The Lessons of Hedonism

Precious gems, minerals, and Mother Earth herself, are all formed by heat, fire, pressure, upheaval, and complex cataclysmic processes.

So, in many ways, are we.

My privileged and beautiful existence has been starkly punctuated by plenty of trauma. Trauma that has partially molded me, formed me, and shaped me, into who and what I am today.

It’s taken me a long time to wrap my arms around that; to fully embrace the traumatic events of my life, not under a veil of cynicism and anger, but as a process of transformation.

Strongly hedonistic by nature, my mercurial proclivity is fundamentally drawn to the indulgence of pleasure, sometimes regardless of consequence. Give it to me, give it all to me, and give it to me, right now. Fuck the torpedoes. 

The hard lesson remains that life is not all about that endless pursuit of pleasure. Although I never want to lose that wanderlust, it does not define me. It will not continue to be The Tarot of My Life. I’ve tried that. The journey is fun. Then it’s not. I know where it ultimately leads, if given full, unbridled reign. And it’s a dead end.

Pleasures of the flesh: oh baby, do I love those. Pleasures of the ego: well, those feel damn sweet. Pleasures of all of that which is outside of myself; you will hear no complaints from moi. But all of those have a shelf life. And a rather short one. Which means that, if unchecked, my life simply becomes about looking for the next buzz.

These days, my life is no longer just a vehicle through which I can satisfy my desires. My life is expanding into a vehicle through which I can take those experiences and teach others the lessons I’ve learned, the insights I’ve gathered, the wisdom I’ve gleaned, and the knowledge of self I’ve stepped into. 

I’m glad to have been there. I’m grateful that I know what it feels like to go way too far. I’m thrilled that it has taught me so much. I bask in the wisdom that, such precious lessons are meant to be shared.

We teach what we most need to learn.

Ay-fucking-men.

Many of us go through life never embracing such wanton desires. Many of us never know what it’s like to push the envelope so far that it no longer resembles an envelope. If I’ve been on the other side, it’s because I’m meant to share the joys and pitfalls and wisdom of such a traverse. My journey is thus not just a vein attempt at self-pleasure. It’s a also a tool to teach something to the world, so that I can contribute something to the lives of others. 

The message I keep getting, over and over again, through all my recent upheavals, is that Life is now asking me to Go Big. To share even more. To Step it Up. 

The last two years have been a barefoot walk though fire. Like gems, like precious stones, like the very bedrock under our feet, I am constantly being formed by fire, by turmoil, and by upheaval. By the embrace of mother earth and father sky. By the very heavens and by the very ground itself.

My metaphysical experiences of both crying aloud whilst burning through a volcano, and smiling hysterically as I careen down a smoothly paved road in a Ferrari whilst getting a hummer, have taught me more than I ever realized.

Rumi said that “The wound is where the light enters”. I would add that, once the light enters, it becomes our calling to beam that light back into the world. Only then, can we truly connect. Only then, do we create from our hearts. Only then do we love in the way of the divine. 

©2018 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Game On

 

Watching the last Super Bowl, with my beloved Patriots down by a whopping twenty-five points, mid-way through the third quarter, I remember checking in with myself. I asked myself "Why haven't you given up?". I couldn't answer that question. I couldn't answer "why". So, I asked myself a question I could answer. I asked myself "Have you given up?". No. No, I hadn't. 

In that moment, I knew something I couldn't articulate; but not being able to articulate it didn't diminish the power of it's conviction. The whole experience was quite familiar to me. As a child, I was often aware of things I could not articulate. I was an incredibly sensitive, aware, emotional, astute, deep feeling, deep thinking, little fucker. I felt like I was picking up 100 channels while all of my peers were picking up less than ten. I constantly experienced and felt so much that was far beyond my capability to describe, and it frustrated the fuck out of me. Sometimes, I still feel that way today. As an adult, I've gotten better at managing it. Not always. Just sometimes.

Watching the Patriots get dismantled in the last Super Bowl, I was aware of an inner belief, that, fuck me running, I could not describe. I just sure as shit knew it was there. And I sure as shit knew I had to hold onto it. Don't ask me why. I don't have a clue. Nor do I care. When you know something that deep; in your bones, in your cells, in your molecules, in your atoms, in your quarks; when you know it there, you are willing to bet your entire experience of life on it. Because, without your own very personal experience of life to call yours, what do you have? Nothing. Absolutely Shit Ass Nothing. So Life becomes worth that. Every time.

Fast forward to my life today. For most of the past year, not long after The Super Bowl, in fact, I have been in treatment. For depression. For Anxiety. For Trauma. For the maladaptive behaviors that are a result of such afflictions. For addiction. I just relapsed, again, failed a piss test, and got discharged from my last facility.

And yet, here I am. I have not given up. I know something inside of me that I can not explain, that I can not describe. Just like when I was a kid. Just like when I watched the last Super Bowl. Maybe it's as basic as survival. Maybe it's about rising up against something that is still trying to kill me. And I won't let it. Depression tried. Trauma tried. Addiction is trying. Hell, my own brother and sister tried to kill me emotionally when they sued me. They all failed. I'm still here. Fuck You.

This whole experience must be positioned as fuel that propels my life. I will take all of the agony, all of the failure, all of the doubts, and questions, and sleepless nights, and desperation, and tears, and I will repurpose them for my own growth.

I was a child of the suburbs. I have lived a very cushy, privileged life. Yet, I am in touch with my Inner Street Fighter. I've known him, I've felt him, often before. He's helped me survive. That's his job. He loves me up when he has too, and he kicks my ass when he needs to. He's been with me this whole trip.

Game On.

 ©2018 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Here In This Wonderland

The last places anyone should look to for answers about who and what they are in the bed room are societal and cultural norms. Even the word "norms" feels like an oxymoron when it comes to sexuality. The only norms I can agree on is that any intimate sexual acts must be fully consensual, by adults. After that, all bets are off.

What turns me into a hunk o' burnin' love may flat line you completely, and vise-versa. Who is to say what goes and what doesn't between my sheets? Certainly not society. Certainly not culture. The only person that can answer that is me. And my partner.

In American culture, men are sexually socialized to think of themselves first. Women are sexualized socialized to think of themselves second. That creates a bad paradigm, and I immediately call "Personal Foul" and administer the maximum penalty of fifteen yards. Men and Women, don't ever listen to that shit you hear through conventional wisdom (another sexual oxymoron). Listen to your heart, listen to you mind, listen to your loins. The answers for You are there.

Luckily, through years of frustration and masturbation, I learned first hand (pun absolutely intended) what turned me on, what made my motor run, what drove me to beautiful fits of passion. And, luckily, I didn't pay much attention to what society or culture was telling me. I don't really know why, except to say, that, from a very early age, I felt, I knew, I was different. I embraced that difference, because I had nothing else that made any sense except how I felt.  Everything else in my life felt like white noise. 

Through a combination of nature and nurture, I eventually just trusted what was inside. Through a combo of being very sensitive from birth; from having a very emotional father; from being able to lean on nothing but my own internal heartbeat, I eventually just trusted what I felt. Which is not to say I embraced it immediately.

It was, it always is, a learning curve. My first few girlfriends were far more traditional, for lack of a better term. And that's to be expected in the early stages of finding your sexual identity. I knew, from the age of about....six...that I liked the concept of restraint, that I had a foot fetish, that the entire female body was one beautiful erogenous zone, that I whatever I shared in the sack was a fun adventure, an opportunity for exploration. Those tenants served me well then. They serve me well, now. 

Breaking it down by gender, I offer you this: Men, it ain't all about us. She is your partner, even if it's just for the night. Don't make it all about you. Please her. Give her what she wants. That means paying attention to her, a skill most men sorely lack. If your encounter is to be a true experience, there must be common ground of give and take. Of reciprocation. Focus on her. You will be taken care of. If you're not, you always have the option of speaking up. Difficult for many, even us men (yes, ladies, we struggle with that too, even in the bedroom), but well worth the risk.

Men are taught that we should always know what to do. But how the fuck can you always know "what to do" when you are making love to a unique individual? We can't. So bring all of yourself. Bring your undivided attention. Bring your passion and fire. Bring an attitude of gratitude for this woman who has chosen to spend the night with you. Not in the guise of manipulation, but in the reality that the two of you are creating something special. Tall order? Maybe. But that cultivates your highest aspirations of being a great lover. 

Women: play with us; tell us, show us, subtly, what you want. If we are paying attention, we will pick up on that and respond accordingly. Women are taught that expressing what you want in the bedroom is not okay. Again, bullshit. And, we men are not mind readers. You think we should be, and worse, you think you are. But ladies, you are sorely mistaken on both counts. 

There is the potential for a beautiful balance of mutual communication here. Honor that. Any man just in it for himself is just frankly a bad lover. Call him on that. Teach him how to be with a woman. Because if we don't get it from you, where the fuck are we supposed to get it?

I'm calling for a shift in the paradigm. Open up to each other. Don't stay locked in your societal roles. Break out of that shit. It does not make you less of a man to explore her and not know just what to do. It makes you an attentive lover. It does not make you less of a woman to speak up and guide us. It makes you more of what we men want: a woman who will play with us. 

Bottom Line: you are in this together. It is about the other person, first. If you both do that, who knows where it will lead? But if you stick to what you've learned, I promise you, it may be good for a while, but the tread will wear off that tire quickly. And you are left with the same old shit: Looking for that someone who wants to get to know you, honor you, give to you, and communicate as a means to intimacy, but has scant clue how to go about that.

Become vulnerable. Become less than perfect. Become a vast wonderland of exploration. 

© 2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Chemistry (The Art of Kissing part 2)

When I was a teenager, sex scared the crap out of me. Kissing, however, did not scare me at all. It seemed completely natural. No clothes had to be taken off. No blood had to be pumped anywhere special. You just had to move in close enough, and then take that risk. 

The chemistry of kissing another person is like the chemistry of well, chemistry. It works, or it doesn't. When there is romantic, sexual chemistry between you and your lover, there is a magic, a je ne sais quoi; an undefinable, beautiful, almost mystical element. 

Chemistry between two people can be cultivated, but it can't be created out of thin air. There's a reason it's called "Chemistry". 

In the kind of chemistry we learned in high school, at least two elements come together, meeting in a beaker, or a test tube, or some other medium. Some of those elements interact with each other, creating colorful, beautiful, dynamic reactions. Other chemicals don't react with each other at all. They flatline. And there's nothing you do can about that. It’s just the way it is. Or isn’t.

Someday, I’m going to do a video series on kissing, Of course, I’ll need a female partner who’s up for that, and it probably won’t happen until I’m with the woman I marry. But I would really like to do it because, well, it would be really fun. More importantly, I believe I can help people kiss better. Just like I believe I can help people have better sex lives. There are things I have learned, things I know, that may be of servitude to others. 

"Passing It On" feels like a duty of our life wisdom. Our Life Wisdom is an amalgamated gift we learn through powerful experiences, our desire for knowledge and enlightenment, an unquenchable curiosity, and the school of hard knocks. My belief is that we all have some responsibility to pass that on, in the hopes that somebody else may benefit from it. It’s the same way I felt when I lived in The Purple House: “What good is paradise, what good is love, what good is anything, if you don’t share it?”. 

When I kiss a woman, I bring all of Me. Just like I do when I play drums. Just like I do when I’m doing my best at life. When you kiss your lover, bring all of You to it. Don’t take it for granted. You have a special "thang" that no-one else has. So does your lover. If you both Bring It, if you both Bring Your Thang, you get to discover if you have that precious quality of chemistry. 

We can learn something emotional and beautiful from the physics of elemental chemistry. In elemental chemistry, when two elements react, they don’t bring just a piece of themselves; they bring it all. And when they bring it all, and there's a reaction, something new gets created. When sodium reacts with chlorine, for example, it creates something else: salt. By themselves, sodium and chlorine are completely different. But when they react, they manifest a whole new entity.

People do the same thing when they love each other. They create a relationship; they create something new, something special, something that can not exist on its own. It takes a joining. A connection. It takes the union of two separate, unique, one of a kind, creations. 

Think of people like the naturally occurring elements on the periodic table. Except, instead of there being a limited number of unique, naturally occurring elements (92, from Hydrogen to Uranium), the number is unlimited. Because each person born is like a new, unique, element. Each person born adds something new and unique, to the chemistry of people. To the living of life. To this world. To finding others who you beautifully explode with.

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLCm and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved. 

Going To Eleven

There was a time when my most glaring flaws, my many imperfections, my deepest pains, and my maladaptive thinking and behavior caused me great shame. Even after all the work I had done previous to getting into treatment, there were nuts I could not crack; scars I could not look at; wounds that would not heal; things I could not share, with anyone. No matter how loving, accepting, non-judgmental, and supportive they were. Some of that shit, I wasn't even aware of. 

That time is coming to an end. 

Through the years, I have continued to dig into the depths of my heart. I get to new places, stay there for a while, and then start digging again. The journey never ends. But that's okay with me. Because the gifts get better, the deeper we go. The treasures get richer, the more we risk. The gold gets brighter, the more we share. The more we connect. The more we open up. The more we Love.

I have known that for years. But knowing that doesn't mean you're ready to do it. At every level, you have to bump against something, or somethings, that you can't go around, under, or over. You just have to go through. At this point in my journey, I am reaching the bottom of that level. I'm having lots of breakthroughs. I've seen The Other Side of this. And it's freakin' beautiful.

The healthiest, most loving, most compassionate, wisest people I know have gone through the darkest places and the most fiery of hells. They have sunk so far down they're off the radar. And they have climbed out, one excruciating rung at a time, to new heights; with new strength, new resolve, new lives. 

I am gradually becoming one of those people. And I'm proud as fuck about it.

My perfectionism has less and less of a grip on me every day. My fear and shame fade into memories as The Ghosts Of My Past a little more every time I forge ahead. I'll meet them over and over, for the rest of my life. But I won't ever be their slave again. They will win some battles. But I'm winning the war (I'm not big on framing this journey like a war, but sometimes, that's what it feels like).

Where before I thought "Who's going to love me if I sink this low and have to go into treatment?", I now wear this whole experience like a badge of honor. I wear it with profound gratitude. If I continue to lead by example, as I've done since my first day of treatment back in March, I will impact lives, I will make a difference, I will live on purpose. 

I was a Universe Denter long before I got here. Throughout my life, loved ones have made that clear to me, countless times, with their words, with their actions, with their love. I knew I was able to do that, just by being fully myself. But I forgot it all too often. My self hatred would rise up and tell me that, "You may be able to dent another's universe, but there is Something Fundamentally Wrong and Unfixable about you". It would tell me that, deep down, I was broken and couldn't be helped. I've thought that since I was a kid. So the voice was loud and persistent and sometimes all consuming.

That voice is all but gone. 

It doesn't ever go away completely, but when it does come up, I just don't listen to it. I have turned the volume on that crap down to a whisper, and turned up the volume of Who I Am. Who I Really Am. What I Really Am. To paraphrase Nigel Tufnel from the movie "This is Spinal Tap", "I go to eleven". 

I'm under no delusions that I have anything licked. There are more levels to go. There are always more levels to go. Levels I haven't even dreamed of. But those levels always lead back up. The deeper I go, the deeper I dig, the new challenges and pains I face, as much as it might hurt to go through, become roads to new places of awareness, joy, wisdom, strength, passion, and purpose. Instead of roads to hell. 

Yeah. I'm having a good week.

©2017 Clint Piatelli., MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.