Despite The Same

Despite my fears
Despite my flaws
Despite my questions
My reservations
Or qualms

Despite the danger
Despite my doubts
Despite the pain
My purpose
Or unheard shouts

Despite my lack
Despite my longing
Despite my insecurities
Or thirst for belonging

Despite my do’s
My don’ts
Or any unconnection
Despite the known, or unknown
Or misdirection

Despite the risks
Or flashing red lights
Despite the monsters
The “might not’s” or the “mights”

Despite my wishes
Or unmet wants
Despite my thinking
Or clouded thoughts

Despite the distance
Or the reflections
Despite the obstacles
Or misconceptions

Despite my demons
My shadows
My ghosts
Despite my wills
My maybes
My wont’s

I
Gave
You
My
Heart

I
Gave
You
Myself

I wish you would have done the same
Despite The Same


        John Francis Anthony Piatelli

©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights Reserved

Touch

       Touch. Vital, from birth, for human development. Essential for bonding throughout life. People who are not touched, and do not touch others, physically or emotionally, suffer a great deal. Touch is the oxygen of our emotional heart. Without it, we die. Literally.  
       Sometimes, I look at people and wonder how often they are touched. Or even if they are touched. There is a guy who works at the CVS near me. He is mentally challenged, and physical appearance wise, not gifted in the traditional sense. I know I am projecting, and in fact I could be completely wrong. But I would wager that he does not have many people in his life who touch him physically. I would wager he has probably never even had sex. That he has never had the intimate tender caress and touch of a woman (or man) who cares about him. And those thoughts break my heart. Every time I see him.
       Whether I am right or wrong about him, I am aware of all the people on this planet who do not get touched enough. Who long for the physicalness of another person so bad that their bones ache. I feel that loneliness from not enough physical contact as acutely as I feel my own limbs. For people who suffer from lack of touch, it is that tactile. And I have been there. And I can go back there just by looking at someone who’s body and face tell me that they yearn for human touch. They wear that hurt across their face like a mask. Across their whole being like an aura.
       The Bottom Line is that touch is an act of love. It is in fact the purest and strongest physical act of love we can commit. Therein lies it’s intense power.
       A good hug can save someone’s life. And enough good hugs can restore a person’s body, mind, heart, and soul  as much as proper nutrition, exercise, a spiritual practice, and a healthy lifestyle.
       Why are we so afraid to touch? Partly because touching is an intimate act. And intimacy, we are told, has to be earned. At a young and tender age, intimacy, with anyone, has huge consequences. We learn early the power of touch. We absorb it’s potency on a level that we often don’t understand until many years later. If we are touched properly, and often, we learn to receive human touch, and to give. We learn physical intimacy. And we are comfortable with it. We also learn how and when to protect that intimacy against others who would use touch to hurt us and violate us.
       Those who are violated by touch, or who are not touched enough, learn different lessons. Those are the people who’s hearts are broken. And who’s pain I feel most deeply.
       I know both worlds. My dad was a toucher. My mom was not. I spent the first three weeks of my life in an incubator, where I was not touched at all. I am an extremely affectionate person. To lovers. To friends. To strangers. I am always touching the woman I love. If she is next to me, I want to be touching her. I hug and kiss my friends. All of them. And if I shake a strangers hand, it is a firm, warm handshake, looking them straight in the eye. I often use both hands, sometimes firmly patting them on the shoulder as I shake. Increase the touch. Increase the connection.
       I want to touch. I want to be touched. I need it. It's one way I connect. The act of touching another person is connection. Literal Physical Connection. It can signify an Emotional Connection as well. It varies depending on who you are touching, how you are touching them, and how receptive or admonishing both of you are. The emotional and physical significance of the touch can be powerful and affirming beyond words. You communicate so much with touch. More than many realize.
       What makes a person an exceptional lover? One critical element is how they touch. A person who knows how to touch another, who pays attention to it, who values it and does it often, is virtually always a great lover. And I’m not just talking about touching with the hands. You touch another with other body parts as well. With your whole body, in fact. You also touch them with your words. With your feelings. With your actions. This gets communicated, in and out of the bedroom, constantly. And it gets picked up on, consciously and subconsciously, all the time too.
       If you want to be a better lover, learn touch. Don’t worry about dick size. Or breast size. Or how much hair you have. Or how much money you have. All that may make you more attractive. But it will never make you a great lover. Instead, focus on, open yourself up to, learn about, become available to, and become actively more demonstrative with touch.
       Believe me. It's true.  


©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and A Touching Amount of Wrongs) Reserved

New Math

       One of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever....experienced....is the transformation of my body. We are visual creatures, and actually seeing yourself change is extremely powerful. Along with the visual affirmation that things are happening, I start to feel different. The physical changes are happening from the inside out. The emotional changes mirror that. When how I look changes, how I feel changes. And my behavior changes. My attitude changes. My life changes. It can all start with the body.
       I know how to transform my body. I’ve done it dozens of times. Taking myself from “I don’t like how I look” to “I really dig how I look” happens in as little as three months, or as much as six, depending on how far away I let myself go. And depending on my level of commitment. The bottom line is that I know how to change myself physically, and it energizes me.
       I wish changing how I think, and how I feel about myself and my life, were as “easy”.
       I’m not complaining. I consider myself fortunate that I was blessed with good genetics and overall excellent health. Mental and emotional change challenge me far more than physical change is what I’m saying. Maybe that is the experience of most.
       There are certainly copious mental and emotional perks that come along with getting my body closer to some physical ideal. Increased energy, a better attitude, more overall zeal for living are all wonderful. And the very way I exist in the world is buoyed by the accomplishment of creating something that was, at one point, just an idea.
       But these feelings of well being are not sustainable unless I go deeper. Unless I continue to work on myself beyond the physical. If I stop with my body, it inevitably ends up as just window dressing.
       Emotional accessibility is as important as physical health. Just as everybody benefits from exercise and proper nutrition, everybody benefits from doing the work it takes to being emotionally available to yourself. And thus to others. What that means is that you are a fully feeling, fully expressive being. It means you aren’t shut down emotionally, but open and expressive. It means you cry when you are very sad, you laugh out loud when you are happy, and you wear that crazy shirt because you love it. At lest that what it means to me.
       It means you freely show love and freely accept love from others. It does not necessarily mean you go around hugging everybody, although some do.
       Being connected to your heart sounds like an ethereal, mysterious, unclear phenomenon. And sometimes it is. But it doesn’t have to be.
       Intimate connection to your heart is the “ability” to feel, a lot, and often. What you do with those feelings is another thing altogether. And the topic of another post. I’m talking here about just allowing yourself to feel. About not being afraid to feel deeply, passionately, and energetically.
       For a while, I’ve been afraid to feel. I go through periods, usually when I’m faced with a big loss, where I shut down the pain of that loss. That starts a cascade, a chain reaction, that gets out of hand unless I regain access to my feelings of loss. Once I shut off to the pain of loss, I shut off, to varying degrees, just about all of my other feelings too. If I am so afraid of that pain of loss that I shove it way down inside of me, it acts like a dam that blocks much of everything else. I don’t get to choose what comes through and what doesn’t. Yes, trickles of pain or joy or other emotions come through, like leaks, but they are just that: trickles. They don’t flow freely. They don’t move. They drip, and they build up, like water before a levee break.
       I’m going through that now. I’m breaking down. The damn is bursting. It sounds destructive, and maybe it is in the sense that walls are coming down. Blocks are being removed. But it’s also a rebuilding. The two can happen at the same time, and often do. The breaking down process itself is actually a reconstruction, because I’m getting to what’s already there inside me.
       Addition by subtraction. Feel more. Be more. By removing the walls. By removing the blocks. And if I can simultaneously acquire new tools and learn new life skills, well then that’s addition by addition.
       I hated math in school, but this new emotional math is just peachy.


©2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and ∫Ω/øß  Wrongs) Reserved
                                                

Mach 2

       A few years ago, when I started my blog, I had my P.A.M. (Physical Appearance Mojo) workin’. I looked great. But I was in a lot of emotional pain. My body was ripped. So was my heart. I called my blog “Muscleheart”.
       I liked the name. It had a ring to it. It spoke to me, so I hoped it would speak to others.
       Four years ago this month, I reconnected with my feelings, after being shut down and depressed for over a year and a half following the unexpected death of my father. My heart opened up and literally exploded with emotion. It was full and open and expressive. And my body looked good and felt strong. It occurred to me that a man can be “buff” and still be a deeply feeling, emotionally available, highly expressive being. The muscle and the heart were not mutually exclusive. I was living proof.
       I wanted to share that message, because it’s a message that lots of men, and women, need to hear. I believe that then. And I believe that now.
       So many men (and women too) armor themselves from feeling. They do this by shutting themselves down emotionally. They just simply condition themselves to stop feeling very much. This often physically manifests itself with an armoring of muscle. The outsides are supposed to match the insides. Tough. Hard. Can’t be hurt. A rock. A man’s man.
       But I experienced this as a contradiction. An unnecessary paradigm. Because the truth was that no matter how much muscle I had, I still hurt like hell on the inside.
       Almost four years later, my circumstances are similar, although with some major differences. My heart is once again experiencing an opening, after being shut down, to varying degrees, for varying periods of time, for some time. I have recently lost my other parent, as my mom passed away just over a month ago. My body is not quite where I want it to be, but it’s getting there. I’m working harder at it than I have in months. And I hurt. Sometimes a lot.        
       My writing helped me then, and it will help me now. There is so much in my heart, in my mind, that I want to express. More than that, when I write my best, I sometimes feel less like a lone individual pouring his heart out and more like a conduit for some greater intelligence, some deeper truth, some higher power. I want to experience that again. And I want to share that again.
       Whilst simply writing brings me riches beyond measure, there are treasures untold when I share what I write. When I express myself. when I share myself, through my writing, through my music, indeed through my living, I feel more fully alive. So that’s what I’m going for.
       I will keep the focus on myself. I will get back to my Muscle. I will get back to my Heart.

© 2012 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and Supersonic Wrongs) Reserved.