Choice

It is my choice to be happy or sadExternality should make no difference Over time discontent poisons the soul And the gut Until what? Happiness does not come via circumstance There is no catalyst No happy ending There is Now Or never Awaken immediately Or else suffer There is no list to check off No wrongs to right The choice is in front of us A moment's decision Forgive, let go Before anyone else The first and last say is You Permission granted All views slanted In this direction All arrows aimed with vigor Right at your center Asking if now is a good time Knowing there is no other Decide Make a statement I Am Okay I Am Blissed Ecstatic Right Fucking Now The past is over No more memories a blur I am awake Aware So are you Look Listen Absorb But don't label Let go of descriptions Prescriptions Analysis Interpretation One station Or another Let go Just be Clean slate Brand new You're You I am me Whoever we want to be Let's just Be Choose

IMG_3319

Where is Christopher Guest When You Need Him?

Somehow even though I’ve dropped most of my cynicism, well at least my cynical attitude, I’ve managed to become pickier when it comes to films, comedy in particular. I don’t consider myself to be pretentious, I like a lot of ridiculous movies that many hate (MacGruber!) or just don’t get, but still, I don’t know if it’s me but this country continues to get dumber. I can see the angry people with flags storming up the steps to my apartment (luckily no one knows where I live) trying to prove the intelligence of our educationally challenged country. Sorry, folks, you specifically may be the brightest bulb in the box, but collectively, we’re quite dim. It’s embarrassing. And it’s showcased in its most obvious form via our entertainment, which luckily is piped into the ears and eyes of most foreign countries, whether they want it or not.

I’m not super girly, but it is so much to ask for a decent romantic comedy? I mean what the fuck is Katherine Heigl doing? I like her, or at least I liked her, and along with some fairly talented and beautiful women (sometimes Jen Aniston, Kristen Bell, other blonds), her film choices just blow. Awful, awful, insulting pieces of crap. Knocked Up was the highlight, thanks to Seth and Judd, but it’s been downhill ever since, and I cannot think of one really good, not horrifically hyperbolic, cheesy or over the top RomCom that her or anyone has done in the past decade.

Cut to actual comedies. The good ones are so few and far between and when they arise, they’re usually indie flicks or they’re dark comedies like In Bruges and the recent, 7 Psychopaths (fucking fantastic). Bridesmaids was a rare gem and I have hope the amazing Kristen Wigg will give us more of her endless goods, but until then, the bromance success is running dry and I just yearn for a Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman or Best in Show. Where is Christopher Guest when we need him?!

Christopher Guest does not make RomComs, nor should he, but he makes truly remarkable, unique films, and they’re monumentally funnier than most anything you will watch from this or any year of the past 30. I recently watched Waiting for Guffman again. Oh my fucking god, I was laughing throughout the entire thing. Ricky Gervais should be kissing his ass and thanking him profusely (I’m pretty sure they’re friends, so it makes sense) for this documentary style filming because when they’ve removed that extra layer and now you’re led to believe these are real, flesh and blood people, somehow it’s all that much funnier.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmkjNb3jiJc

I’m watching Guffman and just angry that not Guest, nor any of the incredible cast have received anything beyond a cult following for these truly spectacular roles and performances. Come on?! The characters are written and performed with such heart, such authenticity, and the most audacious humor. Nothing about these films are predictable. We are not spoon fed a token happy ending. There is no girl hates boy, boy loves girl, girl loves boy, boy then hates girl, but wait, don’t worry, boy loves girl and girl loves boy, it’s all good, the end. Blech, I’m over it.

These are ridiculous first world problems but nonetheless I’d like Christopher Guest and any like him (there’ve got to be more than just him. i’ll pray for it) to come back and show these idiots how it’s done. We all know our country will spend billions of dollars seeing the eighth Transformers and whatever Channing Tatum shows up in (not judging, I’d hit that, I just wouldn’t spend money on The Vow). Let’s not worry about that, but let’s force Gary Marshall into retirement, please (what’s next after Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve? Arbor Day!), stop making films about couples who can’t stand relationships but just want to fuck (three in one year! Love and Other Drugs, No Strings Attached AND Friends With Benefits. Gross), and films where a hot chick and a strong man fight crime unexpectedly (Bounty Hunter, the Killers, whatever that one with Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz was, and the recent Parker. Bored).

I’m not sure if I should go on a rant about these insane PG comedies that come out every Christmas and have since I was a child (Yours, Mine and Ours, Cheaper by the Dozen, every single Meet the Parents movie, and the recent Parental Guidance. Sigh). Sure, we’re a country of diverse people and tastes but I swear the consensus is stupid. We’ve got to be better than this. Similar to the fact that we are a gun culture, a god culture, and a glutinous culture, we need to shift into a more intelligent way of communicating and that includes how we’re entertained.

We must demand more from ourselves, I’ve written of this before when disenchanted by the popularity of all the Kardashians and all the Housewives and all the crap out there. You see it on cable news, blatant ridiculousness that would insult event the those of average intelligence. We need better! I don’t want the brilliance of Christopher Guest to be enjoyed by a minority of enthusiasts, most of us are capable of enjoying this if we’d just raise our standards a bit.

Best in Show 2, please! Let’s make it happen, people. I can’t survive this current stagnation, I’ll end up leaving the country again. I like it here, for the most part, but I think we can do better. There should be a priority list of issues higher than the quality of our comedies, of course, but it’s something.

Apparently Christopher Guest is writing a show, fingers crossed that makes it passed pilot season. Who can predict? Will it supersede the wit and talent of Two and a Half Men? Let’s fucking hope so. Ay ay ay.

Sexual Privacy: A Cultural Oxymoron

It seems the many of us that cry out for individual freedoms, for the government to stay out of our personal business, are often simultaneously voicing our opinions on what those rights should be. It’s no one’s business what WE do, but what THEY do, that’s fair game. I call bullshit on this hypocrisy. The irony seeps into all of our lives at some point and we need to call ourselves out, something’s gotta give. The outcry and magnitude of focus on the sex scandal involving General Petraeus and other members of our most secretive organizations showcases not only a major failing in what should be very private matters, but also our utter misappropriation of the important issues. We’ve been at war with Afghanistan for 10 years, the longest in our short span as an empire. Never mind the cost of human life, on all sides. Never mind the positive turn the General took our movement in Iraq. And never mind the very real and current issues us and our allies are enduring daily in a country most of us have never been. Our general had an affair! The worst!

It’s appalling and sad someone with such power was able to uncover and spy on personal exchanges between two people simply because a woman he found attractive wanted him to, but what’s worse is how our media chooses to handle it. A journalist’s job used to be to inform, objectively. Now, it seems their job is to incense, to ignite emotion, fear, confusion, disappointment, and overall feelings of negativity and unrest. Years ago, when I was less mature and more interested in the business and lives of others over my own, I may have found this story fascinating and/or upsetting. Where I am today is merely disgruntled over our chosen focus.

Similar with President Clinton, I feel a person can be a shitty husband/wife while also being great at their careers. What General Petraeus did was unfortunate, even pathetic. Duh, keep it in your pants, but what’s more shocking is our surprise. Those who are drawn to power are often there because of the perks they consistently benefit from. Without naming names, I’ll simply say I’ve witnessed high powered military officers take advantage of these same roles. Their authority and superiority over most provides an air of invincibility. We’ve seen this time and time again.

I accept this. I do not care what my general does with his penis. That is his business. Is it unfortunate for his wife and children? Hell yes. If it were me, I’d of course be humiliated, disheartened, and bewildered if my husband betrayed me in this way. It’s still not a stranger’s business and while I think liars and dishonesty in general should be exposed, it shouldn’t be at the hands of another who’s not even involved, and certainly not in the hands of the US government. This story is convoluted and keeps unraveling.

Naturally, if our national security was really at stake, or if Petraeus was sleeping with the enemy, maybe I'd be concerned. Our outrage is over the sex, not our concerns for safety. That's a lie I find infuriating. Call it what it is. Sex sells, and the news is no longer a free public service, it's a damn performance for ratings and advertising dollars.

I’m sick of hearing about this. We’ve got to define people by more than this one area. And as we’ve seen in the past days as this ridiculous story keeps unraveling; where there is one, there are many. We put our leaders, our celebrities, our CEO’s up to this unfair standard based upon a fictionalized set of moral principles. Dig deep, and you will not like what you find. Men get distracted by young female attention. Young females get distracted by the power of an older man. This happens amongst the weak, but it also lives in us all.

The very people who are outraged over this scandal would be horrified if their own secrets we’re exposed. We all have them. I have nothing to hide. I’m a fairly open book, but if you dissected e-mails I’ve written with friends, you’d discover some filthy talk about what we’d do if given just an hour with James Bond. My husband knows of this, I have no shame, I expect he carries his own fantasies, his own private weird little mind, and rather than using this technology to expose this in him, I prefer to retain some mystery in us all, trusting who he really is, as well as who I really am is much deeper and much stronger than any silly rhetoric can speak to.

I also learned at a young age not to take male attention too seriously. There will be people who love and hate me, those who desire me and those who are disgusted by me. The more I define myself by outside feedback, by my image, my labels, by what others perceive me to be, the more I’m likely to seek validation outside myself as well. An endless, painful cycle. I’m hit on by men, more often older, on a regular basis. This has little to do with my looks. I genuinely believe this happens constantly with human beings. I’ll smile and have a short conversation, but the attention gives me nothing. I am not impressed by a bank account. I like older men but not because of their age. I like men my age as well. People are too easily flattered by the fawning praise of another. Please. We all get diarrhea. That fact alone should keep it all in perspective.

If we can all come to a consensus that sexuality, sexual desires, exchanges, conversations, who and how we choose to love is within the rights and choices of the individual, and these decisions needn’t be placed under the scrutiny of strangers, law enforcement, loved ones or anyone besides the parties immediately involved, then we can roll past these issues that end up embarrassing us rather than helping us. As long as we cast judgment toward the private activities of others, we’ll never really progress and get to the real issues plaguing us daily.

Can we possibly get over ourselves? Sex is natural. I’ve mentioned it before, but the biological impact and power sex has over the decisions we make is monumental. If we stopped squelching these desires, feeling shame about being sexual, or treating sex as this game between people, as a power grab, this would free us to live more authentically. Monogamy is not for everyone. People mistake lust and attraction for something missing in their relationship.

And newsflash: women cheat too. They love it. There’s an excitement in sneaking around, in living a spy-like double life. It charges the ego like nothing else because you combine the tantalizing grip of sexual chemistry with the self-esteem boosting mechanism of outside attention. Real esteem cannot grow or deplete because of the temporary attention from another, and herein lies the problem; we have no fucking clue what real confidence feels like, what success looks like, and what real love brings to and from us. We’re consumed by how others view us. We are defined by images, assets, dollars, things, attractiveness, accomplishments, and somewhere along the way character, heart, altruism and sincere kindness is lost.

We get married because it looks good. I’ve seen it in the military myself. Men, specifically, will marry in hopes it’ll raise their chances in major promotions like to Chief or Commander. Sure, the advancement system is corrupt and based on time over merit, style over substance, but somewhere along the line people fall into the trap of looking the part over living their truth. More people get married because of stigma, because it’s the next step, because it shows whatever fictional being is watching that they’ve grown up, matured, and are ready to settle down and live as an adult.

I do not care why people get married or to who, I’m merely observing a pattern that leads to these cliché examples and inevitable indiscretions. Do I think marriage leads to men cheating? No. I think getting married for the wrong reasons, staying in unhappy relationships because of image or worry of judgment lead people to retreat and sneak around more than if people were marrying truly out of love. Convenience, status, placating parents, religion, or psychological holes in our hearts will lead to continued dissatisfaction in the future. It’s physics. It’s obvious. And yet we are blind.

We have to address the root of the problem as well as our fixation on the details themselves. If we accept our own sexual desires and attractions totally and completely, without fear, guilt, shame or judgment, we will extend that same gift toward others.

I hate to even mention sexual predators and child molesters, but obviously that is not what I’m discussing. True criminal offenders should be brought to justice, period.

I’m referring to those who have the desire to sleep around, to explore multiple people or genders, to be dominated or to dominate another, to dress up like whatever weird animal, creature or fictional fantasy they choose. I don’t care. I find feet kind of gross. I won’t be sucking any toes, but I am happy for those with foot fetishes to satisfy that itch. If the members involved are consenting adults and they’re enjoying themselves, it is not my business, nor do I want to know about it! I don’t care.

The fallout from the political and religious leaders engaging in what we deem to be salacious activities with another, often to the shock and horror of their followers (an example would be evangelical Ted Haggert and his multi-year long affairs with male prostitutes) stems first from how they’ve chosen to live their lives, how they projected their voice, how they used their influence and power. If, instead, they preached acceptance and love of others, embracing both the public and private nature in us all, perhaps the interest, pain and sometimes joy at his expense would be much less intense.

There are many intelligent minds out there whose credit have all been lost because they dipped their penises in the wrong ink. Again, who cares? Why are we surprised? These men marry safe, parentally approved women. They shit out an average of 2-4 kids, they keep up their appearances in the community, but somewhere along the line their needs aren’t being met. Is this a character flaw and weakness? Yes, of course it is. But is it our business to judge, to discuss ad nauseam, and to feverishly demand immediate retirement and removal from their post?

I don’t think so, especially with examples like General Petraeus. His mission and goal hasn’t been to infringe upon the rights of others, to make a case against the private lives of individuals or to cast judgment toward anyone in any way. He was a great general. And now as the middle-east continues to fall apart, we’re left without a few men who merely couldn’t keep their zippers up but were otherwise highly respected, experienced and knowledgable in their fields.

We could speak to the ridiculously hypocritical nature of a woman having an affair with a married man who, in-turn, became enraged with jealousy at the thought of an adulterer having more than one mistress. We could speak to the pathetic nature of people in power, taking advantage of a superiority complex. We could speak to the spouses of many who forget what an important facet sex is to a successful relationship. We can speak to tattle tales and gossip hounds who couldn’t wait to expose the faults of another, inevitably poisoning and revealing themselves in the process. And we can speak to the responsibility we all have, the only control there really is, what we choose to believe, project, enhance and absorb.

Sex is a big driver in my life. I remember hearing men think about sex every seven seconds or some bullshit and thinking, “yeah, that sounds about right.” I see and feel the double entendre in everything and I watch as the interactions between us all become entangled in sexual undertones. I love it. I always thank the universe women don’t get boners and that somehow women are less culpable in scenarios like this than men. The pervasive double standard implies women are driven by less trivial matters but we all know that’s not true. The why and how may size up differently, but the source material is the same. We wish to connect with others and we all have unique buttons. Some push them successfully, others do not, but we all have them.

To judge one’s behavior regarding sex is akin to banishing someone suffering from immense thirst for drinking from the wrong trough of water. Yes, we have will power, we take responsibility for choices, but we shouldn’t dismiss the powerful nature of sex, and how easily it is for us all to succumb in our own ways. If we were all honest and accepting of our personal wants and needs, we’d be happy releasing the sexuality of others to the individual to enjoy privately.

Hunger, thirst, self-preservation and sexual desire exist amongst all living beings. Society and religion demonizes this and what it’s bred is a culture of liars, a system of acting a certain way, being good on paper, but being an unhappy, artificially put together human being who can’t tell the difference between lies and truth anymore. I genuinely feel sympathy for all in this matter, for those who’ve been betrayed and hurt, and for those who’ve lost their way and become so consumed by their identity and reputation that they fell as far as they did.

Why are we so fixated on this one issue and yet so drastically ill-informed, blissfully ignorant regarding the war this man was running? We are drowning in a sea of sex scandals, appalled by the behavior of others, while willfully unapologetic for our own responsibility in it. I find those who are most bitter on these subjects are the most sexually repressed, unsatisfied folks there are. And for them, I feel sympathy. It’s remarkable what a good orgasm can do. And if we explored and loved our own bodies without hesitation, our interactions with others, both sexual and otherwise, would improve drastically.

If we’d simply be upfront with our desires and expectations to those we’re entering intimate commitments with, and some would say that’s what marriage vows are, then we’d retain the responsibility to own our mistakes and to deal with them privately, without the scrutiny and input of others. It’s no one’s business but our own and regardless if you choose for your life to be exposed publicly, it is still only important to the individuals involved how these deeply personal matters play out.

If we were really free and accepting, our actions would be more beneficial than detrimental. We wouldn’t have to hide, to live a lie, to please the opinions and standards of the powers at be.

There is nothing wrong with being gay, straight, bisexual or transgendered. There is nothing wrong with masturbation. There is nothing wrong with enjoying sex. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have sex with many people. There is nothing wrong with actually having sex with multiple people. There is nothing wrong with wanting to have sex with only one person.

We are culpable for our actions and lies, but only to those directly involved. What one man does with his genitals affects far less than what he does with his weapons. Why do we trust one thing so blindly and yet we demonize him for relationships we know nothing about? Our focus is on the wrong issues! Wake the fuck up, people.

We can all sort out our personal issues without the onslaught of disparaging comments from others. I’ll deal with my bullshit, you deal with yours. We’re still perfectly capable of executing the duties the law, our jobs, and other responsibilities require. Live and let live.

Let’s demand better from our journalists, our country and ourselves. It starts within.

Why is This James Bond so Painfully Sexy?

Warning! This subject matter in this article surrounds sex. I use the word f*ck without an asterisks. I talk about body parts (mostly non-genital, but still, be forewarned). I describe in detail why James Bond (Daniel Craig, specifically) is so sexy (the answers may or may not surprise you). These are merely the humble observations and musings from a woman who’s had crushes on men since the age of 3. If you don’t have the stomach for the content, no worries or offense intended, simply read one of many I’ve written on less lascivious subjects. I’ve been toying with the idea of starting a separate site/blog/platform to write about sex, what it is to be sexy, who is sexy and why, sexual double standards (my research focus in college), and just flat-out honest truths about sexuality today. I don’t want to be dirty, raunchy or crass just for the hell of it. I want to write from an honest place. I like sex. I enjoy discussing it, watching it, having it and being turned on by others. I think it is the single biggest driver in life, beyond the need to be fed, clothed, sheltered, and quenched. What’s beautiful about sex is it somehow satisfies hunger and thirst while making you feel enveloped by heat, secure by the sheer vulnerability of the body that accompanies you.

Anyway, I digress...

As bizarre as it seems being a nearly three decade old human living in western civilization, I have never seen a Bond film. Correction: I hadn’t until 3 days ago. To be fair, I think I waited for the right time, and the right Bond. Nonetheless something in the allure escaped me until days ago. I’d seen numerous clips growing up. There’s something about iconic films and characters that seep into the fabric of our culture. I still haven’t seen Empire Strikes Back or Return of the Jedi (I’m sure every nerd’s head is exploding) and yet I know, like everyone else knows, that Vader is Luke’s father. Spoiler alert.

So I grew up knowing Bond was charismatic, strong, clever, that he drinks martinis shaken, not stirred, and he can work his way into any woman’s pants. He’s mysterious, calm under pressure, aloof in emotion, and alert in passion. He’s the ultimate get for any villain and yet, given the chances time and time again, he always emerges alive, often unscathed. What I saw growing up seemed cheesy, over the top and nonsensical. Why would the antagonist finally get his hands on Bond only to give some ridiculous speech, a tour of his elaborate facilities, a look at the impossibly powerful weapon he’ll use to kill millions, only to have given 007 enough time to assess the environment and flip the script in his favor? Seemed so silly to me. My education on these films extends to sound bites of Sean Connery saying Pussy Galore in that classic accent of his, and the brilliantly funny Austin Powers films, the first in particular.

Cut to Now. Last year I saw Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and it was then I was privy to the raw sexual magnetism and acting talents of Mr. Daniel Craig. His eyes are piercing, seriously, it hurts to look right into them. His body is so, um, hold on I’m sweating, it’s just so, well, fuckable. Yeah, fuckable. There’s hardly a better word to describe it. I see him, the arms, the chest, the ASS; and my mind, body and heart all go to the same place: sex. He could charm the panties off a blind woman. The deep voiced British accent doesn’t hurt either.

Once the previews for Skyfall released, I realized I needed to nip this ‘I’ve yet to see a Bond film’ thing in the bud. So, my very own delicious man and I bought Casino Royale for 10 bucks on BluRay (very worth it!) and had a cozy Saturday night in. Within two minutes, I was regretting watching it with my husband. I mean no disrespect. Something I’ve learned being happily monogamous for over 7 years is the recognition that I am still human. As I mentioned above, I’ve been crushing on men since I was 3, since I can remember. I’ve yet to let go of my childhood crushes (Val Kilmer!), so I’ve accumulated a long, fascinating list of men I put into the spank bank.

Being attracted to another man, or men in my case, does not diminish the hotness my husband has. And he is hot. I’m quite lucky. I fully know and expect for him to feel the same way. He has Scarlet Johansen and other lovely, beautiful, sexy women to drool over. Feeling jealousy or being territorial only pushes people away and reveals ugly insecurities. And those are not sexy. Watching gorgeous people (like James Bond) have sex is titillating. It leads to awesome actual sex after. Try it yourself.

So as a young girl with no internet or tv in my room, I found my stimulation wherever I could. Top Gun (again, Val Kilmer), soap opera sex scenes, TV shows, magazines and album covers with cute guys, and with whatever fuzzy, unclear nudity I could find by surfing channels we didn’t really have access to. I like some erotica, naked people having sex certainly does the trick, but what sends me to withdrawal from the spank bank are films like Casino Royale.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4T551JuZkA

The film begins with this beautiful neo noir style homage, black and white, Bond is waiting in the office of a man who’s wronged him/possesses a threat to MI6 (I will not explain what that is). You know someone’s eyes are incredible when you can see how bright blue they are in black and white! Whoa. Despite the icy color and striking gaze, what gives someone (Mr. Craig specifically) sex appeal is the life behind those sparkling eyes. And many Brits carry my favorite quality in a man: cheekiness. There’s a naughty element there, a mystery. He’s self-assured. He knows he’s sexy and he knows you know he’s sexy. One glance and you’re done. All the sudden you can’t find your skirt and you’re wondering how quickly your principles went out the door.

We follow 007 through nail-biting chase scenes, watching him as he climbs and scales high-rises, rides a stolen motorcycle on top of the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul (this is Skyfall), engages in fist-fights above a rapidly moving train, and punch after punch, step after step, Bond never breaks. He’s steely, unfazed , it’s as if he has Iron Man’s heart. He is rough, tough and fucking badass. The man could go for hours. Double entendre intended.

Where many of the previous 20 Bond films are considered silly and lacking in good story, the recent three have critics swooning over this new, bruising, hard-edged, almost angry Bond. Most have touted him as the best Bond ever. I’m biased, nonetheless I agree. Craig busts his balls (Literally! Watch Casino Royale’s infamous torture scene. He’s naked, in a chair. That’s all I will say.) to get the job done and once he’s strangled and beaten another terrorist, he dusts off his three-piece suit (men have lingerie, women have suits) quickly adjusts his cuff-links and moves on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7dlytGZuZxw

Whether he’s playing poker, involved in a highly dangerous shoot outs, seducing an exquisitely beautiful woman, or having a combative conversation with his boss M, he does not blink. He gazes deeply, confidently, resolutely, until everyone in his wake turns to mush. And what you can gather from someone’s gaze is their level of focus, their awareness and commitment to the moment. What makes 007 so enigmatic, so successful, so smart, so sexy? PRESENCE.

There’s nothing more attractive than a human being fully engrossed and absorbed in the Now. Bond is fast, strong, agile, nimble, but what gives him an edge is his keen observation of his surroundings, and his second to second responses to whatever the environment and the moment brings. When he’s making love, he’s not worried about work. Whatever rough skirmish exhausted him, leaving him with stab and bullet wounds, he repairs, accepts and moves on.

It should be noted that sex appeal has little to do with physical perfection or the perception of others. It’s certainly in the eye of the beholder. I happen to find Jeff Goldblum and other interesting artists very sexy, more for their minds and their talents than their bodies or faces. Daniel Craig, similar to his British cohort Clive Owen, is (to borrow a phrase from my favorite film critic, Dave White) handsomely battered by life. His face is weathered, like he’s really lived, and despite his body’s near perfection, his sexiness emanates from his being, from his mind, his heart, his loins, his skills, his strength, his intelligence, his sense of humor, and yes, his humility. The 6-pack is a mere bonus. Who he is behind the suit, the muscles, the eyes, the sensual breath, is far more sexy than any image can capture. This video is evidence.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkp4t5NYzVM

Finding someone so acutely sexually attractive is both exhilarating and terrifying. Who knows what this specimen could do to me? I’d certainly love to find out. In one of my favorite moments from Casino Royale, Bond finds himself in love, a rare and unique experience for him, and while recovering from some fairly severe injuries that occurred in the torture scene I mentioned above, his lady love stares into his baby blues and utters, “If the only thing left of you was your smile and your little finger, you'd still be more of a man than anyone I've ever known.” And Bond replies with that suggestive grin, “That's because you know what I can do with my little finger...”

Gulp. Jesus. I erupted in this burst of nervous, excited laughter. I was moan-breathing the whole time, concerned it was obvious to the man sitting next to me. Something about a man like that makes me satiate. Eyes, mouth, body watering, like I’ve been walking for days in the desert and am desperate to quench an insatiable thirst. It’s all biology, physiology, science. My mind, thoughts, emotions are not involved at all. I’ve been rendered a mute, just a willing female awaiting impregnation.

Sexual repression, guilt, doubt and insecurity is the culprit for much of our society’s unhappiness and overall fucked-up psychosis. I carry no judgment, I simply wish for others to loosen the reigns on their own criticism. Sex is a beautiful gift. It is fun, sweeping, engulfing, with tremendous health benefits to boot. Whether you dress your partner like Bond or another sexual figure, or you’re having a good ole time with yourself, the rush and release of sexual desire is medicine for your mind, body, heart and soul. Don’t doubt it. Go with it. You don’t have to look like Bond to feel like him, or a Bond girl for that matter, you’ve just got to appreciate your life and your loins and be unapologetic in expressing them.

Being prude, self-conscious or uptight is a waste of energy, a waste of time, a waste of life. We are here because of sex. We better damn well give thanks in whatever ways we can. Happy humping!

Love and Other Status Symbols

I am no more an expert on love than anyone else on this planet, including those who study mercilessly for years in order to eventually advise others on their quest for real connections. I'm a mere observer. I've watched myself go through the roller-coaster of infatuation, feeling the potential of "falling" in love, and ultimately the heart ache and loss of love that never existed in the first place. Spending much of my adolescence and early adulthood single, very single, alone, no sex, no dates, no flirting, no nothing, I was able to passively observe the bouts of "love" that struck my friends and schoolmates. I watched as they became engrossed and attached the other person, to their identity as someone's "other", and as much of their personal identity began to slide, so did their friendships.

When I fell in deep like and lust with my first real boyfriend, I felt the same identity crisis snap over me. Always being self-aware, since childhood, I entered into my pseudo-relationship with slight trepidation. But the allure of sexual attraction and want was too powerful for me to overcome. In a short amount of time, my beliefs, my independence, and my sanity went out the door, and a gushy, pathetic, chemistry drunk girl emerged.

I was a teenager. This was well over a decade ago, nonetheless I observe these tendencies in my more mature cohorts even today. Many of us, women in particular, derive a sense of confidence, accomplishment, and overall satisfaction from being "in a relationship." Somehow being on the arm of another gives our own existence some credibility, something to be admired.

You can either attach yourself to others out of fear or pull yourself out of the game altogether for the exact same reason. I awarded myself a pat on the back for being okay with being alone, with not dating, with not needing anyone else. Did I go to the movies alone on Valentine's day only to cry sickeningly in my car the whole way home? Maybe. For whatever reason we placate, we're lying to ourselves, because we've neglected to recognize we are already enough.

Some of us want sex but no intimacy. The words I love you and thoughts of participating in mundane errands with another can send some running for the hills. Some of us just want the hope of resonance, beyond anything physical, the desire to connect and bounce life off of another is strong. What I've observed in the two scenarios and the wide spectrum in-between, is the myth that love is a status symbol, a means of validation, an achievement to be broadcast, something to be given or taken away, and the utter fallacy that love hurts.

I will wholeheartedly own up to the hours and energy I spent crying, feeling sick inside over the loss of Love. I've felt the neediness, the wantedness, the yearning to be with a romantic partner every second possible, to share as many breaths together in a day that we could. I felt the gnawing concern and borderline jealousy while waiting by phone for a call. None of these emotions are love, not even the exciting parts.

Since entering and graduating from college, it became apparent that in order to seal the deal in showcasing a successful, well-adjusted adult, marriage was the ultimate symbol of that success. Women peruse and download images of engagement rings, something I could never relate to, while men recognize this as a biological imperative, a means to placate an unhappy girlfriend, or a catalyst to growing into a man. For both, engagement and marriage gives their life meaning and solidifies their otherwise questionable relationship.

Is this the case for everyone? Of course not, but it is the pervasive tone of our culture to treat love as a game that must be honed and mastered. Women and men see each other as lists, qualities with which to measure a potential mate. Our future life-partners must meet a criteria, like being accepted into a good school, they've got to groom and become pedigreed in order to meet our expectations. We create a fantasy in our heads while disregarding what we truly bring to a relationship.

For some, their significant other must carry the same religious beliefs, the same political ideology, a similar socio-economic status, an impressive educational background, and the same likes and dislikes. Love is not crafty or cunning, nor is it discriminating. It is emanating and inclusive, open to whomever may help it to manifest and grow.

Love is not an entitlement, not an end game, not a measure of worth or value. It is the very pulse of life itself, that very cosmic connection that brings kindness, compassion and generosity right out of us. No diamond, lavish wedding, coordinated photograph or outward expression can even come close to the truth of real love.

Real love is not needy, not jealous, not dramatic, not confusing. It is an opportunity to exude and give another what you innately are, a reflective experience where you feel your full potential, the goodness in another extracts the goodness right out of you. The trick is knowing that goodness and potential have always been there. We're all born with it. We spend too many hours and too much energy analyzing and waiting for that one other person to certify our worthiness, put a stamp on our Being.

I'm not judging, usually I put very little interest in the musings and small problems of other people, but as a writer, teacher and promoter of authentic, self-contained happiness, I've got to call bullshit on some of our practices. Marriage won't validate your relationship; you're simply legally bound now. It's on paper. My husband and I have joked about getting divorced but staying together just to prove a point. Marriage is no more validating to love than a diploma is to intelligence.

It's within the heart and mind of an individual whether they live and project love or not. We can be good on paper, have a stellar resume, and a thousand luxury items, but you can't put a price on a good heart. All that's worth coveting and defining ourselves by cannot be bought. Love does not look a certain way, give something specific to you, or take something distinguishing from you. It is not something we observe, it's something we feel; deeply, in our intelligence, in our guts, our souls, in our being, not our doing.

Love is not scary, nor is being vulnerable and honest difficult. It's a choice. When you've made the conscious decision to love yourself, to accept your mistakes and accomplishments, to live a life of passion and gratitude, no single human being can give or take that away from you. All that we need we already have and all that we wish to be we already are. We must confront the lies we've been told and those we've been retelling ourselves and just like love, the honest truth will be felt rather than revealed. We must be able to be still with ourselves before we share an existence with another.

I do not believe in soul mates, in one perfect person for each of us. I believe we are all uniquely capable of connecting and exchanging love with many, some more potently than others. Love only hurts when there is attachment, and again, that is not real love. We can mourn the loss of relationships while maintaining gratitude for the profound love within ourselves. Appreciate what was and move on. If true love has existed and then passed, the remaining feelings should be nothing but acceptance, forgiveness and well-wishes. If we're scorned or betrayed, we then understand that what we thought was love, was merely the intoxicating stench of the imitator, an ego acting in disguise.

Real love doesn't enter into bondage with another only in hopes to mold the other to fit their expectations. Authentic love is acceptance, an open invitation to be just who you are. When we fall in love, it behooves us all to love the other for exactly who and what they are Now, not who they'll potentially be.

I love being alone. I love being in a crowd. I see and feel no difference in my thoughts and actions when I'm in public or private, when I'm at work or at play. It is my intention to make love, not war. This is possible for us all to embody, an overall sensation to breathe in and out. It is within our power to adjust the previous definitions and images of love to reflect reality and not a fantasy. Real love is the shit, romance is for the birds.

It is in this vein that I share a short poem I wrote. Love is an enigmatic thing. I am not attached to my thoughts and words on its behalf. I'm merely sharing for those roaming on this planet whose internal compass points in the same direction. You are all that you seek. Recognize it and you'll begin to see it in the eyes of others, feel it in their embrace, and observe it in every thought in your mind and beat of your heart. You are love.

You Know What Real Love Is

Love is not something that turns on and off It is a continuous state of being We were born from it Not by virtue of our specific parents But by way of emerging as life on this planet Love is not something you do You cannot validate it with marriage Or children Love is something you are Or are not Love carries no opposite There is like and dislike Hate was not born, it has only been bred Love is luminous It is the conduit to perceiving light How you love is what attracts who you love Beginning with the love of self Love cannot be given or taken away It's always there waiting It's not shiny or expensive Nor can it be a commodity or weapon Love is expressed as a language understood by most forms of life It cannot be measured Life knows nothing more precise Love is ironically simple It has many imitators Even more followers But less disciples Somehow we forget our way Consumed by the end game We forget the truth There is no game You've won You're alive Breathing Conceiving There's only a game if we each agree to play Love takes no time to pause Re-strategize It knows its purpose Bliss reached Manifestation seized It only waits for the rest Those who focus on existential questions And not the obvious answer We're here to Love To feel it Reveal it Expose it Roll with it We cannot earn it Or achieve it We must receive it And be it You know what real love is It's pumping blood through your veins Breathing for you Life being lived Now It is You It is Me It is We

Post this on a mirror, repeat it to yourself. You are awesome and you are enough.

If you like reading or connecting, continue to do so! I write for MindBodyGreen, check out the archives. I write and teach for the Travel Yogi. Read and/or join me in El Salvador! Engage on Facebook and Twitter.

What is You, Me and Yoga Makes 3?

My name is Danielle Marie Robinson. I am a woman living in Chicago, teaching Yoga, writing my experiences and insight, and loving my dogs, my man, my friends and my family. I love to laugh. I really love to eat. Mostly I love to love, and everything good loving entails. I've been profoundly impacted by the practice and teaching of Yoga, its influence has trickled down into every spoke of my life's wheel. My closest and true connections are those gifted by Yoga, whether being the genuinely awe-inspiring students I've met, my humbling and passionate fellow teachers, those who inform and mentor me, my dearest friends and the many interesting human beings in between that share an interest and enthusiasm for living a joyful life. I am so fucking grateful every damn day. And that's where You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 comes in. (side note: I do enjoy a good F bomb, it is only expressed in passion and love, never to harm or offend. let's revolutionize our vocabulary!) What began as a somewhat cutesy play on words has grown to significant depth and meaning in my life. The practice of Yoga is meant to be shared, exuded, reflected, absorbed, and continuously learned and taught. You teach via the way you engage with the world, in how you live your life. It has little to do with the roles of Teacher and Student, and more to do with human to human exchange, how we influence and engage with each other.

You inspire me. I aim to connect and inspire you. There is no me without you. There is no one to teach without open ears to listen, without an open mind to provoke, or an open heart to resonate. It is the same IAMness that Yoga has exposed within me that I am aware of because what I see in you. Just as love is a reflective experience, we need others to express it, we need a symbiotic exchange of positive emotion, teaching Yoga is the same. We need and benefit from each other. I learn from you, you learn from me. It's such a fantastically fucking awesome relationship and the biggest meaning behind YMaYM3.

It is my biggest gift getting to know students, in their practice and often in their personal lives. These are sincerely wonderful human beings and they without a doubt keep the fire lit under my butt to keep learning, to keep improving, to hopefully keep inspiring them, to keep their interest and dedication to Yoga and themselves. To choose to be a teacher and writer requires the feedback and connection with others and I am so impassioned to share what I've learned with such intelligent, kind and open people. I learn from each class I teach and through each piece I write. Feedback is essential.

The number 3 is powerful, prime. It carries many meanings, shares a similar image with the OM (aum) symbol, and is reflective of our enduring cycles of life; a beginning, middle and end. Our breath is the simplest way to recognize and access this pervasive cycle, but at any given moment we feel the energy of starting, of persevering and of dissolving. Yoga restores equanimity as we constantly move through these cycles of life.

You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 is also a bizarro version of the holy trinity. You is my ego, Me is my essence, and Yoga is Yoga. This dynamic exists within me on an everyday basis. I constantly learn from my ego in how to further live from my essence. This has been my present and it will be my future.

I'm compelled as a champion for happiness to invest in my own peace and wellness so I can authentically pass along the knowledge and insight I glean along my way. I am human, fallible, constantly learning, but I aim to live what I'm teaching. I feel so eager and grateful to live each day. I feel better and better in my skin each day. So much of this sense of peace and bliss is thanks to Yoga, but along with crediting the inspiration, I have to credit the inspired: Me. This goes for you too. The better you are each day is due to how you apply what you learn into how you breathe and interact moment to moment. Yoga instills this amazing responsibility, we are in charge of our happiness, of how we perceive our external stimuli, recognizing that how we view the world is merely a mirrored reflection of how we see ourselves.

Together we must help each other feel grateful for all that we were and all that we are, while feeling optimistic and excited for who we'll become. I believe so strongly in utilizing Yoga to empower each other to be our own best teachers, to carve our own unique paths to happiness, and to find collaborations with others to help encourage, uplift, inform and inspire the world, however big or small that world may be. We can begin to see "God" or "Yoga" in everyday life, in simply being, supremely present, elevated, high on Life. So, I thank You, Me and Yoga Makes 3. I need a balance of all to keep me evolving on this journey to an ecstatic, loving, travel filled life where everyday I laugh a lot, I eat well, I give good hugs, I move my body in a mindful way with others, and I breathe more conscious breaths than the day before.

Thank you. Seriously. Let's keep doing what we're doing. Stay connected. I'm fucking stoked!

Here's to a life where we can keep opening our minds, bodies and hearts. Namaste! Below I'm pictured with my partner in Yogis Can Help, Veronica Rottman. We're bringing Yoga and supplies to cancer patients in Cange, Haiti next month. We're humbled, grateful and thrilled to bring our knowledge and compassion to more under-served around this beautiful planet.

I'm teaching with my NYC Sonic alumni Shuli Burke, now a thriving teacher in Boston, on a Travel Yogi Yoga and Surf retreat in El Salvador. It would mean a great deal if you'd celebrate life with us March 9-16, 2013. I do not regret one dollar I've spent on Yoga, travel, meals and laughter with good company, and with memorable experiences that leave me feeling deeply in love with life. Join us :)

I share some insight, humor and Yoga related posts on Facebook. Join the conversation at You, Me and Yoga Makes 3.

I tweet similar musings in 140 characters. Chew with me @mastic8onthis.

danieatslife is being worked on professionals that I am investing my hard-earned dollars from turning Yoga tricks in to take all my previous and current passions into a visually and user-friendly site to stay connected. Please stay tuned.

I've been writing almost weekly since April for MindBodyGreen. If you like anything you've read by me, please feel enthusiastically invited to read my variety of articles there! Thanks for reading and sharing.

What's In A Pose?

First off, thanks for reading. I’ve had this little site going on two years now. I have no clue how to advertise, except sharing with my friends on Facebook (thanks for indulging and embracing). The only part of this that feels natural is writing. I genuinely enjoy expressing parts of my life and ultimately the hard truths I’m learning as a very fallible, but earnest human being. Perusing my archive articles shows me how much I’ve evolved, how much more honest I’ve become, for better or worse. I can release this content into the digital universe and feel good knowing I was truthful and I aimed to provoke thought, laughter, hunger, insight, joy, enthusiasm or encouragement. My intention was and still is positive. I certainly hope that comes across.

So the photo I included (and will ultimately use to trick people into reading my writing) is from this past weekend when I was visiting my family in North Florida. I always love going home, but every time I go back it’s different. I feel so much more removed, no less close to my family, quite the opposite in-fact, but I feel more at home where I am, in Chicago, with my little apartment, my delicious man and my cooky dogs. I feel so much happier, monumentally happier, calmer, kinder and more at peace than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I was able to see one of my oldest, dearest friends in the world. We’ve known each other since the age of 4. My first and longest friend. Growing up, we were polar opposites, in appearance and personality. We grew apart and back together over and over, but who we are now has merged so beautifully together, like I have more of her and she has more of me. We’re very yin and yang. She’s always had such an amazingly open, compassionate heart. And I’m enjoying feeling more like her, more open in heart, less trapped in my head. Maybe I’ve just softened, she’s probably just as awesome as she always was. But we’d both agree in being smarter, more confident and more happy than we were in our younger years.

So now that I’ve given myself permission to be who I want to be; vulnerable, expressive, open, kind and trusting, funny but not acerbic, honest but with tact, my experience of life has transformed. Before, I saw my flaws, my negative traits, my guilt, my doubt. I saw the exact same thing in others. Now, I’m still aware of the negatives, but I’ve recognized and devoted more attention to the positives, including following a career path that may not be financially lucrative, but is beyond rewarding for my mind, body and heart. That choice has made my relationships better, brought truly awesome people to me, and provided a mirror into relating to myself.

Sounding schizophrenic? Stick with me. I realize now that as a young adult, early to mid-twenties, I felt very defined and glued to my labels, to my past personality and interests. I think moving, changing your life and your surroundings majorly helps thrust this change into high gear, but it is totally within the confines of us all to choose a new path for our future. If we want to be happier, we must be willing to change and to accept change. The only thing that never changes is change! It’s true. No bullshit.

I’m observing how annoyed and often bitter I used to be toward people I felt didn’t deserve their lot in life, for whatever reason. All that did was served to poison me twice. There will always be some who are better, smarter, hotter, richer, slimmer, worse, dumber, uglier, poorer and fatter than we are. No, we will not always like these people, but that doesn’t mean they should get a stake in our happiness. Fuck that. Then we’re stuck in this angry, irritable, negative state all the time, closing ourselves off to our potential and to perfectly good people who are out there, not complaining, who choose to be the reason they are unstuck, happy and grateful to have a life to live.

It’s helpful to remember no matter how great or grim our current circumstances, this, too, shall pass. When we accept and embrace change, we learn to roll with it, instead of swimming against it. Again, the only constant in life is change. Embrace the ebs and flows, the highs and lows, the monumentally ecstatic and the gravel below. Something in you must give comfort in hard times, bad days, tough experiences. There is a strength, an intelligence in you that is an unwavering calm amongst any storm. Simply recognize it.

So, what’s in a pose? To me this pose and photograph represents overcoming fear of the unknown. My hand and foot was sinking. I’ve been practicing for 10 years and only recently have become comfortable in this very challenging balance. It was a posture I resorted may not be in my future, for any number of reasons and excuses. Even just a couple of years ago I’d be so critical of myself that even if my mom suggested I do a yoga pose in my bathing suit in front of the water, because the setting is beautiful and it inspires expression, like a big open smile of a posture, I’d avoid it.

Now, I don’t give a shit. I feel strong and more balanced inside, and if I can express my inner joy and my appreciation for being alive outwardly, then why not? There will be people who don’t like it, think it's indulgent (which I can understand but I still don’t care), egoic, or ugly. Who knows? It’s not my business what others think of me. I concern myself with me and the better I am to myself, the better I am to others. It’s just worked that way. I’m surrounded by breath-taking people, they fuel me to keep growing.

Apologies for the cleavage, that pose isn’t entirely gravity resistant. Once I surrendered needing to achieve this specific pose, I nailed it when I was relaxed, inspired and just enjoying the moment. Valuing who we are inside will always project out, it is a force that cannot be stopped. Enjoy it.

The further we sink into the sands of our soul, the freer we are to expand in all directions. Be whoever the fuck you wanna be and give those around you the same permission. Life will be exuberant, the tough times will rattle you less, and the exciting times will encourage you more. Go with the flow, try something challenging and be willing to fail, embrace all that you are and you’ll take yourself far, enjoying the journey much more along the way.

Please feel enthusiastically invited to check out my articles on MindBodyGreen, to connect with me via Twitter and Facebook, and to join me for classes in Chicago or on retreats around the globe in 2013.

Living with Two X Chromosomes

Being a woman sure is interesting. It comes with a huge set of advantages and disadvantages, right off the gate. Because of evolution’s (science, not magic) handy work I’ve been equipped with a startling strength inside, a strength that has equipped me to grow human life, expel it throw a much smaller hole when the time is right, and then repair itself to do it all over again. And because my body has been designed to carry out this biological imperative, it also means I naturally carry more fat and less muscle than my beloved males. So, by virtue of nature I am “weaker” physically on an external level. I can lift, push, pull, carry and destroy less. I cannot help this. I wish I could. I simply cannot, nor do I care to. I’m not trying to win any contests or beat out someone else for some barbaric prize, but what my body can endure inside, kicks the shit out of any man’s ability to pick up a heavy box. I’m not bitter. I hope the tone above doesn’t reflect otherwise. I just wrote a piece on why I love men. And their innate physical strength is a reason. I’m very grateful for them. What I resent for me and my ladies is this existence-long notion that we are overall weaker just because we carry less physical brawn and power. Fuck that. This asshole notion alone is why we’ve seen systematic rebellion amongst women in all societies for years. It is perhaps a great reason for many modern women’s dominant approach to careers and relationships. “I’ll prove to you how strong I am, penis!” I don’t feel this personally, I genuinely enjoy equality, respect and appreciation for us all. Size up a person after you meet them, not before, or during. Individuals are weak, dishonest, lazy, dumb. Not entire groups. Not an entire species! And no one is strong, smart, ambitious or capable “for a woman.” They just are.

Fact of the matter is women are still second class citizens and slightly less than equal to their male counterparts in most countries, even the fancy pants countries like ours. It wasn’t long ago when a husband raping his wife was perfectly acceptable, down right expected. What else would we expect? We’re fulfilling an important role to this man and society, being a hole with which to stuff with spunk and babies. How honored those women should’ve felt, rather than violated, overpowered and abused by the man they were sentenced to live with for eternity. Shut up and take it, lady. Simply because we’re physically weaker and so sexually attractive to men, we’ve been relegated to a near prisoner status in society. Something in our seductive powers and inner strength rings threatening to many of the opposite sex, historically in particular.

Men then (and some now) have yet to realize that our mental capacity is no different. Sure, we have a different balance of hormones and specific functions to fulfill, but our ability to learn and apply knowledge, to think and feel for ourselves, and to yearn for complete autonomy and freedom is 100% equal. So, in most lines of work, it’s a clean slate. A man may be better than a woman at a specific job, and vice versa. Again, individually. A man, not men, may be better than a woman, not women. Recently a strong attempt was made to get a bill passed not simply enforcing equal pay, but at least expecting employers to provide sound reason as to the disparity in pay, ensuring it was not gender-based. Naturally, our 8% approved congress did not pass this bill. Seeing the unprecedented obstructionism our current president is experiencing from the Senate and House, I can only imagine how this same body of people would’ve treated Hillary Clinton. I wish strength and serenity for whatever woman takes that seat first. I certainly hope to see it in my lifetime.

There was an actual debate (amongst mostly men!) whether a young, intelligent woman lobbying for congress to cover her (and other women’s) birth control was a slut. We had to have this ridiculous discussion because a hypocritical, attention hungry, blowhard had no clue how birth control worked and clearly missed the variety of reasons why women take it. Let alone the fact that a woman may actually enjoy having sex before she’s married. Hold the fucking phone! What? No way. Stone her. Did you know that the clitoris has no other physical, biological function other than pleasure? It provides an orgasm for orgasms sake. Look it up. You are fooling yourself if you think a smart, reasonable woman would vote for a man who wants to legislate the use of her vagina. The only ones I know who would are so far gone they’re never coming back. And that’s a shame. Somewhere along the way they believed the man who taught them how to think, and they stopped thinking for themselves. You may vote for other reasons, but that could be any number of men I love trying to reduce my reproductive rights, and ultimately, my voice, and I would not vote for him.

51% of the population, how much of the power? How much of the vote? How many of the voices in power? Not nearly enough. Burnings bras, being sexually rebellious, being a naggy wife or girlfriend, these methods don’t work! We have to walk the walk, vote with our wallets, our ballots and our day-to-day choices. Surround yourself with people who sincerely respect other human beings, don’t give a shit who they love or how they love, and most important, don’t enforce their whackadoo beliefs on someone who lives an entire existence different from them. I do not have a penis and therefore, it is not my business what one does with theirs, and perhaps I should take pause when throwing all men into a box because I clearly don’t have a clue what it’s like to be one. And I don’t care how well read, researched and reasoned you are as a man, you don’t have one iota of credit when it comes to my experience as a woman living today. So keep your beliefs inside and don’t waste your energy worrying about whether someone was legitimately raped or just slightly raped. Seriously??? They’re the same fucking thing. Rape is rape. Most men will never understand the sheer vulnerability in being a woman, so until you do, kindly smile and nod.

Now, I recognize and am grateful to be a Western woman in 2012. I don’t let these issues affect my day-to-day life and happiness, but I’ve come to also expect certain behaviors from men without allowing it to send me into the extreme feminist arena. My ass has been grabbed, my hair has been pet, I’ve been followed on foot and in a car, been harassed verbally, and all of these things continue to happen. I can no longer be upset, I must accept. Anytime in the past when I’ve been disturbed by these occurrences, I receive mainly the same responses, “That’s just how some men are.” Oooookkkaayyyy??? Bend over and take it, bitch. If it crosses a major line, of course I’d call the cops, or call one of my loyal men to save me (because I’m too weak to save myself), but mostly I just accept, brush it off. I let it have little effect on me, because screw them. I’m responsible for my feelings of power, freedom and contentment, no one else.

I’ve just come to realize there are proportions of human beings, like men who are disrespectful or vile to women, and like women who are gold-diggers, that television and media like to showcase; but their numbers aren’t reflective of society as a whole. I’ve met mostly good men and women thus far. Even those who’ve disappointed me were just crappy human beings at the time. They weren’t sexist. I would really love to take a leap beyond our complacency, beyond our lazy acceptance of pervasive inequality and make a small leap into the future. I’d like the voices we hear to be logical, respectful and reflective of the masses and not the fringe. I don’t care what the owner of Chic fil-A believes. He’s afraid of an invisible man in the sky, who knows what place he feels women belong in?

We could easily come into a consensus as a nation: Men and woman are equal, it’s not our business who others love, what they do with their bodies, or how they pursue happiness. We should all be born equal and free, liberated and welcomed to live how we choose, so long as we cause no harm to others. Pipe dream. Just because we don’t agree on a very complicated tax code doesn’t mean we can’t agree on these fundamental principles that make life easier to live. Come on, people.

Leave my vagina alone. We’re happy just as we are.

Danielle Robinson Yoga teacher/ Writer You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 on Facebook Follow: @mastic8onthis on Twitter

I Love Men

This is already a strange piece. Such an arcane statement. Seems obvious and also leaves some questions to be answered. I have many friends and acquaintances, single or taken, who for whatever reason enjoy uttering the phrase "I hate men." I quickly offer the alternative,"You don't like boys, you totally love men." Deciding the worthiness of an entire gender based upon one or two assholes is akin to enslaving a people because of the color of their skin. It's ridiculous. Here's why men are AWESOME:

-Strength. I'm about to move. You think I want a bunch of 120 pound women helping me move? Not really. I want some brawn. I want to watch sweat drip down broad shoulders as they carefully haul my heavy ass dresser up three flights of stairs while I carry a small box of books behind them. Thanks, men.

-Downloose. That's the opposite of uptight. Women, and I include myself in this, can be uptight pains in the asses. We're such planners, what-iffers, need to knowers. Men are much happier taking things as they come and most that I know trust shit will all be ok. I've had many masculine traits since I was very little, but this little gem trickled into my life as I began to integrate yoga daily. Many men do this innately. Chill out ladies, it's all gravy baby.

-Societal obligations. Men, whether they like it or not, are the designated bug killers and home security systems. You hear a crash, no one's sending a high-pitched screaming lady to go check out the scene. You send your man in his undies with a bat, knife or some makeshift weapon to determine the noise was just the drunks falling down outside (we live in Chicago, near Wrigley Field. This is a common occurrence). I'll kill a spider and other small bugs, but if I see a cockroach, I'm calling my dad, uncle, brother, grandfather, cousin, or husband to kill that shit. No fucking way. And I reserve that right because I get my period and that's no fun. Kill that bug, Y chromosomes.

-Simplicity. This could be misconstrued as an insult. I sincerely mean it to be complimentary. We've heard various experts on Oprah and other daytime talk shows run by women that men are single focused, handling one task at a time, whereas women love to multi-task. Speaking from my experiences and observations, multi-tasking gives me a false sense of importance through making myself busy. Whenever I do this, the quality of the task, as well as the quality of my life diminishes. Men tackle one thing at a time and I think in conjunction with women's strengths, this is a good thing.

-Handsome. Usually only men are handsome, some women are too, awesome for them, but I dig the rugged, dirty, sweaty, hairy, chiseled hotness only a man has.

-Honesty. Now, some men (really the boys) are afraid of the truth and will avoid it at all costs, but I argue that either men are more straight-forward and blunt in words than women are, or their inaction and silence speak more volumes than the crazy, manipulative mind-games women can play.

-Easy to please. This may fit under simplicity too, but nonetheless I'd like to speak to a man's neediness versus a woman's. Men don't need flowers, jewelry, gifts, surprises, poems, or romantic bullshit in general. Call it laziness, I call it duh. Life is not about candy or some external showcase as proof of real love. A good person will treat you well every single day, their eyes will light up when they see you, their touch will soothe you, their voice will uplift you, their bodies will satisfy you and their minds will challenge you. Next time you think your man hasn't given you something in a while, ask yourself what you've done for him lately. I know it sounds anti-feminist, but it is not. I am for equality; true, respectful, loving equality.

There are needy men and easy-going women. Men who are afraid of bugs and women who could beat a man senseless if she needed to. I'd never put an entire gender in a box. We're all uniquely awesome and unusually fucked up in our own special ways. I just wanted to throw my men a bone and say, keep doin what you're doin. I dig it.

Thank you. This has been one of my most unnecessary and meaningless articles. Proud to share. Thanks for reading. If this is all you've ever read from me, I beg you peruse the archives, and check out the more serious pieces I have to offer. And the muck in between.

Danielle Robinson Yoga teacher/ Writer You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 on Facebook Follow: @mastic8onthis on Twitter

Check out the highly eclectic wisdom showcased on MindBodyGreen

Forgiving Yourself: A Conversation Amongst Loved Ones

Below is a very short transcript of an actual conversation that happened via text just a few short days ago. It doesn’t matter who it was with, or even the context surrounding this exchange; what matters is the concept of letting go of our past selves, especially our major decisions and mistakes. It’s only important to note this person is in the top five major influences in my life, we love each other dearly, and they’ve always been a major source of encouragement and solace for me. We can often learn more about ourselves from the advice we give others. It is far more difficult to turn that wisdom within and free ourselves from whatever burden we’ve chosen to carry thus far.

Perhaps you can read through this short conversation and fill in your own blanks. What decision or version of yourself are you still carrying around with you today? Imagine if you let it, and you, go. The filter through which you perceive the world just may clear, it most certainly will adjust, and your vision for the future will be renewed. The mechanisms you use to defend and protect yourself will begin to soften, and the darkness you’re so determined to cling to will no longer survive once you’ve made the conscious choice to lighten your load.

Lighten up. You deserve it.

Me: And let go of every single shred of guilt you have left. Each choice you made was the right decision at the time. No more agonizing now. I respect your decision. Fuck everyone else.

Loved one: Wow...thank you

Me: No thank you necessary. I’m telling you the truth and it’s probably something you should hear because I don’t think you tell yourself this enough. Forgiveness of yourself is the most important decision you can make.

Loved one: Still a very difficult part of my past, but I can’t change it

Me: Yes, difficult then, not now. You can release it now.

Loved one: I actually try to work on that because I definitely have a hard time forgiving myself and I know better

Me: People’s pasts define them as long as they hold onto it, as long as it weighs on them. This needn’t be the case.

Loved one: So true...it’s hard to rewire your brain?

Me: It’s not as hard as it seems. I think expressing myself has helped me. You can find your own special way to release it, privately or with whoever else.

Loved one: For sure

While in the midst of this conversation I had no intention on sharing it, with anyone. I’ve never shared one before. This one just struck me, something about being able to reread the words and apply my own insight to the very issues I adhere myself to on a yearly basis seemed so simple and yet so strong and helpful. Most of us are ass kickers when it comes to supporting our loved ones, dispensing salient advice in the right moments, filling another’s heart will compliments we’d never utter to ourselves. What the fuck kind of sense does this make? Sure, be generous, especially in spirit, give your love and goodness to others, but it is whack to neglect yourself. The best teacher you can be for others is to live your own truth, love yourself first and be the light you were born to be.

You can, and should, relinquish the past to the past. Unless you’re currently incarcerated (even so, this is a mere physical imprisonment, your heart and soul are in your hands), the only person holding you hostage, keeping you trapped in a fragile shell of the person you used to be, is you. Free yourself. Forgive yourself. You can. First, acknowledge the moments, the eras in time, the decisions, the attitude and emotions surrounding these memories where you’ve kept guilt, sadness, frustration, confusion, and so on. It could be a severed relationship, a choice to do or not do something huge (go to college, travel, tell someone how you feel), or a mere accumulation of negative muck passed on by others (unsupportive loved ones, bullies, bosses, teachers) that you’ve chosen to believe about yourself to this point. Find some way to express it, release it, burn it. Writing has been so helpful for me, cathartic and eye-opening. Painting has been the same for other loved ones. No one has to see, you just have to become aware and feel how it feels to let it go.

There’s a line in that super famous Gotye song that says, “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.” Isn’t that true? We become so accustomed to feeling blah, to feeling just okay, to feeling negative, to feeling guilty, to feeling afraid, to feeling sad, to feeling inadequate, to feeling uninspired, to feeling less than. Shake yourself up! Break up your repeated thoughts, your emotional patterns, your means of defense, your cycles of crap, and decide today to think, feel, do and be lighter. Forgiving yourself will do tremendous wonders to your tolerance of others. With this breath, let it all go. Take the next breath in, feeling new.

Choose to trust and love yourself first, be open to doing the same with others second, and let this be the first and most important decision you make before you embark on your life each day. You are worth it. You are capable. You can be the reason you love life, the reason you rise above, living in light, rather than being buried under the weight of the world, dying in darkness. This is why the buddha is laughing! He realizes how futile and how transient it all is. This bullshit you complain about could be gone in an hour. Filter through the nonsense, wave bye-bye to assholes and happiness vacuums, and recognize how special it is to be alive and how important it is you enjoy all that you are and all that you have Now.

Grateful for yesterday, blissed for today, encouraged for tomorrow.

Danielle Robinson Yoga teacher/ Writer You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 on Facebook Follow: @mastic8onthis on Twitter Check out some more insight on MindBodyGreen