Sexuality and sensuality are basic human needs and perhaps even basic human rights. We all need affection: it’s been suggested that babies in orphanages die when they do not receive enough touch. The first thing we do when we are born is to connect physically to our mothers and caregivers. But beyond touch, we have many senses, and through these we interact with the world and each other.

My husband Tom and I express our sexuality openly. We kiss in public, hold hands on long walks, and are playful with each other. When we dance closely, we embrace each other tightly, our bodies complement each other, and we communicate nonverbally. We seek sensual adventures by finding nude beaches and skinny-dipping in the ocean or dressing sexy for each other’s visual pleasure. These expressions, and others, are a natural part of our lives.

Not all sensual moments need to be obvious; sometimes appreciating the finer things in life is all it takes. Tasting the silky flavors of fine chocolate followed by a sip of red wine, perhaps a Petite Syrah or better yet, Port, and delight in the flavors rolling over your tongue.  Enjoying an evening at the symphony or the ballet: letting the music tickle your ears as the sounds of the various instruments interact with each other, noticing the melodies and themes weaving their way in and out of the piece of music, and watching as the dancers find the right moment to move as though the music was designed for their dance and not the other way around.

And even more, sensuality can be found in simple pleasures (which is probably why day spas are so popular). Taking the time to relax and really enjoy a manicure, or a massage… I’ve even seen women close their eyes in bliss when getting their hair washed at the hairdresser. Eating ice cream in a Jacuzzi and feeling both hot and cold at the same time. Waking up to the sounds of birds outside your window. Sitting on the beach watching the sun set over the ocean, bathing in yellows and oranges, listening to the screech of gulls, smelling the salty air, feeling the sand between your toes and the wind on your face.

Sensuality works only when you take the time to appreciate it. This beautiful world is full of wonder. Take a moment to enjoy it.

Reflections of an Innocent Bystander

The following article is written by a colleague. It does not necessarily represent my opinions. However, it is interesting.

***************

Exhibitionism. Hollywood has taught us that it’s a guy opening his trench coat to a bunch of school kids, but that’s almost entirely a fable. Exhibitionism is when someone derives sexual gratification from exposing a taboo body part.

That can be a difficult idea to get your brain around. What is “sexual gratification”? What causes it? If I get a raise and go home and do my wife, can I say that I am sexually gratified by raises? If I spend the day with the guys watching football, my team wins, and I go home and do my wife, can I say that an afternoon with the guys stimulates me? Where is the transition from non-sexual expression to sexual expression?

I don’t know, and I leave it with you to wonder about.

I get off on exhibitionism. I like my taboo parts to be noticed. I like my wife’s taboo bits to be noticed. And I like it when they are noticed by unsuspecting strangers.

Weird, eh? If I am working in the yard shirtless and a Muslim man and woman round the corner and he shields his wife’s eyes from me, well, that’s hot. If my braless wife walks past a group of businessmen on their way to lunch and they are suddenly distracted, that’s hot.

What a strange game for evolution to play. We have taboos against some sexual expressions, and it’s the breaking of some of these taboos that bring sexual excitement.

In some sexual circles, there is a concept of “consent”. You must have the consent of all parties or your activity is unacceptable, wrong, forbidden. But my fetish works only without the other party’s consent.

I was speaking to an Australian sex therapist recently about this, and he had interesting thoughts. A 12-month-old baby has no concept of consent, but an adult certainly has the capacity to turn away. Thus, we have consent. In other words, his notion was that, by the act of being adults and being alive, we consent to life and what it gives us.

I don’t know if I quite agree with that, but it’s an interesting idea.

Ah, you may wonder, what of the person traumatized by some violent act, and my unwarranted act of exhibitionism triggers emotional distress?

What about the soldier who saw a baby killed in Iraq and now is traumatized whenever she hears a baby cry?  Are we to hide all babies? What of the boy who was injured at a family picnic and now has panic attacks whenever he smells barbeque chicken? Do we disallow all barbeque chicken? And the woman who lost her granddaughter in a car accident? Are cars to be banned?

Of course not. Adults must learn to deal with the world. The world will not—and should not—change for my own failings. This is true for sex, too.

So, I enjoy my and my wife’s exhibitionism, not despite social mores, but because of them. And I applaud the girls on prom night who dress to attract attention, the boys playing basketball shirtless, the housewife who wears her thong higher than her jeans while shopping at Safeway, and the millions of other folks who find their own way to titillate using something as simple and available as their own body.

Refections of an Innocent Bystander

The following article is written by a colleague. It does not necessarily represent my opinions. However, it is interesting.

***************

Pedophilia: Sexual feelings directed towards children. The Queen Mother of despicable human behavior. In America, you can be imprisoned for simply downloading pictures on your computer of children in sexually suggestive poses or even being nude. It is not uncommon for imprisoned pedophiles to be killed by other inmates. It is a defilement of the most important thing we as a culture have.

Imagine the following scenarios:

Scenario 1: A mother takes her 4^th grade son to McDonalds every day for dinner. The boy weighs 270 pounds. He plays no sport and has no friends.

Scenario 2: A father insists his 8-year-old son play football. The boy hates football. He is small for his age and frequently nurses bruises and sore joints. He is being taught to be aggressive and takes out his frustration on his younger brother.

Scenario 3: An uncle takes his nephew to the museum, the zoo, and Disneyland. He tutors him in school and teaches him manners and civility. He is highly protective of the boy, and will allow no one to abuse him. He also has his nephew perform oral sex on him.

Scenario 4: Parents want their daughter to be a professional musician. They force her to play the violin 6 hours a day, every day. The girl hates the violin, has no friends, and has no social skills. She dreams of leaving home and never playing the violin again.

In three of these scenarios, no laws are being broken. We may not agree with the actions of the parents, but who are we to tell another how to raise a child? After all, a child does not understand anything more than the moment, and a parent must think of the child’s future.

One is an abomination and the person should be removed from society.

Why? I have opinions, but, truthfully, except for cultural bias, I don’t know.

Imagine for a moment there is something that you find fiercely sexual. In your imagination, you picture that in your mind and allow yourself to feel erotic pleasure.

Unfortunately, your state-ordered psychiatrist tells you that those feeling must be suppressed. You cannot have pictures of such persons in your house or download them on your computer. Telling your coworkers of your sexual preference will get you fired. Instead (in this alternative universe), your psychiatrist shows you a picture of a 5-year-old boy and informs you that this and only this is an acceptable outlet for your sexuality.

Are you going to do it? Will you seduce your neighbor’s son to fit in with societal norms when your whole body tells you it’s wrong and repulsive?

So why do we expect a true pedophile to be able to do the same thing?  Can that ever work?  Is this the best solution we can find? How is this different than telling teenagers to be abstinent, something that has never worked in the history of mankind?

Oddly enough, I can indeed have pictures of naked 10 year olds on my laptop without breaking any law. If those pictures are of children mutilated by a land mine in Afghanistan or missing arms due to a car bomb in Iraq, well, then it’s okay. It can be justified as military research or even a hobby. No laws are being broken. Only if the children in the pictures are healthy and whole am I going to prison.

These people, these pedophiles, live with us. They are in our offices, our stores, our hospitals. Like most people, they have fantasies, and like most people they decide which they will act on and which they will not. Looking at pictures of natives in National Graphic, listening to songs with lusty lyrics, and reading suggestive materials should not be a punishable offense, even if you own those magazines, CDs, and books. Thinking about things—fantasies—is a good thing and should be encouraged.

Reflections of an Innocent Bystander

The following article is written by a colleague. It does not necessarily represent my opinions. However, it is interesting.

***************

Imagination

James Earl Carter, 39^th president of the United States, once said that he sinned in his heart. In other words, he didn’t “do” anything, he only though about doing something.

It’s a strange concept to me. I think about killing someone and am repulsed. The thought prevents the action. Even if it is a business rival and I have intense murder fantasies—that I know I will never act on—have I murdered in my heart?

I play video games with my friends. We kill each other. A lot.

I have dreams of women. Sexual dreams.

I look at idealized female forms on the Internet.  (You might call it porn.)

I don’t confuse this with reality. I know that my 12 year old niece’s soccer game should not be judged by the same standards as a professional soccer game.

What if we had holodecks a la Star Trek? What if I knew intellectually that nothing was real, but viscerally there was no difference between the simulation and the real thing. The hamburger tasted 100% real. The water was wet. The flowers smelled like spring. The bee sting actually hurt.

Would it still be okay to play war games? Could I have real sex with a simulated woman with no social or person ramifications? Could I butcher a baby or torture a cat? Could I be Hitler for a day? What about Santa Clause or Mary Poppins? Would we censor the holodeck for socially acceptable behavior, or would be use it as a solution for pedophilia, bestiality, and a host of other censured behaviors? Could it even be used to cure drug addition or punish criminals?

How many of us would be holodeck Gods, creating and judging our own civilizations? How many of us would have a perfect wife or husband, always there after hours to provide for our needs effortlessly? How many Supermans, Batmans, and Spidermans would there be?

And how many sexual fantasies would we explore? No matter how hard you let the football players rape you, there would never be any damage or danger. I mean, you’ve spent thousands of hours sitting with the guys watching football; surely you’ve wondered what it’s like on the bottom of a pile of players after you’ve been tackled. And with the holodeck’s privacy settings at 100%, no one will ever know.

Would something like this improve relationships?  After all, we have fantasies anyway. Perhaps my experimentation with the football team would inspire me to let my wife strap it on.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the sensations of a holodeck would overwhelm those available in real life. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing? Once I got a taste of unbridled sexual adventure, would I ever want to return to the strict mores of society, or would I still believe that there is a difference between Playboy and my wife, and that my wife is infinitely better?

When do we fantasize too much or too much? How do we know? You might say that it’s too much or too little when it interferes with your life, but philosophers, authors, and theoretical mathematicians would have a very different concept of where that limit is than you would.

I feel certain that, as the human brain continues to evolve, thinking about the past and using it as a basis for conceptualizing possible future scenarios—that is, imagination—will become more important, not less.

Disneyland for Grown-Ups

She’s always been up for new adventures, and this was no exception. Betty and I have been friends for 2 years now, and in that time we have developed a trusting relationship. I have introduced her to many new things, from corsetry to sensual yet non-sexual photo shoots, to a trip to Folsom Street Faire.  She just turned 21 and now the real (grown-up) adventures await!

We had been planning a trip to LA for spring break, and I was considering taking Betty to one of my favorite dungeons there. I wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a field trip, but the night before we left, she was leaving unintentional clues. So, I casually asked her, “Do you want to go to a dungeon while we’re on vacation?” She enthusiastically responded, “Yes!?” followed by “What, exactly, is a dungeon?” Being friends with me, she was already aware of the BDSM scene and community, just hadn’t had any guidance for personal exploration. So I told her enough to reduce the fear of the unknown, while leaving some mystery to keep it exciting. She kept telling me that she was “curious, and just doesn’t know what to expect.”

We decided to dress as two school-girls. I didn’t have any particular plan in mind and went with the assumption that I would just be showing her around but left an open mind for the possibility of play. When we arrived, most of the attendees were simply socializing and I was worried that Betty would find the experience to be boring. I gave her the grand tour and showed her all of the equipment and each of the uniquely decorated rooms. We made new connections with friendly people, and I reconnected with some old friends from years past. One reconnection was with a former casual play-partner of mine, Fred. I was thrilled to see him again and we talked with his lovely play partner, Ginger.

Betty and I continued our tour and stopped to watch a scene-in-progress. Betty asked if it was okay to watch, and I reassured her that it was. In fact, the Primary Dom let us know he was ok with our voyeurism; so we sat, perched atop a leather bed, and enjoyed the scene taking place in front of us. The scene involved a beautiful woman, blindfolded, with two dominant men tending to her needs. They would stroke her, spank her, and worship her various body parts. One of my friends, Chris, joined in (after being asked by the Primary Dom) by worshiping her feet. The woman asked for permission to orgasm; her Dom refused. He continued to touch her until she could not take it anymore. Finally, he allowed her release. The whole scene was sweet; anyone in the room could feel the connection and the energy flowing. Betty sat, jaw dropped, with a big grin on her face. I think it may have been her first time to witness another woman having an orgasm in front of her.

We continued to roam around and socialize when Fred approached me. His partner, Ginger, was interested in playing with us. We all agreed that Ginger would top both of us (Betty and me), and we let her know that this was Betty’s first visit to a dungeon and her first time really playing. Ginger took her time in explaining everything to Betty. She showed us each play toy and explained how it is used and why there were so many different instruments of sensation. “It’s not that you get bored with one and need to replace it, it’s that you want to experience something new.”

Being a part of Betty’s first scene was an honor and a responsibility. I felt very protective of her, and throughout the scene I would ask her if she was okay. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and even though there were some toys she liked more than others, I was glad that she was learning about her own desires and personal preferences.  We wrapped up the scene and changed into our pajamas.

Ginger was fantastic with us both and for that I am so grateful. I really wanted Betty’s first time to be special.  To me, taking Betty to her first dungeon experience was like taking a child to Disneyland. It gave me a new sense of wonder and excitement. I got to see things for the first time, again. And I hope it’s something she enjoyed enough to ask, “Can we go on that ride again!?”

Childhood Memories

Before there was Flickr and Facebook, before the Internet, digital cameras or even e-mail, people would hold photo-sharing parties (way back in time, like the 1970s). Pictures were processed on small semi-transparent slides that would be projected onto a big screen. I remember my parents gathering friends and family to sit around and watch slide after slide, explaining every detail of their family vacation. These parties were boring, even for those people who were in the pictures!

As technology became outdated, our projector broke, our big screen was discarded, and our childhood photos were relinquished to a box of useless slides semi-neatly organized in the hallway closet.

Last month, I asked my parents if I could take the slides, in hopes that I would find a way to convert them to digital. I searched the Internet and found a few companies that do such a thing. One company really stood out as being reasonably priced, with great reviews about its service. So I decided to go for it. I went through each slide, determined whether it was worthy of digital conversion, and tried to put the slides into some sort of chronological order. I dusted them off with compressed air, counted them out in batches of 100, and sent one box containing most of my childhood photos via Fed Ex across the country.

Waiting for the package to arrive at the company was nerve-wracking! Once I knew they got there safely with a tracking receipt, I was relieved. At least they had them, and once they’re scanned, they’re preserved forever.

Then, I waited. It took about one month for the processing of nearly 1,000 photos.

Yesterday, they arrived. I clicked through each photo on our big screen TV ¾ almost as though I was watching an old fashioned slide show. I saw pictures of my parents, when they were so young and in love. I my parents a teaser picture via e-mail with the two of them toasting each other. My mom wrote back and gave the details of that picture ¾ they were celebrating their first year anniversary and reminiscing about their honeymoon. I saw tender moments of me with my brother, moments I had once forgotten. I cried when I saw a picture of my grandparents (who died before I was a teenager); they were casually celebrating at a bar-b-que and laughing with such sincere happiness. How can you put a price on these kinds of images?  I was reminded of the love and warmth of my childhood. I e-mailed a couple pictures to my brother and told him to expect to receive all of our childhood photos on a DVD. Now he’s excited to see them, too. These memories are bringing our family closer together.

So, I want to thank FotoBridge in New Jersey. I sent them a bunch of useless slides; they returned to me my childhood.

Fur Suits and Top Hats

Last weekend, we attended Further Confusion 2010, aka FurCon, “one of the world’s largest anthropomorphic (or “furry”) conventions”. It’s a magical place full of critters: dogs, cats, birds, horses, yeti, rabbits, mice, and the occasional unclassified creature, plus a handful of Klingons, soldier boys, and characters from cult movies.

About 3,000 ambassadors of furdom explore their own visions of sensuality with Fursuiters on Parade, art shows, dances, masquerade (yes, a furry masquerade ball), Furry performances, and an eclectic assortment of seminars: “Buddhism Panel”, “Created Species”, “How to Write dialog that Doesn’t Sound Like You Wrote It,” “Business Practices for Artists”, and “Norse Spirituality”.

The following evening, we went to the Edwardian Ball, “an unparalleled night of elegance, dancing, music, theatre, storytelling, circus arts, burlesque, and late-night revelry.” Elegant ladies in gowns, handsome gentlemen in tuxedos and top hats, wandering minstrels, a chimney sweep, ballroom dancing to waltzes and quick-step, and, of course, croquet court, mixed with tales from Edward Gorey, the bawdy lyrics of Kitten on the Keys, and shameless women with pantaloons revealing their calves.

We posed on a steam-powered motorcycle, tried on beaver-pelt hats, modeled with living statues, admired the creative costumes of the other guests, and danced Argentine Tango Vals to Viennese Waltz music (since we couldn’t remember what he learned in our Waltz classes).

Both events revealed a contagious joy in the participants. They are exploring a happy part of themselves in a place that encourages it. It doesn’t matter what you are “out there”; in your fur suit, you are that creature, and in your gown or tux, you are that lady or gentleman ¾ transforming into the images of your own vision and creativity.

–TR

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign…

There are lots of good rules in the world: brush your teeth before bed, call your mother on Mother’s Day, don’t eat poisonous mushrooms. And there are some rules that we could probably do better without: stay off the grass, don’t offend anyone, stay in line, eat your vegetables.

I do understand the need for some rules and social etiquette. And ironically, I enjoy etiquette in the old-fashioned sense: having my door opened for me, knowing which fork to use, saying “please” and “thank you”. Traditional chivalry and formal politeness are hot.

Like everyone, I test my boundaries. Sometimes this comes easy to me and other times it doesn’t. The possibility of disapproval, even from strangers, can inhibit my actions — which really irks me because I want to live my life on my own terms, dammit!

On New Year’s Eve, Tom and I went to a dance club in Los Angeles that is particularly to our liking. Although it is just a dance club (and not a sex club) there seem to be no rules pertaining to nudity and alcohol sales. I was scantily-clad with exposed nipples and NO ONE said anything negative to me. Besides the lack of dress code (literally), there were no rules pertaining to photography, dancing style, touching, or anything else that people like to do. And while sexuality and sensuality are embraced, violence is not and I have never ever witnessed any aggression at this club in the years that I have been frequenting it. There goes the whole theory that alcohol mixed with nudity will naturally cause male violence!

A couple of weekends ago, we attended a “poly party”. A poly party is different from BDSM play parties and swinger’s parties in many regards. This particular party had a mix of attendees from different communities and lifestyles. The one thing the party-goers had in common was openness towards sexuality and sensuality. We discussed many of the standard rules of conduct found in sexual communities. Several rules are implicit, especially in the swinger’s lifestyles. Poly and BDSM tend to be more explicit, with each relationship and activity negotiated between all participating members.

So on one hand I enjoy events with few rules, and on the other hand I enjoy events with carefully spelled-out rules.

Confusing, isn’t it?  I guess it’s no different than cutting someone off in traffic, but waiting patiently in line at Safeway: different situations, different rules.

I started thinking about my first experience at the clothing-optional retreat mentioned in a previous blog. I recently met a security guard who works there, and I discovered that there is more that meets the eye. The rules are posted about sexual energy (ie “keep your sexual energy out of the pool area”) because a few people had abused their privileges in ways I hadn’t considered. It’s a matter of being so loud that you are disruptive or wanking so close to others that it makes them uncomfortable. However, the same behavior, done discreetly, will cause no problems.

So I learned a lot after reflecting on these various situations. Rules tend to exist for a reason, but there are usually ways around them! So if you’re willing to look deep enough, you can figure out how to bend those rules without too much trouble from “the authorities”. Which, let’s face it, would be kind of hot, too.

A toy designed to crack nuts is transformed into a Prince – what would Freud think?

The stage is a place where magic happens. Reality is suspended and fantasy takes its place. Sugar plum fairies come to life, as do snowflakes, flowers, and gumdrops and move in ways that tickle the eyes. And girls become princesses; and princes too? Gender-bending has been seen throughout the history of theater, going at least as far back as Ancient Greece where all roles were performed by men. In the ballet I am performing with this weekend, the opposite is true. There is one boy out of 20+ girls; so, most of the boy roles are played by girls.

The girls don’t really care what role they play, as long as they get to dance! Sometimes a girl may have two roles, depending on the night of the show. One girl was practicing for her night as a girl, while wearing a dress, when the boy approached her to discuss her role as Fritz (the son of the Governor). She replied, “I’m not a boy right now, I’m a girl! See the dress I have on? Talk to me about Fritz when I am Fritz!”. Fair enough. She made clear distinctions between her two gender roles based on her own mindset and attire.

The ballet also breaks many gender stereotypes. The men who dance ballet are equally graceful to the women. And don’t kid yourself; those chicks are strong! Their bodies are SOLID and their muscles are very defined. Oh, and did I mention that Mother Ginger is played by 6’7” men? Watching and helping these men put on makeup for the first time is a fantastic experience. Their first attempt at applying lipstick, powder, and a little rouge made them look like they had set the make-up gun to “whore” (Simpsons reference). But, they are so willing to try new ideas and were actually jealous of my husband’s eyeliner.

In an ideal world, everyone would be able to move as a trained dancer, sing as an operetta, and paint masterpieces with finger paint. Even sex education classes wouldn’t be necessary because everyone would already have the knowledge they need at the time that they need it to make informed decisions, have tolerance and compassion for diversity (gender, orientation etc.), and understand the grander role of sex beyond procreation (social bonding, pleasure, intimacy etc.). Unfortunately, this fantasy only exists in my imagination. However, as an educator, I hope to transform my classroom into a magical space where anything is possible…roles are challenged and explored, critical thinking is encouraged, and curiosity is quenched by valuable information from a variety of perspectives.

Dance class IS life

What you learn and do in dance class is a reflection of and shapes your life. And the first thing you need to know is that “you can’t say you can’t!”

My Zumba Strip Cardio instructor in Peurto Vallarta was hardcore. But everything she said made sense. The mind and the body are one, so whatever the mind knows it can do, the body does. And she stuck with this principle throughout each routine. If you didn’t do a move right, she’d glare right at you and make you do it until you got it right!

The high intensity workout consisted of Salsa, Samba, Jazz, Bellydance, Tango, Hip-Hop, and sexy cabaret using a chair. I absolutely LOVED it! She taught a move on the floor where you stick your butt in the air (very Velina-esque) and she said “you learn this move and your boyfriend or husband will buy you jewelry!” She was being tongue-and-cheek but we all had a good laugh as we awkwardly tried to make it look as smooth as her. I discovered new moves and interpretations of music and was having so much fun I forgot I was working out – even with what felt like gallons of sweat pouring out of me!

The class was small, with one middle-aged, Spanish-speaking woman and what appeared to be a mother and her 20-something-year-old daughter. Near the end of the class, the teacher told us to work with our chairs and dance “whatever we feel” using the combos we learned that day. I challenged myself to remember the new moves while incorporating a sexy flair to my dance. The daughter started getting into it for the first minute or so but then withdrew herself and stood in the back to watch. At the end of class, the instructor asked the daughter “what happened? Why didn’t you do the exercise?” The daughter shyly responded, “I didn’t want to… I couldn’t do it”.

The instructor was understanding but gave her amazing advice. She said, “It’s okay to be shy sometimes, but in dance class is where you can explore yourself. People come in here afraid to touch themselves. Then they do it and they discover “Wow, I have legs, and I have arms, and I have breasts!”… We are all sexual, sensual, love and FEEL until the day we die! Don’t deny yourself the pleasures we are given! And learn about yourself and don’t be ashamed about your body. It is YOURS! All of you, women, your body is your own to understand and enjoy!”

I almost cried. I loved her. I had spent the past 4 days learning about how to empower youth and adults about sex and sensuality, and this woman does it every day… in dance class.