Notes from the Tub

(A preface:

A dear friend - a wandering soul like me who pontificates upon life's mysteries in both the written and spoken word - has a series of writing that he has compiled under the title of "Notes from the Field." His insightful meanderings and matter of fact wisdom is inspirational food for fodder. Hence, today, while soaking in a hot tub and feeling the need to purge myself of my hang-ups and can't-let-go's, I reached for the trusty ol' pen and paper. This time, it was a store bought journal within which I have been jotting down copious notes about the slow food movement. Bored with my own seemingly purge-like, personal narrative, I drew further inspiration from the words of local farmers whom I have spent the past few weeks interviewing. Asa a result, the prose below, like a flowing song, poured forth from my luxuriating mouth and softening muscles.)

Notes from the Tub

Can't let go
sex on fire
burning, burning
burning in illusion.

Bodies tumble
in sustained ease and grace
tossing, turning
turning in e-motion.

Singular thoughts
solitary existence
when oh when
shall this facade end?


(Context:
Sex - the word itself can imply many connotations. Such as: gender, masculine and feminine, the act of sexual intercourse, relationship, be-ing, creative fire, nature, life. How you perceive it in the above says a lot about your own personal relationship with the topic. How and why I chose to use the word is irrelevant. Nonetheless, the sex remains - it is always present...

Intimacy and the Long Lost Bonds of Brother and Sister Hood

I miss my brothers.

As a child, my first best friend was my neighbor David. He lived in a townhouse just adjacent from ours in a close-knit neighborhood that closed off its one main entrance and exit just so we could celebrate our own Olympic games every summer. This was in a suburb of Toronto, Canada, in the late 70s. David and I played with his Star Wars punching toys, we climbed up on a foot stool to wash our hands side by side before taking our meals together, and we enjoyed our idle days of toddlerhood together. I was well aware of the fact that he was a boy and though we would mimic the older kids' games of Doctor, there truly was no difference between the two of us aside from simple anatomy.

As a young girl, boys played as significant a role in my life as girls did. They were my friends as well as my boyfriends - both of which was a nonchalant game of chance and timing. Yet, as time wore on and as puberty began nipping at my heels, the minor differences that lay between us seemingly turned into a great divide. It wasn't long before boys had become some ostensible other - objects to be both desired and feared. Perhaps it was then when the innocence of childhood was irreparably lost and gone for good.

As I came into my developing body, relations with the opposite of sex quickly became a currency with which I could buy and sell stock. The more attention I received, the more my economical worth rose. The more shares I acquired, the more I wanted. My greed knew no bounds. And yet, I suffered. The playful, energetic, and fool hardy me took a backseat to a quiet and complacent mirage. By the time I left for college five hundred miles north, I was only too eager to rebel.

In my rebellion, I took up arms with my sisters and wholeheartedly embraced our systemic oppression together. I channeled all of my pent up rage and directed it towards my brothers of days past. I crawled deeper into my own fear of intimacy as I piled on weight as a barrier to protect myself from the unwanted and unasked for attention of these others. I chose to continue to place one half of my most favored playmates in the realm of separate, distinct, and outside of me. I suffered greatly as a result.

After graduation, travels, and life experience accrued outside of the four walls of a classroom, I realized that my emotional growth was greatly stunted and that I was no longer going to grow on my own, independent of others. I recognized that it was time for me to face one of my greatest fears - intimacy with men. The road since then has surely not been smooth or easy. As, true to form, I have chosen mirror images - men who are also deeply fearful of intimacy. It has made for an uncomfortable ride over the course of these past eight years. Yet, it has been a ride worth taking, nonetheless.

Now, I am mired within my fourth decade of life on this planet. This time around, I've realized that I no longer wish to seek for one sole other to meet all of my intimate needs. In fact, I've realized that I need to again embrace my brothers and love them as equally as I love my sisters. I need to let go of my fears of how they will both perceive my love and wish to love me. I need to simply wrap my arms around their strong shoulders, nuzzle into their warm necks, and take the love that feeds and nourishes me, just as I do with my girlfriends. Yes, folks, it is this simple.

What is Intimacy: A Survey

Is it a kiss on the lips?
Is it sex?
Is it my laying on top of Natalie - draped across her pelvis?

Is it a conversation?
Is it sharing tears?
Is it eye contact?

Is it a willingness to meet in the middle?
Is it an agreement?
Is intimacy what we do only with our lover?  Parents?  Family?  And close friends? 
Is intimacy possible in a larger community?

Is intimacy taking things personally? 
Is it what we do to each other - how we dive below one another’s surfaces?
Is intimacy discovered in both the exertion of our own personal boundaries as well as the pushing open wider of these same perceived limitations?
Is intimacy choosing to inquire, “What’s wrong, and how can I assist you?”

Is intimacy found in the sharing of the body/your body/my body?
Is intimacy a worthwhile pursuit when, sooner or later, someone always/usually gets hurt?
Is intimacy necessary?

Are you afraid of intimacy?  Am I?

Do you crave intimacy?  Do you need it in your life? 
If so, how much of it do you need?
Can you imagine being intimate with a perfect stranger?  If so, how?
Can you be intimate with someone that you are not sexually energized by?
Do you seek intimacy out?  How?

Is intimacy staying on topic?
Is intimacy discovered in only the day-today?  Can it be found in an improvised, fleeting moment?
Is intimacy touch?  Is it contact? 

Will it hurt me if I am intimate with lots of people?
Will it hurt me if I am not?

Is intimacy sharing what is on your mind, and in your heart?
Is intimacy standing up for what you believe in?

Is intimacy a location?  Is it a place that we can all somehow arrive to? 
If so, can we arrive there together or do we have to take our own paths and journeys along the way?

Is intimacy a smell?  Does it make me want to come, or does it repel me off and away to a further distance?

Is intimacy a visual aesthetic?  Do I subconsciously choose whom I can be intimate with based upon the age and pigment of another’s skin, a lilting tongue, the amount of flesh that hangs from the body, or this other’s physical abilities & makeup?
Can I be intimate with someone who does not believe what I do, who does not think as I do, and who does not want what I want? 

Can I afford not to be?

Is intimacy a currency?  Is it something that can be exchanged for power, resources, time, or energy?

Is intimacy a wink?  Is it a flash of a smile, or a wave to the hand?
Is intimacy real?  Or, can it be argued that we cannot know intimacy with anyone but ourselves?

Are you intimate with yourself?  Am I?  If so, how?

Is intimacy a feeling?  Is it sensed, intuited and embodied?
Can intimacy be sustained for a long period of time?  Does it wax and wane? 
Is it possible to experience intimacy in short bursts?

Is intimacy the breath?  Is it life?

Is intimacy being and feeling vulnerable?
If so, how and when do you experience vulnerability? 
And, when do you refuse to allow yourself to be vulnerable?

Are you vulnerable?  Am I?

Just what is intimacy?