The Fuckin' Good News

I’ve hit a bump in the road. And that bump is me.

A wise man told me that he starts his day by looking in the mirror, pointing at himself, and saying “YOU are the biggest problem you’re gonna face all day”. 

Ain’t that the truth.

Getting smack dab back into the real world has proved more jarring than I anticipated. 

Currently, I'm an absolute raw nerve. That’s not a bad thing. But it's very challenging. Sometimes I don’t know where to put, or what to do with, all the raw emotional energy that seems to be constantly charging through my body like sizzling electric current. I’m still learning to live life from this other side.

Before treatment, there was always an undercurrent of sadness in me, no matter what. Sometimes it was barely perceivable, but I was constantly aware of it, like a stone in my shoe. That’s not there anymore. And that’s a bloody miracle. Another thing that’s stopped are the barrage of negative thoughts and voices that used to constantly race through my head. That’s an even bigger miracle. Both of these miraculous events have me considering petitioning for Sainthood. Yeah. That would fly. 

My heart has always been huge. I’ve always been sensitive. I feel very deeply. And now, there’s so much more space for all of that. Nature abhors a vacuum, so, that space is now filled with even more emotional energy. More feeling. More love. More sensitivity. More everything. I’m still navigating my way through that. Still learning how to manage it. 

That’s truly a great thing. I know it’s improved my writing, not to mention, well, my entire fucking life. Everything feels more vibrant. Everything looks different, tastes different, smells different, feels different. The colors of life are screaming at me, even more than before.  It’s sounds are clearer, louder, more beautiful. As an artist, the potential to translate all of that into my creative endeavors is positively delicious. 

Instead of going directly from my transitional living space in LA back home to Boston with an after care plan in place (which is normal protocol), I went to Phoenix to hang out a bit. Yes I know. Far be it from me to do ANYTHING according to protocol. That maverick approach, however, does not always serve me. As we shall see. 

Before I left Los Angeles, I knew I would be going back there to take care of some business and do at least one more week of treatment. What I didn’t know was what these two weeks in Phoenix would be like. Or what I would be like, when I returned.  

Well, now I know. And there’s Good News. And there’s Bad News. 

Bad News first. I’ve always been a “Bad News First” guy. It suits me. When I boxed in college, I was a pretty damn nasty counter puncher. That means I will take a punch (bad news) to give a punch (good news). I have a good chin, so I could take a hard shot. Then I could nail you with one of mine. The tough part about that approach, however, is that you can get battered and bloodied in the process (you should have seen me after a few of my fights). I’ll get my licks in, but I’ll take some hard knocks to do it.

Being here in Phoenix for two weeks, I’ve taken a step or two backwards. I’ve lost a little bit of ground; slipped into some old maladaptive behaviors. Gotten some blood on my chin. Split my lip. Maybe even broken my nose. For the fifth time (the first four times were literal, not figurative).

The Good News is that none of this negates any of the progress I’ve made, or diminishes any of the work I’ve done. In fact, it clarifies, it reinforces, the shit that I still need to get. Despite the fact that I’ve done nothing short of change my life, I’ve still got a lot to learn. I will always still have a lot to learn. That’s My Life Path. Even though I’ve come home to myself, I’m still getting used to the place. It’s a big house. Actually, it’s a freakin’ mansion. 

And, I still have be on top of my ego. Literally. There’s a BDSM term, “Topping From The Bottom”. It means that, in sexual role playing power exchange scenarios, the person who is submissive, the “bottom”, is still trying to control, or “top”, the scene. Usually because they have serious control issues, and can’t let someone else take the reins, even when they have agreed to it. That’s kinda like My Ego. He’s a total control freak. And He thinks he knows everything. He does not. Arrogant Motherfucker. 

The process of recovery from mood disorder, from anything, is not a linear one. It’s bumpy, messy, beautiful, really. I have seen, I have experienced, so many people I love, change through this process. It fills my heart. I have been a part of their journey, and they have been a part of mine. We have become intertwined in a way that nobody who has not been through it will ever truly get. Nonetheless, we will share our story. Because sharing our story makes this planet a better one. Sharing the magic we’ve been through can help the lives of everyone who listens, so much better.

And that’s the Fuckin’ Good News. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights (both top and bottom) reserved.

Emotional GunSlinger

It's 2:49 AM, Pacific Standard Time. I'm in Scottsdale, Arizona. I'm awake because I want to be. Because I choose to be. Because of my burning desire to write. Not because I can't sleep. 

Writing often feels like drumming to me. Both are co-creations between, Me, You, and Source. The UnHoly Trinity. I play drums, I write, as a means to express myself. As a way to communicate. As a way to connect. To Myself. To You. To Spirit. When I drum and when I write, I let you see me. I open up and let you peek inside. When you watch me drum or read my words, you engage with me. Even if I can't see you. I can feel you. Like a circuit of High Voltage Energy, we give and take with each other, perpetually. Energetically. Spiritually. You participate in this dance. You are indispensable. 

Writing, and drumming, without sharing, has it's place. Honing skills in private allows us to develop the magical repertoire we need to shoot from the hip. And shooting from the hip is essential. There's thought to it, yes, but it's not about thought. It's about heart. I'm an Emotional GunSlinger. And, like a GunSlinger in the tradition of The American Western, we get it on from the inside out. We fire from the heart and go with our gut. 

I'm not much for small talk. I'd much rather know what we feel, what we think. I want to know what turns you on, what you love. Who you love. What excites us? What makes our blood boil? What ignites our passion and fires our intensity? What could we talk about all night, the next day, and into next week? What are we so curious about that we always want to know more?  

I get this trait from my dad. He hated small talk. Even if he just met you, if the conversation didn't evolve into something more interesting than the weather within fifteen minutes, he would get bored and disinterested. That doesn't mean you had to get heavy with him, but you had to get real. About something. Actually, if you love talking about, say the weather, that would work for him. If you are passionate about meteorology, he would pick up on that and jam with you. I'm a huge weather freak. Not the "What a nice day it is!" Kind, but the kind who's deeply fascinated by the science behind it. Like a kid who could spend the whole day playing with Legos, I'm insatiably interested and curious about the what, the why, of the weather. And lots of other things.

During treatment in transitional living, I had the opportunity to meet with the director of The Camden Center (the facility I was at), Dr. Jason Shiffman, twice. That's rare, because most clients don't get any one on one time with him. I had a situation that presented the chance to meet with him on two occasions, and we got on like a house on fire. His dog was with him the second time we met, and his dog's name is Io (pronounced "eye-oh). I recognized that name as one of the four Galilean moons of Jupiter, and we started riffing about astronomy. He asked me what I did, and I told him I was a drummer. Jason is a musician as well, and that lead to a long talk about drumming and the fact that he met Stewart Copeland, the drummer for The Police (and one of my biggest influences).

I told Jason that my friend, and former Genius Coach, Otto Siegel, once asked me, "Clint, do you know a lot about a little, or a little about a lot?". I immediately told him that "I know a lot about a lot". That's because of my passion and my curiosity. It drives me to dig deep, and it drives me to dig deep about what fascinates me. And a lot of shit fascinates me. So I'm driven by both depth and breadth. 

The point here is that because Jason and I got real with each other quickly, we connected right away. We were both passionate and fascinated by mutual subjects, and when we talked about them, our mutual fire burned hot and bright. The half hour we spent together was not only incredibly pleasant for both of us, but it went by in a heart beat. But, in that heartbeat, we felt each other. We saw each other. We got each other. And there is nothing more beautiful to me than that. 

One of the most painful consequences of opening up so that another can get you, and allowing yourself to get someone else, is, if that relationship ends, there is big sense of loss. The deeper you dive with another person, the closer you get. And the closer you get, the more connected you feel. So if that connection gets broken, for any reason, there is an energetic loss. There is now a hole inside of you that that person occupied. Sometimes, it's a big hole. Because that person meant the world to you.

I'm feeling that right now. About someone who I was going to share my life with. We were both Emotional Gunslingers with each other. I never felt so connected, to anyone, before. And she's gone. That hole is still there. It fills slowly.

I keep shooting from the hip. I keep laying it out there. It's how I roll. Roll with me. If you read me, stick around. I need you. 

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

Song Of The Heart

Do what makes your heart sing. Take actions, both large and small, that truly resonate with the vibration of your spirit. Behave in accordance with The Call of Your Essence. Play the Unique Song of Your Own Heart. 

What does that mean in real life? Well, for example, it means painting your house bright purple, because you just love that color. It means going for that part in the play that is, apparently, way beyond your ability and experience, but that you love so much you just have to go for it. It means not wearing a shirt, or wearing THAT shirt, just because you bloody well want to. Because, it makes your heart sing. And when your heart sings, you can hear it. I can hear it. And in that, you create the opportunity for us to connect. You create the opportunity for us to love one another. 

I believe that, at the very deepest essence of all of us, there's is the Universal Common Denominator of Spirit. At the very depths of each of us, we are pure love. Yes. That I believe. However, since the reality is that, the vast majority of us seekers will never get to the level of pure enlightenment like The Buddha, or Jesus, or Mohammad (choose your prophet),  there is value in connecting to that within us that is just as real. Just as valuable. Just as nurturing to our own journey, as enlightenment. I call that part The Music of Our Soul. The song of Our Unique Self. Some may call that, in rather dismissive terms, Our Personality. 

There is lots of psychobabble about personality. I don't care about that right now. I'm describing our personality, our True Personality, as a combination of our earthly selves and our other worldly selves; and believe that it is in fact very valuable to our journey. I don't dismiss it. Maybe some will transcend the personality to achieve true enlightenment, but again, the reality is that most of us will never get there. So why not embrace a more realistic paradigm as we seek higher ground?

My definition of Personality in this context is kinda Zen; it incorporates the divine and the human, where both are equally sacred. When I am acting in accordance with my highest form of spirit and my highest form of physical self, then I feel truly divine. We are all One, like the ocean; but even the ocean has individual molecules, atoms, quarks, and quantum particulars that are each unique. Each of us are like those individual unique particles. Don't completely eschew that to become completely one, with anything, or with anybody. Keep that piece of You that is all you. Because people love that about you. People love that about me.. And in this physical realm, in the nuts and bolts of the human experience, The Unique You is a big factor in what makes you connect to those who love you. Being your own individual self functions as your unique calling of becoming part of the whole tribe. If not, then we are all the same; identical quantum particles in one big ocean of oneness. And that sounds pretty fucking boring. 

Developing a self that is true to our nature is like writing the song of your heart, the song of your own unique essence. It's playing the music of who you are for the world to hear and see and experience. And, the truth is that some people are not going to like that song. Just like nobody likes every song on the radio. Musicians who write music from their hearts, and then bleed it on the stage, can not be concerned with who's going to like it and who's not. If they do, they're just trying to please the masses; their just writing vapid, soulless pop hits. Which is probably why I don't like a lot of Top 40 shit. Most of it doesn't have any soul.

We all want to be loved. I want to be loved. But I want to be loved for who I am. I shoot for authenticity, as best I can. That's what people truly connect to. Or not. Make it real or go home. And that process is a perpetual work in process. We are a perpetual work in process. I want to be in that game for life. I want to be in that game with myself, and with you, for life. We can play together. Sing together. Jam together. Love together.

Love yourself, or don't. Let me tell you, however, that the cost of not loving yourself is high. Too high. I've learned that the hard way. We all learn that the hard way (some harder than others). When I push myself away, I push you away. When I don't sing, nobody hears me. Nobody sees me. I don't buy that old adage that "You can't love somebody else until you love yourself". I cry Bullshit on that line. Because for most of my life, I have experienced a lack of self love. And don't tell me that for most of my life I haven't loved anyone. Or that others haven't loved me. 

What I do know, however, is that the kind of love I experience when I increase my love of self is much different. It's fuller. More beautiful. More explosively vibrant. When my song is more in harmony with my heart, it's a passionate cry of my own truth at maximum volume. And if loud music isn't your bag, that's okay. We can still find a way to jam together. The stage of human love is an infinitely vast one.

Just don't expect me to turn it down.

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

39 Days At Clint University (Body Addiction part 3)

The telling of our own story can be a sacred process. Whether we Write about it, Sing about it, Talk about it, Teach about it, Paint about it, or Fuck about it - which, heads up, lovers everywhere, we do all the time, whether we know it or not.

Telling our story becomes Sacred, in any endeavor, when we consciously communicate something deep about who we are. Because, when we consciously share a piece of ourselves, we create the potential to truly connect to someone else. And in that connection, in that vulnerability, we open up the potential to heal. And we all need healing. Because we are all in pain. We all have wounds. And we all want those wounds to stop bleeding.

There's magic in getting Yourself to the page, or the canvas, or the stage; there's magic in getting it out there, in any way you choose. The Magic is that, in that process, Your Journey crystallizes itself. It becomes clearer, more real, more accessible. Not only to others, but more crucially, to yourself. In the very telling of it, you Really Get It. It might be the only way you Really Get It. The art of digging deep into yourself, of putting your journey together, of synthesizing events, feelings, relationships, and thoughts, is itself positively transformative. 

As I write about the last six months of my life, I get the gift of embodying my own Hero's Journey in a way that would never happen if I didn't choose to express it. I share my tale in the hopes that it will move others, yes; that it may inspire, motivate, enlighten, or in any way benefit another person. But I primarily do it for me. Writing about it gives me the chance to pull it apart, to look at it, to understand it, to embody it, and to glean from it that which would never be possible without the act of having to communicate it.

There are times when I literally say to me myself "What the hell happened to me?". But, instead of coming form a place of self-judgment (which is often the case when we say those words), it comes from a place of empowerment. 

In residential treatment, I was looked upon as a leader, and indeed, was one. I was working on myself as hard as I could. I was totally into it. My energy was electric, my attitude infectious. I wore my desire for growth like a second skin that you could see, touch, taste, and smell. That actually disturbed some people at first, who said to me "When I first met you, I thought to myself, 'This guy can't be for real' ". But once they got to know me, they knew how real I was. How real my desire was. They got that my passion, that my love, was indeed genuine. They let their guard down, and we connected. 

I took the work as seriously as I've taken anything in my life. It was a conscious choice, but not a difficult one. Because I was desperate; my heart, mind, body, and soul all knew that, in order to kick out the jams of my own maladaptive thinking and dysfunctional behaviors, I had to get deadly serious about it. Because if I didn't, there was a chance that I would die. Maybe not literally, but figuratively. I'd be dead on the inside. As it was, I was close enough to the Grim Reaper Within. I didn't want an official house call. 

The whole experience of reaching my bottom, pulling myself back, and powerfully connecting to a entire community, has been profound. It is living testament, at a time when I needed it most, that I could be all of myself with a community of people who didn't yet know me, and be embraced, loved, and respected for all of me. I brought it all: the bright lights, the neon glow, the shining love, the huge heart, the deep thinker, the intelligent scholar, the very playful kid, the wild dude, the rocker musician, the vulnerable teddy bear, the maverick free spirit, the flawed substance abuser, the frightened & hurting little boy, the heartbroken lover, the powerful man.

My light shined very brightly, and I shared that light. Quite a turnaround from about six weeks before, on my birthday, one of the lowest point of my life, when my light was so dim a firefly would outshine it.

For the first time in my life, I fell in love with who I am. Warts and all. So did the people I was with. And it had nothing to do with how buff I was (because I was anything but). They didn't care what I looked like. Neither did I. They cared about who I was. About what I was. They responded to what I brought to life, from the inside out. They responded to what I brought to their life. They responded to how much I loved them. It was like being in 120 intimate love relationships at once. I cared so much about these people, and I showed it. They cared so much about me, and they showed it. We showed up for each other, dozens of times a day, for 39 days. They changed my life. And I changed theirs. 

Tell me that's not the most beautiful polygamy you could imagine. 

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

Clint & Little John

A very powerful skill I developed during treatment was the ability to parent myself when I most needed to. Most adults have difficulty connecting to their inner kid. They find it difficult to really let themselves go, to release their inhibitions, to give that kid space in their life, and to allow that kid to come out and play. That is not my challenge. I'm very connected to my inner kid. He's alive and well, shows up all over my life, and contributes a lot to my personality. 

 One of the ways I define a person who is whole is that they have a balance between the elements of themselves that are childlike and the elements of themselves that are adult. When I am at my best, when I am most fully alive, when I am living my life at maximum throttle, I achieve harmony between my inner child and my adult, my Man. When I'm in balance, both are present simultaneously; both show up powerfully; both provide valuable contributions to who I am. They compliment each other perfectly.

In my last intimate relationship, my love paid me a beautiful compliment when she told me how much of a man I was. I could also be the boy with her. What she was able to do was help bring out the best in me. She made it easy for me to be my full self, or at least the fullest self I was capable of then; that's what people who truly love us usually do. Being madly in love with the woman I wanted to share the rest of my life with, my Man knew he had to show up, and he wanted to show up. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be there for myself. And, she brought out my kid as well. I was incredibly silly and playful and childlike with her too. Again, I brought a fuller self. I know I did the same for her. I brought out her Goddess and her little girl. That was part of the magic between us.

Notice I didn't say "Flawless Self". I was far from perfect. I fucked up plenty. But I was more balanced. More whole. More fully Me. The Kid and the Man both showed up, simultaneously, powerfully. And the Man could usually parent that kid, if need be, when I was with her. It's when I wasn't with her, when I was alone and left to my own devices, that I got myself into trouble being unbalanced. At that period of my life, when I wasn't with her, my kid ran the show far too often.

My Man didn't know a lot about parenting my inner kid when that kid was suffering. Whenever this kid was in a lot of pain, I was in a lot of pain. I had trouble separating myself from the kid when the kid was in real agony. That's when My Man would often disappear. In treatment, I learned, literally, to bring my Man, my adult self, into the conversation and talk to this inner child when my inner child acted up, when he was in pain, when he was afraid, when he didn't want to do something he needed to. My parents, god bless them, weren't very good at that, so I had no role model on how to parent myself when things got really difficult or really painful. I had to create that parent from scratch, with the help of a very skilled therapist. 

The crazy thing was, when I dug deep, my Man knew exactly how to talk to this kid. I knew what to say and how to say it. Because I knew this kid so well, loved him so much, and knew he needed my Man. And because the Man in me was there and well developed (my ex-love saw that, everyone in treatment saw that, and so have lots of other people in my life). My man could show up for other people, especially when they were in pain and needed a strong, loving presence. It was myself I had trouble showing up for. I needed lots of help accessing that Man at some of the times when I needed him most. Like when my kid was suffering. Like when my kid was trying to run the show. And like when I was depressed.

One of the biggest "Aha!" Moments whilst in treatment (one of biggest "Aha!" Moments of my life, actually) was the realization that the constant negative self talk within my own head wasn't my adult talking. It was my kid. For all these years, when I would hear that voice, I had assumed it was my present self. It isn't. I started telling myself I was no good pretty young. I've often said I'm a much happier adult than I ever was as a kid. That kid was afraid, lonely, didn't like himself, felt unloved, unworthy, and unacceptable. That voice stayed with me. That voice was always in my head; sometimes just as background noise, like a tape loop you can't turn off, even when I felt good and things were going well. And sometimes, that voice was as loud as fuck, all I could hear, and drowned everything else out. When I learned that that was my kid, I found a way to talk to that voice, to that kid, as a Man. As a parent. The more I did it, the better I got at it. It's another practice I will continue for the rest of my life. 

I got an assignment to write a letter to my inner child. I called this child "Little John". A perk of changing your name when you get older is that, when you talk to your inner child, you can refer to him as your former name. It actually helped me separate the kid from the adult in me, which, could be challenging when both share such a strong presence within me. I wrote this letter to "Little John" as Clint; as his parent; as the Man I am today. 

When I got the assignment, I let the idea percolate and marinate inside me for a few days before actually writing it. WhenI did sit down to do it, it was like magic. The words pored out of me. It felt as though I was a channel. It took me under two hours to write, and it was over eight long legal pages long. And once I started writing, I didn't stop until I was done. No editing. No rewording. I did it long hand because I had forsaken all electronics during treatment. 

Writing that letter was truly transformative. When I read it to my group, the experience was profound. My therapist called it "A Masterpiece".

I'll be sharing direct excerpts from that letter in upcoming posts. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All Rights Reserved.