Halloween, Sex and the Number Two Test

…to be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others…
~ David Whyte

People often ask how I know or choose what I’m going to write about next. I’d like to report that I carry a literary witching rod to divine a lofty inspiration from some higher source, but that’s generally not the case. I do two things. The first is called the #2 test. Usually while I’m driving I scan through recent events. If an idea is too intellectual, I skip over it because clearly my ego would be writing about what’s “important" (yawn) and not my gut and heart. Every now and then the divining rod strikes it rich and the material has to come out as soon as possible. I rush home and let it flow. If I ignore it or I can’t get home in time – you guessed it: the urge passes and I forget whatever it was I wanted to write. Naturally, the urge will return in some form and sometimes even when I do get home in time, I read it over and realize, well, it’s crap.

The second part of the equation is humor. If it’s not somewhat funny, no one wants to read it. Generally, if it’s funny there’s a darker underbelly to the piece, which gives you an idea about my sense of humor. But darkness is not necessarily twisted - soul seeks darkness. In Soulcraft, Bill Plotkin explains: “the movement toward spirit is a journey of ascent…transcendence, while the movement toward your soul is a journey of descent… a journey that deepens.”

So, today what got me racing home at high speeds was… s-e-x! Well, at least the idea of it. This weekend I went to a couple of Halloween parties. I dressed as Nefertiti, complete with a hat I made for the occasion. Totally ignoring the heavy eye make up and bejeweled dress, some guy asked if I were a “Bic Pen.” Really? That gave me an idea about how to use the headdress next year. Granted, I passed over sexier options, choosing instead an elegant sack, and at one of the parties, I watched as men gravitated to more skimpily dressed women. No surprise there, but it reminded me of the Halloween party in college when I dressed as a frumpy yellow bird and all the guys asked my two lithe friends, who were dressed as a kitty cat and a school girl in a low buttoned shirt and mini skirt, to dance while I sat in a chair preening my lemon yellow feathers. One of the guys pulled me aside and said: “You’re the kind of girl we’d want to marry, but who wants to get married in college?” I was such a nerd; it's no wonder I was a virgin until age 21!

I have no issue with being playful and wearing fun, sexy costumes, especially on Halloween. I've worn my share of them. And when I was married there was clarity and it was easier to venture from base and be flirtatious. Married but not dead. But as a single woman I want to be conscious about what I'm putting out there and what I want to attract. My last lover taught me a lot about spirituality and health. He said that most people “bleed sexual energy,” which depletes power and the capacity for deeper relationship. (I liked to remind him that when I met him at a Halloween party years ago I had my hair down and teased and I was dressed in a skin tight, one-piece snake suit draped in a strand of ivy.) The fact is some men are visual and won’t see my mind unless I show them my ass first. Alas, I wasn’t in the mood this weekend to be luring men, at least, not that way. I like to remind myself that as much as I learned from that lover, we weren’t on the same page. If I am meant to meet a long-term partner it’s probably not going to be dressed as a wanton middle-aged Lolita.

Certain traditions say that when a woman has sex, she carries that partner’s energy along with her for seven years. Maybe I knew that back in college or maybe I was a scared canary. Sex is never just sex – at least not usually for women. The heart gets involved in a way that can shred us. We think we’re going to be calm, cool and collected, and the next day we are crying and thinking about puppies dying in scientific labs and the affect of global warming on bees and is he ever going to call me again? On the flip side, one may have sex with a man who seems and looks relatively stable and then Pow! The intimacy triggers something shall we say... unexpected. Humans are complex!

It’s one of the reasons I’m not looking for sex for sex’s sake. Besides worrying about the puppies, birds and bees, I want to understand my heart more fully, and I think it’s been shut down for a long time. It’s why yoga has been so important to me. I remember last year when my favorite yoga instructor, Matt, led a class that focused on “heart openers.” Heart openers, I innocently thought, were exercises that stretched the pectoral muscles to free up my shoulders and arms. But NO! Fear the cruel yoga instructor! (And they all look so innocent. BUDDHIST BULLIES I say!) When it came time for savasana, I was a blubbering fool curled in a fetal position trying not to sob audibly and disturb the peaceful corpses lying next to me.

I’m happy to say my heart is accustomed to opening more readily thanks to the safe space of yoga, tango or BodyMantra. Don’t get me wrong. Sex is a show stopper. It’s glorious, transcendent, life changing at its best. But it's more fun with a committed partner. Our culture seems to breed men and women fumbling towards one another with the idea that we can complete each other in a night, that the other person will erase our pain. We go into relationship with too much expectation - we wonder why it caves under all that wet snow! We might be relieved that – God forbid – we are not seen in public alone...again. We jump in without taking the time to feel our way fully, without understanding our hearts and the deeper quests it leads us on. Our media flaunts sexuality as if sex is no more life changing than eating a bag of chips. Sadly some people who've been abused and never taught otherwise are inured and their hearts and feelings are shut down so that it isn't any more special than Cheetos. While some teens may be ready to experience it with a sense of fun and wonder, other kids feel obligated and lost, slamming the heart shut for another decade or for good.

There really is no answer here. It’s like the question about what I’m going to write next – sometimes the urges we follow, whether on the page or between the sheets, turn out to be great and then other times… not. I guess what I’m hoping for is more creativity when it comes to engaging with the opposite sex – especially for middle-aged singles. Friends often say that dating in our 20’s was fun and easy. At 50 people are crumbling fortresses of terror. Halloween is our signature holiday.

I feel a certain peace when my yoga teacher comes over to kneel on the back of my thighs and ease down on my upper back as I’m lying on my stomach; my heart opens like a tide pool on my yoga mat. I feel this same serenity and safety with a couple of dear male platonic friends - one I've only known a year and the other I have known for five years who told me he would never sleep with me because down the road it wouldn’t work out and we would lose our friendship. I thought he was wrong at first, but now I know – in my heart – that he was right. What I've come to find with both is this unconditional acceptance, a freedom of interrelating with someone from the opposite sex without expectation.

Granted, it would be nice to have a sexual partner, but ultimately friends with benefits seems to end up biting someone in the ass. It's been so long... I want to bite an ass. Sigh.

While I’m not officially declaring abstinence, I have made a commitment to sink into the feeling of what it’s like to be by myself... making snow angels! And, without getting lost in another person or carrying yet another man’s energy around for seven years. (That is such a weird concept.) There will come a time for losing myself – again – to delicious, blissful love, but first I want to know my heart. I want to urge her out of hiding. It’s all perception. I could focus on the disappointment of going to one more event without a date, but I am beginning to trust that being single is right where I’m meant to be. The universe will open the door to a relationship and when that happens, I will be ready to walk through the door without leaving myself on the other side of the threshold.

In the poignant book by Martha Beck, Expecting Adam, as she contemplates whether she’s going to abort or keep her unborn son with Down’s Syndrome, she asks herself: “What is it that people do? What do we live to do, the way a horse lives to run?” Later in the chapter she reveals: “This is the part of us that makes our brief, improbable little lives worth living: the ability to reach through our own isolation and find strength, and comfort, and warmth for and in each other. This is what human beings do. This is what we live for, the way horses live to run.”

I may be single, but I don’t feel alone. My life is graced with a wonderful immediate and extended family, close friends and dear teachers who sustain my heart and make every moment worth living.

A Tail Between my Legs; A Rose Between my Teeth

What do you think when I mention: “Oneness,” “The Unknown,” or “The Other.” Spirituality? Heidegger? Perhaps, but no: Argentinean tango. There is no more sensual way to learn about how you engage with the Other than to tango. The leader indicates – with his or her heart – and the follower listens with her heart, trusting implicitly; both hearts open and willing to connect.

Yesterday I found myself telling a partner: “Why don’t you lead me straight back a while so I can feel my heart.” But he didn’t. He kept taking me again and again into the front cross step and several moments of puzzlement, I realized I liked it. I surrendered. He is not all that experienced – this is a beginner’s class after all – but he knew what he wanted, which makes him a good leader.

“Sorry,” he said at one point when he gave me a physical double message and I stumbled.

“It’s okay,” I replied. “You have the harder job.”

“What’s that?” he asked, “Making a woman happy?”

I laughed. “Yes. Good luck.” The adorable, young guy was one step ahead of me.

To the untrained eye, it might look like I go to tango just to be held in the firm arms of young and old men alike. Well, okay that’s not such a bad side benefit, but what I’m learning is it’s not about sex. I take that back. It can be about sex if you and a committed partner are seeking another way to tap the sacred, but ultimately it’s about discovering the heart of the Other in a safe environment. Yes, Heidegger, it’s about a “way of being in the world.”

Brian Dunn and Deb Sclar, our fearless leaders, explain that in Argentina, in general, people are more comfortable being physically close. When they hug it is a bear hug, a warm and solid embrace. In America people – especially relative strangers – don’t hug or, if they do, often they hug tentatively. Brian and Deb demonstrate their American version of the hug and it looks clinical, like perhaps they should be wearing turtlenecks and scrubs. They explain that each dance is an opportunity to fall in love with the stranger across from you, no matter if they are the same sex as you or not. The emphasis is on connecting – physically and emotionally – with the Other, and on taking responsibility to step into the assigned role of leader or follower. I look forward to the day when I’m not thinking as much and can flow with the process.

The first lesson, I attended with my friend, Seth. I was looking straight into his playful hazel eyes.

“I think you’re supposed to be looking at my heart,” he remarked.

Being that following comes so naturally to me, I replied: “No, I think I can look anywhere I want to.”

Within seconds Deb announced that followers are supposed to “look at the leader’s heart, no matter his height. That way the women’s neck remains unbroken and long.” It definitely improved my concentration. Then, we were asked to switch roles. Seth looked down. “Oh wow,” he teased, “You know I am not looking at your breasts.”

“Yes, I know. They happen to be close to my heart.”

Every five minutes or so, followers rotate counterclockwise, moving to a new leader and a new experience.

Yesterday was my third lesson. Dancing with a more experienced partner is wonderful. Robert’s cues are gentle but clear and we glided easily between the parallel step and cross step system. I knew exactly where to step and it was powerful. There are no words exchanged, but strong intention and connection. On my next rotation I met Saunder. It was his first time possibly doing any form of dance whatsoever, and when the music began it was as though his computer had crashed; he was frozen. My eyes drifted up to his face and I thought perhaps I would be forced to shout: “Get this man an oil can, quick!” But then, he leaned and slowly his left foot moved to replace my left foot. Creak. The instructor noticed our immobility. I was thinking, “Yes, please help the poor guy.”

But Brian, the instructor, addressed me. “Do you do other forms of ballroom?” It didn't sound like this was a compliment.

“No.” I replied.

“So you always stand like that?” There must be some mistake, I am thinking. Saunder’s the tin man.

I didn't know whether to fold my arms or put my hands on my hips. “Stand like how?”

“Upright. Like if I were to cast you in a movie, you’d be Superwoman ready to take off.” I looked at him blankly. Didn’t he know? I had to be prepared. You never knew when I might have to don my cape and kill evil villains with my spikes. “Relax!” he translated.

“Okay,” I replied with my tail between my legs. Let me tell you, it’s not easy dancing with a tail between your legs!

So Saunder and I started again. We were moving, slowly, but we were moving. Brian was watching. I relaxed.

“Wait,” he interrupted us again. “Why are you leaning back?” I leaned forward. “No. Don’t do it with your head. Lean in with your heart. It’s not about your back. You’re protecting your heart.”

How in the heck was I supposed to unravel the tightly wound fist that had been living for years inside my chest? Didn’t he know how scary strangers could be? He hadn’t gone on some of my dates! But, that’s another story. I want to remain vulnerable no matter who is standing before me. I’d spent too many years as a chameleon. It was time to unveil my soul, but how? I could sort of feel the subtle shift to which he was referring. I wanted someone to take me by the feet and shake me out over a balcony like a rug. But that seemed like asking too much. Where is Superman when you need him?

I have studied ballet, jazz, modern, African, and tap, but this has been a whole new venture. All forms of dance have taught me something valuable, and now, tango was offering me a direct reflection of how I engage with the Other.

I thought about my first lesson, when I was asked to dance "hands off,” guided only by the leader’s heart without actually being in contact. I remember my partner’s chest hairs and the top button of his shirt, and the way my heart was pounding like a lost puppy’s. “Concentrate!” I told her, when I should have been whispering: “Feel it.”