"If you observe a really happy man, you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden. . . . He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar stud that has rolled under the dressing table."

W. Beran Wolfe

"Beneath the veneer of civilization ... lies not the barbarian and the animal, but the human in us who knows what is right and necessary for becoming fully human: birth in gentle surroundings, a rich nonhuman environment, juvenile tasks with simple tools, ... play at being animals, ... clan memberships and small-group life, and the profound claims and liberation of ritual initiation and subsequent stages of adult mentorship. There is a secret person undamaged in each of us, aware of the validity of these conditions, sensitive to their right moments in our lives."

Paul Shepard

Okay, I have a link for you. More and more often, when I'm cruising the 'net recreationally, I find myself in these advice articles, scouting for ideas and inspiration. This article at Men's Health nails some pretty important relationship concepts better than most (especially on men's sites, I'm sad to say, which often just want to set out rules for a manipulative game). This one has it right, and it's advice that both genders can take to heart ... especially rule #9!

Happy lovin' ...
Soph

I had a really fun conversation last night with a friend who, at age 50, is just now reaching his moment of "exhale" in self-forgiveness and self-love. It's a beautiful thing to behold, and the process has released his inner hottie ... and it's showing outwardly, not just to me and his peers but to the sweet young thangs in his vicinity! When we realize that we've been duped into a family- and/or corporate-induced haze of self-loathing and restlessness with ourselves---and that the images of ourselves that we try to mold into those standards become more and more constrictive (and elusive) over time---it's a beautiful thing to experience and to witness.

Other than having to remind him that "fifty is the new thirty" and we cannot yet (and not for many decades to come) rightfully blame our aging bodies for our sheepishness, he seemed gleefully on spot with the idea that the societal pressure to conform has been largely self-induced. Why do we do it to ourselves? That's another column. How do we undo it? There are simple methods of exercise that can be practiced on the day-to-day which make the transition into self-love much smoother. One of the hottest areas of this process is body-image. The first and simplest exercise is to learn to take a compliment. There's only one thing to practice here: saying "Thank you!" (That could be the toughest two words you ever learn to say, but they are oh-so-liberating!)

I also highly recommend looking into body art as a form of self-expression. Many people have asked me why I chose to get tattoos and have my nipples pierced, insinuating that I have somehow defiled my body. Quite the contrary: my body art is an expression of self-love and self-expression that are meaningful to me on profound levels. They are acts of gentle rebellion against those who want me to hide myself and they are forms of encouragement to others who may be inspired to take another look at their breasts or their bellies or their butts with more loving eyes. Permanent body art is not for everyone (I recommend taking this step only after a few years of deliberation) but temporary body art is great fun and gives you lots of room for experimentation.

Yet another method I highly recommend is practicing at-home nudism. Although my own nudism started primarily due to a lack of air-conditioning (which I still prefer to recycled air), it has developed into a year-round habit for me. I'm much more comfortable that way, not only physically but psychologically as well. The practice of seeing my body in a day-to-day context in passing mirrors and in the eyes of those who are close enough to have that level of intimacy (and I'm not necessarily talking sexually here, because this goes beyond the bedroom) has taught me that the only unappealing part of having a "real" body (meaning: one that is yours and not subject to social convention, however round or slender it may be) is the self-consciousness that we attach to it. I've several friends of both persuasions who have made the statement that the attitude of a mate toward their body is what makes or breaks the attraction, not the form itself. By practicing this level of self-love, one is taking responsibility for their body image and not dumping it in someone else's lap ("Does this make me look fat?", "I can't wear that! I'm too skinny" or "Okay, but we have to turn off the lights"). That level of abdication is not only unappealing, it's unfair. And the level of release from that is no less than liberating on many levels.

I want to be clear that I'm not talking about SHIFTING one's paradigm from one end of the spectrum to another, but OPENING one's paradigm to be inclusive of all types of bodies and all levels of self-realization. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the term "skinny bitch" and it drives me mad. Some of the most beautiful women and men I've ever known have been so naturally slender as to render them as self-conscious about their bodies as their rounder counterparts on the other end of the scale of diversity. As long as we have to hold on to the need to condemn one type of body in favor of another, we are masking the symptoms of a greater emotional insecurity and not resolving it once and for all. Once we realize that our beauty (not just inner beauty, but outward as well) is formed in DIVERSITY rather than CONFORMITY, we can find ways of self-expression (as simple as our choice in clothing, for instance, and as significant as our loving interaction with the world around us) that express our spirits OUTWARD rather than subjugate them INWARD.

I've used the body image metaphor to illustrate this but it goes into other realms as well. Income levels and education levels seem to be even more important, especially in the male gender. We're constantly comparing ourselves to others in our quest for validation, but we always look UP the scale of diversity rather than in both directions. By acknowledging those who have not "achieved" (in whatever measure you are applying to yourself and those around you), we can become more compassionate and accepting of ourselves.

This is heavy baggage. This is the type of baggage that keeps us from getting on the train and taking the ride of our lives. We sit fidgeting on the boarding platform, trying to figure out a way to load all this shit in our laps and overhead instead of just walking away from it and taking the ride. What joy are we missing? What level of freedom is eluding us in our insistence on being boxed into a standard of acceptance that moves with every step toward its achievement. What opportunities are we missing to spread love and joy to others who are struggling under the burden of their father's nagging voice, against a corporate media yardstick or under their own harsh, critical eye?

So to all my brothers and sisters out there who are struggling with sadness and despair of body image, of socioeconomic achievement, with the lack of acceptance from your parents and lovers and colleagues, with the shift of dreams designed in youthful optimism, with the yearning to board the train and leave it all behind, I say ... people get ready!

Love smunches,
Sophie

This video is just way too cool. Watch it. If you're still sad, there may be no help for you.



More soon ... Love, Sophie

I just got an email from a family member with an alarming warning regarding tire safety that is life-and-death relevant to anyone who drives a car. This 20/20 report is both appalling and frightening and you really owe it to yourself to watch it. Be careful!

Love,
Soph

What's this business of "dance like no one is watching" ... ? What's the point? True, when dancing nekkid on the front porch, I try to ensure my privacy, but when I'm out on a dance floor or at a party or a throw-down in the streets of downtown Asheville, you can be sure that I'm dancing as if everyone is watching, and I'm giving them something to look at! Yes, I'm sure I take a misstep on occasion and there are those who will watch with the question, "Why in the hell .. ?" because they sure wouldn't do the same if their arms jiggled like mine, but I don't care. At home every day, I sing to an imaginary audience, and I dance to one too! In fact, my imaginary audience has fists full of (ten) dollar bills (as long as I'm dreaming) and the music never stops until I am tired (and rich). Dance for the audience, dance for the troops, dance for your mirror, but DANCE!

Love, Sophie

Here's something to do on a quiet summer night. Join the antisyllabist movement. We here have decided to make a game of communicating completely in monosyllables. It's not that we're against syllables, we're big fans. Huge fans of books and pens and keyboards and syllables. In fact, I have been planning for years that my pen name for my first novel (in which I tell the entire story that my mother once asked me not to write until after they were both dead) would be Polly S. Labesque.

However, just for the fun of it, communicating in only one syllable at a time, we have become much more creative with our body language and facial expression around here. It's like karaoke night, which we haven't had in a few years, but it used to be Tuesdays. We do a Patsy Cline's "She's Got You" that would bring tears to any cowboy's eyes.

So to join this movement is just to reconnect with that which makes us all and every one so brilliant, so gifted, so fucking lucky. Just for a few minutes. Or, as I was recently reminded, one could choose to return to the morose pleasure of wallowing in depression, guilt and shame, but what's it for? Is penance ever really served? Will we ever forgive ourselves? Guilt's a warm and comforting blanket we wrap ourselves in.

That's my theory, anyway. I think that depression has invaded our collective psyche like kudzu took the south after World War II (was it?) and I see people choking on it in every corner of my life. I want desperately to grab them, cut the vines free and pull them into the lightness of air but they resist! It's like trying to save a drowning man who doesn't really want to be saved. He calls for help and splashes about but fights your efforts to pull him out by trying to pull you in after him. So why is this sadness so cancerous, so contagious, so pervasive?

I present you my theory that depression is mired in guilt and shame. Some of it, of course, is that self-flagellation that we take to crescendo heights so that any reasonable person would say, "Enough already!" and help us rationalize and justify our way free. But some of this guilt and shame, I'm afraid to say, is well-deserved. We treat each other terribly, we humans.

Not counting the terrible violence that we at least have laws against, we could look in everyday society to the lying that occurs in the most intimate and most committed of relationships. I know people who lie as easily as they breathe and think nothing of it in terms of conscience. Or so one might think. They say that, they say there's no guilt and they can rationalize themselves into feeling downright saintly ("I was just trying to protect you") but it doesn't change the inner knowledge of what one has done. One cannot help but remember the pain of looking into the eyes of a loved one as the realization of a deceit is realized. We see it every day, everywhere we look. We provide each other endless opportunities to voyeurism in our daily lives and we watch the dramas unfold over and again on reality tv shows. We have become experts in guilt and shame.

What if we stopped lying to each other? What if you said today, I am never going to tell another lie and you stopped that addiction the way you quit cigarettes and the way you stopped drinking and the way you left him after he hit you that last time. You just quit cold-turkey. The lungs recover a smoking addiction ... organs often heal the damage of addictions and those blue bruises of our worst relationships fade with time. Can a conscience cleanse itself in the healing of recovery from the addiction of lying?

I believe it can. I know that living a completely honest life has brought me great heights of joy and depths of happiness. I see clearly the relationships between the lies and the feelings of depression of persons I love very much and know very, very well. I don't believe that emotional punishment or penance will really do any long-term good until and unless we stop offending ourselves. I'm not saying "offending God" and I'm not saying "offending the victims of our lies" because I want to highlight the needs of the precious victim who suffers most when we choose to live our lives in the framework of dishonesty: oneself. I know it sounds trite to say that we only hurt ourselves when we make that choice, but it could never be truer than in this context.

There's a big difference, of course between telling a lie and maintaining one's privacy. We've talked about that in other contexts. Here, remember that the difference is simple: withholding that which another has the RIGHT to know is dishonesty. Withholding information that another person has NO right to know is maintaining privacy. Determining the difference requires rigorous honesty in answering this question: If the shoe were on the other foot, would I have the right to know?

I'm absolutely NOT recommending that anyone go off any medication nor stop seeking their therapy. In fact, the experiment would be useless if you changed anything else at all but your insistence on telling the truth (and ask your therapist what s/he thinks of the theory). Try it for a month. Thou shalt not lie. And then see if it doesn't feel like you could swim a mile and laugh out loud at the stupidest monosyllabic words you ever heard.

-- "There was that law of life, so cruel and so just, which demanded that one must grow or else pay more for remaining the same." --N.Mailer

I bought this house almost two decades ago and have loved its yard and its windows (among other features) to the extent that I can't sell it despite my ever-widening commute. I've always been a lover of growing green things and have kept a lush collection of houseplants that green up my cold winter windows and migrate to the porch every summer so that it becomes my living room in the warmer months. I get lots of fireflies and have total privacy from the neighbors, and I love that being surrounded in green. In the dusk hours, it seems like being underwater out there.

I have a small garden spot outside my kitchen window that I long ago designated as my herb and summer vegetable garden. I thought I'd plant some herbs I could use in the kitchen (I use herbs instead of salt) and some tomatoes and cucumbers. But year after year, I would research and carefully select the soils and seeds and seedlings, and till the land and follow the instructions of all the best garden books and every year the entire garden would mysteriously go to ruin by midsummer. I became convinced that I had a defective gene (I had never been able to learn the guitar, after all) and/or somehow pissed off the garden gods and any effort was destined to failure ... unless it was in a pot on my porch or in the dining room window. In a pot, I could control the destiny and environmental influences and I've maintained some of my plants for over 20 years, giving away offspring every year to like-minded green thumbs.

But this herb and veggie garden would never come to fruition. I warned people who tried to give me donations to it that it was a death sentence to give me anything that needed to live outdoors. I was defective in my gene that governed my gardening abilities. I was operating with a personal deficit, as far as I was concerned, and I just had to learn to compensate for it with my potted plants.

And then one night only a few weeks ago, I was sitting with two wonderful friends around a firebowl in one's backyard and we were talking about his beautiful garden. He has such a touch and I could only pine for the color he had managed to produce in his own backyard. We were offering each other cuttings and pots and such and I made mention of my plentiful supply of black walnuts in my yard. Did they want some?

One fellow asked if the garden space I had been lamenting was anywhere near the black walnut tree. Why, yes, within say 20 feet or so. And they both nodded at each other and declared my plague that of the black walnut tree. It wasn't me after all. It wasn't ME ... ?! After all?!! I was not being punished and it wasn't my shortcoming? These black walnut trees had been hanging over me and my garden all these years and dripping some sort of toxic dust over my efforts, completely unbeknownst to me. I had no idea that year after year, my efforts were doomed before they were even conceived because of these trees. I simply blamed myself.

But even now, I don't blame the trees; they're doing what trees do. That would be like blaming the cat for eating a bird or the dog for killing a squirrel. What I do find curious is my virtually primal instinct to blame myself first and ask questions later. What's that about?

It made me think about all the other forms of black walnut trees that hang over parts of our lives, casting tiny toxic pollen over our every day efforts to thrive and to flourish. How many times have we all felt out of control of our circumstance, or unable to figure out what WE were doing wrong? Relationships, jobs, personal journeys, addictions ... how many of these areas of our lives have been doomed to the effects of black walnut trees in the form of no-win situations, dysfunctional relationships, bad choices, ill-advised decisions and self-imposed dilemmas? I guess it goes back to that adage "can't see the forest for the trees" and the need to take a wider view, a broader perspective, a bird's eye view.

Knowing this, though, has changed my approach to my own (and shared) failures and my relationship with the black walnut trees in my life. I have become more tolerant of my own failings as well as the failings of others. The black walnut trees exist in every life but can not become an excuse for surrendering to their effects or discounting responsibility for our acknowledgement of their effects on our daily efforts. Instead, we have to take responsibility to either remove the tree ... or move the garden.

I have discussed my theories about Black Walnut Syndrome (BWS) with one of my closest friends and we were able to retrospectively identify those people in our past lives who were clearly our black walnuts. If only we could channel that clarity of vision forward! We realized there are times when we have had to move the garden rather than try to uproot a grove of these trees, or one sole black walnut that was especially well established and entrenched. It's one thing to snap off a seedling we notice taking root, but another to move our garden into the shade of a fully-developed black walnut tree. For that, we must take extra care.

It takes flexibility and courage to move the garden, but often the results have been no less than amazing. This sort of flexibility is not a cop out or lack of courage, but a simple acknowledgement of that which is greater than our interest or capacity to cope. I have no interest in wiping out black walnut trees, I just want my garden to flourish. When I (finally?) see the black walnut, I'll just move my garden.

Love all the time,
Sophie

You can save so much money by simply being brave enough to ask for it ... back. The trend seems near epidemic ... billing errors are so common on my personal bills, I have to wonder if it hasn't become a form of legal robbery. If I question errors or negotiate interest rates, I'm nearly always granted what I request. But I have to ask, and so many don't or won't ... or can't.

Just in the past month, I reversed a charge for a hotel room I had cancelled weeks in advance and got a refund from Paypal for a product never delivered from Ebay for a total of $120. I got a refund of money overpaid when I paid a balance on a credit card. Within the past few months, the cell carrier suddenly forgot I had free nights and weekends and billed me the overage. Interest rates on credit cards jump unexpectedly and with subdued "notice" and doctors offices forget to post the payment that has already cleared your bank.

We have to READ every single bill that comes through our household. Scrutinize it. To some, that would seem common sense but to some of us in a time crunch, we'd have to admit we've written a quick check or just let the automatic bill-pay do its thing.

I'm willing to bet that at some point, the practice will be discovered as having been a willful and insidious act with great rewards from the majority of us who abdicate our financial power. Finances are emotionally intimidating to most of us. Even when you have enough, just paying bills and balancing the checking account is like walking a plank somehow.

But the best way to reclaim your financial power is to know what you have and how it's being spent. And after you find the first error and get it corrected or reversed, you're going to have your mojo back. Keep a tab of how much you reclaim in a year and then do something really special for yourself with the money.

Love lots,
Sophie

Today, I am struck by the embarrassing concert put on by Steve Winwood this morning on one of the morning news shows. It was painful to watch. And he did "Higher Love" which never was really one of his gems, I think. But the good thing is that watching this performance made me remember how much I loved the album Arc of the Diver back in the early 80s.

This cover is a classic icon of the time. We used to go dancing 3 or 4 times a week at a few places in a fairly remote part of the country. One was at this disco in a warehouse on a country 4-lane. I think it was called the 'Crash Landing' and it was packed on the weekends. Big hair glistening in the strobe lights. And often, we went to a hotel bar with a house band who loved to play Steve Winwood songs, among other covers.

But those were in a day when dance clubs and drive-in movies were everywhere.

There was also this place called Chester's that was a totally different scene. We lived in a dry county and had to drive into South Carolina proper to have (or buy) alcohol. Chester's was a ritual for us year-round. On Wednesday nights, Jim (the owner---who always explained that Chester ran off with the barmaid) would throw a free pig-pickin' party on the roof. It was flat and had tables and chairs and speakers from the jukebox, which was just dripping with classic Willie and Waylon, Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline. Jim, who rarely spoke a word otherwise, would come sneaking up on me and hand me a cupful of quarters and whisper, "Play something pretty for me." The roof parties were for warm weather, though. We'd sit out in the summer time and shoot fireworks off the roof that we bought from the establishment across the highway, which had pool tables and fireworks. Beer and food at Jim's and fireworks and pool tables at his son's place across the highway. And those were the only two things in the flattest horizon you ever saw other than flowing tobacco fields, which nearly glistened at a certain moment in dusk.

So the roof was an excellent view of the skyline and when the fireworks were going off, it's like the sky bowed down to us. In the winter, we'd hole up in Jim's bar and eat free chili that he made on those same Wednesday nights. He liked to take care of us. We brought endless entertainment and could be coaxed to put on spectacular fireworks displays. I've never lost my love for that type of jukebox and those songs. I haven't been back to Chester's and the closest sort of jukebox that I've found is at the Waffle House. It's not nearly the same, but if I close my eyes ...

Happy Spring!

Love, love, love,
Sophie

Oh {Sophie} ...

As one of your older readers, I am amazed by this thing call "THE WEB". I began my cautious first steps when a son was sent over the ocean to begin his payback for the ARMY sending him to Penn State. Being the wise and wondrous parent I saw the phone as being too expensive so I wandered to the hated mall and bought myself a brand new iMac ... yippie?? More questions than answers attacked my simple "sixtiez" mind and so began my adventure.

I am putting to you a question for all to read and ponder....if I answer an ad in a personals site and then begin a LONG, LONG writing contact with said person, does that make me some kind of stalker? I am truly in "friend" with this mountain girl and look forward to her notes on her days. I hold her as one of my very own heroes for the life she is forging and the child she is raising.

SO... what shall I do now that I have become so used to a face on my screen?

sign me as "old Dude"
Peace
{Old Dude}

Dear Old Dude,

I'm so sorry for the delay in answering. Life is chaotic sometimes!

The Web is certainly an amazing phenomenon. It has affected every aspect of our lives. I applaud your being the kind of "old dude" who embraces change and growing. The Web offers so many opportunities for strengthening ourselves, fortifying ourselves, connecting ourselves. You even answered an ad! That's brave!

It sounds like you made an amazing connection as well. When you say you made a long, long connection, how long do you mean? For some people six months is a long time. But if the time lapse was something like six years ... that's an entirely different story and quite significant. Whatever connection had sustained itself a long time (and especially if it had ever lapsed and somehow reconnected itself at some point) is a connection with integrity, sincerity, depth. It sounds real. What are you going to do about it?

I'm guessing that's where you're stuck. Hard to suggest an approach knowing so little about the situation. What are your motivations? Do you want to simply come face-to-face with one of your best friends or do you want to explore the possibilities for more? Even though you can't predict the outcome of any path you choose, you should have some idea of what you want your next step to be, I think. You only have to worry about the next step though ... don't even try to predict where it will go or where it will end up. If you worry about those issues now, you will either put undue pressure on the situation for both of you or end up talking yourself out of taking any steps at all. Maybe what you ultimately decide is that you like things the way they are. The one longer term consideration you must make is to decide, Would you be able to return to that?

Once you decide what you want for the next day to bring, you have only one logical choice: you have to ask for it. Do you want to sustain the current scenario or do you want to change it? How? If you're not sure, have you conveyed your confusion to the stalkee? Your Mountain Girl may be wondering herself. Are you still exclusively online or have you ever spoken on the phone before? Has she ever offered you her phone number? Have you ever offered yours?

Whatever you decide, you do need to be prepared for either of two eventualities. Either you say nothing and may wonder someday/s if you made the right decision---or you take a step closer in whatever way makes sense to the both of you and you face the possibility that she changes in your heart and mind's eye (and you in hers). If she has been just a face on the screen in physical terms, you don't know yet what chemistry there may be. If you speak to each other, her voice will not be the exact voice you have always imagined. If you meet, even recent photos will not have prepared you for the reality of each other. It will feel as if a stranger is standing before you daring to impersonate the girl you feel you know so well. Your mind will be telling you how silly you're being, "That IS him!" but your heart will be suspicious and judgmental and needs convincing. It will take a transition period for you to understand this and to connect the two persons into one in both your mind and heart. If you are both patient and willing to let the reality of each other replace the fantasy of each other, you will be connected forever, in whatever context (platonically, romantically, fraternally) you ultimately find mutually agreeable.

In the printing and graphic arts industry, there is a phenomenon known as interpolation. It's a software solution to a hardware incapability that basically tries to draw a whole, sharp picture by guessing at the missing information based on the data present contingent to it. So where our brain tries, like this software, to create "whole pictures" with only pieces and parts of the whole picture, we tend to guess or "fill in the blanks" so that our brains can accept the concept of a person being whole, therefore real. In guessing, we sometimes make someone out to be "better" (meaning, closer to our preferences) or "worse" (not able to live up) in some or many ways depending on our outlook. Whether for the good or the bad, the better or the worse, you will both be DIFFERENT to each other than you have imagined all this time. It's not even necessarily a qualitative issue, but simply a matter of being DIFFERENT. Our brains don't like sudden change much, and they will resist the reprogramming of this information at the beginning. If you don't allow yourselves that process, you may end up cheating yourselves out of a meaningful lifelong friendship or even the love of your life. Maybe even something in between that cannot be predicted. The only piece you can definitely predict is the unpredictability.

Are you asking if this would be a good idea? You know me. I always say "take the risk, walk the plank, take the leap" ... what else is living but loving?

Love much,
Sophie

For those who haven't already tried it, let me recommend to you a reason to return to the McDonald's drive-through after so many years separated from its warm and glowing ambience: iced coffee.

I've never been MUCH of a coffee drinker and now I know why. Because of its temperature. I always attributed to laziness my on-again/off-again relationship with coffee (filters and grounds and washing up pots and all) but I could have just as easily bought hot coffee as I now buy this iced coffee to which I have become (just shy of) addicted.

I like the large vanilla version. It comes in regular (unflavored), vanilla and hazelnut and they will sweeten it for you unless you tell them not to do so. Some people ask for artificial sweeteners instead, but since I avoid artificial ingredients whenever possible, I stick with either unsweetened or "as it comes" which is not as syrupy sweet as other versions I've tried. Of course, it all depends on who's tending the bar (as it were).

The caffeine boost is the best I've had (due as much to volume as intensity, I'm sure), and I've sampled Starbucks (way overpriced), Sonic (also too pricey) and Burger King's mocha Joe (way too sweet). Those versions seemed too ... frou-frou ... to be coffee and seemed more like desserts. This is simply coffee over ice.

It does taste like it's real brewed coffee, however, and they've always done pretty well with that.

It's certainly worth a try.

Love, Sophie

Okay. Okay. Fetishes. SEXUAL fetishes, I mean.

Is it okay to have a fetish? Is it normal to have a fetish? How many fetishes are too many? Are they dangerous? Does your partner have an obligation to accommodate your fetish, or is it okay to simply look away and ignore it? Does one have an obligation to share a fetish with their partner? Is that wise?

First, my confession: I have a fetish for guys who have a fetish for feet and ankles. Maybe because I'm so proud of mine, and I love having them adored. I make the distinction because feet and ankles do nothing for me sexually speaking, but I love to indulge men for whom feet hold great fascination and allure. That indulgence could be as simple as wearing nice sandals and sporting a pedicure as I walk down the sidewalk. I can tell who appreciates my feet with no more than a glance and a smile. Is there anything wrong with that? I really don't think so. No one acts on it. It's all in our minds. But what about when fetishes must be acted out? Is that acceptable, desirable or unacceptably strange?

Isn't it strange how we use the word "fetish" to classify proclivities and tendencies that we deem to be outside of the norm? What IS the norm after all? A fetish is an affinity for something is not typically associated with sexual desire (an object, type of clothing, a body part). "Typically" is the tricky word here. Who decides which body part is deserving of desire and which aren't? Why is an affinity for breasts considered "normal" but an affinity for feet a "fetish" ... ? Female breasts have more to do with child-rearing than sex, anatomically speaking, so why is the preference for the pregnant woman's form a fetish, but the preference for big round breasts considered sexually mainstream? And why are some shapes of breasts considered more desirable than others? To whom are we giving this power to determine sexual normalcy?

I was talking with a friend one day a few weeks ago and was remarking on the incidence of men who now openly prefer the rounder, softer female form to that of the ultra-thin models that our mainstream media would have us prefer. (Of course, there is a long-standing history of this preference in history and in current culture outside of the United States and western Europe, but that's another essay altogether.) I mused that this type of preference of ONE type of body to the exclusion of others was just as objectifying, just as distasteful as the insistence some have for only ultra-slender women. Aren't ALL women, beautiful after all? Isn't it our diversity and uniqueness that makes us beautiful? Don't our collective tastes have plenty of room for both rounder and more slender; why does it have to be one or the other?

My friend commented that men who prefer ONLY larger women must have some sort of "fetish" and I bristled at that idea. I don't mind the idea of fetishism, nor do I object to it being applied here (this WAS some sort of objectification, after all) but I do strongly believe that if preferring only one type of body type to the exclusion of others is a fetish, then it's a fetish for those whose tastes prefer the other end of the physical spectrum as well. Fair is fair. But we don't consider the preference for the slender form a fetish, even if it excludes all other female forms. That doesn't make sense.

I asked a friend what he thought of this concept and he replied, "I think it's a fetish if round women like thin guys or vice versa. But if you're just a regular dude who likes skinny chicks, it's definitely not a fetish. The debate is never ending." I don't know if LBC was being tongue-in-cheek or giving me sincere feedback, but he certainly seems to reflect the prevalent attitude of our culture and society. "Stick with your own kind," we tell each other. Black with black, white with white, fat with fat, tall with tall, ... you get the idea. Don't most of us find it very strange if tall or short people find attractive ONLY those who are opposite of them? But okay if the same limitation applies as "like with like." I find that utterly bewildering.

I suggest that our definition of fetish be expanded to include any preference that is so strong that sexual attraction cannot be mustered unless that limiting physical feature is met, regardless of the physical attributes of the person with the fetish. It doesn't seem logical otherwise.

And so, if breasts or legs are the ONLY body part which can arouse a person, I call that a fetish and I say that without judgement. Because I think fetishes are healthy outputs from our psyches and our recognition and safe indulgence of those fetishes a healthy means of sexual exploration. They shouldn't become a crutch or an excuse for breaking the ethical rules of engagement with our lovers. They can, however, inspire all sorts of healthy exploration and ultimately satisfying sexual fantasy and experience.

Can you have more than one? I think it's best.

Love bunches, Sophie

I'm actually putting together a big, fat juicy post on fetishes. If you'd like to weigh in, drop me a line! It'll be up before the end of the weekend. LBC, you will be quoted!

Love, Sophie

Morcheeba "Undress Me Now"

Here we are again, on the cusp of a new year. And of course, New Year's resolutions are the gift we give ourselves and the world around us. We're going to be better, stronger, happier, etc. But how to achieve these great transformations? There are techniques that treat the symptoms of our dissatisfaction with ourselves, but what if we instead worked on the causes, and the less tangible manifestations of our needs as imperfect humans?

I'm not suggesting that we disregard goals toward quitting smoking or losing weight. In fact, I quit smoking on a New Year's Day a few years ago and I'm about 1/3 of the way through a significant weight loss that I hope to complete in 2008. (My goal actually has more to do with nutritional good health and fitness and the weight loss has been a beneficial by-product.) Good health is a worthy goal, but physical health is only half the story. What of our mental, emotional, spiritual health? What of our ability to treat people with compassion, forgiveness, honesty ... real lovingness?

Today, as I enter a new year, I recommit myself to lovingness that encompasses compassion, forgiveness and honesty not only for those who "deserve" my compassion, but to those who have challenged my ability to keep my heart open to them and to the world. To those who would disregard my feelings or who would treat me with less than the dignity and honesty I extend to them, I offer love. I offer compassion for the heavy burden of their fear and the irrational needs that drive their hurtful behavior. I offer forgiveness, unconditionally and without regard to their willingness to accept these gifts.

I enter 2008 with a glad heart and a warm embrace for all those who enter with me.

Love,
Sophie

Dear Sophie,

I've been dating for the past 2 years after having ended a 20-year marriage to a man who cheated on me repeatedly, among other problems. As the result of the pain I experienced in that marriage, I have made it my vow not to ever sleep with a man unless I knew for sure that he's not married or committed to another. So even after I know for sure that he's really available, I have a hard time opening up and feeling comfortable having sex as quickly as most men want these days. Our society changed a lot while I was married. I feel like such a prude but really I'm not. I'm not looking for another marriage but at the same time I don't like the idea of a revolving bedroom door either. I'm confused and it seems like no matter which way I go I end up sending out the wrong message not to mention running men off. What have you got to say for me?

Tired in Transylvania

Dear Tired,

There's nothing MORALLY wrong with having sex with random strangers or with people with whom you have little to no connection or experience otherwise. Just like there's nothing wrong with eating a Big Mac from the drive through while you're on your way to the mall. But is it really soul-satisfying nourishment? How well does it serve your longer term needs for sustenance? And is adequate sustenance a short-term or long-term fulfillment of those needs?

There can even be a delicious enjoyment of the wicked-good indulgence of your body's physical needs for touch and expression with someone you barely know and are not sure you'll ever see again. Can you turn off your emotional and spiritual needs for touch and expression long enough to enjoy it? Most likely. But what happens afterward? What do you do to fill those voids when your sex partner has moved on to other partners, or simply lost interest and wandered away?

I've personally always preferred sex inspired by love to love inspired by sex. What exactly does that mean? Well, that depends.

That doesn't mean you'd have to be married or even in a committed, monogamous relationship in order to enjoy the benefits of emotional and spiritual aspects added to a physical relationship. There's no magic number of dates or certain words that should be uttered to signal the threshold into sexual adventure. No magic sequence of events or criteria to be met. It's different for everyone, and will be different for each potential partner you meet.

What is most important is feeling the mutual respect not only for one's time and physical needs, but for honest, open communication of what is happening in the moment and what can be expected from one another in the foreseeable future. How many of us have thrown ourselves into a hot sexual relationship only to regret the investment later, when we feel abandoned, taken for granted, used or manipulated? I have heard so many times, "If only I hadn't slept with him!" or "At least I didn't sleep with him!" as the first expression after a connection disconnects for whatever reason.

Is this a gender-based phenomenon? I really don't know. I've never heard a man regret having sex with anyone at any time (at least not that was admitted to me, and I have a lot of male friends with whom I dish pretty intensely) unless the woman ended up being infected with a disease, getting pregnant or becoming a stalker. The emotional aspect doesn't seem as critical to some (most?) men, but I'd be ecstatic to be hear otherwise. And perhaps you're a woman who doesn't need that feeling of connectedness to a sexual partner. But it's certainly okay (healthy, normal, nurturing) if you do.

Our society, in its push for female sexual liberation, has had a tendency to make women feel as if they need to be promiscuous in order to assert their independence and emotional fortitude. Women who yearn for an emotional connection and some sense of spiritual continuity with their partners are conveyed as needy, dependent, insecure or emotionally fragile. Quite the contrary, seeking and expecting a solid emotional connection with your sexual partners---and abstaining from sexual activity until those needs are adequately fulfilled---are the signs of a woman who is in control of her own life, not seeking validation and reassurance through acts of purely physical sexuality which ring hollow in the aftermath of the moment of passion.

In terms of sending out the "wrong message" I think that as long as the message you send out is clear, is honest and truly reflects your personal, spiritual and physical needs, you really can't go wrong. If that message pushes potential partners away or causes them to lose interest, you're really so much better off in the long run. You owe yourself a life of quality, fulfilling connections with those who truly care about your needs as well as their own. Anything less will leave you questioning your own value and judgement.

How to deal with the loneliness? Here's an epiphany: we're all lonely. As much as we fear loneliness, it's inevitable and there's really nothing to be afraid of. People who are married get lonely, people who are single and have many love interests get lonely. You can't escape loneliness with sex, with a lifetime marriage, with dozens of friends or sex partners or with drugs, alcohol, food or shopping. Loneliness is part of the human condition. (See the R.E.M. video linked at the end of this post, a FAVORITE of mine!)

We really shouldn't be afraid of loneliness, but it's one of the primary fears prevalent in our society and the incredibly powerful force behind so many bad decisions we make on small and large scales, including the extramarital affairs that plague marriages. But like other forms of hunger, the pangs of loneliness will pass. Yes, they will inevitably return again, but we are so much better able to bear those empty moments when we have our own approval, our own esteem, our own stores of validation and reassurance from which we can draw comfort and sustenance. What if we had given them all away to someone who squandered them or left them crumpled under our beds?

Be who you are. Hold on tight to her, never let her go. It's never easy, but you're ever-so-worth it!

Love,
Sophie

This is my favorite Christmas story and I wanted to share it.

A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote.

Absolute best when read aloud in front of a fire ... Merry Christmas!

Love,
Sophie

Awhile back I talked about personal mission statements. These are very important in providing direction and a sense of purpose to our lives. Mine is to love the world, and feel its love in return. That's what truly matters to me in the overall scheme of things.

When I'm feeling unsure, when I'm afraid, when I'm not sure of the wisdom of loving, I go looking for evidence of it and its impact on lives both familiar and strange to me. And I am constantly reminded. Everywhere I look, there is evidence of love and its profound power. I live in the same world as you. Do you see it?

"You can change people. Unconditional love on a daily basis can melt a stone." ---James Taylor, 12/23/07 on Sunday Morning

"There are only four questions of value in life, Don Octavio. What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for? And what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same: only love." ---Johnny Depp as/in Don Juan DeMarco

I have a friend out there who is having trouble at church with gossip and personal politics. Sometimes life is so unfair.

But our hopes of ever affecting a dynamic that is THAT systemic in our society and in our social constructs (and church really is a social construct, isn't it?) is to acknowledge the futility of trying to totally eradicate it. In other words, there's only so much you can do. The rest is just coping.

I can't remember where I read one of my myriad mottos: Live your life so that it doesn't matter what anyone says about you, even if what they're saying isn't true. Part of that has to do with your perceptions of yourself and part of that is supporting the perceptions of others about you. If the people in a social group know you and see you participating in the gossip ring, even if only to defend yourself, you have reduced your credibility and increased their willingness to believe anything that they hear. If, however, you can rise above participation in the game, even if it's not fair and even if what is being said is not true, you are more likely to convey integrity rather than guilt of the accusations being made.

Of course, if the allegations are severe (such as those with legal implications) then you have to take action rather than remaining passive. The best way to end that sort of behavior is to calmly seek legal assistance and let your lawyer handle the matter. Sometimes simply saying, "I'll have to talk to my lawyer" is enough to quell the rumors.

It's especially sad to hear that this problem is so ingrained in your church, where these sorts of nasties are especially out of place. And the fact that the leaders of your church are involved is even more disturbing. I suggest that you consider membership in another group more able and willing to live and exemplify the ideals they gather to espouse. I'm not sure which religion this church symbolizes, but it sounds inappropriate for any religion or spirituality, since most have as their basis the universal themes of love and forgiveness.

Your resilience and grace are your greatest "weapons" in this self-defense. And as for the long-lasting effects on you, forgiveness will be key. That doesn't mean letting this continue to happen.

Love,
Sophie
PS---I don't publish letters unless you ask me to, by the way. Many of my posts are in response to letters or conversations with folks seeking input. And some are just reminders to myself.