LIFE AS A HUMAN

What Is Sensuality?

Melinda Cochrane — Wed, 18 Feb 2015 12:00:11 +0000

What is sensuality?
in a world of minimal imagination
with no caressing nature left
to feed the thirst of intelligent
women bored of simplicity,
where is the sway of lace
in winds, the removing
of white gloves
revealing a hand set with
red nails and a string of pearls
around an open neck with a buttoned
blouse revealing nothing but
the shape of it,
legs in heels crossing gently
to bring the desired close
enough to feel the tips
on his back as the beating
of her blood fills the room
without speaking in a perfumed
air of lilac and cloves dipped
in the pinks of her lips.

Photo Credit

Jo, the Beautiful Irish Girl – Gustave Courbet, 1866 – Public Domain – Wikimedia Creative Commons

Being Single on Valentine’s Day

Mary Rose — Fri, 21 Feb 2014 15:00:40 +0000

The other day – the day before Valentine’s day, in fact – a girl I was talking to made a remark about not wanting to be out on Valentine’s Day with all the ‘single crazies’.

Her words made a few things occur to me.

One, non-single people proudly love asserting the fact that they are not single. Two, people in relationships tend to perform ‘marking rituals’ (the man she was currently dating was right there), when certain singles are around, as if we are a contagious predatory virus manufactured underneath Raccoon City, whose sole purpose is to relieve them of their relationship status. Third, this blurted out observation spoke volumes about how she and we perceive single people – crazed with the dreaded ‘singleness’ social disease; looking and hoping for what she herself thinks she’s captured – worthy of pity, especially on the one day of the year in which being single seems to be a car(di)nal sin.

Barfing libertarian chunks right about now!

Although I am certain this girl did not mean to insinuate that all single people are crazy, the idea of being alone or having one’s partner leave – the fear of it – can indeed make people crazy, and no matter how one might try and hide it, this fear echoes from us, and echoed from her, long after the sound of her words had faded away.

We are mammals who have historically run in herds, and although we don’t necessarily need to monogamously pair off, it is not considered stereotypically normal for individual mammals to go off on their own. In fact, this kind of circumstance can indicate that one has been rejected by a group, which can in some cases mean that individual is rogue, wild, antisocial and even a threat to the group.

If we still lived in inclusive tribes in the forest, or if we were chimpanzees or gorillas or whales, we might in fact be (in) serious trouble as solo fliers. But we don’t and aren’t. We have chosen to create massive cities, filled with individual living spaces, designed to enhance personal space and independent living – aspects which make for economic flourish and enthusiastic sales pitches in real estate circles. For better or worse, it has allowed a new kind of breed to develop: The independent breed. A breed of hermits. Searchers. Explorers and adventurers. People who simply are not bound by the idea that dating and mating is the be all and end all of being alive.

In the case of most things we don’t understand or are afraid of, in an attempt to ‘get power over it’, there is a tendency to put it down, mock it, or even kill it. In this particular case, we put it in the box marked ‘single’; so that when we see it out in public, waving its confusing freedom in front of our faces, we are better able to deal with it. A collective sigh of relief can be enjoyed by even unhappy couples worldwide. The singles have been categorically compartmentalized into an unappealing box.

Well, I sit here alone, feeling not alone at all, wondering if we are confusing feeling alone with being alone.

I know plenty of people who are in relationships, and yet by their own admission, couldn’t feel more alone. By the same token, I know many people – myself included – who are ‘alone’ a lot, but don’t feel that way at all.

I have been single for over five years, and although I admit it did take some decommissioning from the ‘single is flawed’ mentality, once I did – my goodness – how the world opened up to me. These have been the best years of my life. I began to know myself; to know what love really feels like – without attachments, boundaries, insecurities or conditions.

Without traditional relationship trappings, the world becomes your herd, the eyes you experience the world with open anew, and one becomes merged with the innocent self again. And the quantum elegance of encountering another who gets it too…better than a million artificial bonds! Anything becomes possible when the mind is not bound by the infernal nagging of attachment, artificial commitments and possession.

This is just my perspective. But from this perspective, I can honestly say, that to pity single people, or to be threatened by them is perhaps something we need to stop doing. It’s ridiculous. We need to chill out, stop being all exclusive, clicky, culty and weird, and welcome all people into our circle. We need to stop classifying people in terms of ‘girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, singles, etc’, because underneath those titles is where the innocence of what and who we truly are exists.

Love and live on, singles and couples alike!

Photo Credit:

The Surreal Housewife: Bring me a “higher love” (Steve Winwood)

Lisa Lucke — Wed, 19 Feb 2014 19:50:52 +0000

Now that Valentine’s Day is over, and the pressure is off to express myself by way of expensive Hallmark cards, I’ve given this love thing some serious thought. My Valentine’s Day gift of choice has always been music; I’m a fan of both giving, and receiving homemade music CDs that truly express how I feel in the format I’m most comfortable with: words set to music. Here’s what I think about love, inspired by some classic (and not so classic) songs about love.

If you’re a fan of popular music, a small sampling may lead you to believe that love is in the air (Tom Jones); love is all around us (The Troggs); love stinks (J. Geils Band); and love hurts (Nazareth). Is love all these things, and a lot more? Maybe, maybe not. Of course, there are probably thousands of songs about love, each with its own take. But for now, four is enough (kids and songs). Let’s break it down.

Love is definitely in the air. Not just on Valentine’s Day, but every day. It’s floating around, hovering over high schools, mini-marts, retirement homes, factories and prisons. It’s on Main St. of small towns like mine, it’s lingering still at the intersection of Haight & Ashbury (though not as free as it once was), it’s pounding the pavement on Wall St. and probably even rearing its fair head in war zones all over the world. After all, enemy combatants need lovin’ too. But like air, you can’t see it. Sometimes, romantic love for someone else is just dormant—giving you more time to fall in love with yourself, which is precisely when others will notice that you are lovable.

Love really is all around us. The dictionary says that love is “a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person; a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, a child, or friend; sexual passion or desire.” Of course, this last one refers to the physical act of wanting to get with someone. Like, when my dog attaches himself to the leg of the cable guy and won’t let go, as if to say, “Let me love you!”

The dictionary doesn’t say anything about loving objects. It’s all about people and feelings. So if we are to believe the dictionary, we can’t really love things. We can’t really love our cars, or our phones, or food, regardless of the sexy noises we make when we drive, talk, or eat. I do think animals can feel love for one another. Take my dog (the same one who loves the cable guy) and my cat, Pickles. There is no doubt in my mind that they are in love. I don’t know anyone who would put their nose where those two do without a deep and abiding affection for one another.

Love does not stink. Love coming to a tragic end stinks; loving the wrong person stinks; loving someone who doesn’t love you back certainly stinks. All those feelings resulting from those situations definitely stink, but love itself? No way. How could it? It’s the emotions that one mistakenly labels as love that stink: obsession, dependence, desperation. It’s what humans do with love that stinks: treat it carelessly, abuse it, abandon it, let it fade away, stifle it, submerge it, suffocate it, allow other things to eclipse it. This last one is a biggy. It happens all the time in relationships. Two people get up each morning and only see the same person who was there yesterday. Seeing this same person, but only going as deeply as seeing a face, he or she also sees the same mistakes, the same shortcomings, the same disappointing habits as the day before. The father of a friend of mine, during a recent e-mail discussion about relationships, said, “If you married a wonderful person, you need to be able to recognize that fact every day as a new thing, and not as boring old patterns of behavior; you have to see them as they are today, not how your mind pictures them based upon your preconceptions of who they are. Don’t let your brain cut off new data about your partner.” What I took away from that is, loving is seeing one another with fresh eyes, not just every day, but several times a day, and fanning the embers into a flame, remembering to stoke and to stroke, even when you feel the pull of the autopilot switch.

Therefore, love is remembering; he was someone before he met you. He had highs and lows and dreams and disappointments and comebacks and setbacks; job offers and perfect games and sublime moments alone in nature. He experienced moments with lovers that left him daydreaming for the entire next day. He felt he would live forever, and it was before you ever came along. And that is what attracted you to him.

Love is remembering; she was someone before she met you. She had a brain and goals and aspirations and a job she loved and promotions and the respect of people who knew her. She had moments where she stared at the phone for hours and then it rang and it was him and it was perfect. She was swept off her feet and dumped on her ass and pulled up by the strength of her own soul. She left a trail of broken hearts in a wake of her own tears. She was powerful, and it was before you ever came along. And that is what attracted you to her.

If you only see the person who buys the groceries, who mows the lawn, who pissed you off last Saturday, who can’t remember appointments, who spends too much on clothes, who watches too much football, or who takes too long getting home or getting ready, you are treating love carelessly, abusing it, abandoning it, letting it fade away, stifling it, submerging it, suffocating it, and allowing other things to eclipse it.

So whether you are “a prisoner of love” (Perry Como), think love is “a many splendored thing” (Four Aces), or even if “you’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,” (Righteous Bros.) “stop, in the name of love” (Supremes), and remember that “all you need is love” (Beatles).

Photo Credit

Photo from the Microsoft Office Clipart Collection

First Posted At The Surreal Housewife

Puckering up for Valentines

Sandra Phinney — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 13:00:23 +0000

When did February 14th become synonymous with that chubby Cupid character with the bow and arrow? And was there really a Saint Valentine?

One legend says Valentine was a priest in the 3rd Century who defied the Emperor’s decree outlawing young men to marry. The Emperor believed that young men got weak-kneed after marriage, which ruined them for fighting. So Valentine performed secret marriages for young lovers until he was discovered. Another legend says that Valentine fell in love with the jailor’s daughter and before his death the suitor sent her a letter signed “From your Valentine.”

There are many other tales, but the notion of celebrating Valentine’s Day became popular around the 18th century when friends and lovers started to exchange hand-written notes and tokens of affection. In some Latin American countries, on the Day of Love and Friendship (February 14), friends and family do kind things and show their appreciation for each other. In parts of Korea and Japan, women give chocolate to the men on Valentine’s Day; a month later (March 14 or “White Day”) the men give gifts—anything but dark chocolate—to women.

Closer to home, I decided awhile ago to go on a scouting mission to suss out the perfect place for a Valentine get-away. Lucky for me, at the time, I happened to be giving a workshop on travel writing in Saint John, New Brunswick. I didn’t have to look any further!

For starters, I couldn’t get enough of Saint John City Market (the oldest continuing farmer’s market in Canada). You’ll want to visit Slocum & Ferris, famous for local products such as lobster antipasto, dulse, pickled fiddle heads, maple syrup and “chicken bones” from Ganong’s.

Vendor David Forestell is always around and loves to talk about the market in general and the company’s history in particular.

As I gawk at the goods, David says, “Would you like to see an old ledger from 1912?”

“Sure,” says I.

He scampers up on old set of stairs to fetch the ledger. Returning lickety-split, he gives me a glimpse of the stock and costs way-back-when. Then he flips to the back pages and points to signatures of modern-day guests: Jean Charest, Bernard Lord, Preston Manning, Adrienne Clarkson, David Suzuki, and Stephen Harper—to name just a few. I grin, picturing the Prime Minister eating dulse.

I love this market. Its roof resembles the inverted keel of a ship and is actually made of hand-hewn timbers and dove-tailed joints well over 100 years old. On my way out, I meet Abraham Kim, maker of chocolates and Korean Hodo cookies. The size of golf balls, Hodos are made from walnut-scented dough stuffed with a sweet red bean paste then baked in a special machine. Abraham makes them on site; it’s a treat just watching the process.

And so it is here in Saint John; a blend of old and new reflected in different cultures, businesses—even in architecture. Throughout the city, old stone edifices stand shoulder to shoulder with glass structures, pedways and modern boutiques. Walking around the city, you’ll notice John Hooper’s bigger-than-life wooden sculptures. They are just wonderful, and always elicit a “feel-good” response.

If you enjoy browsing in second-hand shops as much as I do, you’ll love Back Street Records on Germain St. It’s small, but has some impressive old vinyl recordings. Owner Gordie Tufts specializes in “the rare and wonderful” and some of the jackets are signed by the musicians. I’m told that this is Stuart McLean’s favourite place in Canada to buy LPs.

Around the corner on Princess St., I discovered Hayward and Warwick, a sprawling old store loaded with china, glass, giftware and souvenirs. A family business for five generations, it’s been around since 1855. Along with a whopping load of inventory, it also has a wee china museum with mini exhibits and curios, and there’s always a sale table smack in the centre of the room.

Food-wise, Saint John has a plethora of great restaurants and several will be offering Valentine specials—too many to list here, but check out the visitor’s guide, city paper, or ask a local!

After dinner, consider topping the night of with your Valentine by going to Happinez wine bar. It has a unique seating arrangement called the “come a little bit closer bench” and is guaranteed to make you smile. Along with an impressive wine cellar, there are intimate nooks and crannies to sneak in a smooch or two.

Time to pucker up and plan a Valentine’s get-away to Saint John. Cupid would approve.

Where to stay

Delta Brunswick Hotel, ideal location; smack in uptown Saint John; connected to the Brunswick Square shopping complex and pedway to Market Square. Indoor pool, health club and Wi-Fi free. Special weekend rates now $129. (506-648-1981 www.deltahotels.com)

Photo Credits:

You Are Not

Guest Author — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 17:15:31 +0000

You are not like every cliché repeated often till meaning dies

You are like brilliant truth, revealing my weakness for your body

You are not like a rose whose fragrance and guarded beauty is oft repeated

You are like the smell of a thousand pines calling and seducing me to lay in your arms

You are not like an angel whose wings carried you to me from afar

Your are like mischievous devils whose temptations take me from fantasy to reality

You are not like a song, a tune sung over and over, children clapping their hands

You are like the sounds of waves, crashing your sexuality over my beaches

You are not like gentle swans, perfect beauty so many times compared

You are like violent lightning, striking the lies of men and melting my soul to yours

You not like the ordinary and common seen on every poet’s page

You are like the grandeur of space, possessing the beginning and ending of my life

Photo Credits

The Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

First written in opinionsofeye.com

Guest Author Bio

Drew Sager
Words. Deep thoughts. Eccentric. Madness. Lover. Dark. Music. Melancholic. Beaches. Guitars. Addict. Primal. Curious.

I’m an apologist and an apostate. I’ve been knocked down, way down, and fought my way back up, way up. I’ve been an advocate of peace and a destroyer of the same, in a word, I am dichotomy. A battle of polar opposites.

Blog / Website: http://www.opinionsofeye.com/

First Morning

Amia Moore — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 16:30:22 +0000

Have you ever heard the sound of a vehicle approaching and known instantly who it was?

It was one of the hottest mornings I had experienced in the summer months of July in a very long time, and the nervousness, anxiety and excitement filled only my being it seemed, because the world outside was calm. I could hear the others starting to slowly move about, getting ready for our day together. I lay there listening to the crackle of the fire, spending those last moments of this morning watching my children sleep peacefully and then I could hear him approaching.

I instantly lost focus. My heart started beating faster, so fast it was more of a rapid flutter than a beat at all and felt my face flush. I had spent hours in that truck to know what the sound of it would be like, and he had returned like promised before the day had even begun. We had spoken previous to his leaving about his prior business commitments and he promised he would take care of what he needed to and return immediately. I sat up. The other women began their preparations for the day. The smell of sage began to fill the tipi and the low murmur of the camp fully awake now was able to be heard. Frequent laughter surrounding us all, but all I could hear was his truck. Now let me explain. This was no time to lose focus, more than any other situation in my life this was the moment I needed to have my head on straight and my thoughts clear. Somehow in that haze of a fluttering heart and loss of concentration I was more focused than ever before.

I began to wake my children up; “Bella, Nate, it’s time to get up and get ready” and they both shot up out of sleep, filled with excitement. Looking around the tipi, we all were spread out much like the blankets are for a giveaway ceremony, each of us in our precise spot with our things surrounding us. Shawls, dresses, towels hung up on the tipi poles and our bins of what we deemed as necessary next to us. There wasn’t much talking, each of us getting dressed and preparing for the day, helping one another if asked, my thoughts booming although my voice remained silent. Ringing out loudly in my head “maybe it isn’t him, it is too far of a drive for him to be here already, he must have driven all night.” Could it be true? I mean seriously was this happening, I had never had this kind of support in my life from someone, no one has ever made what I thought to be of the utmost importance, to be just as important to them and here I sit listening to this truck approaching trying to talk myself out of this reality. It wasn’t just that he made my heart go pitter patter; it wasn’t just that he made my skin flush, it was deeper than that. It was that he believed in me and what I was doing and the reasons behind my reasoning. He gave me confidence to make up my mind on the suffering and he promised me when I made that decision he would be right there to support me. I sat there for a while, helping my children get dressed, watching the other women take care of what they needed too, contemplating what the day would bring us all, but never once did I lose that sound.

Finally the truck shut off, it didn’t make a difference I already knew that with that sound brought my source of confidence, my hope at true love. I prolonged stepping out of the tipi as long as I could, taking time with each movement I made and being exact and purposeful with each thought and prayer I began. When I could no longer avoid facing the new day, my reality, the truth of not just this moment but also the early morning sun, I took a deep breath walked towards the door and stepped out into the beginning of a new me. Once outside the tipi I looked around and watched the dragonflies as they had already begun dancing for the day, slowly moving my eyes toward where I knew he would be. Although I should not have been surprised when confirming that the sound I had heard was him, I still was. My heart fluttered again and my face flushed at the sight of the truck and within that truck a promise had been kept and was being fulfilled and the only real confirmation I needed for all of this was the ability to hear a familiar sound.

Photo Credits

Tipis – The Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection
Dragon Fly – Creative Commons
Article Thumbnail – Dragon Fly Site

A Love Potion For Two

Moira Nordholt — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 16:00:36 +0000

The list of health benefits that chocolate provides is long, but the reason we associate it with Valentine’s Day is that it contains a natural substance which triggers the same reaction in the body as falling in love.

Raw cacao is particularly good for us because in its purest, whole food form it contains no added sugar, emulsifiers or dairy. Cacao is noted to have very high levels of magnesium, which perhaps explains why women crave chocolate during their menstrual cycles, as magnesium balances brain chemistry and combats depression. Raw cacao is also purported to contain 28 times more heart-protecting, cancer-fighting antioxidants than black tea.

Now let’s talk bliss! Cacao contains a chemical called anandamide, otherwise known as “the bliss chemical” so named because our brain also releases this chemical when we’re feeling good. A small dose of raw cacao may help us hang on to that blissful feeling just a little longer. Beautiful!

This Spiced Love Potion is sexy smooth and will infuse your body and spirit with warmth and wellness. A little goes a long way! Serve it at room temperature in martini glasses as a romantic pre-dinner (alcohol-free) intoxicant.

Spiced Love Potion
(for two)

1/4 cup hemp seeds
25 organic almonds (about 1/4 cup)
1/4 cup raw cacao nibs
1 1/2 cup spring water
2 whole cloves
1/2 a cinnamon stick + 2 for garnish
2 cardamom pods
2 quarter-sized slices of fresh ginger root
5 medjool dates, pitted
1 small vanilla pod or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Soak the almonds and hemp seeds in purified water for at least an hour. Drain in a fine sieve.

In a blender, starting on low. blend all ingredients except the dates and the vanilla. Work the blender speed up to high and blend until creamy smooth.

Drain again in a fine sieve. You may need to use a spoon to help drain the “milk” through. Save the pulp in a bowl and set aside.

Rinse out the blender and pour the almond and hemp mixture back in. Blend with the dates and vanilla until creamy smooth.

Pour into two martini glasses and garnish with a stick of cinnamon.

*You can make the pulp into a creamy dairy-free spiced cacao ice-cream by stirring in 2 or 3 Tbsp of agave nectar and a tsp of vanilla extract and freezing!

Photo Credit

First Published At Feel Good Guru

Pucker Up Canada!

Tess Wixted — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 15:30:28 +0000

It’s Valentine’s Day. Love and lust are warming the air with lilts of dark chocolate and whispers of expensive champagne. Can kissing be very far behind? Today is the launch day of the Canada Kiss Map, an inspired creation of writer, creative process facilitator, and my friend, Chris Fraser.

As big brilliant ideas often begin, this one started small in her home town of Toronto. With her love of story and words as the seed, Chris set out to create a garden for lovers across the city to map and share in words and photos their first kisses, their best kisses, and, with bittersweetness, their farewell kisses. The project was embraced wholeheartedly by Toronto’s lovers and lip service proved to be rampant from Etobicoke to Scarborough.

The Canada Kiss Map is like GPS for lovers: nationwide access to the best spots north of the 49th Parallel for a passionate French kiss or a shy and tentative peck on the cheek. My kissing spot? First date, blues dancing at Swan’s Brew Pub in Victoria. The music was hot, the dance was sensual. At the end of a song our lips met. Ah, scintillating.

Check out my kiss story at www.canadakissmap.com and make your lip print too. You never know where romance lives.

Photo Credit

Couple Kissing on Cobblestone from Microsoft Office Clipart

Key To My Heart

Martha Sherwood — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 14:30:10 +0000

I have no particular sentimental attachments to Valentine’s Day. It conjures up memories of the second grade at Condon Elementary school in 1955, and an empty envelope taped to the front of my desk because none of those kids who brought in silly cheap cartoon valentines had addressed one to me. To my recollection, only once have I received an affectionate valentine that might possibly have been a genuine expression of love. I never found out for certain who sent it.

In February of 1969, when I was living in a shared student apartment and had zero romance in my life, the mail brought me a fancy commercial valentine, signed “Guess who”, that contained a tiny gold colored key and the message: “This is the key to my heart: in one month the lock will be changed.” I asked every suspect, but no one admitted to sending it.

I now wonder if it was from my father, who had a fine-honed sense of humor. At twenty I rarely communicated with my family. In later years we became reconciled, and going through his papers after his death I realized he loved me much more than he was ever able to express. My own daughter is now grown. I love her, and I make a point of telling her so, in words and in my actions. I tell other people I love them and don’t worry about being thought sentimental or insincere. At least that’s better than casting a genuine expression of love upon the waters, and never being suspected of being the author of it.

Photo Credit

Image From – The Microsoft Office Clip Art Collection

It’s the Thought that Counts

Margaret Blackwood — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 14:10:56 +0000

In my early twenties I went through a devastating break up around Christmas and was still reeling when February rolled around. I made it through a particularly bleak Valentine’s Day with no word from secret admirers, invisible friends, or my Ex whom, for all intents and purposes, had quite happily moved on.

That spring I was riding my bicycle into town and noticed an acquaintance of my Ex standing on the corner. He was a slightly older, New Age kind of guy with a live-in girlfriend who burned incense and wore colorful hand knitted socks from Nepal.

He was waving at me to stop. I hadn’t seen him since before my break up and I pulled over to the sidewalk. He told me that he had been sorry to hear about the split and that he had something for me. He’d been carrying it around for weeks, hoping to bump into me. With a grin, he opened up his backpack and pulled out a gnarled rice paper envelope with my name on it. “For you,” he said. “Have a good life,” he called as he walked away.

He had made me a Valentine’s card, and it meant the world to me. It was decorated with a collage of exotic postage stamps and red and black calligraphy. Inside he’d copied out a pithy little quote from Confucius expressing something about inner light. Apparently he had been concerned about my well being.

I bumped into him outside a grocery store some 20 years later. He wasn’t panhandling; he was just standing there passing time. We went to the restaurant across the street and caught up. The years since our last meeting had taken a toll on him. He was craggy looking, his face was deeply lined and it looked like he’d been having a struggle with substance abuse issues, maybe he’d even had a stint or two on the streets. I didn’t pry. He and his old girlfriend were having a long distance relationship, he said, now that she was working on her Doctorate back East.

When we parted I thanked him for his kindness and empathy, and for making me that card at a time when I had needed one most. “No problem,” he answered, “I knew you’d be happy.”

Photo Credit

Crop From ‘Calligrafie, Jan Van De Velde (1605)’ – Public Domain