SuperFly's Eleven

There's a scene in the movie Ocean's Eleven where George Clooney's character, Danny Ocean, surprises (shocks, actually) his ex-wife Tess (played by Julia Roberts) at the restaurant in the very hotel he's scheming to rob blind. I remember when I first saw the movie, something about that scene hit me so hard between the eyes that it felt like my third chakra was having an orgasm. In the moment, I wasn't focusing on my inner experience; I was way too into what was happening on the screen. Later, I pulled it apart, as I usually do with such powerful episodes. My takeaway, in a nutshell; "What fuckin' balls".

Back in late March of this year, that scene came up again during a therapy session. I've mentioned before that one of my challenges early in treatment was to more strongly identify with my adult man and integrate him with my inner boy. It wasn't that my adult self wasn't already there and underdeveloped; it was that he sometimes didn't show up when I needed him most. He needed some serious coaching in that, and other things.

I needed work on converging my exuberant, vibrant, sensitive boy with my powerful, wise-minded, more emotionally mature man. All too often, I literally experienced these two parts of me as separate people. And these two didn't know how to relate to each other very well. They loved each other very much, but didn't know how to communicate. Think of a father and young son relationship where the two have difficulty talking, sharing, and getting each other. The father is responsible for that kid, so he's gotta man up and learn how to show the boy that he loves him, will protect him under any circumstances, and allow the kid to express himself, in all his childlike glory.

Simply put, I had to grow up. And I had to grow up without losing the boy. My fear has long been that if I really "grew up", I would lose the boy in me. And this fear is not an imagined one. You see it all the time. Men, as they mature, often lose their sense of play, their sense of awe and wonder, their curiosity, their ability to let it all hang out, their passion, their imagination, their joy for life. They become overly serious, less expressive, more stoic, more distant. They lose that Je ne sais quoi that was alive and well when they were kids. 

I consciously never wanted that to happen to me. Ever. At any cost. Partly because I so identified with the boy, loved him with all my heart, and let him run so free within my life (in this context, the tag line is "In Healthy Ways"). I picture this metaphorically as a huge field, bordered by a forest, where a little boy is running and playing with wild abandon. He's insatiably curious about all the flowers and fauna he encounters. He's climbing the trees, and examining their leaves and bark and limbs like he's looking at them for the first time. He's building a tree house. He's exploring, and genuinely wowed by the experiences he's having. He's playing, pretending, creating, on the fly. Well I never wanted to cage that boy. I never wanted to put him in a playpen, no matter how big they playpen was. I wanted that kid to advance the limits, test the waters, and actually open the envelope (not just push it).

What I did need to learn is how to better parent that kid. And to do that, my man had to learn to communicate with him. To show his love, not just proclaim it. I've learned to bring that man into my life, integrate him with the boy, and have them so seamlessly one that they no longer feel like two separate people in the same body. I couldn't function anymore feeling so splintered. I had to be the whole, unfragmented trunk of the tree, all the time. And, paradoxically, I had to integrate that on an unconscious level so that I could consciously access the man in times when he wanted to bolt. Times when I needed him most. It's a process, and I'm well into it by now.

Circling back to Mr. Clooney, he represented, in that scene, many of the attributes that I admire, respect, and want to emulate. The scene itself is brilliant. From an artistic perspective, it's very well conceived, brilliantly written, and marvelously acted. But for me there's way more to it than that. I was reading between the lines, identifying the subtext, drawing out the unstated feelings, digging up the emotional content, getting inside the characters, and using that information to serve me. I was, in a word, "Repurposing" that scene so that it gave me something I wanted and needed. It was giving me a partial blueprint for the man I want to be, the man in parts I already am, and the man I am becoming.

Join me for part two, where I get into all the gory details.

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

I Invented Fire

I don't write much non-fiction. When I do, it's usually something steamy. 

I’ve invented a Brand New Literary Genre: “Auto-Biographical Unmanifested Erotic Non-Fiction”. This is a technical way of saying, “I will create this romantic experience someday”. 

Actually, I’ve experienced parts of this story already. Just not all of it. Yet. But I will. 

©2017 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. Al;l; 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.

Bring Your Goddess. Bring Your God.

Sexuality fascinates me. When I start promoting my brand, helping individuals and couples create better sex lives will be one of my brand's components. Specifically, assisting others get to what turns them on, drives them wild, brings them closer, and creates more connection; then assisting them in manifesting that. I want people to bring more passion, fire, intensity, playfulness, intimacy, sense of adventure, and love, to their intimate relationships. I've been doing that for years with myself and my lovers. And the results have been, well, damn fuckin' good.

Years ago, I stopped tying to figure out what's behind the cornucopia of my sexual turn-ons. One of my favorite questions is “Why?”. The question of “Why" leads to great understanding. And I'm big on understanding. I want to understand what I'm into. I want to understand you. I kinda want to understand everything; I'm insatiably curious. On a deeper level, understanding is a path for connection to whatever, or whoever, I want to know better. Why do stars explode? Why did T-Rex have such puny forearms? Why did you do that?

Sometimes, however, "Why" gets in the way. For example, as much as I love to dissect music, I don't ask myself why I love or hate a song. I may really dig the drum beat, the guitar lick, the bass run, the way the tune was mixed. From a technical standpoint, I enjoy picking music apart. But falling in love with a song is an emotional response. A tune either hits me in the heart or it doesn't. I leave it at that.

One of most valuable lessons I've learned is that, if you each put the other person first in the bedroom, you're going to create mad fireworks. Instead of focusing on your own pleasure, focus on your partner's. I get off just as much, usually more, knowing that she's feeling my love and lovin' what I'm doing for her. If you both do that for each other, you're taking a big step in co-creating an explosive sex life. If you both know what really turns you on, are comfortable with it, and can share it with your lover, you're nourishing fertile ground for fantastic love making. And, you're building your mutual temple for sexual discovery and sexual empowerment. 

It all starts with intimately knowing yourself, sharing that, and wanting to know your partner the same way. Both of you have to Bring It. Or else it's the sound of one hand clapping. And that just doesn't do it. 

An appreciation for beauty is vital. We can all cultivate an appreciation for beauty, across our entire lives. When you cultivate your appreciation for beauty in nature, for example, you're simultaneously cultivating an appreciation for beauty itself. Your nourishing your love of art, in all it's countless manifestations. When you bring that to your intimate love relationship, you're cultivating an appreciation for yourself, and for your partner. Your lover is beautiful. Tell them that. Often.

As much as I appreciate the beauty of the male body, I'm not sexually attracted to it. But I find the male physique just as aesthetically beautiful as the female physique. I just don't want to hop in bed with one. 

The female form...Sweet Mama!...is a breathtaking creation of artistic elegance and grace. I love everything about a woman's body. When I'm with a woman, I pay attention to all of her. Including what's inside. I could write indefinitely about what I love about a woman's heart and mind. There's so much beautiful happening within. But for this writing, I'm sticking with the physical. It's a totally incomplete picture, I know, but roll with me here. I've only got so much of your time.

Her hair. Her eyes. Her forehead. Her ears. Her cheeks. Her lips. Her mouth. Her tongue. The nape of her neck. The whole of her neck. Her shoulders and arms. The smoothness of her back. Her hands and fingers. Her skin. Her sides, between her stomach and the small of her back (usually incredibly sensitive). Her tummy. The slopes of soft flesh just below and on either side of her navel, running down to her happy trail. The curve of her hips. Her juicy bum. The sweep of her back. Her thighs. Her calves. Her legs. Her feet. Her toes. The way she smells. The way she tastes. The way she sounds. The way she feels. The sound of her voice. The way she looks at me. Her prana. I could go on and on...

The first step in all of this is opening your heart. If our heart's aren't open, it hinders our appreciation of beauty, and it blocks intimacy. If it's closed, opening the heart up is a process, so give it time. And do the work. It doesn't happen all by itself. Sometimes, our heart explodes when we have a life event that throws gasoline on the smoldering fire that is our heart. That has happened to me a few times. But even after that, the fire has to be fed. The work (and the play) have to be done. The flame will dwindle if it's not stoked.

Bring your Goddess. Bring your God. Bring your passionate, sexy, on fire, most loving being. Integrate your most primal self with your highest self.

Bring It All to the bedroom (and anywhere else you get it on). And then enjoy the fireworks.

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

Digging Up A Body Image Disorder (Body Addiction part 3)

In my last intimate relationship, my lover noticed that, for a while, I became a little distant. That “while” coincided with the time span of my obsessive compulsion to get my body where I wanted it. I didn’t see the connection between distance and getting in killer shape. She noticed it. She felt it. But I wasn’t aware of it. And I certainly couldn’t explain it. 

I can now.

When my focus becomes my body, it leaves less space for other people. Especially my significant other. I learned that in a Body Image Disorder group. I didn’t know I had a BID before I got into treatment (just add this to my list. If I wasn’t so healthy, I’d think I was totally fucked up). I thought that, when I hit the gym and the cardio hard, and really watched what I ate, I was just kicking the ass I needed to get into shape. I was indeed doing that, but when you have a BID, things get far more complicated. 

Body image disorders are relational. They stem from, here we go again, a lack of nurturing, mirroring, and attunement in childhood. If we don’t get enough of that, and lots of us don’t, it can, sometimes, manifest itself as a body image disorder. As kids, if we don’t get what we need, we can believe that there is something fundamentally flawed about us. I did. Deep down, I thought I was, literally, a Defective Model. 

I carried that Defective Model bullshit into adulthood. I didn’t consciously feel that way most of the time. I didn’t act that way most of the time. But it was always there, somewhere very deep. And, when we get older, if we believe that we are fundamentally flawed, we can make the unconscious choice to go to our bodies to “fix” it. This makes sense, because our feeling of defectiveness is abstract. The body is concrete. It’s something we can alter, and actually see the results. Our body is our physical connection to life, our membrane to the world. So those of us with BID's unconsciously believe that, “If I just looked better, I would be more lovable”; no matter how loveable we truly are.

I was also a fat kid (this just gets better and better, doesn’t it). It felt beyond awful to be ridiculed and shamed. So when I discovered, in my teens, that I could do something about not being fat; in fact, I could do something that actually made me look….damn good, I took to it like a crack whore to, well, crack. 

There is some good news here. Being a heavy kid and never wanting be heavy again creates a very strong drive to be fit. And, for virtually my entire adult life, I’ve been very fit. In fact, I look and feel better today than I did at twenty-five (I’m 54). So there’s the gift in the wound. There’s always a gift in the wound. But if you don’t heal the wound, and you can’t heal it by having a great body, the wound is still there. 

Combine the fat kid syndrome with a body image disorder, and I was an accident of exercise and militant eating waiting to happen. It wasn’t about the actions of exercising religiously and eating right as a way of life that was the problem. Plenty of people do that in a healthy way. The problem was how I attached to it. I attached far too much of how I felt about myself to how buff I was. So I developed a mild to moderate obsession about being really fit. 

Being buff, however, does feel great. And not just physically; but mentally, emotionally, even spiritually. By working my ass off, educating myself, and applying great discipline, I made an ideal a reality; like creating a great career, or crafting a beautiful song. I had achieved something very difficult, so there’s a powerful sense of satisfaction. It fundamentally boosted my self-esteem, self-confidence, and sense of self. And there are more endorphins constantly screaming through my body, even long after I exercise. I looked and felt better than most men half my age. I felt more connected to my body, and more connected to life. Looking and feeling the way I want powers up my prana, my “life force”. It fills my heart and soul with positive energy. It feels like electricity is surging through me all the time. That’s spiritual. I know, because I was aware of it. I felt it. It was visceral. It was real.

However, there was a dark side to that. A dark side that not everybody shares. That dark side is that it became too consuming. Again, if I’m that consumed by this, or by anything for that matter, there’s less room for you. It’s akin to being a workaholic. If so much of your energy and so much of yourself goes into your work; if you over-identify yourself with your career, the loved ones in your life pay for it.

In my last relationship, I was very loved. I felt very loved. More so than in any relationship I ever dreamed of. But deep down, I still had that wound. I knew I wanted to look better. But when I unconsciously believe that I can fix something on the inside by looking better on the outside, I’m in for trouble and a rude awakening. And I’ve known, for many years, that you can’t fill an internal hole with external dirt. But if you’re not aware of that hole because it’s unconscious, then it’s a blind spot. Everyone’s got blind spots. That was one of mine.

The Great News is that, Clint, "You've come a long way, baby!" (Remember that ad?). I’m currently once again getting in killer shape. But I’m not consumed by it. I’ve turned this unconscious pre-occupation into a conscious choice. I no longer attach any of my self worth to single-digit body fat percentage and a muscular physique. 

I’ve had the privilege of working extensively with Ari Winograd (www.bddclinic.com), who, literally, wrote the book on body image disorders, “Face To Face With Body Dysmorphic Disorder”. He has educated me, impacted me, and been a powerful ally in my healing. And before I worked with him, I made tremendous progress in residential treatment to develop myself from the inside out. I feel better than I ever have in my life.

Finally, on a very personal note, I want to say, I’m sorry Sweet Angel. The last thing I ever wanted to do was create even an inch of distance between us. The last thing I ever wanted to do was make even an inch of less space, for you.

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