Yoga Porn

If you're a human being, yoga is good for you; just like proper nutrition, resistance training, and mediation. There is a spiritual element to yoga that, even if you aren’t spiritual, works its way into you. Somehow, the practice synergistically enlightens you: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

And, yoga is Sexy as Fuck.

Oh Yes. Yoga has a sexual component. 

Yoga might even be the New Porn. 

Yoga has become more popular than ever. And rightfully so. Because it works. Because it’s beautiful. Because it offers us something extremely valuable. And, because it's sexy.

Just like Weight Lifting In the 1970’s, Aerobics in the 1980’s, and Circuit Training in the 1990’s, Yoga in the New Millennium has taken its place as a way of life for millions. It’s become a much needed cultural phenomenon.  

Yoga has made its way into pop culture. Whenever anything becomes so popularized, a piece of it morphs. The essence of it stays the same, yes. The essence of yoga is, well, Life. But, for a proper definition, ask an advanced Yogi. Because I’m still a neophyte. Any definition I offer will just be a rudimentary paraphrase of its larger truth. 

In this age of unlimited instant visual stimulation, thanx to the internet, 10,000 hours of quality television programming a day, (cough), and a media onslaught of eye candy like never before in human history, we’ve got literally millions of images, available, at any moment, of beautiful women, and men, practicing yoga. Their bodies are absolutely stunning: Muscular. Lithe. Supple. Flexible. Barefoot (foot fetishists like myself are absolutely thrilled that yoga is done without shoes or socks). Modern yogis in these images are in physically demanding positions. They wear body clinging, tight as fuck clothing, that shows their gorgeous physiques to maximum effect. Or they wear next to nothing. Both of that works for me. And for millions of others.

More importantly, yoga classes are everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Soon, they’ll be offering them at 7-11’s. This means that yoga is now easily available to anyone who wants it. More exposure is good for the practice. It means more people can benefit from it. And, as this post proves, it means that it opens itself up to creative interpretation. So be it. Welcome to Planet Earth. 

The bottom line is that, if you don’t get at least a little sexually excited looking at women, or men, practicing yoga, then your libido is probably asleep at the wheel. And, dare I say, Yogis know this. This is not an “accident”. Part of the very reason yoga has become so popular is because it touches a sexual nerve. Just like weight training and aerobics did years ago. It’s great for us, yes. It’s benefits are proven, yes. And, oh baby, is it sexy.

This is in no way a bad thing. Maybe it is to some purists. But those purists may need a little attitude adjustment. 

I’ll put my money where my mouth is. I’m a Santa Claus purist. That means that the image, the symbol, the spiritual significance, of Santa Claus, is sacred to me. Ridiculous for a grown man, maybe, but true. I am aware, however, that my view of Old Saint Nick is not shared by everybody. If I got my shorts in a knot every time somebody took a shot at Santa Claus, or lampooned his image, I would be one miserable fuck at Christmas. But I’m not. I love Christmas. Because I embrace all of it. 

And, at the same time, I keep my own vision sacred. Embracing change and grounding yourself in your own unique vision are not mutually exclusive. Anybody who tells you otherwise just hasn’t tried hard enough. Or, they’re a snob. 

You can be a snob about anything. Whatever your own Sacred Pursuit, it is open to snobbery; be it Yoga, Santa Claus, Music, Food, Money, Social Status….pick your poison. The common denominators in all snobbery is that snobs have a superiority complex, and they have difficulty embracing change. Like when minorities start making lots of money. Or when “real” musicians start playing rock music instead of jazz. Or when jokers like me get into Yoga and find it sexy.

Well, NewsFlash, Yoga IS Sexy. So is rock ‘n roll. Let's deal with it. Or don’t. Your call. I’m gonna continue to practice. I’m gonna continue to see the physical, mental, spiritual, emotional, and sexual beauty, in yoga. 

And I’m gonna continue to go for yoga babes. Because they totally rock my world.

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

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.

Balanced Motorcycle CD Mind Love

Balance. How do we get it? How do we maintain it? Is there such a thing as “too much balance”, where our steadiness can be an indication that we aren’t taking enough risks? 

Actually, as I write this, I’m figuring it out. Maybe my frame of context is wrong. If I use balance metaphorically, say, as in riding a motorcycle, then it helps translate the term of “balance” into the nuts and bolts of life much more concretely than the abstract concept I’ve been writing about. This is one of the most beautiful things about writing; I actually come to new insights and connections about what I’m writing, precisely because I’m writing about them. Figuring it out on the fly. Kind of like riding a motorcycle. And speaking of motorcycles….

Balance on a motorcycle is critical. If you lose your balance riding on one of those bad boys, you can crash. And that can be mildly or tragically disastrous. If I look at my life like riding a motorcycle, it makes sense. Sometimes, I see balance as a rather staid, prosaic, even downright boring, concept. But that sort of thinking needs to be examined. Because it is potentially indicative of something I learned about in treatment called a “Cognitive Distortion”.

We all have Cognitive Distortions. It’s a function of humanity. Some of us have more than others. Those ‘some of us’ usually end up in treatment, recovery, or the halls of 12 Step Programs. No matter. Nobody is free from Cognitive Distortions, or “CD’s,” as I call them. And we can all get a better handle on them.

Cognitive Distortions are exactly what they sound like: thinking gone awry. Maybe I’ll do a whole piece on it, but for right now, as it relates to “Balance” (oh yeah, remember that?), let’s just say that I need to be aware of how my mind is working. Because when I do that, and only when I do that, can I direct it. Only then can I direct my mind and allow it to work for me, as opposed to against me. And that’s very important; I learned just how important over the past three and a half months. 

Those of us who are big, heavy, deep thinkers, we have a wonderful mind. A beautiful mind. When I sit down to talk to you, look into your eyes, and off we go, part of what I love about you, part of what you’re showing me, is that beautiful mind. And part of what I’m showing you is mine. I don’t ever want to lose that. I don’t ever want to discount that. Your mind, my mind, is indeed, beautiful. And, Our Minds, are, like, well, many things. Our Minds are like Fire: because fire can cook our food or cook ourselves. Our Minds are like weapons: in the right hands, they can serve us; in the wrong hands, they can destroy us. Our Minds can be like bad neighborhoods: Don’t go there alone. The Mind, like Money, is a wonderful servant and a poor master.

Jesus, there I go again. Off on another fuckin’ tangent. Part of my process. I’ve gone from “Balance”, to “Motorcycles” to “Cognitive Distortions” to analogies between “The Mind” and “Weapons Of Mass Destruction”. See, THIS is exactly how MY mind works. This is exactly why I have no idea what to call this post. This is exactly why I have a writing coach who keeps me focused.

Which, TA-DAH!, leads me back to “Balance”. And as it relates to one of my favorite topics, Love.

When I am with a woman who is Grounded, Centered, and Balanced, she’s really good for me. And I’m really good for her. Because I am a constant reminder that she needs to fly. I am, in fact, The Gold Standard Poster Boy of Flight. Which is precisely why I need a woman who has her pretty little feet (that I constantly touch, kiss, and pay attention to), on the ground. Ultimately, in our mutual respective unbalancedness, we balance each other.

It’s times like this when I fall in love with writing all over again. 

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

If The Devil Made Me A Deal

I wrote this last October, the very day after My Angel and I split up. We were both in so much pain. It didn't seem real.

Suddenly, there was a hole inside of me so big that I felt completely empty. Completely lost. The questions didn't seem answerable. So I turned to my heart, to my soul, and to my writing, to give me what I knew my head never could.

Sitting there, crying at my computer, I, somewhat ironically perhaps, felt the undeniable surge of Male Warrior Energy; an archetypal fire that burns in the DNA of every man. This is the Juice that we feel when we go into battle; a beautiful, primitive, powerful, primordial joo joo that gives us the courage when we stand between the woman we can't live without and any fucking thing in this or any other world that threatens to harm her. In that moment, I literally felt what it would be like to battle to the death, to give my life for, My Angela. Because in that moment, I would have. Absolutely. Without regret. Without but a second of hesitation.

Gotta say, I never felt that shit before. 

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.