MotherLand (part 1)

As adults, virtually all of us recreate intimate love relationships that mirror, in complex ways, the childhood relationship we had with our opposite-sex parent (Woman/Dad, Man/Mom). As adults, we do this in an effort to “get it right” this time. We try it again, and want to fix whatever didn’t work, once for all, and live happily ever after. 

There is crossover as well. Meaning that our relationships with our lovers is also a function of how we related to our same sex parent. For example, my dad was a very affectionate, demonstrative, loving man. I learned that it was okay for a man to show his emotions. With woman and with men.

Most of this is unconscious. When we make it conscious, we can do something about it. We can pull it apart and find out what the hell’s going on in the depths of our hearts, in the recesses of our minds, that drive most of our behavior in relationships (especially the less than stellar behavior). When we dig it up and make it conscious, we have the ability to make different choices.

In my post “Clint & Little John”, I described my experience of developing a stronger dialogue between my adult man and my inner kid. I literally had to create a father, from scratch, who knew how to talk to and what to say when Little John (my inner child’s name) was suffering and in lots of pain. I had to create that parent because my dad wasn’t good at this at all. His method of getting me to feel better when I would come to him in tears would be one of two ways. Either he would try and convince me that the situation really wasn’t that bad (such logic rarely works on an 8 year old having a meltdown); or, worse yet, he would try and talk me out of how I felt. Neither methods validated anything I was experiencing, or helped ease any pain. 

It came from love, because my dad really did want me to feel better. And that was all dad knew how to do. But kids can’t understand all that. All I knew as a kid was, that, whenever I went to my dad when I was really upset, I usually felt worse afterwards. So I stopped going to him, or anybody else, when I was in a lot of pain. 

What about mom? She was, god bless her, no better. My mother was not at all comforting or nurturing if I went to her in pain. Unless I was physically ill. Mom was then a source of great support. Maybe because physical illness is concrete, tactile, and can be measured with a thermometer (remember the rectal ones? Those were a joy). But, tears and cries of emotional pain and hurt?….much more tricky, for a lot of people, not just my mom. She didn’t hug, she didn’t console, she didn’t offer much of anything in that department. She didn't know how. She came from a family of 9 kids. And her mom worked her ass off as well. Sorry. You can't be there for 9 kids emotionally and hold down a job. Even Wonder Woman would strike out there. So mom was out too. 

I hold absolutely no resentments towards my parents. They loved me and did the best they could. So often, people are reluctant to do this type of work because they believe it will dishonor their parents. Actually, this work eventually leads us to love and respect our parents even more. But you have to walk through the fire to get to the gold. That's just the way it works.

Which leads me to the work I’m doing now. It’s Very Heavy “Mom Stuff”, and how that shit manifests itself in my relationships with women. And it is a motherfucker (how could I not use that word there?).

This is the very deep work that I am now facing: the stuff at the very bottom of my emotional hole. I’ve been aware of lots of this stuff, and done considerable work on it throughout adulthood. I’ve learned a lot about myself from it, and it has helped me have progressively better relationships with my intimate partners. But, there is some stuff so far down the hole, I’ve had to do some serious digging. And digging can be very painful.

Follow me on my journey through this work. I hope it inspires you to dig deep and do whatever you need to create as much positive energy as possible in your intimate relationships. Not only will we love more fully, more completely, more beautifully than ever before, we’ll do it in a healthier way. We’ll be more mindful and more aware when we love our special someone. Our relationships will become less about recreating our past and more about creating something new and amazing and special with the one we love. 

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

Leviathan

My recovery from trauma and depression, and all the maladaptive behaviors that go with it, is akin to a deep dive into a black hole. I wasn’t sure what was at the bottom of that hole, but I was willing to jump. Because if I stayed where I was, at the precipice of that dark, cavernous maw, my life wasn’t going to get any better. In fact, it was going to get worse.

So I took a leap of faith. The ride down has been beautiful; also painful, and the most challenging thing I have ever done. I made great progress. I got better. I healed. I inspired people and impacted lives. I kept going, and the deeper I dove, the better I got. 

Recently, I had a breakdown. Like I hit a sharp lip on the way down the hole.

And fuck, does it hurt.

It’s battered me like nothing else has yet. It’s bloodied me something fierce. It’s opened up my deepest wounds; wounds so old, I can’t remember where I got most of them. Wounds that I knew about, but that only bled occasionally. Now I’m hemorrhaging. Now, I have no choice but to heal these wounds. 

I’ve spent most of my adult life either running from, or bandaging, these deep, massive cuts. I, foolishly perhaps, thought they had scarred over enough so that, maybe, they wouldn’t open up so bad again that they would bleed all over my life.

I was wrong. 

Now, I’m up against it. Up against that which I knew, eventually, I would have to face. I’ve opened a wound that I knew I would have to heal.

The core wound is Abandonment. Specifically, early childhood abandonment. And all the other wounds it creates.

In technical terms, it comes under the umbrella of “Developmental Relational Trauma”. It happens early in life and continues to get reenacted. I mention that because, a lot, if not most of us, have this. Some of us have these cuts much deeper than others. Some of us, for a myriad of reasons, aren’t as effected by them. We all develop coping mechanisms; some, more effective than others. In adulthood, this trauma manifests itself most intensely in intimate love relationships, and the way we attach to others in those relationships.

This is my Core Trauma. I thought I had done enough work, picked up enough tools, and enough skill with those tools, to deal with this one more effectively.

Wrong again.

So I have to dive deeper still. Into the very darkest depths of this abyss. I have more diving to do. I’ve got more work, to do. 

I knew I wasn’t at the bottom yet. I just didn’t think I was this far from the bottom. Maybe I’m not. Maybe it just feels that way right now. Doesn’t really matter. Because I’m not stopping, no matter what. 

I could look at this like I’m even more fucked up than I thought. There are moments, I still do. But that sentiment won’t last. Because if there is one thing I have been, through all of this, is tenacious. I’ve faced every fear with a voracity I didn’t know I had. 

I will eventually see the opening of this gash as another amazing gift. I will get through this the way I have gotten through everything else I’ve faced over the past three months. I will come out of this with more healing, more growth, and a higher version of myself. This, just like everything else I’ve faced, will contribute to my being far more free.

But right now, it just fuckin’ hurts.

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

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.