At The Edge Of My Forever

I dreamt of her last night
Sweet
Beautiful
Her

I awoke
Laughing
Crying
Feeling
Missing
Wondering

Do You ever dream of me?
Do you feel the same pull
Towards a sacred space
Where our two hearts beat as one
Where our two souls
Live together

Letting Go
Does not always mean
Stop Loving
Stop Caring
Stop Missing

Sometimes
I don’t know what it means
Except
Sometimes
It  just hurts

I Love You At The Edge Of My Forever

- Clint Piatelli

Mindful Television

Ah, television. The opiate of the masses (although in this day and age, I would argue that opiate itself is the opiate of the masses). It's never been that for me. Television has actually been a source of great comfort for me, ever since I was a kid.

Growing up in a family where there was a lot of drama and a lot of tension was quite stressful for this little kid. The proverbial shoe could drop at any minute, and often did, usually, more than one at a time and in rapid succession. Metaphorically, it was like living in a shoe store (maybe that explains my foot fetish). The only place that tended to be a "No Drama Zone" was the family room, where the television was. And the only time shoes weren't dropping was when me, my twin brother, and my parents (often accompanied by my Aunty Yu-Yu and Uncle Mike) would watch television together. 

It was a cozy and safe environment for a kid who rarely ever felt cozy or safe. We all sat on two couches, and Mike and I were usually next to Aunty Yu-Yu. We snuggled right next to her. She was warm and fuzzy. All of us were engaged in what was happening on the screen, so there was a communal focus. There was a ritualistic element to watching television, especially that one Sunday a month when the new episode of Columbo aired. Whenever we all watched TV together, there wasn't a whole lot of talking; a welcome break from the action. But that could also be a bit stifling. If you talked too much, my dad would get aggravated. And that was never good. But, overall, it was a beautiful experience. In a house that sometimes felt more like a broadway show gone awry, with lots of lies, a lack of emotional safety, and more than enough yelling, the family room with the TV on was a sanctuary for an over anxious kid like myself.

I still find television comforting today. I'm still drawn to it when I feel down. When I was depressed, I could literally watch the boob tube all day, becoming a boob in the process. So I guess, when I was depressed, TV was my opiate. Along with opiates. A Double Whammy. 

There remains lots of complete tripe on television. But there is also plenty of quality programming. I go for shows where I can learn something, or see something created. Discovery Channel, National Geographic, The History Channel, The Learning Channel. Documentaries are especially fascinating. And football. I love watching football. Especially re-runs of Patriots Super Bowl victories. 

As a kid, Saturday morning cartoons were like having Christmas once a week. And I still remember the very first show I saw in color, on our very first color television set (an RCA): Ultra Man. It had monsters, fantasy, dubbed dialogue over bad acting, and shit loads of color. It was glorious. 

And of course, there were Looney Toons, or as we simply called them, "Bugs Bunny". I still watch those shorts today and bust a gut. Even more than when I was a kid. Because not only does the visual action still break me up, but I get the adult humor that's all over those cartoons. The sarcasm, the subterfuge, the subtext, the absurdity, and the more "mature" references. Along with Mad Magazine, Looney Toons formed the very foundation of my sense of humor.

During the fall and winter seasons, my twin brother and I would get our homework done in time to watch the Bruins and Celtics games on channel 38 almost every night. I have very fond memories of Mike and I sitting too close to the television, absorbed by the action, and discussing the intricacies of the game (as much as was possible for kids still in grade school). During the breaks between periods or quarters, we would head down to the cellar, which was covered by a linoleum floor. We had these slipper socks that had vinyl bottoms, so you would slide and skid all over the place you when you ran around. That inspired us to create our own game, "Ice Basketball", a combination of the Hockey and hoop games we watched upstairs. 

The ritual of watching those sports on television, and playing together in a game we invented was a powerful bonding experience for my twin brother and I. Not only did we make up the game, we made up the teams (with cities and logos), the players and their names (including backstories), and everything else along with it. 

Our experience of watching those games and playing in between created connection between us, flexed our creativity, sharpened our intellect by analyzing and discussing the games, and fostered exercise. It was a very complete experience, made possible by television. 

Like any form of media, Television can serve us or it can cripple us, depending on how we use it. Today, the true Opiate of The Masses is the combination of internet and "smart" phones. And, just like opiates themselves, this can be dangerous or helpful. 

It comes back to mindfulness. Are we using these amazing tools and technologies mindfully or mindlessly? Are we staring at our phones 24/7 while life is happening around us? Or are we skillfully using them to add to our lives? Like fire, which can cook our food or cook us, it all depends on our application. 

I encourage us to bring mindfulness to our lives, especially in the addictive practice of web surfing, texting, messaging, face timing, and all the nifty things we can do with our technology. Use social media mindfully, as a way to truly connect to others, not as a detached substitution for connection itself. 

All tools are powerful instruments. Use them accordingly. Television, the internet and the smart phone, are scalpels. Not sledge hammers.

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

Charlie And Me

Charlie and I have been friends since 1982, our sophomore year at Villanova. We've enjoyed more good times together than I can possibly recount. More importantly, we've shared a lot of love. We've shared a lot of life.

In college, Charlie was part of an extend family of life shakers, trouble makers, party players, and risk takers. He was rather unique in our crowd. Most of us were business majors. Charlie was studying to be a civil engineer. That meant we had a lot more free time than he did. Somehow, he kept pace with our full throttle social agenda and managed to get outstanding grades. Charlie is one of most intelligent men I've ever met.

When my college band, The Albino Skunks, came up with the marketing and PR ploy of having completely unnecessary "security guards" to accompany the band at a talent show (which we won) and at gigs, Charlie was a proud member of a crack four man squad known as "Skunk Security". When I invited a bunch of Jerseyites to cape cod for The Fourth of July in 1984, Charlie made the trek along with Kevin, Mike, and Harry. At one point during the long, alcohol laden ride, as the conversation turned philosophical, Charlie made the now infamous comment, "Ya know, we're just great people."

Sophomore year, many of this extended family all lived in the same wing, on the same floor, of the same dorm. Sullivan 3rd West was more like a carnival of tumultuous mayhem than a housing establishment. Charlie was always in the thick of things. Inevitably, at some point late on a weekend night, Charlie would grab Harry's boxing gloves, and, knowing I was on the boxing team, inexplicably challenge me to spar. Within 30 seconds, I was pummeling him so bad he would hit the floor, laughing and crying "Uncle!". 

Senior year, after upsetting Georgetown in 1985 to win the NCAA Basketball Championship, a few of the more rowdy members of The Albino Skunks completely destroyed three floors worth of wooden railings at Charlie's apartment complex. He was understandably pissed at us. For months. And he got over it. 

Less than 10 years after graduating, Charlie started his own construction company, becoming so successful that he's now "retired" (a relative term, considering how much he still oversees his labor of love). When he was considering striking out on his own those many years ago and needed some advice, he called my father, who also owned his own constuction company. They spent hours on the phone. Charlie has never forgotten that. Neither did my dad. Neither have I. 

As we've gotten older, Charlie and I have gotten closer. We share our struggles, our triumphs, our thoughts and feelings, in conversations that would not have been possible years ago. Our friendship has deepened, and, even though we don't see each other nearly as much now as we did in our college days, we are closer than we've ever been. Unlike real estate, intimacy is not about location. It's not about geography. 

Intimacy is about our hearts, about ourselves, about our lives, and how much of that we are willing to share. I know Charlie, and he knows me, far better than ever. I see a beauty in him that is only made possible by experience, wisdom, and openness. I know his wife, his kids, and what's important to him. Our reciprocal love and respect fuels our relationship.

Age, time, and lots of work have gotten me closer to the core of my being, and that is reflected by a life more in harmony with that core. That path is not a linear one. It's not a path I can plan. It's had bumps and detours and lots of pain. It's had periods of time where I regressed, not progressed. But ultimately, all of those twists and turns bring me closer to being in my life more fully; of living a more enriched, more authentic, more fulfilled life. A life full of love. I realize that now like never before. 

Connection has proven, time and time again, to save me when I was drowning in my own sea of despair. Connection to myself. Connection to others. Although I'm physically further away from many of my oldest friends, I'm closer to them in the the ways that matter. So when we do get together, the times we share together strike my heart like a harp, and my heart sings.

I love Charlie. He was just in Los Angeles with his whole family. When I saw him, I snuck up behind him, put him in a loving head lock, kissed his cheek, and told him I loved him. He laughed and gave love right back to me. Two grown men, acting like a couple of kids. That gives me goosebumps. 

We all have this capacity to more fully develop ourselves and our relationships. But it requires us to open ourselves up and risk our hearts. To risk being hurt or rejected or growing apart from people we love if they aren't on the same wavelength. That's happened to me with some people I used to be very close to. That has been the cost. But the benefits of stronger and more loving connections to those willing to risk the same with us is more than worth it. Always.

Take those risks. Open yourself up. Actively Love with wild abandon. Share. There's only one of you, and the world needs you. In the unfathomably vast history of the universe, there is only, there will only ever be, a YOU; that unique combination of heart, soul, mind, and body. 

That gives me goosebumps too. I'm getting a lot of those these days.

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

Fail Safe Compatibilty Test

There's this old tank top I still wear. How old? Not really sure. Let's put it this way; I've got pictures with it on, circa 1990, and it doesn't look brand new.

It started off jet black, and has faded to light black. It's got more holes in it than the streets of Boston after a snowy winter, when the asphalt has been mangled by plows. All the edges are frayed, and it's ripped halfway up the right side, held together by two big safety pins. And it's got a few bleach stains on it from who knows where. I love it.

I wear that shirt to the gym, to yoga, and out and about. It's not something I would wear on a first date, however. Or so I thought.

At yoga the other day, a striking woman walks by me and says, "I like your yoga mat". She had a good eye for style, because, in the generally austere world of yoga mats, this one was bitchin': it had a cork base, with seven colorful circles riding up the middle, demarking the chakras. "Thank you", I replied, and winked at her. She smiled. Not a bad way to start a class. Later, I saw her in the lobby of the yoga studio, checking out clothing. We started to chat, and I asked her out for coffee (told you I love yoga babes). She accepted.

Over coffee, she asked, with a smile, "Is there story behind that shirt you're wearin'?". It's worthy to note that my tank top had acquired even more distinction by being drenched in sweat. I told her about it, and she laughed. She dug it. We had a honey of a time.

That interaction got me thinking. I have a mile walk home from Westwood Village, which is where my gym and yoga studio are. I walk to and from The Village at least once a day. It's a beautiful jaunt, bordered by UCLA and it's botanical garden on one side and Sorority row on the other (flora over here, fauna over there). I get lots of ideas on these walks, sometimes sketching out entire writings in my head. 

It occurred to me that my infamous tank top has been more than just a trusty garment over the years; it's been a barometer for female compatibility. I thought back to all my girlfriends since I started wearing it (approximating of course, not knowing exactly how long I've had the thing). I realized that, without exception, there's a line that breaks like a perforated Saltine cracker; the women who have had issues with me wearing this ragged piece of clothing, and have proven to be incompatible, are on one side; the women who have dug this shirt, and have proven very compatible, are on the other.

This is not a matter of right or wrong, good or bad. It's a matter of sensibilities, attitudes, and a general approach to life. The women who don't like me wearing this shirt are of the opinion that it looks "tacky". The women who like it will say things like "I dig that shirt because it's so You". And therein lies the compatibility acid test. Compatibly is a complex phenomenon. Which is why it's so exciting to realize that a simple article of clothing can gauge it.

I feel great wearing this shirt. I wear it like I do all clothing; from the inside out. I'm comfortable, feel good, and believe I look great in it. If you're totally on board with that, it says that you're okay with me being me. With me wearing whatever I want. With me being comfortable in my own skin, with my own second skin, and expressing that to the world at large. If you like it, you place a high value on self expression. You don't care too much about what people think of me, or what people think of you being with a guy who would wear a tattered tank top that predates the millennium. This is just one way I express myself, but it translates well across the wide spectrum of self expression.

If you don't dig it, and in fact if you truly hate it, I'm not going to psychoanalyze you; but I am going to say that our sensibilities don't align. Our values don't match up. Our attitudes about self expression and letting it all hang out are quite different. That has been the case, every time.

Expanding my general thesis, I don't go for "preppy" women; their conservative nature, attitudes, and overall approach, along with their conventional lifestyles, are usually reflected in their clothing; and I'm at the other end of the universe. I'm most compatible with women who are unconventional, far from conservative, are wild at heart and wild in spirit, very artistic, with a certain unique flash. I go for women who love how they look in a pair of tight jean shorts, a bikini top, sparkly Chucky Taylor high tops, no make-up, and a baseball cap (with the ponytail pulled through the opening in the back - fuck, I love that look). If a woman feels sexy in that, I'm on board. It's not just skin deep (or clothing deep). You look sexy in that because you feel sexy in that. And if you feel sexy in it, you are sexy. To yourself, and to me. I pick up on that vibe and resonate with your energy. The same is true the other way around. I feel sexy in my battered tank top. If you can feel that, ride my energy with me, then we're on the same wavelength; were vibrating on a similar frequency. We gel. We ignite together.

I'm looking to explore this more, I'm just not sure when. That's all I got for now.

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

SuperFly's 11 (part 2)

To get up to speed, read SuperFly's 11 if you missed it.

In the "Nurture Vs. Nature" debate, I stand clearly on the side of "both". 

It's a Yin and Yang paradigm, just like almost everything. Case in point: I've lead an unconventional life (to say the least). Part of that is circumstance (nurture) and part of that is intrinsic to who I am (nature).

There are great benefits, and some heavy costs, to the life I've chosen, with the understanding that some it is a matter of life choosing me. Which is not to say I'm not 100% responsible for all of it. Taking the possibility of past lives off the table (because I'm undecided about my belief in that), life chose my early circumstances and environment. Life chose me from the get go to be blessed with access to money, education, a nice place to live, relatively high social status, and some fine comforts. When I became an adult, I chose what to do with all that.

Never having to worry about some of things many find a challenge, like food on the table, rent or mortgage payments, and shelter, I focused on developing my inner dimensions. I worked at  educating myself, at developing self awareness and personal growth; I played at living a life full of creativity, self-expression, and, truth be told, having a good fucking time.

But there are certain areas of my life where I have been unchallenged, and those areas are thus underdeveloped. My purpose and career have always been nebulous. I've doubted my inner strength, my resolve, my resiliency, my tenacity. There's been an over arching theme of intense self-doubt and lack of true self-love. I always felt I was "missing something", and didn't believe I had what it took to be successful, especially when it came to career and purpose. 

That is, until I got my ass into treatment. 

When Michelangelo was asked how he created the statue of David from a single block of marble, he replied, "David was already in there. I just had to remove what didn't belong". That's a great way to describe what I've been through over the last five months. Yes, I've gained massive amounts of new knowledge, learned new tools, gained understanding, had shifts and breakthroughs galore. and made exciting au courant inner connections. I've built myself up from the inside out. But, fundamentally, this has been a journey of stripping away what doesn't belong, letting go of that which no longer serves me, and discovering that all I need is already inside me. It is through that clearer lens that I now see myself. It is with that new sense of self that I now fly into my life.

It's both self-discovery and self-creation. I don't see the two as independent, mutually exclusive, or even separate. There is an alchemy to this process that at once allows me to discover, and create, a truer, wholer, higher version of Clint "SuperFly" Piatelli. That's the best way I can describe it right now.

In the first part of this post, SuperFly's 11, I wrote about picking apart, looking under the hood, of a scene from the movie Ocean's 11. The sene moved me, and I wanted to know what about it had touched something deep within. Then, in therapeutic sessions, I dug deeper and then applied what I had gleaned. This is a wonderful example of an axiom I have fully subscribed to since entering treatment: Use Every Experience As An Opportunity For Growth.

In the restaurant scene, Danny Ocean (George Clooney) surprises his ex-wife, Tess (Julia Roberts) who's sitting alone, waiting for her new husband. Danny is somewhat contrite (without actually apologizing), open, and direct. From jump street, Tess starts shooting sharp, poison arrows right into his heart. She's hostile, angry, bitter, quick witted, and deadly accurate. Ocean, however, has enough insight to realize that this behavior, paradoxically, is further proof that she still deeply cares about him. Tess knows how to hurt him, and goes straight for the jugular. Not that she doesn't have reason to. He lied to her. He abandoned her. He screwed her over, royal. And yet, there he is. In the belly of the beast. 

He loves her. And, despite what she is saying, he knows she still loves him. He knows this, in his bones, in his heart. He's wiling to lay all his cards on the table for it. And, if he's wrong, he'll eat his words like a man and move on. When her new husband finally enters the scene, Danny sees him kiss her hand, right in front of him. Ocean is standing in all that with a rock solid core and taking blow after blow to his ego, to his manhood, to his heart. He may be dying on the inside, but he doesn't break a sweat. Doesn't go down. Doesn't even flinch.

What I see and experience is a man boldly standing in the middle of his truth, with the balls, with the chutzpah, with the self-assurance to take himself right into the lion's den. I see a man coming from his heart, opening himself up in the most vulnerable way possible. He integrates his vulnerability with his powerful sense of self and inner strength. He embodies, he is living from, the wisdom that his open heart is his one of his great sources of personal power. That is a paraphrase of the tag line for this website, "The Most Powerful Heart Is An Open One". 

When I strip away that which doesn't belong to me, the unnecessary stone from the marble statue, I am that man. When I integrate all those parts of me that were once disharmonious, my true light shines strong and bright from within and illuminates the whole of my life. When I answer life's call and risk laying it all on the line and detach from the outcome, I live a fuller, more enlightened existence. When I courageously stand in the whole of my truth and take that into my life at full throttle, I'm living the life that I designed. A life in harmony with what's happening within me. There is congruence between my inner and external worlds. 

For this discussion, let's take the fact that Ocean is a thief off the table. As we get to know Clooney's character throughout the movie, I see that Danny Ocean is highly intelligent, gutsy, courageous, creative, self-assured, bold, and has a huge heart. He's respected, admired, and loved. He's a trail blazer, a maverick, a leader. He's A Universe Denter.

Sounds a lot like someone I've just gotten to know.

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