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    Wednesday
    Aug142013

    Water Of Creation

    Life opens up like a book I haven’t read
    Even though it’s been on my shelf for years

    Reflections of who I am appear fresh and new
    Even though they’ve stared back at me
    Ever since I first looked into the mirror

    Colors sizzle and pop
    Dance and burn
    Vibrate and explode
    In places that used to be black and white

    The big picture isn’t just a picture anymore
    It’s Me
    In the flesh

    Maybe not every single moment

    But stringing along the moments into minutes
    The Minutes into hours
    The Hours into days
    The Days into Life

    And having that Life shine back to me
    Like the sun off of he water of creation


                               
    - Clint Piatelli

    © 2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

    Tuesday
    Aug132013

    As A Girl

           At dinner the other night, there was a family of four at the table next to me. An adorable little Asian girl was completely absorbed in her coloring book, barely paying attention to her parents as they asked her what she wanted for dinner. She answered them without even looking up.
           Something about that scene struck me. The parents weren’t freaking out that their daughter wasn’t giving them her undivided attention. They seemed to get that she was involved in something very important to her at the moment, and the decision about what to eat could be handled without fanfare. There was an ease and a calm between all of them, and a respect for where the little girl was at. Everybody, it appeared, was, at the moment, getting just what they needed.
           That touched me. And it sparked some sort of internal astral projection of all the women I’ve been intimate with that didn’t get what they needed growing up, and how that showed up in our relationship. In a flash, all I could see were the faces of some of the women I’ve loved. Women who, when I looked into their eyes, I could see and feel the little scars of pain and longing and sadness that were left over from childhood.
           We all carry those scars. Some of us are just better at hiding them. And some of us are better at seeing them, no matter how hard people try to hide them.
           Then I had this fantasy; that I could go back in time, to when these women I loved were little girls. And, as an adult, I would just shower them with love, and attention, and joy, and support, and mirror for them whatever they needed. I would be the adult who didn’t leave any scars.
           As adults, we have the opportunity to heal these scars through our intimate relationships. That healing takes a certain commitment, a certain attitude, an openness, and a certain enlightenment protocol that’s somewhat outside the norm of, say, traditional love relationships. It takes a desire to explore and dig and grow and do things a little different.
           I can’t go back in time. But I can be a better man today. In doing that, I heal myself. And I serve in the healing of the woman I love.
        

    I wish I knew you
    When you were just a little girl
    Before I knew you as the woman
    Who’s toes I would curl

    If I knew you then
    I would give to you all you didn’t get
    From the adults in your life
    All those needs that did not get met

    Loving you now
    I saw inside
    I looked
    I found
    I loved
    What you could not hide



    ©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

    Monday
    Aug122013

    The Perils of Perfection

           The other day, I asked myself why the book I’m writing is progressing so slowly. The book is based on what I’ve been blogging about in MuscleHeart for over five years, so I’m not exactly starting from scratch. Moreover, my writing has been very consistent since the middle of 2012; I’ve done over 125 posts in a little over thirteen months. And, I’m working with a writing coach who’s a published author. So, let’s review: I’ve got some of the raw material already; my writing has been strong and steady for well over a year; and I’ve got help. But my book is crawling along like a snail. What the fuck?
           Well, the “fuck” in “What the fuck” hit me yesterday morning as I was journaling. Somewhat perplexed as to why I wasn’t making better progress, I spontaneously wrote the following phrase: “I feel like I have to have the book already written before I write it.”.  
           That sounded crazy, but breaking it down, it became clear. Basically, I’m not letting myself be a beginner; I’m not allowing myself to fumble my way through the book writing process, making mistakes, getting off track, taking detours, hitting potholes, and figuring it out as I go. I’ve never written a book before, but I somehow expect to know what I’m doing. Now, that’s crazy.
           I’m doing the same thing with my business. I see the endpoints; the videos, the podcasts, the multi-media presentations, the speaking in front of an audience, giving my message and helping people live fuller, richer, more expressive, more heart felt lives. But I’m short sheeting my own bed because I’m not letting myself figure it out as I go. I’m trying to out think everything first. And when I can’t out think it, what's my first tendency? Well, think about it more! Think about it harder! That’s like trying to put out a fire with more gasoline.
           Over the past month or so, it’s become clear that I bring a certain amount of that obsessive perfectionism to lots of things, and it messes me up. My mind believes it’s supposed to figure everything out first, then do it. And do it right. I have to step outside my mind and tell myself, "That’s not the way it works". I actually have to remind my mind that I figure it out as I do it. It’s a process, and it can be a damn messy process. If I can’t get past my fear of the mess, I’m doomed. Not only in writing a book, but in anything.
           I never realized how much perfectionism derails me, even cripples me. What I see is how afraid I am of not doing something “right”, even when I have no clear definition of what “right” is. It’s an insanity loop. And I want off this ride.
           The only way off the ride is to do. Make the damn omelet. Break the feakin‘ eggs. Then do it again. And again. And again. The omelet will never be “perfect”. But if I bring the best of myself to it, and I keep at it, no matter what, I will create something. I will create something I’m proud of. I will create something I love.
           And that’s really what I’m in the game for anyway. My mind may be invested in perfection. But my being is invested in creating love.  
        


    ©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

    Thursday
    Aug082013

    Inner Space

           Once I shared what was happening inside of me with my class at Kripalu (as I wrote about in my post Sharing Is Shifting), I felt a sense of belonging, of community, and things began opening up for me. My experience became broader, as other thoughts besides those of self doubt and self judgement floated through my mind. Sadness took a back seat to a sense of wonder, and I felt a bit more at peace. I wasn’t quite jumping for joy, but possibilities opened up as some space was created within me.
           “Creating space within” was one of the key terms I heard during our group meditation sessions. When I first heard it, I didn’t quite know what the hell our instructor Jonathan Foust was talking about. Initially, I had a hard time conceptualizing it, but I’ve come to my own understanding of what it means, and that understanding is still developing. For me, creating space within means allowing for more of who I am to be available for my life. Creating space within means getting a sense of how vast I am inside, and how that vastness can translate into inner and outer freedom. It means visualizing that I am this giant place within, where anything is possible. It means not becoming consumed by any particular thought, groups of thoughts, or feelings, even if those feelings hold great power. It means opening up to whatever is happening, inside of me and thus in the exterior context of my life, with less judgement, less criticism, and less monkey mind mental gymnastics.
           Through my sharing with, and hence my connection to, our group, some space opened up for a realization I had the next day while stretching. At the beginning of our morning meditation, I was sitting cross legged and doing a group stretch, right hand overhead, moving to my left and towards the floor. I noticed how tight I was, like I always do. I immediately went into my internal dialogue. It’s worth noting that usually, when I talk to myself, my mind refers to my body, and to me, in the second person, as a “You”. My mind is very invested in believing that it is a completely separate entity from my body, separate indeed from my very being. I could do a whole post on that internal sense of separation, but for now, let’s just leave that food for thought on the table. Anyway, my mind says to me “Jesus, you’re tight! You’ve gotta be the tightest “healthy” person on the planet. Okay, let’s push through this....stretch harder....pull baby pull.....maximize this stretch.....it should hurt or it’s not doing anything.....”. Yeah, I know. Brutal. And remember, this is supposed to be a light, easy morning stretch. I bet your mind talks to you like that too.
           Because some space had opened up for me, however, I caught myself talking to myself like that and heard a different voice inside. This voice was gentler, kinder, more allowing, and although not a whisper, not a scream like the last one was. This voice said to me, “How about just noticing how tight we are, allowing us to be like this, and stretching as far as you can without pain.”. And, notice how this inner voice referred to the entire amalgamation of “Me” as “We”.
           Wow. You mean I don’t have to muscle my way through this stretch? I can just notice and allow and be with it? I don’t have to “maximize the experience” by beating myself up and pushing through pain?
           I paid attention to this other voice. And that lead me to another insight, an even broader and bigger one, that I’ll share with you in my next post about Kripalu.


    ©2013 Clint Piatelli. MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

    Tuesday
    Aug062013

    Mask

           My friend gave me this Ace Frehley ski mask for Christmas. I’ve worn it skiing. I’ve worn it sailing. I’ve worn it whilst driving my car. I've worn it walking around my neighborhood on frigid January nights. I’ve worn it in the confines of my own home. I’m sure someday I’ll wear it in bed. But that’s another story.....
           Kids wear masks all the time. But kids do it consciously. When a kid puts a mask on, it’s a physical mask, like this one, and it’s done with complete awareness. It’s a deliberate decision. Adults wear masks all the time too. But ours our usually unconscious. Ours are often done without awareness. And ours aren’t so much physical as they are metaphysical.     
           We adults wear masks to protect ourselves, to fit in, to avoid harm, to survive. Adults dawn masks without even knowing it, and eventually, may realize that the mask has become them. The question becomes “Are you wearing the mask, or is the mask wearing you?”.
           I encourage us all to spend more time without our adult masks. To show more of who we really are, to the world at large, and especially to those we are close to and care about. If we want to wear masks as adults, let’s do it the way kids do it. That is, get a real mask, a physical mask, and put it on. And then go play.
           I do. And let me tell you, it’s freakin’ fun.


    ©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.