Things You’re Doing to Exhibit Self-Love… & You Don’t Even Know it

+ getting waxed
+ doctor’s checkups & pap smears
+ cat naps
+ making love / fucking
+ journaling
+ eating leafy greens & organic foods
+ slathering lotion on your body
+ buying new underthings
+ sunbathing
+ washing your back
+ painting your nails
+ masturbating
+ brunch
+ drinking a cup of tea
+ sleeping in
+ flossing
+ exfoliating
+ saying No
+ saying Yes
+ honoring yourself
+ deep breaths & yawns
+ neck rolls
+ giving in to a craving
+ crying
+ laughing
+ shampooing your hair
+ painting your nails
+ wearing your heart on your sleeve

Next time you catch yourself doing any of these things, rather than see it as part of your normal routine, shift your thoughts. Savor the idea that in this moment you are exhibiting a pure form of self-love, however simple.

Once you acknowledge it, feel the difference of the task at hand. Watch as it instantly becomes more tediously loving, more meaningful, more wholesome.

I dare you to try it.

Love is everywhere, especially the love you’re unknowingly giving yourself.

Seek, & you shall find.
Acknowledge & celebrate yourself.

//

Speaking of which, this summer I’ll be lending my voice at a no-cost virtual event about self-love. I’d love it if you came.

Enroll in The Self-Love Revolution, a 30-day academy of 12+ speakers (myself included) reflecting on self-consideration & healthy narcissism.

Did I mention it’s free?

Written on May 15, 2012 in Self-Love | 2 Comments

Ask For What it is You Want

Your lover can’t read your mind. The waitress at your favorite cafe can’t read your mind. Your dearest, most closest friend whom you’ve known since kindergarten can’t, either.

None of these people can possibly know how you’d like to be touched, how you wish to be kissed, how you desire to be heard — really & truly heard — unless they’ve got telepathic powers. And they likely don’t. So you must tell them.

You must ask for what you want.

If you want less talk & more action, ask for it
If you want more sugar in your coffee, ask for it.
If you want to role play in the bedroom, suggest it.
If you want to be fucked harder, lighter, longer. . . tell her.
If you want your masseuse to massage a specific kink, tell him.
If you want a raise, ask for it.
If you want the trash taken out, ask for it.
If you want him to call you sweetheart, request it.

I know it seems silly (& a little remedial) to reiterate such things, but sometimes we forget that we are powerful, persuasive, that we have the ability to choose the way in which our lives are played out.

And, too, we often think that we’re not worthy of pleasure or worthy of an extra cube of sugar in our coffee; that if we were worthy, it would’ve automatically been bestowed upon us. So we see the lacking as a sign.

“Perhaps it’s not meant to be. Perhaps this is just the way things are. Perhaps it’s better this way.”

No.
You have a voice.

Use it to ask for what it is you want.

This is key to liberation; sexual or otherwise. When you ask for what it is you want (& need) you are taking ownership of your desires.

And there’s another mantra worth remembering:

Take ownership of your desires!

Life’s too short (& far too precious) to suffer through a ill-seasoned cup of coffee; or a love-making session where your arousal isn’t present; or a relationship in which you’re never truly listened to.

You deserve to have everything you desire. You deserve a life in which you lack nothing.

So, I’ll say it one more time, for good measure:

Ask for what it is you want.

No one — no one — can read your pretty little mind.

//

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Written on May 8, 2012 in Liberation | 12 Comments

Let’s Talk Sex, Love, & Liberation; a FREE, live, sultry event.

[ETA: You can watch the recording of this event by clicking here.]

You’re invited. . .

Your presence is humbly & happily requested at SLL’s first live, FREE event.

It’s happening tomorrow, Thursday, May 3rd @ 5pm PT / 8pm ET. 

I’m going transmit a short talk about what I like to call The Sexual Embodiment Myth; or, in layman’s terms: why one shouldn’t seek sexual liberation from an outside source — like a pole dancing class or a self-help book — & instead they should look within.

(It’s not as deep as it sounds. Promise!)

After which, I’ll set aside a heap of time to talk to you — yes, you! — about anything you’d like relating to sex, love, & liberation. Part Q&A session, part sensual pow-wow, part heart-to-heart with a close friend.

Did I mention it’s free?!

Where it’s happening:

In your living room. In your office. In your bathroom as you soak in the tub. Basically any place where you have internet access.

The event will be held via the internet & hosted on both Facebook & Vokle.

Then, be there @ 5pm PT sharp.

If it’s a hit, we’ll do it again. And again. And again.

Let’s do it.

xx,

Click to continue reading...

Written on May 2, 2012 in General + Announcements |

Sex in Public: “I’m cynical about love.”

{via, with my modifications}

Since childhood the word “love” has borne a satirical, false impression in my mind. I’ve never really been heartbroken—I’ve never really been in love—and yet that word, love, doesn’t impress me much. Is that the despair or lucid thinking?

I think love is wonderful in the grand scheme of things: love for mankind, love for your family, love for your neighbor, love even for those who hate you. I applaud grand love. I revel in grand love. Grand love is my religion.

But the idea of looking at someone in the eye and saying the words “I love you” and meaning it makes me laugh embarrassedly, like I’m telling a rather silly joke.

The idea of being in love seems like a fantastical unreality. I chalk it right up there with my dreams of magic, flying, and genies in lamps. It’s a pretty little falsehood.

It’s not as if I don’t believe in love at all—as easy as it would be to pretend that, that would be a foolish and naïve assumption. Love is all around. Most people born in the world are direct creations of love. But it’s a rare blessing if you think about it. What is love but a curious chemical mix of attraction and fascination and admiration?

Frankly, I’d like nothing more than to go off my own way and find a lover that will make me recant every dour statement I’ve made against love in my life time. But I’ve grown tired having to face the inevitable disappointment and scorn looking at me.

And so now I don’t feel delight when I speak to a guy; I feel a dullness when kisses suck me into a void of boredom and the barest of toleration. There are too many interesting things in the world to settle for mediocrity—all the days of my life are meant to be wonderful. And love is like a time bomb holding me back.

Think what you like of me—frigid, cold, in desperate need of a therapist. Whatever rationalizes my way of thinking for you. I’m just being honest as I can be on a subject that is very hard to be honest about.

– Kim, New Jersey

//

Sex in Public is an ongoing storytelling series devoted to uniting people through vulnerable & intimate admissions of sexuality, self-love, & body image. 

The purpose of this project is community. So with every story, listen, feel, empathize, encourage. The best way to do this is by leaving a comment.

Want to share your story? Click here.

Written on April 26, 2012 in Sex in Public | 22 Comments

Sex is Joy & Easy Like Sunday Morning

(Note: Anytime I use the word “sex” in this article, I’m using it as an all encompassing word.)

I sometimes think we take sex too seriously (myself included).

This is rather easy to do because we live in a world that seems to put sex on this very high & seemingly unreachable pedestal.

We create debates around it. We enforce strict laws against it. We analyze its methods & meanings to great lengths (sexual orientation, for instance, is widely & excruciatingly disputed). We treat it with with formality & humorlessness.

And here comes the paradox: This world is infused with sex. It’s on television, in movies, in books, in music — sometimes as subtle as whisper, sometimes as in-your-face as a celebrity’s leaked sex tape.

We are puritans, & we are pornographers.
We glorify sex, & we demonize it.
And yet. . . sex is all around.

There would literally be no trees, no tulips, no earwigs, no platypuses, no sparrows, no gorgeous, messy life without sex — both on a reproductive & an energetic level.

We need sex to thrive, like the breath in our lungs & the blood in our veins. We also need sex to connect & regenerate. We need sex to evolve.

Sex is incredibly powerful. And we know this, which is why we do our best to master it, understand it, tame it, discourage it.

All noble feats, to be sure, but it is in this flurry to interpret it that the utter joy of sex becomes diminished.

Yes, sex is joyful.
And simple.
And pleasurable.

Sex is not meant to be serious. It is us that places so much weight on it, particularly in the realm of how, when, & why it’s done.

Sex itself is really quite easy like Sunday morning.

Imagine that. No, really. Imagine for just a moment what sex would be like if it were easy like Sunday morning.

It would be pure bliss. It would be absolute contentment. It would be perfectly carefree, without any pretention or expectation.

I believe that that is the way sex is supposed to be.

I believe we should see sex in a way that it is easy, rather than perplexing. I believe that sex is joy just as life is joy, as birth is joy, as eating a decadent piece of gooey, dense chocolate cake is joy.

Perhaps that would be a perfect analogy. Let’s speak about cake for a moment.

Picture with your mind’s eye the most perfect piece of chocolate cake in all the universe. It sits prettily on a delicate piece of vintage china, a fork on one side of the plate & a soft, cloth napkin on the other. Perhaps a tall, cold glass of milk — soy, almond, hemp, cow, whichever — accompanies this heavenly treat.

As you feast your eyes on this piece of cake, your mouth begins to water & the pit of your stomach starts to beckon its chocolately goodness with deep, excited growls.

With every cell in your being, you want to devour this cake. You want to fill your mouth with this moist, rich confection & let your tastebuds dance with its sweetness. You want to take big, voluptuous bites of it, all while experiencing the divinity of tasting it.

So all of this desire is bubbling up inside of you & you begin to anticipate the moment in which you’ll give in & open your mouth to chew up this most perfect piece of chocolate cake. Everything is telling you to do so now. . .

But instead you go against yourself & walk away from the table.

You then begin to busy yourself with research about the maker of this cake, where she lives, where she was born, the origin of her maiden name. You scrutinize every ingredient in the cake — the flour, the baking soda, the sugar, the way the butter was churned. You brood over the history of cake, the way cacao trees grow in the rainforest, & the process of making chocolate.

You think that if you could know everything there is to know about cake that you would enjoy this particular slice that much more.

We treat sex like this sometimes.

We know in our minds that it would be absolutely ridiculous to go to the library & research cake extensively first before eating it. Why should we do all of that before we eat a piece of cake? What a waste of perfect time & precious energy! Both would be better spent on eating the cake straightaway.

We should simply eat the cake & enjoy it.

Same thing goes with sex. We should do it, have it, be it, & enjoy it.

Don’t get fixated on becoming an aficionado before you practice the art of sex. There’s no need to read abstract manuals or watch hour-long documentaries or consult an expert (unless of course those things give you joy). It’s not necessary to fully understand what sex is for or why sex is.

If you really want to know what sex is, it’s this:

Sex is joy.

And humorous. And messy. And innate. And fun.

Don’t take it too seriously.

Keep it easy like Sunday morning.

Written on April 18, 2012 in Sex + Sexuality | 17 Comments

Q: What is One Thing You Simply Will Not Do Sexually?

{via}

Occasionally, I’ll ask you a bold question & invite you to divulge your thoughts in the comment section.

Today’s burning question:

What’s one thing you simply will not do sexually?

What sexual act is absolutely off limits & out of the question for you?

(Examples: oral, anal, swallowing, toys, dirty talk, admitting fantasies, etc.)

Share your answers below. You can stay anonymous if you’d like.

And feel free to add any details in your comment that you feel might be relevant to your answer (like your age, gender, orientation, relationship status, etc.).

Written on April 12, 2012 in Sex + Sexuality | 42 Comments

Making Love & Fucking: A Love Poem

When I think of making love. . .

I think of airy lightness, like a dandelion plume floating carelessly in a gentle, warm breeze. Bodies feel like they’re floating above sheets, with skin like wisps of electricity, dancing with light — light from candles, light from sun, light from eyes.

I think of deep, cleansing breaths & the manner in which bodies seem to become enveloped by to those rhythmic exhales, surrendering.

I think of sensuality. Awareness heightened, senses honed, logic suspended. Every touch, kiss, & thrust is perpetually timeless. They go slowly, slowly, slowly against time, not dawdling but idling, lingering, savoring. There is no hurry.

I think of breathless climaxes with smiles on faces, full of relief & love. Blood rushes to meet pleasure spots, warming, engorging.

Making love feels like the luxurious tips of swan feathers; like innate grace with heaps of vulnerability; like goosebumps; like home.

Making love smells like sandalwood; like freshly brewed coffee on a dreary Sunday morning; like your lover’s favorite band t-shirt; like the color purple.

Making love sounds like raindrops dripping onto fallen leaves; like an ee cummings poem; like Imogen Heap’s Between Sheets; like enlightenment.

When I think of fucking. . .

I think of saucy, raw, almost brusque eroticism.

I think of steaming windows & moans that escape the basin of bellies. Fingers grope around flesh searching for an end to latch onto, kneading, wanting. Tongues thrash around mouths never quite satiating their desire.

I think of tangible, voracious lust; of clothes that hang haphazardly from fumbling limbs. There’s franticness in movements, as though time is speeding up & one can barely keep up.

I think of sexual urges that have no filter. Pain mixed with pleasure mixed with pain. Arms & legs on the verge of buckling, held up only by gnawing desire. Prayers sent up to the heavens — thanking, greeting, pleading.

I think of a beautiful kind of agony that appears on faces, with waves of euphoria rushing over damp skin. And then. . . heavy sighs, easeful heartbeats, & deep sleep.

Fucking feels like heat & humidity; like slowly going mad with lechery; like wild romps through dense forests; like an itch begging to be scratched.

Fucking smells like salty sweat; like smoke from a burned out candle; like alcoholic breaths; like copulence, sweet & earthy.

Fucking sounds like heavy bass; like sharp, well-meaning obscenities; like a YES that’s been uttered with total truth; like animals fighting.

//

Q: What does making love/fucking feel, smell, sound like to you? Are they polar opposites of each other, or does one seem to trickle into the other?

Paint me a picture.

Written on April 10, 2012 in Sensuality, Sex + Sexuality | 26 Comments
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