"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