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Sunday, February 28, 2010

Hello? The power of CONNECTING and how technology has changed things

Technology has changed dramatically in the past 50 years. It's easy to forget for anyone under age 35, since we were adapting still to the world while some of the most dramatic changes were occurring. But I'm reminded of how much technology has changed upon any technological interaction with my parents. I adore my parents. More than is probably necessary (as if that's calculable). But, like many of their peers, they are technologically challenged.

My mother checks emails on a daily basis and since she has been a good typist since just after suffrage, and just before computers, she has no problem with that. My father still creates graphs with paper, pen and a ruler. (A younger version of him would probably thrive on excel... Oh, wait. That might be me.) Anyway, I think I've received maybe 2 emails from my father, tops. He doesn't like to type nor does he type well. His primary use for the computer is to play solitaire, though ultimately I think he prefers real playing cards for that.

Aside from computers, my favorite of their techno-shortcomings is they way they use their mobile phone. For the first year of owning a mobile phone, my parents would first look at their ringing phone like they weren't sure it would really work. Then they'd press the answer button very carefully and distinctly. Next they would bring the phone to their ear and say, hello? with a significant upturn at the end of the word... creating a subtext that could only mean, I'm not convinced this will actually work since we're no where near a cord or rotary-phone and there's no operator on the other end of the line, but I'm just going to try it out to see...cuz my kids tell me it works.

While they've mostly gotten over the, hello? syndrome, they still are averse to most newer technology. Neither one text messages nor do they have any interest in a "smart" phone. Can't blame them on that one. The only reason I got one was because of work. I used to like being away from my computer when I was away from it...now I just regulate that by separating myself from my "smart" phone when I'm not actually using it.

Additionally, their aversion to technology makes me think about how technology has affected our lives. Certainly, lives have been saved due to mobile phones providing a link to people in danger or stranded (when they can get a signal, that is). Also, they have probably reduced the amount of murders of stranded motorists accepting rides from predatory strangers (though statistically these deaths were relatively low). I know from first-hand experience that they expedite work on television and film sets, however they also disturb things sometimes...ringing at inopportune times and causing interference with sound systems. But they also seem to have reduced our attention spans, and I think they've expanded the rift between teenagers and well...everyone, as it seems most teenagers have their heads down more than half of their waking hours - either texting, chatting or my/face-networking.

But here's the strangest thing for me. Our primary use of technology, besides for pornography, which still might qualify, is to connect. But we all seem more disconnected. This increased technology seems to have reduced our real, personal interaction. But maybe the sentiment was similar about the telephone... that it would decrease letter writing and the very intimacy, though somewhat delayed, that letter-writing provides in the thoughtfulness that usually goes into letters. I'm the only girl I can think of who actually exchanged loved letters with a recent boyfriend. For my female friends it's been over ten years for most of them since they've written or received any kind of hand-written love letter.

So, what's the conclusion? Barring some catastrophe (which some say is coming between now and 2012), I don't suspect things will change much by way of going back to older forms a communication. Nor do I necessary think they should. But we could all probably stand to look at each other in the eye more. Separate yourself from your mobile phone. Write a letter. Call from a land-line. You're much less likely to drop your call.

But mostly, please remember why this technology exists in the first place. To CONNECT you to people, whether new friends, relatives, acquaintances, or colleagues, who, like it or not, affect and impact your life, and you theirs. Remember this all comes down to CONNECTING.

And for goodness sake, call your parents...but let it ring a few times.




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Saturday, February 27, 2010

Popping the question is better than porn!

My friends Carl & Jen got engaged today. Carl set up this full-on surprise-staged production. Both of their parents came to town (also a surprise), and we, their family and friends, gathered at The Silent Movie Theatre in Hollywood for the event. As a filmmaker, I suspect Carl wanted to have this surprise proposal at a film-able location. Also, he hid the surprise by claiming Jen and he were invited to a film festival screening of a short film they worked on. Anyway, the last time I stepped foot in The Silent Movie Theatre, prior to this afternoon, was six years ago while working on an documentary.

Picture it...

This is one of my first documentary film jobs in Los Angeles. Prior to this job, I'd done a very buttoned-up documentary television series on NBC about the court system in San Diego. I'd also worked on a few other random documentaries, and on MTV's Music Video Awards. But nothing prepared me for this one day of shooting in The Silent Movie Theatre in Los Angeles.

I'm working as a camera assistant on this documentary called Inside Deep Throat. Basically it's a documentary about Deep Throat, a pornography that was hugely controversial and subsequently popular (ban something and it usually grows in intrigue and popularity), and became the namesake of the secret informant of Watergate. The documentary is about the Ins and Outs of what was going on in and around Deep Throat in 1972...From the synopsis,
"It was banned in 25 states. The government didn't want you to see it. Deep Throat was more than just a titillating curiosity, it was the sexually explicit film that ignited a social and political firestorm. Inside Deep Throat examines the politics and the payoff, the porn stars and persecution of the cultural phenomenon that remains just as highly controversial today..." (click here for more)

But what's important for my story here is what we were filming at The Silent Movie Theatre some six years ago.

Like many documentaries, our crew for this shoot was very small. (In comparison, commercial shoots usually have a minimum of 40 crew members working on them.) There might've been six of us including the two co-directors, the Director of Photography, another producer-type, myself, and an assistant or two they called in from the office because they needed more bodies. Here's why they needed bodies...

(Keep in mind this is the first location of the day for us, with a call time of around 7am. Which in documentaries usually means we'll be shooting by 8am, 9 at the latest.)

The filmmakers wanted to re-create the original 1972 viewing audiences. Which means they were replaying the film on the big screen of The Silent Movie Theatre. After setting up the camera and lights, my presence was required as part of the audience. I was positioned next to one of the directors, who was supposed to look like my date to the movie, so at some point he puts his arm around me. Which wasn't so terrible because he was a very nice guy and was fully appropriate... though not as full as other things. All totaled, I believe we sat through one and a half viewings of this film. Full-screen, full-sex, full-70s-BUSH.

Now let me disclaim here that I think people should tend to their nether-regions however suits them best. Whether full, trimmed, landing-stripped or non-existent, I think it falls under some constitutional freedom (maybe an addendum to the first amendment?) that we have the right to express ourselves through how we landscape and present our body's most expensive and sought-after real-estate. But seeing 70s, full-bush in all it's glory in different positions in a hokey and over-lit porno film at 8am on a Tuesday was a little much for this newbie-documentarian Los Angeleno.

Somehow, I never found reason to step into The Silent Movie Theatre again.

Until today.

It was actually quite lovely. Jen was aptly surprised by the whole charade. She said YES. (Whew!) I think they both shed a few tears, as did a good portion of the audience (myself included - geesh I'm a softie). And afterward, we all got to celebrate their engagement and impending nuptials. All-in-all, it was a lovely afternoon and I was glad to be a part of it... Unlike my first trip to The Silent Movie Theatre.

Actually, that's not totally true. I was glad to be a part of Inside Deep Throat. It was a very interesting documentary to work on. Especially since we interviewed Gore Vidal, Hugh Hefner, and Bill Maher, just to name a few. But I will never forget the way I saw this movie, nor The Silent Movie Theatre for providing the venue for our doc. By the way, The Silent Movie Theatre is not so silent anymore. They've added sound to their theatre so we also got to hear the hokey 70s porn music after which all porn music is now modeled.

Thanks, Carl & Jen, today was better...by a large....

landing strip.


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Bravo, Stephen Colbert & Co! and your Olympic Vancouverage

If you missed this week of The Colbert Report, you can watch episodes either on Comedy Central's website for The Colbert Report, Colbert Nation, or on Hulu (where you'll suffer only 2-3 commercials per episode. (No, I'm not sponsored by either one of these organizations, I just like to make things easy for my readers.)

Stephen Colbert and Co. (Co being his writers and staff) did a fantastic job this week not covering the Olympic games. They Vancouveraged them. But right here I'd like to just point out the absurdity of copyright law. Apparently, NBC paid $820 million for exclusive rights to use the "O" word. (No, not orgasms. Please see previous blogs for those kinds of topics, people! This is serious, olympic, athletic business here on this blog!) What this means, as far as this very un-legal gal understands, is that no other broadcast station can proclaim on-air that they're covering the Olympic games of 2010. Only NBC-owned-or-affiliated stations can say that. Also, no other non-NBC-owned-or-affiliated stations can even show the Olympic rings without risking being sued. Sillyness, huh? That's copyright for you. I wonder how that applies to print. I suspect it doesn't since newspapers seem to be freely reporting on the winter Olympics, but who reads a newspaper (besides online) nowadays anyways? Besides, of course, my parents... and anyone retired and over age 60. Don't get me wrong, I actually love newspapers. There's a fantastic visceral experience that comes with reading an actual newspaper (as opposed to reading news on the computer or watching news on television). I just love trees more than that visceral experience. Especially considering I would sometimes miss reading the paper on certain days and would subsequently feel a bit wasteful. If they printed newspapers on hemp, a crop that grows, aptly, like a weed, and actually replenishes the soil (unlike corn that reaps & drys out soil - please see the movies Food, Inc. & The Union for more) I might be more inclined to subscribe to a newspaper...but I digress.

Back on topic, here's how Colbert got around that little legality and are avoiding being sued.

Exclusive Vancouverage of the 2010
Quadrennial Cold Weather Athletic Competition...
Defeat The World!

Colbert's brother, who is a copyright attorney and recent guest on the show to advise little bro Stephen on said laws, said if he were the Olympic attorney he'd still sue for the aforementioned Exclusive Vancouverage of the 2010 Quadrennail Cold Weather Athletic Competition... but that Colbert would likely win.

Bravo, Colbert & Co! Not just for comedy or creativity, though you deserve high marks for that. But I celebrate you because you skirt (or luge around the fastest corner) the line of copyright legality (truly one of the most boring of all legalities - which really is saying something) in the name of humor, entertainment, and most importantly, supporting world competition and athleticism. Could we just do this whole athletic competition thing instead of war? We'd still get our aggressions out. Oh, wait. It's not as profitable. NBC's set to loose money on this one, and Halliburton simply would not tolerate that. War's more profitable than the Olympics. Chew on that next time you decide to exercise...Oh wait, chew on that next time you watch TV. Since if you're an average American, you're likely to spend more time watching television than exercising.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Songwriting is like SEX

Songwriting is like sex.

I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But here's why:

There are qualities about songwriting, that when taken out of context, sound very similar to my other favorite activity.

CASE & POINT
When songwriting, I almost always:
  • Loose track of time
  • Feel elated, high & on fire
  • Want to try different angles & perspectives
  • Get a little frustrated when I can't finish, even when I'm really enjoying the process
  • Afterward, I feel fantastic... sort of super-hero like, especially when I finish (more than one in a session is exponentially better...)
  • It makes the rest of the day SO much better
  • Sometimes...I want to try something new, innovative & different
  • Sometimes...I want to go with the trusty, works-every-time technique
  • Usually when it's really great, I want to tell people about it
  • It gets better every time
  • I feel happier, calmer, more sane & more peaceful when I do it on a regular basis


Wait, what are we talking about? Oh, right. Sex. No, wait. Songwriting.

See what I mean?

Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

What's as good as sex for you? Maybe if we all followed this bliss the world would be filled with much happier and more peaceful people...or maybe we'd all just be running around humping fire hydrants.


[DISCLAIMER: May cause extreme happiness, joy, satisfaction, and increased libido. Please practice safe songwriting with a trusted partner, and consult with your doctor before songwriting on a bi-daily basis. If you songwrite for more than four hours straight, please contact a doctor or producer.]

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Born To Run by Christopher McDougall - Inspiring all of us to be more in the FLOW

Runners and couch potatoes alike will find something worth while in Christopher McDougall's latest opus on ultra-running. This book could also be titled Zen and the Art of Running Happily and Injury Free.

As I write the above, I realize that although this book for all intents and purposes, seems to be a highly interesting and inspiring expansion on the above, it actually is something more. As far as I can tell, this book is about loving life (including body, mind, soul, aches, pains, and any competitors or enemies on life's path), being true to self, and, quite simply, returning to the essence of what seems to be human origin: Living in harmony with nature and earth - which taken to the literal extreme means communing with nature via running, leaving your natural environment virtually as you found it and living in it's natural accommodations, and shying away from fame and glory (in other words, not selling out), but when you do end up doing the thing you love in a competitive arena, doing said activity for the sheer joy of it.

What a concept! What an absolutely unAmerican concept. Or so it seems.

But remember, it seems unAmerica in a full-frontal catch 22. There may be plenty of Americans who believe this and live this way, but we simply don't hear about them because they aren't promoting themselves. Part of the lifestyle/philosophy is in direct contradiction to the very thing that would expose and promote this way of life.

But Christopher McDougall has exposed and championed this simpler way of being and living in this book. Or at the very least, he's encouraging reconnecting with nature and our fundamental human selves by, simply put, running.

The characters are inspiring. Running simply for the feeling and sheer love of outdoors; nary a tread-miller is memorialized in this book - these people are die-hard outdoorsy types that love the trail and wilderness as much as they love running. These characters also just run for the sheer love of how it feels to be in that running flow, when you feel like you're flying and communing with nature and your body in such a way that you feel...divine. And when hardship comes, as it seems to have come at some point for all the runners in this book, how you embrace and handle said hardship. Love the pain, love the exhaustion, love the resistance, and you shall commune with that too, and transcend it, in a way that only folks willing to surpass their supposed limits know.

This is absolutely my favorite book of 2009. The main reason why: It inspires in me a hunger that I've hunted for via inspiring stories my whole life.

The Tarahumara, or Raramuri, are especially inspiring in that they live as they (and humans) must've lived hundreds and thousands of years ago. The Tarahumara call The Copper Canyon, or Barrancas home, where the terrain is so rough the only (mostly temporary) modern settlers are run-away thieves and drug-runners. These temporary settlers have disrupted the Tarahumara's natural way of life in some tragic and fatal ways, but it seems, as of McDougal's visit a few years ago, they are still largely living how their ancestors lived many generations ago. Their life is relatively free of fighting and conflict, as they're egalitarian and run as a daily activity - not for competition or glory, but for fun, for the feel of it, and to warm up on cool days.

Other characters I fell hard for are Emil Zatopek, a Czech whose talent was surpassed only by his big heart. His first Olympics was in 1952, where he won the 5,000 and 10,000 meters with a new Olympic record. At the same Olypmics he ran his very first marathon (his first official marathon - as he'd certainly logged as many miles in one run, but had never really timed himself), he asked the more experienced lead-man Peters, who at the ten-mile mark was already 10 minutes under his own record, "Excuse me, this is my first marathon. Are we going too fast?" Peters wanted to make him suffer and perhaps prove Emil inferior, so he replied, "no, too slow." Emil asked, "are you sure?" "Yes," Peteres replied. Emil responded by taking off, and finishing ahead of everyone, simultaneously setting a new Olympic record. But he wasn't met by his own teammates, they were too slow getting to the finish line to congratulate him. Emil was so friendly with all people and athletes that he met, that The Jamaican sprinters had already hoisted him up on their shoulders to parade him around the infield. He ran and lived with such infectious joy, that everyone celebrated when he won.

Here's where I got teary-eyed. And though I sometimes joke that I cry willingly and with abandon, I don't often cry during books. But this one got me. After success and bonding with fellow athletes in Olympic competition, Emil Zatopek got caught in the cross-fire of politics and power in his home country. When he refused to be the pawn of the Red Army who in 1968 wanted him to be a soviet sports ambassador, he chose cleaning toilets over being a soviet pawn. But this is the part that really did me in...

Shortly after Zatopek's choice to clean toilets, he got a visit from a friend and fellow-runner. His visitor, Ron Clarke, who was actually Zatopek's rival for the title of world's greatest distance runner, was an enviably tall, tanned, and handsome Australian. Clark came to visit because although he was one of the world's best runners, he had a reputation for choking on the important runs, and had never landed an Olympic medal. Instead of going straight home to Australia, Clarke choose to visit Zatopek. The guy who always lost (the important races) stopped over in Prague to visit the guy who always won (prior to his toilet-duty-retirement).

Clarke must've known he'd get a friendlier reception with Zatopek than with his countrymen in Australia. Before he left he noticed Zatopek smuggling something into his suitcase. He didn't check to see what it was until he was safely away and on the plane. On their parting embrace, Zatopek said, "Because you deserved it." Later, when Clarke opened the package, he discovered Zatopek's 1952 Olympic 10,000 meters gold medal. Writes McDougal,
For Zatopek to give it to the man who'd replaced his name in the record books was extraordinarily noble; to give it away at precisely the moment in his life when he was losing everything else was an act of almost unimaginable compassion. "His enthusiasm, his friendliness, his love of life, shone through every movement," an overcome Ron Clarke said later. "There is not, and never was, a greater man than Emil Zatopek." (99)
Even now, having read this section of the book several times, I still have tears streaming down my face.

The extraordinary and simple thing that Christopher McDougall has done in this book is to inspire. He weaves his story of longing to run without pain and injury, with the amazing histories of great modern runners, to one of the greatest, ultra-marathons that had no sponsorship or spectators, with human evolutionary history.

We were always runners. Running is part and parcel to the cognitive evolution of the human species. We evolved because we are runners.

Check out the book. It will be available at your local library. Leave a comment, let me know what you think.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

A moment of silence for all the plastic surgery casualties

Please...

A moment of silence for all the plastic surgery casualties...

No, I'm not talking about the tragedies of women (and men, though statistically more women get plastic surgery) who die due to complications during surgery or anesthesia, I'm talking about all of the big or lumpy noses, and cute little boobies (even the sagging ones) that are on the proverbial cutting room floors of plastic surgeons throughout Beverly Hills and Miami, and wherever else plastic surgery hails supreme as the maker of beauty-queen dreams.

Let's please all take a moment of silence.

Truth is, I miss Jennifer Grey and her big nose. I suspect most women of my generation loved Dirty Dancing and we didn't care that her nose was more prominent on her face than her lips. In fact, I think it probably made her more believable and more likable.

I also miss seeing real breasts. Christina Aguilera's boobs were perfectly adorable pre-enhancement. Now they're bulbous and obvious.











Look at Pamela Anderson. She was seriously adorable and small-chested. And now...looks like someone follows her around with a bicycle pump inflating those puppies.
















What happened to God-given beauty? That on the cutting-room floor too?

My heart sinks every time I see a scene with an actress where her boobs are featured partially or fully exposed and I realize they're fake. I'm not really even a lesbian, but still, I really like real breasts. They're so...malleable and full of surprises in their shape, movement, and variety. They're like wine. Even if you've had that kind before, each bottle (or breast) is it's own unique flavor.

How can we come back from this plastic-obsession? Any ideas out there? Please, post a comment. How do we dig ourselves out of this craziness?

I like pretty things as much as the next visual gal. But I like uniqueness, personality, character and naturalness more. I also love seeing an older woman who shows her wisdom on her face. I believe Joan Rivers wishes she could go back. I heard that somewhere. I wish she could too. She's always been an extremely talented, funny, and striking-looking woman, but now her strikingness is due to too much plastic surgery, not her greatness and God-given unique look.





















I have ZERO plans to have plastic surgery. I have never botoxed, and don't plan to. To be honest, I'm not crazy about the subtle lines between my forehead - indicators that I tend to be cerebral, and that I (used to) take myself (and sometimes life) too seriously! Those who know me well know I'm working hard (or not working - mostly meditating and learning how to relax and really do and think nothing), on being less serious. But, I'll make you a deal... If I ever get elective plastic-surgery, I will run down the 405 freeway naked during rush hour (except for my sneakers or five fingers running shoes)...showing off my plumped up lips and breasts that are not bouncing freely as I run.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Ricky Gervais should be the new Simon on American Idol

Firstly, let me just say I am not one of millions of Americans addicted to American Idol. As a musician, songwriter, singer, pianist and guitarist, hubris often takes over and prevents me from really getting involved. Also, once they're done traveling the country on auditions, I get kind of bored with the karaoke-ness of the show. But I do understand why it's appealing. Watching people fail and succeed in an exaggerated way is exciting and enticing for most Americans. Also, hearing songs you recognize is also nice for most people. So, I get it.

About Simon leaving the show. As much as I'd love to see his spot go to an American, because even though I love Brits generally and in entertainment, they seem to be taking over our television shows, and I'd like jobs to go to my countrymen. Anyway, I think the absolute best choice for Simon Cowell's replacement is Ricky Gervais.

Here's why:

  1. He's fearless when it comes to saying what he thinks. Did you all see The Golden Globes? He was completely unapologetic about making fun of everyone and his industry. He is completely irreverent about celebrity and manufactured fame.
  2. On the Golden Globes, he drank beer on the job, which is sort of an essential for the resident as$hole.
  3. He has a british accent, which everyone knows makes everything (to Americans) sound better. Insults, being told off, cursing, all sounds so much more refined and acceptable to Yankee ears. Man I wish he'd record my outgoing message for me.
  4. If American Idol contestants can survive a Ricky Gervais tongue-lashing, they might actually be able to handle fame, criticism, and the paparazzi.

The only foreseeable problem is that I think Ricky Gervais is actually a really nice guy. Especially when it comes to dealing with normal, everyday people. So he may not be able to look in the faces of these American Idol hopefuls and tell them that they suck. I suppose Ricky is the only one who could really weigh-in on this potentiality. Ricky, could you do it? Could you tell some 22 year old who just sang her heart out on national television that her rendition of "I Will Survive" was just bloody awful? That some guy's version of "Wanted Dead or Alive" was just abysmal? Hmm. Ricky, weigh-in for us, will you?


But still, why hasn't anyone offered the soon-to-be open slot at the American Idol judges table to Ricky Gervais?
He's perfect.
Oh, but give me credit for the idea, ya wankers.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Muscle SURPRISE! The key to physical, mental & emotional fitness.

My friend Camilla and I are riding in her car after a very intense, strength-building workout at Monkey Bar Gym (a gym that is very much like it sounds... do monkey-like exercises based primarily on body-weight and you'll get very fit and strong). Anyway, we're in the car and Camilla, who exercises mostly by jogging a couple of miles a few times a week, says to me, "I should do more of those kinds of exercises. They'll help me get stronger."

I reply, firmly seated on my high-horse, "Yeah, good idea. Actually, it's a training technique, I think it's called... muscle surprise." She starts giggling and I do too...because she knows it's not right, and as soon as it leaves my lips, I know too. Between giggles and gasping for air, she comes back with... "I think it's called muscle confusion."

Oh, right.

Now just between you and me, I love it when I make these kinds of mistakes. Somewhere in my brain I replaced the word surprise with confusion. Oh wait, reverse that. Anyway, it helps me not take myself so seriously. And leads to lots of laughing at myself with anyone near and odd enough to get it.

So back to muscle surprise. Camilla's driving, though I'm not sure how because at this point I'm laughing so hard my eyes will not stay open. We've started saying, "Muscle... SURPRISE! Happy Birthday!" while making noise-maker sounds, pretending that we're throwing a surprise party for someone named Muscle. I also say something about how it's a surprise for your muscles, like in one of those cakes you eat with a coin or tiny plastic baby Jesus and you get good luck for a year or whatever. (Is it a baby Jesus or am I making that up? And what tradition is this from anyway?)

Geesh. It doesn't take much to amuse us.

But as I reflect on this now, I think we might've actually been onto something. Muscle surprise can translate to many aspects of our lives. Biologically we're drawn to familiar experiences, so anything you do over and over again, your body adapts so that it's as easy as possible. Same is true for mental and emotional experiences, and this is counter-productive for any kind of change we may want to enact. Basically, if you want to get stronger, whether it's physically, mentally or emotionally, you have to SURPRISE! your system. New exercises, i.e. new experiences, will help us grow.

Just remember to strap yourself in or use a net for your first time out there on your surprise adventures.... Oh, and bring a friend who gets your sense of humor.

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Friday, February 19, 2010

I think my boyfriend's a snake...

What is this? Under your feet? Look at it. Are you shedding? There's more up here by your elbow.

Apparently, much like a snake, my boyfriend sheds his skin once every few weeks. Fortunately this doesn't happen every time he showers, but this evening must've been new-skin time for my reptilian boyfriend. What makes this even more ridiculous is the fact that his skin is amazingly soft and smooth throughout most of his body. But apparently this does not preclude him from having this reptilian shedding from time to time.

Good thing his other endowments are more equestrian than reptilian.

Anyone want to weigh-in on the skin-shedding? Guys? Gals? Is this a Strand-boyfriend phenomenon only? I doubt that.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Release... Sweat & Power

I remember years ago a yoga teacher, her name long since forgotten, though it might've been Joy or Hope or some other happy-emotion-turned-baby-boomer/yoga teacher-name. Anyway, I recall Hopejoy saying something like, "Women need to sweat every day. It's a necessity." My nineteen year old brain went into analysis (a habitual thing women seem to do - the habit of which is one of the more sticky things to release though well worth it), and I looked at that sweaty concept from different perspectives, thinking, yeah, I guess do feel better on the days I sweat. I wonder why that is. Is it hormonal? Is it biological? Is it for the lymph? The skin? The sex-drive? The mood? Hmm, what exactly is it? I'm not certain. Hopejoy breaks through my mind's rant, and I'm coming into child's pose delayed slightly by my thoughts.

One thing is for certain, I have more dirty clothes and laundry to do than ever before. Though I'm also certain it's worth it.

Having a few years on that nineteen year old girl (boy I must've thought I was a woman, but such a girl I was, granting that I might've been more mature than many nineteen year olds, still, I was such a girl. I think all of us women have a girl in us for our whole lives, but especially until we're around...30), but these years have granted me many things I'm only half-aware of and some, thankfully, I'm more aware of so I can remember to be grateful and here's what I know as of today about women and sweating and, with some of the wisdom life experience provides, power.

Sweating, at it's most fundamental, is a release. And if your light-bulb hasn't illuminated yet, think of it this way...orgasm is a form of release. Girl-friend talking/venting/sharing is (usually) a form of release. Dancing, screaming, yelling, menstruation, laughing, crying, and tantrums are all forms of release. All should be celebrated in my opinion, but more on that later. Sweating is GOOD. One of my major life experiences happened almost 100% because I was in the middle of releasing which included tantrums, screaming, pounding my fists, releasing binds of old thoughts/judgments/beliefs and generally freeing myself...or releasing of things that had nothing to do with being present. Sweating can help you be more present. Increasing your heart rate can help you be more present. So the release leads to being more present, which any spirituality or religion will tell you is good. But if you don't already know it, take a deep breath and a moment, and check in with yourself and ask the question, "Is it healthy for me to be more present?" and you'll get your answer.

What else? Ah, yes. Power.

Besides sweating every day, my workouts of late have reminded me the importance of feeling powerful. For everyone, but since we're on the feminine this time, I'll stick with that. Feeling powerful (in a healthy, confident, vibrant, alive way) is always good. Doesn't mean you can't chill and relax and let others lead or take charge (in fact there's power in that). Feeling powerful is a fabulous feeling.

We are bombarded with images of women - athletes, celebrities, models, who have bodies that are not only surgically and/or digitally enhanced, but remember, these women make a living based on their body and/or appearance, so it's part of their JOB to have beautiful bodies. So forget about them for just a moment. If they're not surgically enhanced, they're digitally-enhanced (projection and self-image shifted dramatically with photoshop), and if they've opted out of the former, they at least have dedicated a decent portion of their day to work-outs with expert trainers not to mention stylists who help them with clothing, makeup and hair so they look, well, worthy of idolatry. Remember that as you strike them from your mind for a moment.

Instead of comparing yourself to any of them...

Think about you. Your body. How much it has been through. How it's still kicking and ticking through everything. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally. I separate these things with language, but they all blend together in our human experience. Even if you've had health or physical challenges, your body has been doing it's absolute best for you.

Exercise to honor your body. Exercise to release. Exercise to sweat. Exercise to feel powerful. Forget about weight-loss or waist-size or clothing-size. Yes, exercise can lead to a more fit and toned body, and it can also seem like a pain-in-the-butt when all you really want to do is eat a pint of hagen dazs and watch Sex & the City reruns, but think about how good it will feel to sweat and release your day. Think about how good an orgasm feels, because the release from exercising is a version of that, albeit more subtle, but still, we need these releases. Think about how good you feel when you feel confident and powerful. Let that be your motivation.

Release. Sweat. Power.


Let me know how it goes.