm still struggling with articulating the words to describe my thoughts and feelings about it, nearly speechless. Ever heard human emotions can be narrowed down to seven basic emotions? This is a rare book that will likely trigger all seven for you as it did me: fear, sadness, anger, joy, surprise, disgust, and contempt.

I give this book five stars (and in my estimation, hands down the best work of narrative non-fiction of 2012 thus far!) based on the following factors: 1. Well-written, both in content and with an excellent balance of objectivity as well as articulating the complexities with a humanistic touch. 2. It's a human interest piece that educates without exploitation or self-righteousness. 3.Truthful accounts validated by reliable sources via the documented experiences of residents with notes, video recordings, audiotapes, and photographs. 4.It challenges one's notions on diverse subjects of morality, politics (corruption at its worst), freedom, and loyalty to community vs. individualism/being true to oneself. 5. Despite the tragic subject matter of the book, Katherine Boo subtly reflects the luminous power of the human spirit to live in survival mode and yet experience beauty, hope, and love amidst the worst imaginable living conditions.

"Behind the Beautiful Forevers" reads so much like a work of fiction, I kept having to remind myself "These are REAL people and these disturbing things REALLY did happen...are still happening." I had immense empathy for the "characters" Katherine Boo chronicles. I wanted to reach through the pages and pull them out, take a stand on their behalf...or at the very least, take a stand against injustice with them....to a more safe and peaceful, joyful place.

If you think you have it bad in life, read this book for a brutal awakening that life could be much, much worse. One such example: It's common in the slums to have "jobs" as garbage scavengers, which comes with dangers you can hardly imagine. The most disturbing sentence in the novel: ‎"Where skin broke, maggots got in. Lice colonized hair, gangrene inched up fingers, calves swelled into tree trunks, and Abdul and his younger brothers kept a running wager about which of the scavengers would be the next to die."

A few other powerful quotes which particularly stood out to me:

"Becoming a success in the great, rigged market of the overcity required less effort and intelligence than getting by, day to day, in the slums. The crucial things were luck and the ability to sustain two convictions: that what you were doing wasn't all that wrong, in the scheme of things, and that you weren't all that likely to get caught."

"What was unfolding in Mumbai was unfolding elsewhere, too. In the age of global market capitalism, hopes and grievances were narrowly conceived, which blunted a sense of common predicament. Poor people didn't unite; they competed ferociously amongst themselves for gains as slender as they were provisional. And this undercity strife created only the faintest ripple in the fabric of the society at large. The gates of the rich, occasionally rattled, remained unbreached. The politicians held forth on the middle class. The poor took down one another, and the world's great, unequal cities soldiered on in relative peace." 

Open your mind. Open your heart. Open this book.

Ponderings of the culturally curious

I'm not sure why, but culture has long fascinated me. My earliest (or at least, most significant) memories related to cultural curiosity: Playing at a friend's house (on several occasions) when I was 9 or 10 years old. My friend Annette and her family were Puerto Rican. Though Annette spoke English, her family members spoke in thick Spanish accents. As I didn't know Spanish, I heard words but had no idea what they were saying to each other. I was curious to know. Were they saying anything they wanted in front of me knowing I wouldn't have a clue what they were saying? Or was it much more mundane conversation than I conjured up in my imagination? All I knew is that I wanted to decipher their foreign language, which in my mind was a barrier to my understanding. Yet it was also fun for me, as I found myself watching their body language for clues on what they might be saying to each other...or at least how they were saying it. I guess you could say this sparked the beginning of my curiosity to learn, to explore, to understand people from different cultural backgrounds. Sometimes I even wish I were of a different race or from a different culture....to wear different clothes, to have different colored skin and hair, to speak another language, to eat different foods, to have different values, rituals, traditions. Even a different daily routine. There's nothing all that fascinating about being a white woman from the US, at least culturally speaking...

This past week I've been thinking alot about culture and how much different one's life could be submerged in one culture versus another. A repressive culture. A liberating and open-minded culture. An oppressive or dangerous culture. A misogynist culture. A culture of violence. A culture of capitalism. A culture off the grid. So many alternate identities we'd have. Are we any less strong, brave, free-spirited, open-minded, or obedient in each different cultural environment?

If I were living in the Middle East amidst 'the morality police' that punishes women for things like revealing their ankles, would I submit to obedience out of fear or would I be bold and subversive no matter the cost? And at the same time, am I making biased negative or positive assumptions about culture due to inaccurate knowledge? I'm thirsty for knowledge. I thought my mind was wide open before, but I'm realizing how little I know even for someone who is probably more educated and well-read than the average American. Truly humbling and oddly refreshing to realize there are mysteries in life which I may never be aware or be able to grasp in understanding. Keeps life always juicy and 'new' in a way.

Iran and Palestine have been at the forefront of my mind as far as a few clients I work with that are from those regions, as this is the first time I have worked with anyone from the culture of the Middle East. Listening to their experiences and the impact of culture on their experiences has been eye opening, as well as inspiring. I find myself having feelings all across the board for them....sadness, anger, compassion, admiration, inspiration, and hopefulness.

 Interestingly, I also watched a movie this week called "Circumstance'  (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1684628/) that examines issues of cultural influence. The film takes place in Tehran and centers on the forbidden love of two teenage girls that struggle between being true to themselves amidst an oppressive misogynistic culture. We can say we would do this, that, or the other "If I were in that situation....," but how do we know what we would truly do? If only there were alternate realities/universes to find out. Then again, that would ruin the juicy mystery...

Going my own Way

(Photo taken by me, near the Arboretum, Sept. 2011)

For my senior year high school English class, students were required to pick a novel of their choice and then write an analysis paper about it. While I can't recall the various book selections we were given as examples to choose from, I do remember thinking that I did not want to choose a book that everyone else would pick or one that I knew too much about....though if you asked me at the time, I doubt I'd be able to articulate why. As I scanned the page, few options stood out in my mind. Or rather one in particular. My eyes curiously wandered to Herman Hesse's "Siddhartha." "What is this about?" I thought. And so began my discovery of Buddhism and more so, the beginning of my own self-discovery.

I suppose I had started going my own way prior to reading "Siddhartha" senior year, though it wasn't until that moment that it was brought to my awareness that my path in life has always been different than 'everyone else.' And for the first time I realized this was a good thing. It comforted me, inspired me, and pushed me forward. Suddenly being different and apart from the crowd was a strength, a sign of growth and the embodiment of genuine enlightenment.Western religion has never done that for me. Ever.

When times get tough and the road feels lonely, I find myself going back to Eastern philosophy time and again. Buddhism. The Tao Te Ching. The works of the spiritual mystic Osho. The wisdom, compassion, and non-judgmental encouragement of finding one's own way pours into me and through me. The paradox is actually quite hilarious when I think about it, at least for me. So many fearful people blindly following a religious path that really isn't their own, just words of everyone else because...it's easier?! But it's not. The same individuals are fearful of having their own unique perceptions and feelings, especially what choices to make with them. The last thing they want to do is think about them, yet going your own Way is the first step on the path to understanding, freedom, and growth.

Recently, a friend of mine kindly and unexpectedly mailed a book to me. "Path of Compassion: Stories from the Buddha's Life." I'm slowly savoring each chapter like a child comforted by nightly bedtime stories. I feel both alone and not alone reading the courageous journey of Siddhartha, boldly embracing the judgments of loved ones and strangers alike. Most of all, I'm comforted and inspired by his letting go of external pressures of what they want him to say or do (ie, their own agenda) in favor of going his own way...not only for himself, but also for the greater good.

And with this, I am reminded (again) to continue...going my own way.

Feel first...rationalize later?

I thought it only fair to rave about a book that blew my mind out of the water after having written about one that did little to move me (see last blog entry).

At first glance, this book looked interesting...but I had no idea it would enthrall my intellect as much as it did, particularly in the second and third parts of the book. Ever wonder where our perceptions of "right" and "wrong" come from...really come from? Ever wonder why individuals lean a particular way in regards to politics and religion, specifically the qualities an individual values depending on whether Liberal or Conservative, religious vs. atheist?

This book succinctly explains the foundations of what is known as moral psychology. As an avid reader and someone whom reads a wide range of books on the psychology genre, I was excited to read something original and thought provoking.

What I appreciate most about the book is that it is written from a place of scientific inquiry and curiosity. With an open-minded attitude, Jonathan Haidt takes readers of all walks of life (Liberal, Conservative, religious, and non-religious alike) on a journey to challenge notions of both their own and others' beliefs. Kudos, Haidt. I didn't think that was possible. Haha! In a society inundated with negativity and judgment, "The Righteous Mind" is a breath of fresh air. It pushes aside the emotions and lures in the reader to utilize critical thinking....interestingly, the opposite of what Haidt suggests we humans normally do (ie, "Intuitions Come First, Strategic Reasoning Second").

When asked why something is wrong, people typically respond from their emotional reactions ("I don't know why it's wrong...it just is") and struggle to give logical arguments. Something may be repulsive or disgust you, but is it necessarily wrong? What makes it so? Haidt explains in detail how our minds are comprised of 'riders' and 'elephants' that dictate the intricate complexities of moral psychology. Fascinating!

The chapter on "The Moral Foundations of Politics" gave me many "aha!" moments, things I have wondered about for years and made absolute sense after reading the psychological reasoning/analysis behind liberal vs. conservative mindsets. Haidt discusses the foundations of Care/Harm, Fairness/Cheating, Loyalty/Betrayal, Authority/Subversion, and Sanctity/Degradation. Similarly, "The Hive Switch," "Religion is a Team Sport," and "Can't We All Disagree More Constructively?" provided much food for thought.

 Every American could benefit from reading this book, especially politicians themselves. Just thinking about the paradigm shift that could happen if the majority of this country read this book is blowing my mind. In short, if this book doesn't blow your mind I might think there is something wrong with you. Just kidding.

Fifty Shades of Bad Writing

At the recommendation of a friend, I reluctantly decided to read the new "erotic romance" novel Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James. I say 'reluctantly' because I noticed very polarized reviews from readers on GoodReads. People either seemed to give it 4-5 stars, or 1-2 stars. Based on the reviews and knowing what books or genres I tend to like the most, I was predicting it would be a 3 star read for me. It certainly started out that way in the beginning...but not in the end.

The author introduces us to the main characters Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey, two individuals who couldn't be any different from each other...the whole "opposites attract" scenario. But whatever, I'll go with it. I liked that it was set in Seattle, though the only place really mentioned was the touristy area of Pike Place Market and occasional drives on the infamous interstate 5. Apparently the author lives in London, so I'll give her a bit of a break for not using less stereotypical locations in the city....but I show no mercy for her regarding anything else in this farce of a novel.

Admittedly, I liked the novel for about the first 200 pages when it seemed to be leading somewhere. Or I was at least more willing to overlook the things I did not like about it, especially given it's the author's first novel. Of course it won't be flawless; I understand that. Around 350 (of a total of 514) pages in though, I was annoyed with every page.

I really wanted to like this novel, but it fell incredibly short on all levels. Where do I even begin?

1. The author is trying too hard to make the novel a heady mix of romance and erotica with BDSM elements to it. Um....those three don't tend to go together. Anyone that knows the psychology of human sexual behavior should know that. No wonder Anastasia was confused by Christian Grey's behavior. Hell, I the reader was confused by his behavior. No heterosexual male in the real world would say flowery things to a woman one minute (if at all!), followed by kinky shit, then boyfriend/significant other talk the next. And when Christian is confused about his commitment issues, he blames it on his early upbringing. "My mom was a crack whore." Really? Really?! You can't get more inventive than that stereotype, Ms. James? So lame.

2. It also annoyed me that these characters could never make up their minds. It made them very unlikeable. Early on, Christian makes a sexual contract that he asks Ana to read thoroughly and sign if she wants to willingly participate in the various sexual practices. Throughout the novel, she is wishy washy about whether she wants to abide by the 'rules' of the contract yet the contract is pointless because she has her sexual free for all with him anyway. I'm pretty sure this would never fly in the real world of the BDSM community where honesty and clear decision making is paramount to participate in these acts.

3. The author's use of vocabulary is redundant and insipid. As at least one other reviewer has noted, the same phrases are annoyingly used over and over and over again. If I had to drink alcohol every time I read "I flush" or "my inner goddess" or even "holy crap/holy smokes/holy cow," I'd be intoxicated within minutes. For a subject (an attempt at the topic of BDSM anyway) that requires confidence, a certain level of fearlessness, and lack of inhibitions, the writing was prudish and juvenile. She maybe used the word 'clitoris' two or three times in the 514 pages. Otherwise, it was 'my sex' or 'down there.' Really? If you can't say it, you shouldn't be writing any book about erotica, romance, or porn.

4. Poor character development and terrible plot. The beginning of the book had some promise, as it seemed to be building up to something. The reader is introduced to a handful of other characters that made the story a little well-rounded and believeable. Once the focus shifts solely on Anastasia and Christian, however, all character development (including that of Ana and Christian) stagnates. I kept waiting for the big reveal from Christian why he was 'fifty shades of fucked up.' Other than his big 'secret' that his biological mom was a 'crack whore,' the author left much to be desired. The second half of the book also had no flow to it....nothing but one poorly contrived sex scene after another.

5. How is this a bestseller and how did this manage to become a series? This book did not turn me on and I will not be reading the other two.

I've never written such a critical review of any book before, which speaks volumes given that I'm an avid and open-minded reader. I just can't get over how a book can be so terrible and yet loved by so many women that are giving it 4 or 5 stars. Sad.

Ladies, if you want erotica of real substance and intelligent writing....read Anais Nin's work, particularly Henry and June. Hot. If you want novels with a more accurate portrayal of BDSM, look to your local BDSM community for the best recommendations. Or better yet, check out the works of the Marquis de Sade. But be forewarned, it's not for the squeamish or the faint of heart. If you want your fix of 'unrealistic romance fantasy,' stick with Harlequin?

As for Fifty Shades (of Bad Writing), it's one of the few books that is deserving of the 1 star I have given it. God help us everyone when they make this novel into a movie. And may Ryan Gosling be the one to save us in our turned off state of mind.

FIRST, Seat 5F

I'm far from being rich. My profession isn't one that offers opportunities for 'traveling on business' either. Last night I had the pure luck to be selected for a seat in first class, a direct flight from Chicago to Seattle (on standby status, no less!). Exciting and surreal all at once. It's strange (and sad actually) how much different you get treated when you sit in this area of the plane. I knew the service would be luxurious compared to my usual flying in coach, but even so I still found myself astounded by all they do for people in first class. The only thing missing was someone to fan me and give me a foot massage. Perhaps I shouldn't hold my breath. Maybe they already do this on international flights?

LEG. ROOM. I was comfortable the entire time....sitting on a leather seat. There was a 'recliner' option but I never used it because I was so comfortable already and had no intention of sleeping during this once in a lifetime first class flying experience. There's only 2 seats per row, so there was only one person (a man who looked to be in his 50's or 60's) sitting beside me. There's also a mini table between the seats, so you can put your drinks on that if you don't feel like putting it on the pull-out tray.

Within minutes of the flight taking off, the flight attendant comes around with tongs and a plate of steamy warm damp washcloths. Now until that point, I had been pretty excited about what that part of the first class experience would be like. When I was actually handed one, however, I felt silly with it. I started to pat my chin with it and felt incredibly pretentious, as if I just did some really hard and sweaty labor.....when really I'm just sitting on this really comfy chair in temporary heaven. I opted for "washing" my hands with it, especially since I'd be eating.

Shortly thereafter, the flight attendants working in first class (two!) asked for drink orders. At that point, I really wanted to order an alcoholic beverage (because I didn't have to pay for it!), but I had no idea if I had to wait for that kind of drink until later so I ordered a ginger ale. The man beside me ordered a gin and tonic so I realized I could have ordered alcohol right away. My ginger ale arrives in a glass, not one of those rinky dink plastic cups. Turns out there's no plasticware in first class! WARM mixed nuts are served in a tiny ceramic bowl for starters. There were tons of nuts in it...I didn't even finish half of it.

15-20 minutes later, I'm asked "Are you hungry (for dinner)?" Oh my. I can't remember the last time I ate a meal on a plane...probably in the 1980's. I'm asked if I want a lemon pepper chicken with vegetables or ricotta shells with a sun dried tomato sauce. I go with the pasta. At this point, I'm trying to figure out where the tray is located and feel dumb for having to ask, as clearly I seem to be the only virgin first class passenger. haha. I break down and ask. FYI...if you ever have the opportunity to get on a first class flight, the tray is in the arm rest. Pull that baby up and it comes out (you have to unfold it once to put it in front of you).

Get this: They bring out a long cloth to cover your tray (like a tablecloth for trays!!) and also have the same cloth on the actual tray of food they bring to you. It's insane! I felt like I was in a movie. I got real silverware and was served food on real dishes. I was offered a bread roll with my overflow of food which consisted of the following: 4 pieces of shrimp cocktail and cocktail sauce, a small salad (only thing I took a few bites of...it was kinda gross), and the pasta shells. At that point, I went in for the alcohol. There was a small empty wine glass on my tray. Perfect opportunity....I ask for some wine. The flight attendant tells me he has cabernet. "Am I really staring out this window and looking at a lovely sunset while sipping wine?" I thought.

One thing I noticed as I got waited on left and right was a lack of manners from fellow passengers. I was all 'please' and 'thank you,' but the man didn't seem to utter such words. He wasn't rude, but he didn't seem appreciative either. Maybe he's just used to it and flies nothing but first class. All I know is that if I ever became rich, I would still be polite and appreciative of people doing such things for me. I wouldn't become snooty or take it for granted.

5 minutes after dinner I was approached with, "Do you have room for dessert?" Ah, yes please! I got a small glass filled with a big scoop of vanilla/apple cinnamon spiced ice cream with what looked like either a few sprinklings of oatmeal on top. I couldn't even finish the whole thing because I was so full from all the other food and drinks.

It was quiet in first class the whole flight, which I loved as well. I read several pages of "Fifty Shades of Grey" post food coma. This secretly amused me. Here I am flying in first class reading a kinky erotic novel and no one knows it but me. And no, I did not initiate myself into the mile high club...though that would definitely make for a juicier story. About 10 minutes before we land, I partake in a mint that we're offered.

All in all, best. flight. ever. I think next time (listen to me, "next time") I'll pass on the pretentious washcloth though. I'm more of a moist towelette from a plastic wrapper kinda gal.

Self-discovery

Do you partake in the art of self-discovery? I do....as much as possible and the more unpredictable/unexpected, the better I am for it. I think that if society encouraged individuals to pursue a life of positive self-discovery (versus reinforcing the current mentality of fear and narcissism) we would be living in a drastically different world. If we listen to everyone else but ourselves, we may easily freak out and shy away from the very things that could make us blossom on the inside and outside. Yet sadly, this is the norm. It's more the exception than the rule to hear or see someone letting go of control in favor of the risk of exploring the unknown with a curious spirit. I'd like to think I'm one of the exceptions. One of the best compliments I've received recently was from a close and dear friend reflecting back to me the positive value I place on my own self-discovery. As Gandhi has said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world." If I would like others to incorporate this into their lives, I must emulate it through my own experiences.

The key to self-discovery is being open and spontaneous to what that might look like. You may be surprised to find yourself learning and experiencing things you never saw yourself doing a month ago, a year ago, 10 years ago, or pretty much ever! Within these unexpected experiences there is potential for growth, joy, and feeling fully in the present moment. It is impossible to ruminate on the past or dwell on the uncertainty of the future when all of your senses are engaged in what's going on right now. So take a class that sounds remotely intriguing or fun. Take a road trip or vacation to a place you've always wanted to go....by yourself! Take a risk of possibly making yourself look "stupid" or "crazy" by trying something you might fail or do terribly....because there's a greater chance you will lose your inhibitions, feel energized, and maybe even bring out a badass side of yourself you didn't even know existed.

Discard the usual suspects of fear, embarrassment, guilt, shame and procrastination. Push yourself out of a stagnant comfort zone and into the zone of self-discovery.

P.A.S.S.I.O.N.

(Photo taken by me, April 2011)

Positive
Absorbing
Satisfying
Surrendering
Ideal
Open
Nowness

I find when I'm having those moments (or days, weeks, even months) where I'm feeling particular things in life seem insurmountable or difficult to change, it's helpful to bring my focus back to something that can balance out my mood, even if just for a little while.

There are some things within our control and some things that are obviously not within our control. We don't know what will come of our jobs, our health, our relationships, or even the physical environment around us. What we can become aware of, cultivate, and pursue with pleasantly reckless abandon? P.A.S.S.I.O.N.

Passion was instilled within me from a very early age, without me even realizing it until my adulthood (upon reflection). My first passion? Reading and books. Pretty sure I was reading by osmosis in utero via any and all books resting on my mom's pregnant belly during those nine months. Reading is a comforting and sometimes inspiring constant, the one activity that always improves my mood even when the stuff I can't control (ie, aforementioned jobs, relationships, health, what's going on around me) gets to me. Buying books, smelling the pages of new or old books, reading and talking about books with like-minded people, holding books, reading books, giving books to friends, giving book recommendations to anyone and everyone, and holding on to my favorite books on bookshelves. This is what I do as often as possible.

My other passions? Writing (obviously), photography, traveling, learning and challenging myself in new ways (personally and professionally), and most recently the beautiful and intoxicating art of dance.

What fascinates me most about passion is that it offers the opportunity for short-term and long-term satisfaction. A passion can last a lifetime or it can appear spontaneously for just a season. A passion can resonate with you at a young age or show up in older age. A passion may strongly reflect who you are at the core or merely serve as a snapshot of a side of yourself you didn't even know existed. In essence, passion is positive, absorbing, satisfying, surrendering, ideal, being open and in the now.

What are your passions? Are you pursuing them?

Paradox of personal freedoms

When I Google the word "freedom," this is what I come across:

1. personal liberty, as from slavery, bondage, serfdom, etc.

2. liberation or deliverance, as from confinement or bondage

3. (Government, Politics & Diplomacy) the quality or state of being free, esp to enjoy political and civil liberties

4. the state of being without something unpleasant or bad; exemption or immunity freedom from taxation

5. the right or privilege of unrestricted use or access the freedom of a city

6. autonomy, self-government, or independence

7. the power or liberty to order one's own actions

8. the quality, esp of the will or the individual, of not being totally constrained; able to choose between alternative actions in identical circumstances

9. ease or frankness of manner

10. excessive familiarity of manner; boldness

11. ease and grace, as of movement; lack of effort

Too bad applying one of these straightforward definitions to an individual's life and what it means to have 'freedom' isn't quite so simplistic. Especially when one freedom chosen is at the expense of another freedom that must be sacrificed or given up.

When juxtaposed one against the other, when it's impossible to have both at the same time....how does one choose which kind of freedom is the most meaningful, the one that will reap the most happiness and reward? Would you rather give up your personal independence (#6 and #7 above) so that you have liberation from an extremist oppressive culture? (#2-5)? Or would you rather be completely honest, yet confined to a place where you likely will not grow to your full potential? Would you rather follow your instincts or would you rather be obedient?

What if you had to lie to the government for the cost of your freedom? Would it matter if it was a decision that would only affect your life for a few years versus the rest of your life? Imagine that your quality of life in most aspects would be better in country A than country B.

If absolute freedom doesn't exist, what kind of freedom would you ultimately choose and why? Have you ever had to make such a choice? And furthermore, is lying sometimes necessary and justified in order to fight for one of these freedoms?

The Big Death

For almost 5 months now, I've been slowly reading "The Lucifer Effect" by Philip Zimbardo. I'm usually a fast reader of books, but it is taking me awhile to get through this particular book due to the nature of the content (ie, about how evil can manifest in human behavior). I've always been one driven by curiosity and a strong desire to understand the human condition, even exploring topics most would avoid at all costs because they are too morbid, disturbing, or taboo. Because I consciously take on controversial or taboo subjects in an effort to learn, it's rare for me to become overwhelmed in a mental or emotional capacity. The study of evil, however, is something that is harder for me to embrace so easily.

I remember when I was in high school I had to to read "Lord of the Flies" as a requirement for my English class. Although I read the novel from start to finish, I hated every page of it. I couldn't believe that human beings could have the capacity to be so barbaric towards one another simply because they were stuck on a deserted island, left to their own devices. It seemed nothing more than an overly simplistic plot of absolute savagery, surely not a realistic testament to the capacity for darkness. Or so I thought at the time. I was in high school, young and full of nieve idealism; I held onto the notion of human nature being inherently full of good.

My views have shifted towards that of a more gray area, however, the last 8-9 years. It started at the beginning of my counseling career, interning at a residential facility counseling children who had been physically and/or sexually abused...usually by their own family members. Then it was seeing how nasty and unrecognizable human beings can become when their lives are consumed by substances like heroin and cocaine. While working with addicts in a methadone clinic, one woman with a deranged look in her eye nearly took a violent swing at me when I was only there to help her. Now it is in my work with many survivors of trauma, many of which have been the victims of cruel (but sadly not all that unusual) acts of terror.

It is surreal to both believe that human beings have the capacity for compassion and positive self development while at the same time have the capacity to commit heinous acts against anyone in any given situation...and yet that is exactly what I believe these days. Nothing demonstrates this paradoxical notion so clearly than the film "Suicide Killers" (2006) by filmmaker Pierre Rehov.

I had never heard of the film until it was referenced in "The Lucifer Effect" while discussing the topic of terrorism. I put it on my Netflix and finally watched it tonight. It left me nearly at a loss for words, which is saying something given I usually have a way with words. As a well-educated woman, this film made me aware just how little I actually knew (and probably even more I still don't know) about the power of extreme ideology and the evil it can create. I still can't wrap my head around the magnitude of terrorism that is done for the sake of "the big death" (ie martyrdom and the promise of 72 virgins in everlasting "Paradise").

See the 'synopsis' link on suicidekillers.com for a compelling description of the film. I encourage you to watch this documentary for a multi-faceted look at the psychology of terrorism as you have probably never seen before unless you lived in that cultural environment as a civilian or military personnel. It may make you think twice about human nature....good, evil, or equally capable of both.

City walking

As I walked around Capitol Hill tonight, I got to thinking about the art of walking: how it brings out something in my personality that seems to lay dormant when I simply drive my car every day. Is it just me or is this true for most people?


If you've never had the experience of living in a walkable city (specifically taking public transportation and walking quite a bit as part of your daily ritual), you may not understand what I mean. It's almost as if there's a psychology of walking vs. a psychology of driving in cities....and each one brings out different personality traits, for me anyway. Not that I'm a totally different person, but I feel my persona is different maybe.

When I walk around a city like Seattle, Chicago, or New York City, it's as if all my senses are heightened in some strangely pleasant way. My eyes wander to the roads, the cars, the lights, the sky, people in front/around/behind/beside me, the restaurants, the bars, the street musicians, and the obscure little shops I wouldn't normally stumble across had I been driving. My nose picks up the scent of the cold winter air; my ears tune in to laughter, chatter, fire truck sirens, music spilling out as bar doors open and close. My footsteps happily occupy the sidewalks and crosswalks as my mind wanders further than my feet.

Walking somehow allows my mind freedom to expand, to reflect, to analyze, to ponder, to let go of inhibitions or expectations, to explore, to step outside the box, to feel like a part of the community...to live more in wonder. Walking also jogs my memory, reminding me of people and places from times past. A part of me wonders if I wrote more in Chicago because I walked more than I do in Seattle. Wandering around on foot in a city seems to be good for my spirit.

Driving, however, is more like a chore...it's something I dread doing, but I know it has to be done. It simply gets me from point A to point B. It is the antithesis of walking in almost all aspects. It doesn't encourage me to relax or take in my surroundings. It's the one activity that can get me a little aggressive....which is weird because I'm not usually aggressive at all; driving can bring out the jerk in me. When I drive, the goal is to get where I want to go as fast as possible. I always pay attention to breathtaking sunrises and sunsets when I'm driving, sure, but that's about as far as it goes. There's nothing creative and adventurous going on within me when I drive. In fact, most times I take the same exact driving routes and sometimes get anxiety when there are times I must find my way along confusing streets. It's as if my mind is so attuned to doing pleasant and fun things at a slower pace (while walking) that it will totally pass me by if I'm driving.

As much as my personality is different driving vs. walking, each serve their own purposes and come with their own rewards. When I lived in Chicago, I didn't have a car and so I never had the luxury (or choice) to drive when I wanted to do so. The great thing about living in Seattle is that I do have a car, which means I can have the best of what both walking and driving worlds have to offer.