What it is to be Sexy: The Era of Gosling and Fassbender

If you've changed my diapers or simply do not enjoy reading, watching, or listening to discussions or showcases of sexuality, feel free to stop reading. No offense intended or taken, although I do wish you a full life, open to all pleasures, accepting of all facets making an enjoyable existence. This article is much more than it appears on the surface, but it does involve sexuality and sex appeal. Virgins and tight asses beware :) Intelligence is sexy. Discipline is sexy. Creativity is sexy. Depth is sexy. The characterization of one with sex appeal can be dissected and described a million different ways. It’s a matter of opinion and therefore holds little value in truth, but as the amount of credible opinions increase over time, an opinion then blends with fact. Empirically, Ryan Gosling and Michael Fassbender are sexy. The apparent uproar over this year’s meaningless bestowing of Sexiest Man Alive to Bradley Cooper (according to People Magazine) over Gosling shows just what weight these opinions can carry. Sure, they’re moot and unnecessary in the grand scheme, but given the nature of sexuality and the importance of it in not only society but life itself showcases the truth behind a specific culture. Who we find sexy and who we find attractive are two very different things. Certainly Mr. Sexiest Man Alive 1985 won’t be showing up again anytime soon (Mel Gibson) and only time will tell how Mr. Cooper will fare. For arguments sake, what makes someone sexy in our culture is mystery, talent, strength and goodness. Let’s break these down.

have two examples where an air of mystery is exhibited and fostered in film. Drive and Shame. Both are quieter films, dealing with some seriously violent, negative and unfortunate circumstances involving characters with secrets and depth we cannot imagine. Both are led by Gosling and Fassbender, respectively; and both have limited dialogue but an array of expression in tone, mannerisms, action and speak volumes where there is no sound. In both, despite dealing with extreme character flaws, the leading men take you through their story, convince you to accept and have compassion for them as flawed human beings while making some truly deplorable decisions. Both the characters and the actors do not lay everything out for you. Like the adult you are, you must read between the lines and come to many of your own conclusions. Beyond Fassbenders’ third leg (George Clooney joked he could play golf with his hands tied behind his back. Can’t say I’d look away if that actually happened), he has what any intriguing human being carries, life, soul and depth behind his eyes. You have no idea what or why, but you want to know more. Both men make you blush, sweat, laugh and cry, like a good lover should. Both have great senses of humor offscreen while remaining quite private and low-key, living with a brewing intensity, all adding to the enigma. I want more of both.

I’d be willing to guess 75% (probably more) of talent is wasted in this world. For any number of reasons one might go through life without recognizing their own gift, thus being unable to foster it, and give it away. What makes talent so sexy and appealing is not simply the gift, but the dedication and work behind it. I’m fortunate to be friends with some immensely talented people. Dancers, musicians, painters, graphic artists, athletes, successful business men and women, etc. I don’t watch them perform or gaze at their work and think “wow, they’re so lucky, what a gift,” I think “my god, what finding your purpose and busting your ass can do.” Sure, stage presence, artistry, a body morphed by discipline are all very physically attractive things, but the perseverance and passion behind the eyes, the audacity and courage to hone your talent and pursue it and then to exhibit it so beautifully, is so god damn hot. Watching actors be chameleons, like Gosling and Fassbender clearly are, just adds another tasty ingredient and is another reason they’re successful now and without doubt will be only improving down the road.

Strength. The word probably conjures a slew of images and examples. You might think of a gigantic man pulling an 18 wheeler, or a faceless body with ripped muscles, or an image of a person with cancer, handling their illness with integrity and grace. From what I’ve observed, it takes strength to live a very balanced life, to treat your body and mind like the machines they are while maintaining a semblance of humility and grace in order to carry it off. It’s not necessarily the way they wear their clothes or the way they look in the shower (although the pure animal magnetism when seeing a strong, broad man with a distinct voice and mannerisms, move in the way they do, like a lioness in observation of the males’ power and force, triggers a very primal center in my brain, and every instinct says MATE, make powerful offspring with THAT!), but how they carry that masculine frame, how they value their health, and the inner strength required to build the physicality, to keep bettering and challenging their work, and how they live in harmony between pride and confidence, style and substance, notoriety and privacy. I have nothing against Robert Pattinson or Justin Bieber, but they’ve yet to exhibit both the raw and the fine-tuned fusion of intelligence, talent, humor, beauty, wisdom and mystery, as the American and Brit I’m writing about here. Not even close. Here’s where goodness comes in.

I used to be very attracted to Tiger Woods, not that I don’t find him physically attractive anymore, and not that I was shocked when his scandal broke a couple years ago, but to me the discipline and strength he personified beautifully on the golf course was seemingly nonexistent in his personal life, and that shows inherent weakness. It takes genuine fortitude and a secure human being to live with integrity, to garner their own success while carrying an open heart, following their bliss, treating others well and living as little from your ego as possible. I have no judgments toward anyone’s behavior in the bedroom, truly, have fun, have one, have all, but don’t be a douche and lie to your wife while you’re banging hoards of mediocre people. Those who live life with a facade are not strong at all. They may have walls built from years of self-preservation and I certainly hope those people move past that and have the courage to live openly in all facets of their lives; but until then, you are not sexy. You can dress the part, act the part, showcase your hot body, spectacular talent and external success til the cows come home, but it’s still phony, it’s still a lie, and liars aren’t sexy, except to equally unconscious people. Goodness is what rounds out a total package. Goodness is there on the darkest days when you’re injured, or uninspired, at home with your dogs. I never assumed Tiger Woods was good, I just knew he was great. He’d perfected many things, while neglecting others. Through various stories you can read in Vanity Fair, GQ or any magazine with real journalism and in-depth interviews (not tabloids, not E! online), you’ll get a sense for Gosling and Fassbender’s humility and groundedness, their cheeky sense of humor, the love of their craft and appreciation for where they came from. Gosling takes his mom to award shows. Aw. None of us knows for sure whether their goodness is sincere, but what I’ve seen so far, it doesn’t seem fake or forced, it just is. And that’s sexy.

It seems the best films I’ve seen this year have included these two men. I recently saw A Dangerous Method, a David Cronenberg film starring Fassbender as Dr. Carl Jung, following Freud and the advent of psychoanalysis. It was driven by century old theories of sexual neurosis, rich with dialogue and propelled strongly by it’s lead. One of the most courageous films of the year involves Fassbender’s role in Shame, a successful late 30’s man living in Manhattan and suffering deeply with sex addiction, genuinely, not in the Jesse James/Tiger Woods I can’t stop cheating on my wife disease, but a raw portrayal of a lonely man without the facility and openness to love, so he screws everything and everyone, even men during times of desperation. Fassbender played the role on a razor’s edge, with equal parts control and defensiveness, charm and desperation, potential and hopelessness. Gosling carried a similar disposition in Drive, holding in secrets and engaging in very questionable behavior. That same line was drawn beautifully in George Clooney’s (another timeless and pervasively sexy man) film Ides of March. Gosling was stellar in that role as well. I’d watch Crazy, Stupid, Love on mute, for many reasons, one in particular. I’m not a comic book person, a trilogy or sequel follower (haven’t seen all Star Wars, Lord of Rings, Spiderman, Superman, etc. not really interested), but X-Men: First Class knocked my socks off. Just like in Inglorious Basterds, Fassbender is a scene stealer here. They’ve both proved their dedication and craftsmanship in films like Hunger and Lars and the Real Girl, and we’ll look forward to continued brilliance in Prometheus and Only God Forgives, but for now, we’ll just will ourselves to dream about them in the whee hours of the night.

Note: Carrie Mulligan is in both of these fantastic films. She is a very talented beauty, very sexy in her own right.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24cjqfVv1fs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBiOF3y1W0Y&feature=related

You may be in a relationship, as am I, but you’re not dead, and neither am I. The very descriptions I used to prove Gosling and Fassbender’s sexual magnetism is living and breathing in many people I know, men and women, and the one I’m lucky to sleep next to every night. There are many talented, strong, intelligent and beautiful women, famous or not, who are living truthfully, devoted and passionate, genuinely sexy human beings. I’m encouraged and inspired, just without the urge to surge, but understand why men do. I’ve been drawn to men since I was young, never being attracted to men my age and hardly wasting time on the Justin Bieber types. Give me an interesting, clever, open, thoughtful and strong man and I’m a happy woman. I enjoy having the open dialogue with the very sexy man in my life, neither of us being threatened by a harmless crush but totally agreeing in what makes someone sexy. Sex is fun, seeing others embrace this makes life an enjoyable ride, so to speak. Enjoy your crushes in a respectful way and challenge your standards at what constitutes sexy. And if you’re unsure, check out Ryan Gosling or Michael Fassbender in anything. Hopefully they’ll make some ironic sexy man film together someday, or maybe that will just exist in my dreams.

No need to be uptight. We were born naked. Learning to embrace primal urges while finding balance is a key to a good life. Life full of delicious foods, mental dexterity, physical challenges, high brow humor and down n’ dirty romps in the sack, with a sexy partner, or by yourself. Happy humping everyone.

Are You a Stage-5 Clinger or a Day Dreamer?

The past is valuable because you learn. The stove is hot. Next time, I will not touch it as I will burn myself, as I just did. See, what a beautiful lesson the past has now taught us, and guess what? I haven’t burnt myself on the stove for a while; so yeah, feeling good. Learning to surrender the emotional scars, learning from your own mistakes while not dwelling in guilt and self-punishment, now that’s another story. All I can say is when we are trapped in the past, we repeat the past, over and over again ad nauseam. It’s not cute. Nor is it helpful or enlightening. It’s repetitive and banal until it becomes predictable and damaging. I look back on the men I used to be drawn to, or the one I let myself fall effortlessly into the void too many times, and I smirk and roll my eyes. What a dumbass. But you see? It’s just that kind of internal rhetoric that does not serve me NOW, the only fucking reality there ever is. At one point, I became fed up with my own patterns and I (with the support and encouragement of my mom and friends of course, an important tool) yanked myself out of it and truly moved on. That was just men. One sliver of what’s turning out to be a delicious savory sweet pie. Now I struggle with self-doubt, less now that I’ve pursued teaching and writing truthfully with commitment, but I’ve been absorbing courage from some pretty incredible friends and colleagues, who live wildly open, naked, raw, and while I find it important to be that friend for others, who cheers them on, supports their expression and is proud of their ballsiness, I need to turn that good friend in me and direct it inward, because no one will get me to do anything but me, the good me that says I’m worthy just as others are, that just because there are streams of talent and beauty being showcased there is no necessity for comparison. Expression is expression and regardless if I blow people away, the release of letting something out nourishes me beyond what any purchase, drug or fear could placate. The bad me says it’s self-indulgent, attention seeking and nothing life-changing so why bother? Because I wouldn’t let some asshole tell me I’m worthless and shitty so why would I tell that to myself? It’s astonishing how much we can get in our own way, basically because we’re choosing fear over love. Think about the decisions you’ve made, big and small, day-to-day in how you engage with others to getting up on that dance floor or making that big speech, falling in love, reaching out when in need, whatever those triggers are for you. How often have you stopped yourself from speaking, acting, crying, believing, loving? We can change this. Patience, practice and presence.

So I’d say my fears and my sense of time, derived by my complex mind, have allowed me to slowly evolve and learn, but I’ve managed to keep some childhood patterns, the one where I won’t try something unless I know I’ll be good at it (WTF is that?! What arrogant asshole assumes they’ll be good at everything? Clearly everything worth doing is challenging. I’m learning.), meaning I must show potential in this or why am I here? The answer is growth. That’s why I’m here and while I feel it’s helpful and important to follow your strengths so you can give whatever gift is inside outwardly, we mustn't shy away from attempting things that scare us because of some hypothetical bullshit, scaredy cat attitude, where we project potential scenarios into the future, predicting embarrassment and ridicule, instead of reality where human beings are kind and supportive and appreciate vulnerability and someone’s willingness to fall down and get back up.

So the past is repeated and the future is rehearsed. Boy was I a dreamer as a child. I’m pretty sure I had insomnia. I was fine, healthy, functioned adequately, but I did spend many nights awake just pondering, wondering, dreaming, and while that’s fun and imagination should certainly be fostered, I fell into a pattern (conditioned by my past) to focus my attention and enthusiasm at achievements or events arriving at a later day. So, I predicated my happiness on something happening down the line. I’d make myself sick from excitement or stress (one might call this anxiety) and I look back at periods of my life as if they’re a blur, because I spent so much of that time trapped in my mind, reliving the past, anticipating the future. I’m starting to sound like a broken record to my yoga students because I mention this often, but everything I’ve learned and gathered in my life thus far, has led me to this truth. This may be the only thing I know for sure. Happiness exists, joy animates, enthusiasm projects, and acceptance takes residence in this very moment, this fraction of a second, Now, and nowhere else. It’s not over there, it’s not marked on your calendar, it’s not within another human being or animal, not at your apartment, or your workspace, not when you can practice your hobby, or have that drink or puff. It’s not when you graduate, when you get the promotion or raise, that new car, new bag, new stuff, new look, new friend, new romance, or the next new magical gift that will then turn the light inside you ON. It’s right fucking here, right fucking now. Surrender to that, and your outward expression and experience in this measly little lifetime we’re given will become so vast and spacious, you’ll be overwhelmed. You may enjoy the aforementioned things, derive pleasure, but these are merely bonuses, facets to a rich existence, but not the path to long-term contentment or internal success.

I still find myself questioning decisions I’ve made or will make. I find myself disheartened and perplexed by human beings constantly, those I have to deal with on a consistent basis, and while I have days where I just feel like shit, I feel low, I feel like no one gives a fuck, I’m able to pull myself out of that mind-induced slump quicker, knowing that I give a fuck and there is a short list of quality human beings and a few animals who care too. This world is consuming, moving rapidly but progressing slowly, and it’s imperative that your personal sense of time and your stage in this evolutionary process is completely removed from the world’s time, clock time, psychological time. Use the past as a tool to remind yourself you’ve repeated a pattern, get to know your inner monologue and adjust it to uplift yourself. Use the future as fuel to fire up the present, because the better you are in THIS moment, imagine the result in the next. Use time as a tool, not a crutch. Surrender the unknown, what you cannot control and what you cannot change and bring more vibrancy to learning, using what you do know, regulate what you can from within and let it bleed out.

Surrendering attachment, truly letting go is a gradual, inside out process. Giving up caffeine or cigarettes will only eliminate a fraction of the problem, until our lingering resentment and soured expectations conjure up a new vice to diminish the negative web our minds are spinning. Sure we need to let go of the past, forgive ourselves and others, recognize what’s done is done, the bell can never be un-rung, but the real strength is in surrendering each moment, accepting yourself and your extenuating circumstances AS THEY ARE, not as they could have been or how they should be or how you hope they’ll be, but accepting responsibility to control your reactions, your perceptions and ultimately your attachment to whatever IS. Eckhart Tolle, Joseph Campbell and many brilliant Yogis and philosophers explain and personify this beautifully. It’s beyond even the most beautifully written words. It is a truth you must infuse into your way of living and being. It’s not to be labeled. It’s not a noun, verb or adverb. It just Is. You just Are.

Can you continue to blossom as the external dares you to shrink? Can you give yourself warmth and light from the very essence you are when the thunderous darkness of your ego and it’s stubborn attachment to the unimportant aim to envelop you, leaving you cold and confused, even more steeped in fear, feeling even more alone. You can start very easily by accepting your mind and body as it is right now, there’s nothing you can do in this moment to change it or manipulate it so you somehow perceive it positively. Let go of comparison, of judgment, of expectation and just embrace yourself and the Now. Notice even within a challenging task how surrender feels. The more you fidget, grimace, or clench (physically and mentally), the more difficult and frustrating it will be. What you resist persists. It is difficult because our minds are cunning, clever little bastards and they seek to retell the same boring sob story over and over again. Just begin by bringing awareness to whatever your patterns are, wherever your tendency toward control manifests and through that awareness, a space will open up for wisdom, kindness, acceptance and release. Let go.

You deserve the most vibrant life a human can live. Believe it and Be it. Turn ON the light the only way possible, yourself, without worry for other’s brightness, your genuine example of acceptance and enthusiasm for this moment is bound to rub off positively on someone. And if not, you’ve got You and that’s one hell of an accomplishment. Those of us working to find more presence and light within can serve others by bouncing off ideas, giving support, and when in doubt, thinking and acting out of compassion. I am merely a work in progress, but I’m sincerely jazzed and buzzing from the challenge that is living a remarkable life, aiming to brighten my and someone else’s day and find that more darkness has faded away.

No matter the weather, no matter your upbringing, your socio-economic status, your religious or political affiliations, your sexual preferences, your grade point average, your color, your size, your current job or your dream job, your perceived status or reputation, the details of your past or projections for the future, You can choose to turn on that light, operate from your best essence and surrender to what is, to embrace here and now, proactively choose Love instead of reactively choosing fear. Surrender is under-valued and connotes images of a white flag and of loss. Bullshit. It takes strength to let go. You're a bright shiny winner.

You ARE Life. Stop wasting your energy and Live.

For the Plain and the Strange: Ian's Pizza

Mac n Cheese, Philly Cheesesteak, Tomato Pesto, Steak Nacho, Guacamole Burrito, Spicy Chicken Burrito, BBQ Chicken Cheddar Bacon Ranch, Tortellini Pesto, BBQ steak and French Fry, Bacon Cheeseburger, Sausage Penne Alfredo, Chicken Parmesan, Tomato Avocado Asiago, Spinach Feta Mushroom. These are just a few examples of the spectrum of flavors and choices you’ll have upon walking in the door of Ian’s Pizza. Whether you’re craving a simple but delicious New York style cheese pizza or some interesting conglomeration of flavors and textures, this place can deliver, literally and figuratively. Do you ever get the munchies? I’m not just making a stoner reference here, I’m talking about those days, or hours where you have a hankering for something that will not only comfort you, but also inspire you to eat rapidly, shoveling gigantic bites into your ever-widening mouth so you could chew laboriously, closing your eyes and mumbling what sounds like “so good” through food speckled teeth. Whether you’re elevated by a substance, person, life or living clean, stone cold sober, you’ll love Ian’s and crave it once you've had it. It’ll call to you. It calls to me. In particular when I’ve had a weird week, when chaos churns in my gut and a whirlwind of snow barrels into my face, when I can’t get enough good people and my bullshit threshold for the other is in danger; that’s when I want pizza, and Ian’s satisfies no matter the need, no matter the reason, through seasons hot and cold, when life is hectic or mild, Ian’s brings me right back to square one.

Here’s the only issue you may face making it to Ian’s. It’s located just south of Wrigley Field on Clark Street, smack dab in the middle of a long line of bars, clubs, restaurants and shops. It’s easy to find, whether it be on the CTA, on foot, or by cab, but if you’re looking to satiate a late night weekend craving, get ready to make a mindful, alert walk passed some rowdy ass people, some of whom may be parked in one of the coveted Ian’s bench seats or taking up a spot in their sometimes long line. During Cubs season, it’s an experience, just as riding the EL or bus is at any given moment, the combination and diverse sampling of people, sober and otherwise, provide the entertainment while you try to decipher what each pizza flavor is. It’s worth any hassle you may perceive or experience, and is some of the best, most unique pizza even the great city of Chicago has to offer.

Ian’s staff is young and friendly, laid back but efficient pizza slingers, with permanent burnt callouses on their hands and bags under their eyes from many early morning closes. Their knowledge of the pizza is on point, many having their own input and hand in making the special of the week. Their selections vary based on the season, so the Guacamole Burrito, which is a must try if you’re here, is mainly a summer option. They provide interesting concoctions during the holiday months and have a spectrum of choices to appease any desire. Each speciality slice costs $3.75, and they’re good sized slices. I usually get two or more, but that’s me, never not hungry. Their basic thin crust cheese pizza is great if that’s what you need or want, and the large is just $16. Given the number of ingredients, some of them fall into the gourmet variety, your pie’s cost will go up from there. They deliver, even if you just order slices. Alone with a movie or a packed apartment full of weirdos, Ian’s is always an accessory to a good experience, at home or in their house.

Some of you may be reticent to try the more unusual slices. To that I just breathe a long, slightly judgmental sigh.................Try the Mac ’n’ Cheese. It has a creme fraiche base, girthier macaroni noodles and a perfect blend of cheeses for a truly unbelievable slice. That’s usually your first go round, the easiest way in, and then you start getting into the freaky stuff. It’s similar to exploring sushi for the first time, everyone goes for the California roll, simple, a little boring in my opinion but a good start. I just had the mac slice last week and I loved it as much or more than my first time. They cleverly pull from favorites all around the world, experimenting on a weekly basis with great pies like Apple Pie, Chicken & Dumpling, Pad Thai, Mediterranean (which has a hummus base and a slew of med veggies), Shepard’s Pie, Green Curry, Gyro, and a long list of other ethnically inspired creations. Whether it’s one of their signature, everyday slices, or a seasonal special of the week, the quality of the ingredients and the execution of the idea is shockingly impeccable. I’m always so pleasantly surprised at the texture and flavor of the crust, regardless of what the talented and creative staff challenge it with, it remains crispy and delicious. I love collecting uneaten crusts and gorging on bread. A real beatnik. Don’t judge me.

I’ve been eating Ian’s on a weekly basis for a year and a half and finally decided to share in their goodness. They began out of Wisconsin, branched into three locations there and we’re fortunate in having their presence here in Chicago. It’s a great way to trick your kids, or your friends or yourself, into trying something you’ve never tried before because remember, it’s on top of bread and covered in cheese. And just the right amount. Their menu includes slices and flavors to satiate even the pickiest eater (shout out to my vegan friends, if there are any of you left). They’ve got great baked goods from Bleeding Heart if you want to seal the munchie deal, and a cooler full of great beverages if you choose to pass up their free water. Ian’s is a comforting experience, in house or to go, 365 days a year. Hope you can taste the magic.

Live in Chicago. Visit Chicago. Forget corporate chains. Eat Ian’s. Enjoy.

Only You

The only aspect to life that is truly sustainable is the love you have within you.People are beautiful, but like you, they’re mostly concerned with their own well being, their own expression, their own fulfillment. You must support yourself, uplift yourself, give to yourself and others what you need to sustain, remain, let go of shame, stop complaining and eliminate blaming. We are multi-faceted, so the goodness you see in yourself and others does not manifest how you’d imagine. This feels disappointing, lonely, confusing. But the other who’s utilizing communication only for their gain, only for their podium of arrogance or vomit, their ironic misappropriations, their moronic denigrations, can only serve to limit themselves and create space between who they are and who they could be. It’s difficult to remember the oneness we all possess. It’s even harder to give yourself what you feel no one else can, because you want it in the form of connection. We all are just on a quest to fulfill needs. We’re all pimps and prostitutes within the same breath. We buy into something, and aim to sell another. Very few are your real brothers and mothers. There is so much goodness, but its direction is erratic and mostly it’s used to self-serve. Serving others for their predetermined response is not selfless. It’s dangerous. This world, no matter how we all try or seem to know the truth, fosters and rewards the negative, the status quo, and the planets below. Solitude is imperative, an independent freedom from thought. Thought within self, and the incessant stream of thought expressed by another, by every other and their mother and brother. But not your brother. We must want sincerely the contentment and awakening of others, but only concern ourselves with enlightenment within. The responsibility to be good lies in one human being. Nothing anyone else does to you carries meaning. Only how you perceive it. Only the way you digest it. And manifest it. Only you are responsible. Only you are in control. Only you have the power. But that power lies within you. It must be extracted and exuded with care and with zero expectation. You must place your hopes and dreams on you and you alone. No one owes us a thing. Even your mother. Your brother. Your friends. No matter your contribution. No matter your level of nourishment. No matter your investment. Give to give and then let it go. Even if no one will ever know. Let go. Not because of obligation do you give your best self. Not because of imagination do you pursue idealism. Not because of expectation do you act out of generosity. Nor should you simply hoard these facets of goodness because of perceived scarcity. Because of an assumed lack in positive retaliation. Because of a current stagnation. It is in these moments, you should seek solitude and reconvene with your better self. It is here that you realize goodness cannot be contained. It will suffocate, implode. Allowing negativity to explode, project. Debris for miles. Destroyer of smiles. All because of contrived generosity, phony care and disingenuous kindness. Because of blindness. One must not be discouraged by the pervasive mediocrity. Only you can rise. Exhibit prosperity. Showcase charity. Only you can be courageous. Hoping it’s contagious. Only you can make giving into a living. Only you can translate being into seeing. Only you can live in alignment with truth. Only you can find a noble pursuit. Only you can embody joy. Appreciation. Enthusiasm. Only you can choose your frequency. One with the flow, life’s apparent sequencey. Only you can Love in the way you need. Only you can be fully realized. You are the growth and the seed. Only you can merely, simply, potentially; not eventually, but essentially, Be.

Hone, Challenge, Evolve your Urban Belly

Last night I ate amazing food again. I do it on the reg (how annoy is the shortening of already easy to pronounce words? I suppose it would sound silly if I said I eat well on the regular, I eat good food regularly. There. On the reg is more fun, carries more humor, coolness. I like English. I eat damn good food on a regular basis! Boom. ). But seriously, I like food, a lot, and meals have always been the highlight of my day, the key to unlocking a good memory (my Mom or a friend will say “what were you/I/they wearing?” how the hell do I know? Was there food? Did I eat it? Did I enjoy it? Then maybe I’ll recollect whatever bullshit we’re conjuring up.), and the barometer for how well I’m living, have little to do with money and much to do with nourishment, feeling full inside and out. Eating well is a key to living a quality life and throughout my travels and personal quests to find more, how I eat has evolved tremendously. You leave home and you eat like shit for a while until you figure out a groove. Unfortunately, middle America and small town, USA are sincerely lacking in culinary exploration, healthy options and independently owned restaurants. Finding that spot in your area will be the exception, not the rule, and by all means eat at that special place until your heart is content and belly is warm, but I must urge you to branch out from Chili’s and the countless half-assed chain restaurants and do the necessary research or drive the required miles to find it. And if you live in or around Chicago, you must scrape the black frozen gunk off your car, shovel the snow out from behind your tires, gun it backward so you don’t get stuck and then gun it forward so you gain momentum and race out of your suburb and into the urb (short for urban: see ‘reg’ discussion above) for some Urban Belly.

I walked 6 blocks and took the 77 Belmont bus to California avenue, got off and walked a few blocks south of Elston to the tiny parking lot where Urban Belly rests, wafting savory, East Asian fragrance into the crisp Chicago air. When you do not have a car or loads of money to take cabs everywhere, certain restaurants can be a chore. I recommend you share a cab with friends, score a ride with someone you trust, and/or suck it up, pay the $2.25 and make the trek to whatever this neighborhood is. It’s beyond worth the effort getting there. It’s near previously reviewed favorites, Hot Doug’s and Kuma’s. Urban Belly’s interior is clean, modern while also feeling rustic, dimly lit, with long wood tables for you to share your meal with groups of people you love and people you’ll soon come to like. Eating is most definitely a community experience and similar to my other favorite place with a similar set up, Crisp, you’ll find yourself engaging and negotiating with folks sharing a similar appetite as you finagle your way into a seat, atop the beautiful wood-carved, short stools surrounding each rectangular table. You order at the front, take a number and then hopefully find your seats.

Their menu is broken down into Dumplings, Rice, Noodles and Sides, with 4-5 tantalizing items in each bunch. During my first trip, we ordered a side of kimchee, made seasonally so the spices and textures vary depending on the time of year, but the quality is always top notch, the spice just right and the flavor out of this world. There was none left once our entrees came, which takes a surprisingly short amount of time. I’m a whore for Udon, a thick, girthy noodle resembling some beautiful combination of a spaghetti noodle and partially characteristics of a dumpling you might find in the south, accompanied by chicken. They’re almost as thick as my pinkie, which is fairly alienesque but thick enough that you can imagine. They soak up flavor, are smooth and long with the ideal consistency and texture. Both times I ordered a noodle dish that included Udon and I do not regret it. Last night I had the #11: Udon, Shrimp, Coriander and Sweet Chili Lime Broth. It also comes with excellent oyster mushrooms (easily removed for you crazies who don’t like them) and these must-be-experienced-to-be-fully-understood bread dumpling balls, soup’s answer to the salad’s crouton. They round out the bowl of goodness perfectly. My partner in consumption ordered the #10: Soba Noodles, Bay Scallops, Oyster Mushrooms and Thai Basil Broth. The Soba is brown, thinner, with a nice hearty texture also ideal for soaking up flavor. The broth is so beautiful, dark hues with green residue floating to the top, providing such a unique and memorable flavor, you just want to drink it.

I saved half and literally ate the other 4 hours later before I went to bed. I craved it again that quickly. These are dishes we all love; noodles, rice, dumplings, but set up on such a creative building block and executed with flair, truly taken to the next level. You’ll love it and although the menu and ingredient list is short, the end result tastes so extraordinary, decadent even, that a casual dining experience just catapults to a special occasion because of the unbelievable escapade happening in your mouth. I read about Urban Belly in an airplane magazine once. It spoke of head chef, Bill Kim and what an impeccable product and experience he’s giving Chicagoans, and how he’s showcasing this cuisine in a new light. It is worth the trek and worth the cost (the portions are pretty generous, but noodle dishes run from $11-13, rice and dumpling $7-9 and sides a reasonable $4-6). I could eat there weekly and would if I was close and had unlimited funds. Instead I prefer to make it a treat, earn my keep and get amped for another satisfying adventure sampling Chicago fare. You gotta come to this city.

You should also be aware of owner and chef, Bill Kim’s other Chicago eatery, Belly Shack, located on 1918 N. Western Ave and showcasing an awesome Latin/Asian fusion. I had an amazing Asian meatball sandwich with rice noodles, bean sprouts and mint in a warm pita. Man, I need to go back there pronto, satisfy the craving before I go crazy. Both Urban Belly and Belly Shack are open for lunch and dinner, Tuesday through Sunday, closed Mondays, coincidentally the day I’m always craving it. They’re conveniently B.Y.O.B. and are very vegetarian friendly. I’d give each a whirl when you have a mo (short for moment, see ‘urb’ above).

A lesson I’m learning is it’s not always fruitful for me to be the person who eats the most in one sitting. It never occurred to me that I was doing that, I wasn’t engaging in some sort of competition or urging myself to finish every meal or eat more feverishly than everyone else, but I certainly let my eyes fool my stomach and let my unconsciousness fool the rest of me. I now eat much more consciously, whether it be in which establishments I choose to support, the food I choose to purchase and bring home, or how I enjoy the meal itself. I’m living much more present, not in a rush to finish my food for fear it’ll be the last time I eat and therefore I must eat before someone else takes it away, and certainly not shoving hordes of ingredients down my gullet in such a way that I barely recall the meal. I want to savor it, enjoy it, masticate, swirly it around my mouth to fully experience every flavor and then wash it down with some water to give my esophagus and digestive system a break, a little thank you from it’s host. Our bodies are machines. We must treat them as such. Challenge it, but only so far. Honoring the food you’re eating will make overall dining more enjoyable for you and easier on your body.

Eat quality. Chew adequately. Swallow carefully. Rinse. Repeat. Enjoy.

Two Surprising Films That Inspire Courage: Howl and Defending Your Life

Today I discuss a showcase of multiple art-forms, those beginning with great writing and continuing with great filming and performances. Rarely have I watched a reality show or even the majority of sitcoms and have the depth of thoughts and laughs I had when viewing these two films. Both are rich in worthiness and drowning in depth and meaning, but mainly, they are entertaining and intelligent, and lead to reflection and inquiry over my own level of courage. These films are Howl and Defending Your Life. Howl For those who aren’t familiar yet, Howl is a four-part poem written by acclaimed American writer, Allen Ginsberg. It was written in the late 50’s, a proclamation of love, creativity, passion, rebellion, honesty, and truth. A bold account of life as a young artist in a post World War II era, a time speckled with parallels to now, to our generation of aspiring artists, our fears, our love, our hope and our honesty. Howl is Ginsberg’s On The Road, him being of that “Beat Generation”, which is merely a handful of prolific writers and artists of other genres who explored New York City, the United States and their inner turmoil together in the 50’s and 60’s. The poem is raw, vulgar, heartfelt, combustible, and thought-provoking. Howl set fire to the emotions of many when it was published, creating a storm of support and a hurricane of hate. Copies of Howl were removed, burned and often those caught reading it were penalized. The publisher stood trial with a famously conservative judge on it’s literary merit and validity, facing the potential for imprisonment and a shift from our 1st amendment rights into a darker, more conservative realm, a world where our government controls our expression, judges it against ambiguous and impossible standards, and then decides on their own whether others can read it themselves.

Allen Ginsberg is portrayed by the enigmatic and endlessly talented James Franco. What a chameleon he is. There are plenty of good actors out there, those that can deliver lines naturally, believably, but there are very few with the range of James Franco, Sean Penn or Meryl Streep. Or Kate Winslet. There’s a short list and James is on it. I’m digging his choices, his writing, his pursuit of education, his laid back nature and his handsome, symmetrical face. It doesn’t hurt, all I’m saying. He transforms into this ethereal, cerebral man whose verbal expression is as exquisite as it is jarring. Allen shares through Howl, and other pieces, his love and attraction for men, particularly the men he was friends with, the men finding their own way, men including Jack Kerouac (most famous for writing On The Road) and William S. Burroughs (Naked Lunch), eventually finding love with Peter Orlovsky, who he remained with until his death in 1997. Howl is a naked portrayal of Allen’s truths during that time, his sexuality being merely one of many facets. As you can imagine, it caused quite the stir.

The film has a style and execution all its own. Inspired and created from Ginsberg’s published writings, interviews and court records, Howl follows the prolific and unprecedented legal proceedings taking place in 1957. The script adheres to the trial’s transcript verbatim, with the brooding and sexy Jon Hamm playing the charismatic, ball busting defense attorney, J.W. Ehrlich. These scenes are interwoven with Franco passionately reading Howl to an audience of nonconformists with gorgeous, jazzy animation telling the visual story while Ginsberg read his own. Edited beautifully from courtroom to poetry readings to the one-on-one interview with an older Ginsberg, the film tells an inspired story that changed history and continuously plays on the hearts of aspiring artists today. The poem reminds us that love is love, there is no set structure or guideline to recognizing or defining art, we must make the distinction between prose and poetry, and we must have the balls to lead with our hearts. The Beat Generation rejected materialism, the confines of western organized religion, and basic standards and practices of literature. They wrote soulfully, from who they are, not who society forced them to be.

We can all benefit from the previous generation’s artistic integrity and Howl is a perfect marriage of old and new, showcasing a creator’s work while making an original piece on their own. I’ve never known where I belong and I’m somewhat happy to march to the beat of my own drum, but I’m also glad to resonate with those from different eras and to remind myself to keep creating and sharing, regardless of opinion or outcome. 84 minutes of truth. You should watch it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ba9yazkl0UE

Defending Your Life I love Albert Brooks. I do. He’s brilliant, comically and intellectually. I’m stoked he’s receiving high praise and nominations for his supporting role in Drive, a film unmatched, in this year or any other. Oddly enough, there’s more reasons than Ryan Gosling in a tight shirt to watch it. It’s unbelievably good and really fricken cool. Back to Albert. After small roles in the early seasons of SNL, Brooks went on to be cast in such memorable films as Taxi Driver, Terms of Endearment, Private Benjamin, The Twilight Zone film, and a slew of voiceover work, most notably as Nemo’s father in (what else?) Finding Nemo. You can find all this on imdb, if you don’t know who he is, I’m not sure what to say. He has a distinctive voice both in sound and in expression. He is caustically funny, humorously cranky and a damn good writer. He starred in two of my favorite films from the 80’s, Dudley Moore’s Unfaithfully Yours and the genius, unforgettable Broadcast News. You could check out any number of the films I mentioned previously, but if I were to direct you to one piece, something that showcases him at his very best, then it’ll have to be Defending Your Life.

I wish I’d seen this movie sooner, earlier in my life, because I loved it so much and feel I could have benefitted from it’s humor and message at a young age. I’m fortunate in that my parents passed on some great films from before my time, so I grew up and still love movies no one my age cares about or has heard of, and that’s part of my objective as a writer, to share goodness, and Defending Your Life is damn good. Brooks wrote, directed and starred in this film and wisely cast the good in anything she does Meryl Streep and the fascinating and entertaining Rip Torn. Brooks plays Daniel Miller, an affable, hard-working, do-gooder, typical middle-aged American dude with too much emphasis on self-preservation and avoiding fears. Daniel is dry and inquisitive, smart and kind, but lacking a heavy dose of courage. A series of unfortunate decisions leads to Daniel’s death, where he’s sent to Judgment City, resembling Anytown, USA and involving details most likely found in purgatory, if it exists.

Judgment City is a place with pleasant weather day in and day out, an endless supply of perfectly cooked food which will have no consequence on your body, regardless how much you eat, and a horde of mostly centenarians all awaiting trial to defend their lives. Daniel is led to Bob Diamond (Rip Torn), a lawyer of sorts who seems to have swallowed happiness pills and been tasked with defending Daniel’s life in front of two objective judges. Depending on your life’s decisions and circumstances leading in, you are given an allotted number of days from your life which the two appointed judges will observe along with you, your defender and your prosecutor. The prosecutor selects clips in which you exemplify and choose fear, the defender then countering with shots of courage and instances of goodness, the whole premise being earthlings use 3-5% of their brains and in order to move along in the universe, you must prove you deserve it by showcasing your ability to overcome fear and take advantage of your brain. Those living and working in Judgment City utilize a whopping 50 + percent of their brains and are therefore highly evolved, critically thinking, compassionate human beings who are at once courageous and wise, bold and understated, thoughtful and heartful (I’m going to make this a word).

Daniel then meets Julia (Meryl Streep), initially drawn together because of their proximity in age, who then find themselves falling deeply in love over a four-day period. Streep’s character has 4 days to pull from in order to defend her life; the less you’re given, presumably the less you need to move on, to be allowed to evolve further instead of giving life another shot on Earth. She’s led a fearless life, full of love and ambitious pursuits. Being fear natured as Daniel is, he is both drawn and intimidated by Julia’s magnetic courage. Throughout the film, we look back on 9 pivotal moments in his life, seeing both sides of the coin, making our own arguments for him to either be sent back to Earth, or moved forward into the evolving universe. It’s a captivating idea, one which certainly makes you ponder the quality of your own existence and measures of courage. We’ve all wimped out before, in some way or another. Many of us deal directly with very common fears; heights, claustrophobia, death, by facing them head on in any number of ways. I’ve jumped out of an airplane and hurtled my long limbs toward the earth at god knows what speed and yet was terrified to pursue writing, teaching and especially romantic love. If I could go back in time and slap my weak self I would, but clearly regrets are a waste of time and are only meaningful if you haven’t learned from your past. I’m much stronger now and through the inspiration of the outside world and my inside circle of friends I’m finding myself to be more courageous everyday. This film dares you to acknowledge your own level of courage and to perhaps be more bold than you ever have before. I will not ruin the end or provide too many details, just know what a smart, humorous and considerate film this is. It’s no wonder it has the respect and love it does. You’ll love it, if not for the first time, then again.

It’s befitting I watched both films this week, as courage has been a running theme and goal in my life for the past few years, kicked into high gear over the recent resolution chatter. Courage comes from the latin root cor meaning heart. And through various readings and pondering, it has emerged that courage does not equate to fearlessness but rather the acknowledgment of fear and the choice to be courageous in spite of that fear. And as much as courage is thrown in with the adjective brave, courage refers more to a consistent state of being, a pervasive attitude and approach to life. Courage refers to an open heart. It was brave to jump out of an airplane, some saying bravery is the kindest euphemism for stupidity, but it takes courage to love openly, express yourself truthfully and follow your passion, without any guarantee of success, money, or knowledge of a future outcome.

Being courageous, similar to being happy, is a choice. It is far easier to wallow in fear, complaint, blame and self-pity, and believe me I’ve been there. But it takes guts, balls, vagina (Betty White wisely pointed out that testicles are sensitive orbs that retreat with any presence of danger, whereas a vagina withstands all kinds of intrusive obstruction and perhaps when referring to the brave or courageous, we should not refer to a big set of balls but rather a tough vagina. Too much? Ah, get over it, wimp (; ), to live with gusto, in the active pursuit of life rather than the passive avoidance of death. Defending Your Life simultaneously makes us ponder the quality of our existence while also recognizing if we are in fact living in an act of defense, opposition, spending more time protecting and not doing, fighting against something, instead of nutting (vulva-ing? there’s no good ring like nuts or balls, what a shame) up and living actively, openly, passionately on the offense. I dare you to do the same. The beautiful truth is it’s never to late to play offense, to give fear the middle finger and to live a more courageous, heartful life. Give yourself and others that gift, and remember it’s a process. Be better everyday, with limited focus on the end goal and more emphasis on the nature of your daily reality, moment to moment. I’m a work in progress but feel better today than yesterday with and intention to be better tomorrow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z1sLrvIncu4

Be passionate. Be courageous. Be loving. Be grateful. Just Be.

Don’t start your cleanse yet. First, go to Bakin and Eggs.

Everyone is detoxing right now. Cleansing. Resolving. Excreting. Probably evacuating a lot of bowels and tweaking from a caffeine and bacon deficiency. It’s no doubt a worth-while pursuit, the end of the year shenanigans provides such lethargy, abdominal discomfort and overall lumpiness that one must treat their body like the machine it is and get it back on track, flush it out and start anew, challenging it with rich, delicious, carby, fatty food once again. So, if you’re finishing a cleanse or about to begin one, send yourself into euphoria by experiencing the brunch greatness that is Bakin and Eggs. I am either lazy and boring with breakfast or so passionately craving it that nothing can stand in my way. More often, I am the latter. And more often, I want to explore the endless sustenance gift that is the city of Chicago and I want to try a new place, with new eggs, a new twist on french toast, new sausage and bacon. There’s only a handful of restaurants here in the city that I frequent regularly and that’s because they’re cheap, consistently delicious with great service and in close proximity to my Wrigleyville apartment. I’ve been to 10-15 brunch places, 3-4 consistently. I’ve been to Bakin and Eggs 4 times in 3 weeks. Considering the embarrassing amount of options, and good ones, the frequency of my visits says a lot. I know Chicago has a lot to offer, so to deliberately walk or drive over to Lincoln Avenue and Barry, over trying something new reflects just how great my experience has been, 4 times over. Can’t wait to go back.

I’ve noticed as I’ve shopped around restaurant hopping that you either get a good, greasy, traditional American breakfast with eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, etc.; or, many restaurants in larger cities like to go real avant-garde and take your standard eggs benedict and put raspberry preserves and pork belly, or Gruyère cheese, truffle oil or any variety of somewhat luxury ingredients to make it special, aiming probably to make it a signature dish, to wow you. Often times those efforts fall flat. They’re either too rich, overpowered by their fancy ingredient(s), or the overall taste just comes across meh, not satisfying like you hoped their spin on a favorite would be. And then sometimes the care of the chefs, the quality of the ingredients and the mindfulness in creating and executing presents the most beautiful dish you’ve ever had the pleasure to chew. Something that makes your eyes roll back in your head, the guttural moans to emerge from your throat and the slow motion, bounce the food all over your tongue form of mastication. I find myself doing all three so often at Bakin and Eggs and that’s why in my humble opinion, through my vast experience in life and in this city, that I’d be willing to stick my neck (and tongue) out and call it the best brunch in Chicago. It’s that good. All around. Go!

Now, you’re probably thinking “words, words, words, blah, blah, yes, you like it, what about the actual food?!” I’ve opted for breakfast each time, so there will be no recounting lunch dishes here. I’ve been with small and large groups and we’re all game to order different items and share bites, which is the only way to go. Our first visit, my beau and I sat at the bar, as the restaurant is quite full on the weekends. We gazed at their great selection of homemade desserts, the shelves of perfectly placed mason jars resting against the brick wall, and eagerly perused the small menu as we drank great hot tea and coffee. On my first visit I ordered the Southern Comfort Bowl, a starchy, flavorful heap of yum, consisting of oven baked potatoes, two eggs made to order, pieces of broken up, hand-made biscuits, topped with cheddar cheese and of course their house sausage gravy.

It was a battle, meaning that deliciousness expanded in my fist sized stomach almost immediately so I took that and their incredible cheese grits (truly amazing to find excellent grits in the midwest, kudos B&E) home to revisit later. The hub got what could be the greatest breakfast item ever to be conceived, so simple yet so brilliant and a million ways to fuck it up. Naturally, it was executed with perfection and the taste sent us into oblivion. The Bacon Waffle.

It’s exactly what you think it is, except better. There’s chopped up bacon mixed with a rum waffle batter served as it should be with butter and maple syrup and a succulent strip of juicy bacon laid on top. Man, I can still taste it.

I immediately thought, somewhat selfishly, I should take more people here, so I can come back and spread the joy. And so I did. The next visit we went with our roommate, my brother, my food and humor soul mate, my bestie (isn’t that word nauseating? I’m sorry I even jokingly typed it. But I’m leaving it in.). He downed a Southern Comfort Bowl pretty easily while I decided to try something new. This time I chose the BLT, a simple favorite of mine, made a billion times better by it’s supporting cast, aged cheddar cheese, walnut and basil pesto mayo, and eggs your way. I personally love the stickiness and flavor of a runny, orange yolk bursting across the other ingredients as you take a bear sized bite. I’ve had this sandwich twice now, just as good the 2nd time. Derek chose the bacon waffle again, smart. I’ve gone back with more friends, enjoying their take on a breakfast burrito, their banana bread french toast, their cinnamon raisin sandwich with chicken apple sausage, eggs your way, cheddar and maple syrup. If you think any of these things sound bad or weird, just open your mouth for one bite, you will only want more! I’ve also tried the chilaquiles, their asparagus frittata, and their lovely french toast, all off other people’s plates. You love one, you love them all.

Let me digress for a moment and discuss the wonderful world of bacon. Apologies to my vegetarian and vegan friends. I can only hope you don’t harbor any self-righteousness toward omnivores regardless for your reason and just let people enjoy their lives. I respect and admire your choice. I’ve been a vegan and vegetarian during certain phases in my life and for a variety of reasons it does not serve my life. I do not recommend eating bacon, or even meat everyday, of course, but if you do enjoy the sometimes other white meat then I highly recommend you order the Bacon Flight from B&E. Wow. I’ve had some great bacon in my day, many of it here in Chicago, but their 5 flavor options will all tap into that hypothalamus pleasure center, immediately sending signals from tongue to brain that say yes, more, holy shit, amazing. I like maple pepper and honey roasted best but I’ll down the hell out of mesquite, cherry smoked and jalapeno too. If you’re going to eat meat, make conscious choices, and remember the awesome common sense tool and apply it to all aspects of your life, quality over quantity.

Whether you’re at the bar, an old wooden table or sitting comfortably in the old church pews they have as seats, you’ll enjoy yourself. The atmosphere is alive, happy, well lit, casual. The layout is simple and clean. Most importantly, 2nd only to their incredible fare, is their very hard-working, friendly staff. I’ve had such pleasant experiences and conversations with every server and barista there. Most don’t engage in too much role play, preferring my favorite method of being themselves, a human being engaging with another human being. They make great recommendations, rarely if ever mess up or forget an order and only seek to improve your experience as a diner, as a person enjoying food, simple as that. It’s that reason why I feel this is such a well-rounded restaurant, executing exactly what they set out to, consistently, efficient and effective, down to the detail, every single day from 8-3. They have a special brunch menu on the weekends and a stellar menu during the weekdays. And it's remarkably easy to split checks. You pay at a register with a friendly, helpful employee who doesn't make you feel like an asshole for not having cash, which is rare in Chicago. Doesn’t matter when, just go.

I’ve been contemplating whether or not I eat emotionally. I don’t think I do but you never know. I don’t eat from boredom or stress, but I sure as hell eat for happiness, any excuse will do. When I travel, the day is planned around meals, snacks, culinary delights, squeezing in a monument, museum, event or sight between one good meal after another. I love the visceral, primal experience eating provides and I love that humans have evolved to eat in the creative ways we do. I happen to love vegetables, fruit, grains, nuts, beans and the basic foods most doctors harp on about, and I make sure I eat them, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend the rest of my life avoiding butter, rich oils, savory cheeses, tender meats, chocolate or any other ecstasy inducing foods that cause guilt. They’re real, natural, from this planet we call Earth and if you focus on quality and moderation, life can be a fun, healthy and balanced ride. Stop worrying about calories or cleanses for a second and take a bite of a fluffy, savory sweet bacon waffle, or whatever excites you. Leave your cereal in the box and go eat some real food every now and again. Maybe at Bakin and Eggs. You won’t regret it.

Take a bite. Share a bite. Feed yourself well. Enjoy.

A Dynamic Education: My Stroke of Insight

I’ve yet to write about the written word. Odd. I love to read and do so frequently, but the experience gleaned from reading a book is usually so personal, so rich in depth and detail that it’s difficult to truly discuss or recommend with anything but a skewed perspective. I suppose everything I’ve shared has been from my own opinions and experiences but I choose to extract my own lesson and then express it in hopes it’ll snowball with positivity. Much of my favorite philosophical material makes its way into my writing and my yoga classes but to summarize the inspiration packed into a good book feels daunting. Kudos to those of you who can and do that brilliantly. I respectfully ask for your open-mindedness as I sum up and recommend a beautiful book I read recently, one that carries within truths I’ve learned from other sources, but so precisely and exquisitely provides useful information and such wise insight that I must encourage you to read it yourself. This book is My Stroke of Insight by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. I love novels, imagination, stories, but I’m drawn to varying perceptions and expressions of reality, of truth. I suppose that’s why I studied psychology and why I pursue other artful sciences, because they live almost permanently in the gray. I like the back and forth, the theoretical tennis it involves, the minds you encounter and discover and the lessons you learn about yourself and life. I love to think and I love to laugh. I read mostly autobiographies, memoirs, satire and philosophy. This is predominantly, not entirely. I will read almost anything, this just seems to be my tendency. My Stroke of Insight is at once a stunning true story told from the author’s perspective and also a meaningful lesson on both the duality and the ambiguity of the human existence. It’s 200 pages of fascinating information, beautiful insight and impassioned story-telling. I can’t wait to re-read it.

Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor was a brain scientist, a career she pursued after growing up with a brother afflicted with schizophrenia, a tragic neurological disorder widely misunderstood in the medical community, whose sufferers more often than not take their own lives. In between hours of neuro-chemical research, Jill traveled the country on behalf of the Harvard Brain Bank, encouraging others through enthusiastic speeches and catchy jingles to donate their brains to science (once deceased of course, not as some sort of sacrifice, just to be clear). There were very few as educated or as passionate as Dr. Taylor was about the human brain and it’s functioning. Her story took an astonishing turn when she suffered from a massive stroke in the left hemisphere of her brain on December 10th, 1996. My Stroke of Insight follows her experience from the morning of the stroke, her post-stroke experience in and out of the hospital, and her arduous, 8 year recovery back to a fully functioning and even better human being.

As many of you may know, we have two hemispheres in our very complicated brains. Each side is responsible for various functions and both work together to create a singular reality rather than a confusing duality. I, personally, have always been envious of left-handed people. Sounds ridiculous I’m sure, but I learned at a young age that left-handedness often leads to some gnarly artistic expression, a unique experience in day-to-day life and all around more balanced human beings. There is scientific research to support that left-handed people tend to have strengths on both sides of the brain and tend to grasp bigger picture lessons even easier than most. There are exceptions to every rule and we certainly should factor in one’s environment but if you just take a poll of famous artists, a strong number of them are left-handed and I don’t believe that’s an accident. I think their dominant right brain had something to do with it. The lesson this book taught me is I have every capacity to tap into my right brain regardless of my left brain’s desire to dominate. I can certainly carve out the details of my life to support a more balanced functioning, a life where I take advantage of the positives provided by each hemisphere. It helped me to stop assuming I wasn’t an artist because I’m so clearly linguistic, mathematic, sporty and analytical. I can choose to pursue the other side and level myself out to live a full life.

Jill hemorrhaged into her left hemisphere, specifically the areas processing language, that includes both the spoken and written word. She heard people speaking and her brain processed it as if a dog was barking. The left side is also where we carry our mathematic understanding (those of you who struggle with math can feel proud that you are probably more right-brained, you are not lesser than in any way, despite what traditional public schools lead some to believe, it’s simply a matter of brain chemistry and how your unique brain processes information. fascinating!), spacial concepts, athletic tendencies and a sense of time, linear sequences allow you to make sense out of what happened before and therefore what may happen next. Something as simple as knowing to put your socks on before your shoes is lost when your left hemisphere is impaired. Incredible. Your left brain also houses your inner (sometimes outer) monologue, your incessant stream of thoughts, judgments and analysis. This voice can either help or hinder you. I feel often it simply takes over and rather than us voluntarily thinking, thinking just happens to us, similar to our hearts pumping and our lungs drawing in and releasing air. One of the life-changing lessons I’ve learned from this book and from another favorite, Eckhart Tolle, is we are in charge. I can positively affect the rate of my heart beat, the quality of my breath and content circulating in my mind. And they’re all connected.

Now, as painful and difficult as it was for Jill to essentially lose who she was, the knowledge and memories she’d gained, and to be tasked with re-learning basic human functions, motor skills, language, math, time; it was equally if not beyond cathartic for her to experience life all right, entirely out of the right hemisphere that is. Our right brains don’t see ourselves as solid, independent beings separate from the rest of life. Instead, the right hemisphere recognizes the universal truth, we are all One, alive in the only “time” there ever is, Now. While Jill laid relatively motionless in her hospital bed, confused and in pain, she also felt a supreme light within her, she felt as if her body and mind was fluid, no beginning or end, at One with everything around her. Instead of processing the words people were speaking to her, she could only perceive their attitudes, their energy, their sense of presence in her company. That’s why during her recovery, she responded best to those who treated her like a fellow sentient being, not someone who was broken with irreparable damage, but someone who was new and perfectly capable of making a full recovery. She needed patience, kindness and belief.

We learn in school that 93% of communication is non-verbal (that was the figure when I was in school, it may vary a percentage point or two now). That’s why many of us are sensitive to tone, facial expression and body language over simple words. I’m fairly sensitive to those who come across disingenuous. I’d almost rather you be slightly negative in my presence than fake, because insincerity and role-playing have become a normal way to function in our society and although respect and manners are important, honest and authentic exchanges foster more positivity and growth than acting our way through life. The reason I’ve developed more and more happiness and substantive relationships is partially due to luck and partially because I became fed up with my left brain, the judgmental mind chatter and the pursuit of society and what I felt were other’s definitions of a full life. It is no surprise to me that the majority of people I choose to surround myself with these days operate out of a very right-brained mentality. They’re compassionate, understanding, funny and loving people. Left brainers have that potential too. I’m a left brainer and I’m striving for balance.

I learned in My Stroke of Insight the value of each hemisphere. My left brain dominance has allowed me to rarely be late, to remember every single important date imaginable and to pick up languages fairly easily. I have a decent memory and keen hand-eye coordination. I also have atrocious hand-writing, cannot draw or paint to save my life and I can be pretty stubborn about certain beliefs. I’ve found it valuable through reading and learning to pinpoint my strengths and also my weaknesses. I love being surprised by someone who initially rubbed me the wrong way. I care much less about the outcome of sports games than I used to, focusing now on the enjoyment of watching or playing, or simply choosing other hobbies instead. My mind is much more open and pliable now. My religion is Love, my political beliefs are a hodge podge of values stemming from key issues and align with no particular party or person (It is my goal to feel less and less discouraged by the insincerity and greed in our government, it’s a work in progress), and I’ve been fortunate enough to use my athletic sensibilities with creativity and philosophy as I teach yoga. And I’ve discovered to be and feel artistic, you just have to open your heart and find your own expression. It’s in there, go find it.

This book gave me such rich information not only on the details of our brains, but my brain in particular. It’s another window into understanding humanity and feeling more connected and empathic, rather than more separate. It also provides such a slew of wisdom on recovery, both as a the sufferer and the caretaker. Regardless if you or someone you love has suffered from a stroke or some other physical/mental setback, this book provides a myriad of coping mechanisms and methods for success in dynamic ways. It’s beautiful to see that even within the black and white, the specific functions of each hemisphere, there’s still potential for a world of interpretation, a kaleidoscope of conjecture, a sea of gray . While we are one in the same with our fellow man and this planet in general, we can still hone our distinctive characteristics and views as an individual, adding something special to the whole. I feel grateful to have a fully functioning brain and body and completely empowered by the knowledge and truth that I am in charge of cultivating my mind, body and life to keep improving, keep working toward balance and peace.

If you’ve read any of my previous articles (and I thank you if you have), then you’ve most likely surmised that my aim is not to simply review a piece of art and dissect it for its validity or awfulness, but more to share the process and effect something had on my head and heart, how it may have improved me as a human being and how it may support you through whatever circumstances make up your days. I digress, run off on tangents, interrupt myself consistently and find new lessons even as I write, just as I’m doing right now, but know that in these 63 articles, my goal is to spread something beneficial and positive, to share a bit of myself and hope that it resonates with you, therefore connecting us all even more. Whether through a delicious meal, a spell-binding film, gut-busting piece of comedy, beautiful music, a page-turning book, or some random life-lesson I’ve acquired through my own mistakes or been shown by other’s wisdom, my method of scratching an itch is to process and analyze my mental and physical response and hopefully express it in a unique, creative and ultimately helpful way. So if you’ve read many of my pieces and thought, wow, she’s all over the place, what’s her objective? Her plan? Her purpose? It’s simply to pass on what is working for me, let go of what isn’t and encourage everyone to find their own version of the same. I certainly hope that’s coming across. Thank you for the platform and the feedback. I hope we all continue to connect and get better together.

Explore the dynamics of your individual brain, the duality of life and everything in between. Be open. Absorb. Evolve. Learn from the past and then let it go. Look forward to the future but don’t look forward for contentment. Euphoria and satisfaction are within you and can only truly be experienced through the right brain’s truth, Here and Now.

We Don't Need No Resolution

Humans love to romanticize endings. And beginnings. And the draggy parts in the middle I guess, but they dig a goodbye, the drama of dissolution. And so as 2011 comes to a close, I’m forced via the emotional climate and energy to reflect upon this year, make assertions and judgments, constructively criticize myself and then pinpoint a new goal for next year. But what if this year was so beautifully perfect, glorious and pristine, rich and dense, at once hazy and yet crystal clear, that you don’t want it to dissolve? I want to reside in this current state of being into 2012 and keep experiencing life with this mindset and principles. Not that I’m whole, fully realized, successful or 100% fulfilled, but this year set off a flame inside me that is already burning bright, it’s impervious, cannot be dimmed. This is not a spotlight. I am not performing. I am Alive. Excessively so. And I aim to remain. We often want to lose weight, lose/gain a job, lose/gain a relationship, start something we’ve been wanting or end something our friends have been pleading us to; none of this works. These are external solutions for internal issues. We must be patient and kind to ourselves, begin to recognize old thought and behavior patterns, bring some awareness in and see the subtle shift we make toward progress. We shift the internal and the external blossoms. Having goals to change or improve aren’t bad, clearly, but our society perpetuates superficial or cliché objectives every new year, as if that specific fragment in time means anything.

Winter is often difficult and sometimes depressing, 3 months of dissolution, we see it in nature. A more appropriate date to explore varying routes to positive change is the end of March, Spring, a time of worldwide growth, amongst humans, animals, plants, a time of beginnings, renewals, a time to blossom. However, putting an actual date on your impending change in behavior or lifestyle only keeps this goal living in the future, some distant place you’ll reach somehow but obviously progress can only really occur in the now, and keep occurring during this very moment, from the inside out.

Just speaking from the western culture I’ve developed in and observed, we begin a steady decline once fall hits, the weather cools and we roll into the “dress up like someone scary/slutty/funny/weird/obscure” time while ingesting copious amounts of sweets and probably alcohol or some fun but harmful substance, and then for some deranged reason we hop on a gluttony train, eating stale candy until we can fill ourselves with pie, starch, turkey and other November deliciousness that inevitably makes us tired so we coast on lethargy and bloat until December when the cavalcade of holiday parties take up our weekends. By then we’re exhausted from our consumerist activities, shopping, eating, decorating, napping, drinking and any combination/order of those until we park ourselves permanently onto a cushioned surface to eat some tasty meat doubled over with butter, served with sides of gravy, accompanied by items covered in cheese or mysterious crunchy goodness, which is then sandwiched in moments of time eating holiday themed savory and sweet treats, washed down by equally intoxicating special occasion beverages while you watch Home Alone for the 8th time that month because you have the case for Christmas Vacation but no actual disk and although the charm and nostalgia of a VHS tape is fun, no one in their right mind still owns and uses a VCR, nor do we want to watch that shitty version made for a 19 inch 80’s television, then stretched to fit a modern high-definition flat screen.

After Home Alone 1 and 2, you may switch back to the 24 hour marathon of A Christmas Story, marking the 12th year you’ve watched it out-of-order, finding somehow to see the same scenes but never the full story, rarely remembering character names or a plot but merely specific famous lines and scenarios that have embedded their way into our culture like Star Wars references. I’ve only seen the first film (the one with a handsome Harrison Ford, not episode one or whatever, nerds) and yet I know that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s father, just like I know in a Christmas Story the boy shoots his eyeglass out, gets into a fight, gets pushed down a slide by Santa’s boot and gets soap shoved in his mouth for cursing. It’s my parent’s generational holiday story and for some reason ours is Christmas Vacation and Home Alone. Can’t get enough of either. Back on track...

Then you have pie. And then, even though you all promised to cut back or perhaps not buy any gifts this year, the tree is up to its angel in gifts and you dole it out eagerly, most going to babies who don’t know and children who will soon forget, or simply prefer to play with the box over its contents. You add up your gift cards, inevitably lose something in the piles of wrapping paper and then you nap, waking up to another shot from A Christmas Story you saw earlier in the day. And then you eat cookies. At some point someone starts gathering trash, hoards and hoards of ugly patterned paper, tissue, tape, ripped bags, cards someone pretends to keep but actually tosses, rolled up food stained napkins, plates, half full cups, and candy wrappers, saying goodbye to numerous trees yet again, asking yourself if you’ve even had water once today, opting for whatever’s left in your plastic santa cup before you throw it away.

So you’ve had an 8-10 week sugar rush interspersed with moments of pure sloth, to then emerge at the end of December with nothing to show for it but some sugar related acne, broken zippers, burst buttons, probably some fun albeit foggy memories, and fading bitter ones of board games lost, and then a low-grade -no more singing joyfully, no more candy (until Valentine’s Day), no more forced, organized opportunities to gorge and get drunk with family and friends, no more too good to pass up sales, back to work- depression sets in.

For some reason, during this time I just described with 100% accuracy, we’re forced to evaluate our lives during a couple of months of indulgent, surfacey fun behavior and amidst all the chaos and stupor we’re then encouraged to land safely back in reality to then scout out our faults and bad habits and scold ourselves into changing after one last night of emotional and physical bingeing, to then miraculously make huge steps in an entirely newer and better direction for an infinite amount of time. No thank you. What a bunch of bullshit designed to keep us in our cyclone of crap, to repeat the same nonsense from January to December yet again.

There should be zero guilt associated with those few months of celebration, sugar absorption, gift giving and relaxing. It’s biological. Winter is coming, we need an extra layer to keep warm. That ebb and flow is natural, we’re leaner when it’s hot and fuller when it’s cold. When it comes to the more long-term, major adjustments, the resolution is much deeper and cannot begin after a night of alcohol abuse and slurred words. Perhaps we should begin on an arbitrary date, or our birthdays, or some date significant to us but no one else. The date does not matter. It is the intention and the energetic focus of that intention that determines our success in this evolutionary endeavor. Our goal as individuals and as a society is to keep getting better, internally, opening our mind and our heart a little more each day, so what we have to give only grows and a blissful presence remains despite external stress, relationship woes, excess pounds, or the absence of money.

We don’t need no resolution and we certainly don’t need it on January 1st. This is recuperation time. Time to reflect on the positives of the year, take the lessons from the mistakes and let any lingering negativity go. Time to let the massive quantities of carbohydrates digest, give the ole liver and kidneys some much needed H2O, resolve to either make changes necessary in the areas we are not happy and/or recognize the power in our own perception and reactivity. We choose to see people and situations in our own light and if that light is consistently dark and pervasively negative, then we know the change must first come within. As within, so without. If someone or something is so overtly caustic to us and others, then we must choose to remove ourselves from their presence. When it’s a necessary to suck it up and deal, then I’ve found it helpful to find the good and let it drown out the bad, whether in a human being or circumstance. We then change the way we operate toward the person or environment and the results are proof, we get what we give.

This year I resolve to feel nothing but gratitude for what’s led me here. Love.

I will allow my heart to speak up over my head and my chattering left brain to be silenced by the wisdom and acceptance of my right.

I will continue to strip my life down to simple truths and joys, food, laughter, love. Everything else is bonus.

I will do my best to choose collaboration over competition and relish the act of playing a game instead of predicating my happiness on the result. The means is far more important than the end.

I will not be discouraged when whatever external forms of success seem to be at a stand-still and when the financial well continues to be dry.

I will try to treat myself like I do my best friends and encourage them to do the same. Instead of labeling myself and others for their faults, I’ll lead and be grateful for the strengths and hope they diminish the weaknesses.

I will strive for a stream of consciousness that imbues a sense of connection with others, an unshakable calm disposition with an uninhibited self-expression, while in a perpetual state of internal and external motion.

Even those with whom I’d prefer to be apart, I wish you peace and goodness. For those I love, I wish you a balanced, loving life so full you’re overwhelmed by your happiness, fulfilled by your endeavors and satisfied in every imaginable way. I wish for us all to enjoy a full life together. Happy New Year.

May you always Eat (like a fatty), Laugh (like a schizo) and Love (like a lunatic). Remember: You’re awesome, give whatever you feel you’re lacking, let’s not take each other so seriously and have some fun in this whacktastic world.

Resolve conflicts. Relinquish control. Realize your innate goodness. Release. Repeat.

Music for the Moment

The best quality music brings to my life is the ability, over most other art-forms, to tap me into primal urges, simple but profound needs, desires and truths. It affects me from the inside out, makes my heart beat faster, harder, louder. It activates and stimulates both sides of my brain at once, provoking thought and feeling. At once we connect with others who are sharing the same frequency and sensation when reacting to this music; but also there’s an independent, unique memory now attached to your story, forever marking this era in your life. Whenever you hear that song or album, you’ll immediately be thrust back to those sense perceptions and emotions accompanying this tune. For me, this experience is still somewhat rare, perhaps because I have a dog like loyalty to musicians or bands and I’ll obsessively listen to them for months, even years, in a small group of others until someone snaps me out of my trance. And there's simply not enough time in the day to experience enough art. Regardless of how or why, I enjoy these extraordinary experiences with music, and songs in particular. I’m fortunate in receiving this gift from people I know, people I call friends and soul mates, the members of the exquisitely special and talented band whysowhite. I plan to share many insights and thoughts on my journey with whysowhite in the future, but for now I just look forward to their impending reunion, leading to a great gift for humanity. There’s enough to placate me until then, please give them a listen and spread the Love. Please check out this video on my hub’s vimeo page, where he showcases his hard work while shining a light on others. There are a few gems in there, and two joyful, infectious whysowhite videos, providing merely a speck, a glimmer into the infinitely talented 7 man band we can’t get enough of, and those we’re patiently waiting until we get even just a little more. While you’re at it, hop over to our friend and enigmatic member of whysowhite’s music blog, Moonspeak. The man lives, breathes, communicates music. His knowledge is cavernous, taste impeccable, and instincts are more sound than anyone I’ve ever known. His equally beautiful and talented brother (another profound member of wsw) lends his skills and personality to this very well thought-out selection of artists, albums and songs. Imagine Van Gogh having an art blog. You’d be a fool not to read, listen, watch, absorb and retain. I’m forever changed by their presence in my life and now I’m aiming to spread the joy and love they’ve so generously given me. Enjoy this feast for your eyes, ears, minds and hearts, and then spread the soulful love.

Currently there are a few songs playing on shuffle, both in my iPod and in the space between my ears, where my beautifully operatic voice sings to me while I tread lightly on the slippery, cold streets of Chicago. It’s pretty incredible how great I sound inside my head, or how great my mind plays back songs I’ve listened to on repeat. I do my best to open myself to any genre of music. I’ve found modern country to be a bit nauseating but I’m willing to admit my reluctance in listening to a lot of it, so there’s bound to be some great artists out there I just haven’t made time for, choosing instead to listen to every single Black Keys song over and over, keeping my ears occupied between podcasts and until their next album releases. Let me quickly recommend El Camino if you haven’t given it a go yet. It carries this great quality of feeling nostalgic, providing everything I’ve loved while somehow bringing something new to the table. It’s quick drum beats, unique guitar riffs and some seriously special use of the keyboards. I’ve been in love with the shy two-man band for 5 years now and could not be happier for their success. I will not hide my enthusiasm simply because they’ve become popular and there’s sure to be backlash. I’m sticking by them and strongly urge everyone to explore their earlier work. One of my favorite comedic artists lent his talents to spread the Black Keys greatness.

Their albums tell their own specific story by exploring with various melodies and tones, instrumental and lyrical themes, while weaving them all together with a single thread that is signature of the Black Keys. They evolve their sound while staying true to their essence. Give it all a go. If I were to encourage you to listen to a few, perhaps one from each album, I’d of course say listen to them all (I change my favorites depending on the day, the mood, what sounds and words I’m resonating with), find your own story within the album’s; but for right now, give Nobody But You, Heavy Soul, Have Love Will Travel, Everywhere I Go, When The Lights Go Out, You’re The One, Same Old Thing, The Only One and Sister a go. I just want to express how difficult that was. As I leafed through their amazing catalogue, I found it nearly impossible to choose just one song from each album. Each song is on it’s own planet, with Dan Auerbach’s lead vocals showcasing more than just a great rock range, he chooses a key for a reason and that reason is to better tell the story. The wise progression and combination of instruments makes their music a perfect package. You may want to check out Dearest, the excellent Buddy Holly cover, and Dan’s solo album, Keep it Hid is a densely rich album with a slew of favorites as well. Check out Heartbroken, In Disrepair. And last thing, one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard is from their album Rubber Factory. It's called The Lengths. It was the first song I ever wrote about. I’ve heard it hundreds of times and never tire, my heart wants more. I hope you love any of these half as much as I do, because I know you’ll feel the transformative effects great music can provide. Being a human being is awesome!

I don’t know how it happened but somehow I managed to gather a significant number of very talented friends, who also have talented friends, so like a bunch of hippies we just gather and have artistic conversations and I get to be wowed on a consistent basis by the limitless potential of the people around me. At times, I feel insecure and unworthy, like I should be relegated to another room where I just listen but don’t actually participate with those who are clearly on a different plane. It’s because most of them are artists and that’s a difficult word for me to attach to myself, regardless if I feel creative, I cannot give myself that descriptor, but I’m opening to it. They never make me feel like I don’t belong, which is a credit to their hearts and their inherent generosity, so I figure the least I can do is express my awe, my admiration, respect, enthusiasm and Love the best way I can, through a rambling selection of words. My roommates, who happen to be my brother and my husband, both are aspiring cinematographers, geeking out over lighting and shots in ways I cannot even comprehend, but I love watching their passion and seeing them work together. The videos provided above include a collaboration of their skills and artistry with our ingenious friends. They recently were members of a small crew helping to make a music video with another up-and-coming group of musicians, Secret Colours, on their gut punching rock song Faust.

It begins with a low, quick bass riff, and quiet lyrics, almost whispering, lurking, preying, like a tiger slowly approaching it’s dinner. Then, in a flash of musical brilliance, the base goes to 11, instruments in fast forward, pulling you deep into the moment, into the reality of the song. It moves like moments in life, fragments of stillness, waiting, approaching, and then bam, you’re in it, no escape, just ride it out. According to legend, Faust is a scholar who sells his soul to the devil, in exchange for knowledge and power. A befitting metaphor for any era in humanity, Secret Colours builds their rock anthem beautifully, with gripping lyrics, music that drives the story and punches it up in the right moments. This song has been on a short list of songs providing the soundtrack to my life at the moment. I certainly recognize moments where I have and occasionally still feel faustian, but mainly I’m just drawn to this sound. I liked the song immediately, from one second in, with the first bar I said yes, I want to hear more. When I learned my bro and hub were working on their video, my excitement shot through the roof and I knew I had to do my best to share this beautifully combined gift. The crew busted their balls, shooting into the early, freezing Chicago morning, and outside in the cold dark of night (sounds like a corny line from a screenplay, apologies), then going back to earning a modest income to support their passion until they hopefully reap some fruits of their labor. It certainly is a labor of love, and they all deserve and have earned this success. I hope it continues to grow for all of them. Enjoy the video, if you like it, share it! And feel free to pass along recommendations to me, that’s how most brilliant works of art have come my way. I’m grateful, keep it coming.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9Op-i0MRSI

The last song I’m choosing to share as the year approaches it’s dissolution is another tune I liked immediately, within seconds, and after just one listen it stuck, permanently weaved into the fabric of my being and onto the script in my brain. This song affects me in the most profound way. It conjures and inspires primal instincts, making me hungry, thirsty, lustful, provoking a different breath, internal swelling and movement, and one of few that reminds me how I prefer to love and be loved, with reckless abandon, raw, cut open, prepared to bleed out forever. That may sound a bit twisted, but if you ignore propriety and how society relentlessly tells us to behave, and instead turn the focus inward, respond instinctually, combining our very advanced left and right hemispheres to operate with thoughtful passion, organized enthusiasm and pure, unadulterated Love, everything will feel much more sensual, natural and heightened. Often the world diminishes the importance of satisfying these intense urges, telling us our bodies are dirty, our minds are sick, and reason always supersedes impulse. When it comes to potentially hurting others, these rules are important and should be heeded, but when we’re deeply entrenched in moments where following the instincts and/or the heart will benefit your soul, aid in your evolution, and we instead choose fear, perceiving judgment or ridicule, we lose. This song makes me want to run naked into the roaring ocean, passionately kiss regardless of the surroundings and satisfy any other urge or impulse my soul sees fit. The song is Future Starts Slow, by the Kills.

It starts with very rhythmic, tribal drums, activating the pelvis, eliciting dance, firing up the loins. Then, the hook, a sharp guitar riff, memorable, carving out your heart, the strings plucking somewhere deep in your being. Then simple, beautiful, intelligent lyrics fuck with your mind, tug at your soul.

You can holler You can wail You can swing You can flail You can thump like a broken sail But I’ll never give you up If I ever give you up My heart will surely fail

I swear I felt those lyrics just in listening to the music, from the beginning. It makes me close my eyes and sway, motion from the inside out. The song builds, slows, and just is perfection, rounding back to what I feel is a bold statement in support of Love, real love, strong loving between two exquisitely primal beings.

You can holler You can wail You can blow what’s left of my right mind

You can swing You can flail You can blow what’s left of my right mind

Um, yes please. Destroy me with who you are, in every way imaginable, by giving me your genuine self, to the core, in this moment with me. I don’t need your flowers, your greeting cards, or your modern expression of romanticism in front of others. I need passion, laughter, hunger, encouragement and release, in however that manifests in our present. All I want is You.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KiLjuRG3hoE&ob=av2n

Sometimes music just makes me want to dance, smile, cry, and any myriad of actions and feelings on the emotional spectrum, from superficial to deep. Music, and most forms of art are expressions of truth, and if something resonates with you, then that’s clearly your truth in that moment. Thinking back to the art I loved as a child and re-living my artistic choices, both in experience and expression, it tells my unique story, giving me a time-line of emotion and thought for phases of my life. How those previous emotional attachments evolve is interesting to observe. Songs that used to make me sad, now make me cry from gratitude and the recognition of change within and without. Some just feel the damn same, clusters of happiness I repeatedly expose myself to and yearn to share with others. Whatever the reason, feel it, and if you feel it’s worth while, share it, whether you’re listening, viewing, tasting, smelling, feeling, reading or some combination of it all.

Absorb. Process. Express. Experience. Thank you.

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