Love and Sex Pt. 2

When I was involved in a discussion with some of my third, fourth and fifth graders this week, I wasn’t surprised that they knew what rape was. In fact I was relieved to know that they had some knowledge of sex, forced sex and how dangerous it was. My fifth grade girls are very developed, and although they are only 11, they could easily pass for 15 or 16. A red flag has been raised for me, as I am noticing their zealous desire to court boys. Often when they are with me I have to threaten to take cell phones away and check them about their flirty, borderline inappropriate behavior.

I thought about how all of this relates to my current meditations about love. These young women live in a low income area, and many if not all come from single parent homes. I am disappointed by some of the stories I catch wind of, and realize that these young people are not exposed to illustrations of real love. Their behavior and conversations are subtle confessions of their lack of love for themselves especially.

It is true that we are told to love ourselves, but how can we really demonstrate that? We use external means to interpret what we believe is going on inside—loving from the outside in, but true love cannot be found in the mirror, it doesn’t fall off our hips nor is it smeared across our faces. True love is the absence of judgment, it is knowing that in a balanced world there are strengths and weaknesses. Many of us are very critical of our weaknesses, we try to fix them and focus on them incessantly. We beat ourselves mercilessly with our flaws, leaving behind acceptance of who we are. Life is about the experience. It is not to prove we are better than someone else, that we are the prettiest or the smartest, that’s not living—that’s not loving.

Acceptance of your whole self is an act of love, some would say an act of God. Biblical scriptures dictate that God is love, and many traditional and non-traditional religions also mimic this belief. To love yourself is to have God with you always. As we journey we have to embrace the judgeless God that dwells within. God does not judge, we do, so when we are judging ourselves, criticizing our weaknesses, we are not embracing God.

It is my goal in the coming weeks to sit down and talk with my third, fourth and fifth grade girls. It is important to me that they redefine or for some define what love is for them—in them. It would be irresponsible of me to allow them to venture into their experiences in this life and never understand what true love represents. I don’t know what my goals are yet, but I do know that as important as it is to share my experiences, it is just as important to hear theirs.

Owning My Shit...Again.

Life lessons are not taught in text books, if they were I am sure all of us would have a few copies of various volumes on our book shelves. Life lessons come with practice and experience, and it is up to us to use that experience to make better decisions.

This year I have decided to own my writing. In the past seven years or so, I have become disengaged from what I once knew to work well for me. I knew how to write and I was secure in that. External criticisms were always welcomed, but I was never internally insecure as to what came out. I knew what I wanted to write and would do so religiously, daily.

Somewhere down the line I collapsed under reasonable expectations. I was expected to be a poet, a writer, and just like when Adam and Eve realized they were naked in the garden, I ran to cover up what I thought was shameful. I spent years studying the writing styles of other poets, hoping that someone would notice how dope I was. I internalized the expectations and criticisms of others, killing my entire process and questioning my talent.

This year I am owning my writing again. My voice is important and so are the words that come from it. I am back on the wagon. It is sure to be a long ride.

Love and Sex Pt. 1

We are exposed to sex all the time, whether through images we see on the television, music we hear on the radio or through general conversation. Sex is taught as an essential component in our lives. As such, we are taught how to protect ourselves, where babies come from and the kinds of qualities we are to seek in the opposite (same) sex. We construct our present and future lives within socially acceptable and tolerable scripts, and become shrouded in disappointment when our lives take an improvisational turn.

I am remind that our human community collectively has drifted so far away from spirituality. Our desire for physical gratification is food for the ego, forcing us to rearrange our priorities that disenfranchise us from our spiritual roots.

It is a troublesome reality that most of us know more about sex than we will ever know about love. Most of our understanding of love can be articulated on a very basic level, through physical examples, mostly defined by romantic and familial connections. It is the notion that love can’t be taught, that it just is, and although there can not be much objection to that, we rarely know how to love ourselves completely. We seek love in others, often called “finding love.” Love however is always with us without many of us being aware of it.

I suspect that parents don’t talk to their children about love in such detail as they would sex. We tell our children to love themselves, and most times that is a suggestion to not engage in random sexual acts. Although a commendable suggestion, we are often ignorant to the spiritual implications which surround love. Love in and of itself is spiritual in nature and understanding this leads us on very different “love” paths than we are familiar with.

We should teach our children love, as well as ourselves. It should be constant conversation piece. We are armed with all the information in the world about sex, yet we are still haunted by the bad decisions we made in its favor. Knowledge of sex, absent the knowledge of love is useless and just as harmful as the repercussion of irresponsible sex acts.

Reconciliation

My brother and I are three years apart. When you’re a kid, you think a three year gap is huge. As an adult you realize it isn’t as big of a difference as it once was. The gap between my brother and I has always been more than a number. We grew apart once we darkened the door of adolescence, and once he went off to college, we pretty much parted ways all together. We’d see each other, be cordial, but in the past 10 or 12 years I don’t remember many laughs being shared. The only memorable conversation we had is when I told him I was gay, and even that was uneventful. I remember him saying he was surprised, but he offered nothing more than that. He was always doing Ed and I was always doing Cherina, and somewhere in between college, tattoos, marriages, and adult life in general we drifted farther apart than our three year difference could ever reflect.

I always looked up to my brother. I wanted to follow him around—do what he did. I always thought he was cool and this awesome cat. I missed him when he went to college, because he was no longer next door and no longer available for me to bug. He seemed much invested in his own life once he graduated from high school and I knew he enjoyed the independence of being out of the house. Time turned me missing him to being bitter with him. In my own state of self loathing, I concluded he didn’t like me much. I’ve spent a good portion of my life envying the relationships that other girls have had with their big brothers. I regretted the dysfunction of my own sibling relationship and made excuses as to how it was all his fault.

Fast Forward.

We argued one day a year or so ago, let the shit hang all the way out. He put his cards on the table, and I showed him mine. It was ugly—for a minute. We decided it wasn’t worth it. We only have each other and our trivial misunderstandings about the state of our relationship were not enough to keep us at odds with one another forever.

Needless to say for the first time in YEARS he and I spent the Christmas holiday together. We worked out together, and hung out a bit. It was a breath of fresh air actually. He made me laugh and was genuine in his attempts at reconciliation—so was I.

Some things are worth more than our grudges and hurt feelings. Time is a true healer.

20.09

Since I don’t do New Year’s resolutions, I haven’t taken a very long look into the year to come. I am avoiding all kind of Nostradamian type dialogue however, and doing my two step one day at a time. No one is being fired as my friend either. Many people use the new year to distribute their “dear John” letters to ex-friends as a way to express “I’m better without you.” I am actually hoping to reconnect with some old friends, but because I am not looking into the year too much and doing the day to day thing, ignore that I just said that.

I wish you all well. Welcome to 09.