A fellow member of an online group I'm with recently posted the following:

I'm writing a book on alternative relationships and sexuality-- a
topic very close to my heart :) My intention is to create a book that
offers advice and guidance to those starting to explore nontraditional
relationships. And, I'm currently writing a chapter on sexual identity
and orientation. I'm looking for personal experiences and ideas about
bisexuality--especially how to navigate this identity when you're
already in a committed relationship with one person. I'd love to hear
from you, so please contact me if you're interested in sharing your
stories/ideas and advice for newbies.

This got me thinking a lot about sexuality and how bound up it is with our identity; who we create ourselves to be and how we act in relationships. This is the answer I sent her:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the things that I would like to challenge is the idea that bisexual people cannot be, or at least can't be happy being, monogamous. I would say that I am truly bisexual - I have no preference for gender. In fact, I typically describe myself as "gender-blind", because I tend to notice everything else about someone before I spot that they are male or female. "Oh, you have blue eyes, and a mohawk, and you like theatre and you're training to be a veterinarian. Oh, and you're female..." I tend to be much more attracted to energy or personality than physical form.

I have been in monogamous and polygamous relationships with men and women. The polygamous relationships were specifically a generic "open" relationship, and once in a formal triangle relationship with two men, all of us being bisexual. All of these relationships were enjoyable. The happiest and most successful relationship I have had was a monogamous one with a woman that lasted for four years. That doesn't change my sexuality, it just happened to be that our energies clicked, regardless of our genders. However, many people assumed that I was "now a lesbian" because that's what they saw me practising. People need to label things for some reason, rather than let them be as they are.

Because I am openly and politically bisexual, people are always asking me whether I "miss" pussy or dick when I'm with the other. Or they assume that I need a threesome. Some people wonder how a woman could ever find another woman "truly" satisfying. The "but doesn't it just seem like endless foreplay" mentality. Other people wonder how you can "go without" pussy if that's what you like, as if it is addictive.

These ideas all imply, or take for granted, that bisexual people can never be completely satisfied with one gender and that is just not true. I realize this stems from ignorance, but I find this question limiting and insulting. I am no less capable of controlling myself around both genders than a heterosexual person is of controlling themselves around the opposite sex. We all get offended when homophobes assume that all gay people they meet are hitting on them, but this attitude is just as prevalent in the LGBT community. This is like a straight husband assuming that his straight wife is attracted to every man she meets. I think we can all see the narrowness and sheer falseness of that.

Yes, of course, there will always be people we find attractive, but if we are in a happy relationship (open or otherwise), we will not be overly concerned by that. A relationship is a relationship, gay, straight or mixed. The perils are no different in any of them. The difference is our social conditioning to make judgments, drown ourselves in guilt and create "either-or" scenarios.

Furthermore, people as individuals have different levels of ability to commit. The strength of your commitment is the same, no matter what sexuality or gender you are. I wish all of us, myself included, would stop using these things as excuses to not make decisions and then stand by them. Generally, if you are struggling with a decision, then it means you know the right choice but you just don't like it.

We could all do with more compassion around this, for ourselves and others. Yes, sometimes people get hurt, but it is often far more hurtful to pussyfoot around with these decisions and waste everyone's time. Yes, you may stay with someone you are not happy with for various reasons, but it is far better to give yourself and them the gift of time and let both of you get the grieving over with so you both have more of your life to go and find someone to be happy with, if that's what you want. Suffering in silence is robbing you and your partner of potential years of happiness with someone else.

And PLEASE don't "stay together for the kids". Kids will understand you wanting to pursue happiness. They will not understand you lashing out at them for years because you are fundamentally unhappy with your situation.

It is really selfish to do anything other than be honest with your situation, no matter how hurtful or nonsensical that may seem. I've been on both ends and neither is pretty, but confronting it with compassion does help everyone involved heal.

Finally, I would say that much of this revolves around an assumption that our happiness comes from outside of ourselves. No-one can make you happy and you can't make anyone else happy. That is entirely the realm of the individual to decide. If you are truly fulfilled and satisfied, you won't need anyone, of either gender, to make you feel OK with yourself. As bisexuals, we have the great fortune to be able to mate with anyone we meet. Yay! We've just doubled our potential dating pool. But we must also remember that, because of this ability, we must make even great attempts than hetero- or homo-sexual people to relate to others in a healthy way and not just boil everything down to sexual chemistry.

Best of luck to all of you struggling with relationships. We all do! It's OK! They help us grow and take us that bit closer to the best relationship we can ever have - with ourselves.

___________________________________________________________________

At the end of the day, bisexuality is no excuse for getting bogged down in relationship problems. Yeah, there are a few extra things to handle maybe, but everyone has their issues to deal with. Does anyone have any extra insight on this? I find it fascinating. 

Finding Your Religion;

or,

Now, where did I put it again?: A Guide to Unlocking your Spiritual Life

            I believe in Universal Energy. I believe in reincarnation. I believe that Jesus was the son of God, and I think you are too.
            I cherish life in all forms, which means I am a vegetarian and would jump to rescue a spider if someone was going to squish it.

            I wasn't always like this. I used to be an atheist. I was hardcore about it. I read the Bible so I could point out to missionaries all the flaws that it contained. Forced to go to Catholic Latin Mass, I wore Death Metal t-shirts and played Tic Tac Toe on the hymn book. I wore an awful lot of black.

            Still do actually.

            Although I occasionally mix it up with blue and even orange, which would previously have been unthinkable. Oh yes, and I also pray, meditate, treat people with respect and live a very happy life in addition.

            So now, people want to know how I achieved this. It started a long time ago, in a continent far, far away...

            As a child, I was too scientifically minded to be religious. And it wasn't for lack of trying. At about six years old, I woke up one day determined to find God. Convinced I was in some epic game of spiritual hide-and-seek, I searched all day for him, her or it. I looked under rocks, behind trees, and even in the washing machine, yet I couldn't find a single, solitary piece of evidence that proved that, if God wasn't necessarily here now, she at least had been at some point.

            When I felt that I had explored all avenues, I came to the only logical conclusion available to my advanced, six-year-old brain: there never had been a "god" to begin with.

            As I grew up, I would occasionally try to pursue religious activities; I was confirmed as a Christian at age 11. Mainly for the gifts and attention I received.

            In my teens I flirted with Wicca. I believed that nature was a higher power, I just didn't think it was sentient. I certainly couldn't personify it as the Christian God.

            In my early 20s, Satanism appealed to me. Now, before you run screaming, I do not mean devil worship. I am not talking about cavorting naked in the forest or sacrificing chickens. At least not for religious purposes.

            I mean Anton LaVey based, atheistic Satanism. Basically, it's hedonism with attitude. However, it became rapidly clear to me that Mr. LaVey and his followers were essentially hormonal teenagers on a comedown, so I lost interest in that too.

           That's when I realized that it had never been religion that appealed to me. It was faith.

I so badly wanted something to believe in. After all, I hardly believed in myself.

            I was almost uncontrollably jealous of people who had faith. It seemed like life came so easily for them. I thought that everything would be so much simpler if I had someone to protect me and to love me unconditionally. Especially if that person was omnipotent. Handy, huh?

            When I read that Yasser Arafat was quoted as saying that arguing over religion is like arguing over who has the best imaginary friend, I laughed hysterically. And I mean hysterically. With tears. Because I agreed with him.

            Then, in my late 20s, something truly amazing happened. I found a purpose.

            I was earning six figures as the COO of a finance company, but I was stressed beyond belief and I hated my profession. My income was basically spent on things to help me relax, like mini vacations.

            It was on one of these breaks that I discovered Reiki, a kind of energy based bodywork. I loved it so much that I decided to study Reiki, and for the first time, I felt that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

            I can't tell you how good it felt.

           Because in finding a purpose, I discovered my destiny. Which is when I realized that there was something greater than me; life itself.

           You see, I had spent so long denying God that I didn't even know what the word meant any more. So I set out to define it for myself. And in doing so, I found faith.

           I always thought that religion was, as Marx said, "the opium of the people". In many cases religion uses people's faith to trap and control them, rather than liberate them.

          When I found faith, I did not look for religion because I did not want to be manipulated. I could say religion found me. Because what happened is that, instead of looking for a church or a leader, what I did was to slowly accumulate a community of people who had similar beliefs, and then I spent time with them; took classes with them, debated, walked and cooked with them. And then I realized what religion should be: a social expression of your personal faith.

          Buddhism appealed to me because Buddha is not revered as God, but as a teacher; as one who can help you know God. Plus, the tenets of karma, compassion, and reincarnation are so obvious to me they seem like second nature.

          I describe myself as Taoist because I find following the Tao, having a path and a  general philosophy of life works perfectly for me.
          People often ask me the difference between a Buddhist and a Taoist. They are extremely similar, and most Taoists I know have also described themselves as Buddhists. However, the best answer I have been given is this:

A Buddhist and a Taoist are walking down the street when they come across a beggar. The Buddhist gives the man everything in his pockets and then removes his coat and shoes and offers them to him as well. The Taoist watches patiently and then continues walking with his friend once the Buddhist has given the beggar everything he has. The Buddhist says to the Taoist, "Have you no compassion? Why did you not help that man?" The Taoist replies, "The man is on his path and working his karma. It is not my place to interfere." 

            Being secure in your place in the world gives you a radiance and confidence that comes from nothing else.

            So, if you want this for yourself, or if you are interested in the path I took to get here, these are the steps I took, in chronological order.

            The first thing to do is to make a contract with the universe. Nothing fancy, just say, aloud if possible, what you would like. No ritual or address is necessary.

In my contract, I asked the universe to help me to see my path. That's it. I just said aloud

one day, "Help me to see my path." Only I said it with the full intention of listening and then

following through.

            Everything below is what unfolded before me. I did not seek these things out, they came to me randomly.

            I discovered that keeping an open mind was paramount. Regardless of my feelings about some of the things that came up, I swallowed my pride and did what the universe presented.

            It has been said that most people have around fifteen "important events" that have made them who they are. I have eighteen.

I discovered Reiki, and trained as a Reiki Master.

I took the Landmark Forum's "Curriculum For Living".

I studied David Hawkins' books and lecture series.

I took "The Course of  Miracles".

I became a Vegetarian.

I studied Massage Therapy.

I studied and practiced Tai Chi Chuan.

I did, and now do, The Master Cleanse every Spring.

I took classes in Improvisation and Creative Writing.

I repeated a mantra of forgiveness every day until it became a reality, and everyone and everything in my life was forgiven, including myself.

I studied Chinese Medicine, and started getting regular acupuncture treatments and taking Chinese Herbs.

I studied and practice Qi Gong.

I started writing and performing Stand-up comedy.

I bought and use daily The Chi Machine.

I studied and practice Vedic Meditation with Thom Knoles.

I took the ceremony to receive Tao.

I attend Agape and give service as often as I can.
I practise "The Artist's Way".

           I pursue these things until I feel they are no longer necessary. Many of them still are. Or, at least, I enjoy them so much, I have no desire to give them up.

           I doubt your path will be the same as mine. I found mine by listening to the universe and you can do the same. The only step you need take is to ask for help. Then be prepared to listen.

           Surrender everything to hearing what the universe is telling you. If you get a flyer on your car that recommends a course, do it. If your friend mentions that a great band is playing, go see them. It could lead to anything.

          Say yes to life.

          The universe / God put the flyer and band there for you for a reason, but you'll only get the benefits when you agree to play.

          That's all. Now go be.

Today's theme tune... Armin Van Buurin's remix of Motorcycle's "As the Rush Comes". This song totally takes me back to pounding beats and dancing bodies in England circa 1995. Which is weird because I don't think it was released until much later than that? Guess it is just one of those songs that plugs you into a moment. Music is so inspiring. And something that so many of us take for granted. We have such a wide variety of sound available to us today. And we play with it, distort it, bend it, turn it up to 11 and still sometimes can't get it all in. Sometimes I want to just open up my soul and let music fill me completely. It provokes a completely physical, tangible response in me. I know my theme tunes are somewhat tongue in cheek, but they also come from a serious place. These are the beats that are in me when I am writing. This is what is playing in my head right now. It really is my soundtrack. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I started The Artist's Way this morning. I'll keep you posted.

Hello everybody-peeps. I've missed all y'all. :) Today's theme tune is... Chains of Love by Erasure. And you'll see why momentarily...

I am feeling particularly blissed out right now as I have just come from a two hour session with Breathwork practitioner Scott Schwenk. I can honestly say it was nothing short of transformational. This man brings a level of presence and safety in his work that is extremely rare. If you ever have the opportunity to work with him, do not hesitate!

What has been on my mind most recently is love. What is it? Where is it? How I am being it? How I am using it and how is it using me? How do I react to it as a concept? Do I want it? Do I fear it? Do I see it as a waste of time? My only conclusion is that it is all about the definition.

We all know what is meant by "Chains of Love", but this is also an oxymoron. True love, real love, Mother-Father-God love can't chain you. It is by definition freedom.

These "chains" are the creation of the bodymind in response to fear, obsession, repression etc.. They have nothing to do with love, although they may be mistranslated as such, especially if you are not really sure how true love feels. It's like comparing an incredible chemical high to enlightenment. Sure, it may feel like the real thing, but it's only because you don't know any better.

My idea of love changes every moment, as I learn and grow and find greater and greater magnitudes of love and peace. Almost daily I think, "It can't POSSIBLY get any better than this." And then it does, and I'm blown away every single time.

So waht's the lesson here? Never settle, that's what. Keep pushing and don't get comfortable.

One of my greatest challenges in spiritual growth is that I feel so blessed already that it feels completely self-indulgent to devote more time to myself. "I already feel great," my ego rationalizes, "what on earth gives me the right to be so selfish? I should be out there right now helping other people feel as great as I do."

Which is one of the reasons I'm drawn to comedy, by the way. We rarely feel better than when we are laughing. For me, it is the greatest gift I can give to someone. It's pretty much why I get up in the morning.

But then I remember that, no matter how selfish it may feel, working on one's spirit can NEVER be a bad thing. Because every step we take in that direction raises the quality of the universal spirit for all. In fact, it's pretty selfish NOT to work on yourself. Then I buckle down, and I do the work, as difficult as it may be. And then I evolve just that little bit more. And then I get MORE happy and then I make more people laugh, and my path is truly activated. I am exactly where I need to be doing exactly what I need to do.

I'm in tune with the universe. And that's where the phrase "Chains of Love" makes no sense to me. And I'm free.

Peace be with you all. And thanks again to Scott for helping me on my path. You're a blessing, man.
Lux
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PS Hey, if you wanna help me on my path, ;) - come check out my stand-up comedy show tomorrow (Thursday)  night at The Empty Stage Theatre on Veteran and Pico in West LA. Check zEvents for more details. My group The OriGandhis is playing, which is myself and Chris "Dr. Feelgood" Schumacher, a fellow zaadzster. We're being supported by Jennifer Eolin, a fantastic comic and human being. Come support us, have a few laughs and just be. Cheers! L. XX

 

Testing. Testing. Is anybody out there? I am attempting an interaction. Anyone?

Ok, I don't really expect a reply here. At least not immediately. I am trying to master the art of communication but am having difficulty finding people to practice on. 

We all know that writers work in a vacuum. I mean, that's why most of us chose this profession. We can create the most wonderful characters on the page but don't have to talk to any actual people who, after all, are mostly obnoxious, or stupid, or both. Some of us talk to our agents, but really isn't that what email is for? And do agents count as people anyway?

You may think from this that I am pessimistic about the human race. I did use to be cynical about people - plague of the planet Earth I would call us. Then somebody told me that a cynic was nothing but a disappointed romantic, and I refuse to be a disappointed anything, so now I try to be a glass-is-half-full kind of girl.

Not that I am perfect. This optimistic demeanor has most recently been challenged by my attempts at real conversations. Try as I might, I am getting the idea that nobody listens to a word I say.

It was simple to figure this out. After all, I never listen to anybody and so why should anyone else be any different?

I hear people of course, I am fortunately not deaf, I just don't pay attention. What I listen to is the little voice in my head who translates what I hear into whatever is useful to it at the moment.

This commentator has two ways of doing this. Firstly, if it doesn't need what you are telling me, then it will start feeding me what it considers to be important information like the television schedule, what I need to get done at work, how long it is until lunch and so on.

It can do this while I am looking you in the eye and nodding sympathetically, or even while I am answering your questions. It is a simple task to just set my brain to repeat the last six words or so that you say and then add either a "Huh!", "Right?" or "Hmmm." at the end, depending on context.

Secondly, if it is interested in what you are saying, it may absorb your words, ascribe meaning, interpret your tone of voice, body language etc. and then paraphrase it just for me. This will be completely different to anything you actually said or meant.

Witness the common interpretation of the phrase, "You look nice today.", which is translated by my commentator as, "You didn't look nice yesterday."

I am sure everyone does this, at least occasionally, and the madness has to stop.

It is no good having a commentator who so blatantly twists incoming correspondence into nonsense. It is like having a personal assistant who just happens to be a sociopath. Would you let this person answer your phone?

For example, my friend calls me and my commentator answers:   "Yes?"

"Can you tell Lucy I can't make lunch? I have to finish a report."

My commentator relays this to me as, "Roger doesn't want to have lunch with you. He says you always slurp your spaghetti." 

This is shouted over her shoulder, whilst she is chewing gum, smoking a cigarette and emailing everyone on my rolodex to tell them how I always have to eat lunch alone. 

She even messes up my internal memos. If I tell her to shut up, she replies that if she does, I may very well realize that I don't exist without her and am I prepared to gamble my entire existence for a few moments of silence?

Clever cow.

However, I refuse to believe that I and my inner dialogue are one and the same thing. I mean, sure there's somebody doing the talking, but that must mean there's someone listening, right? And if we are the same thing, then why do I disagree with her so often? 

Anyway, I have decided that she needs to go. To this end, I am making a concerted attempt to listen to everyone who talks to me and to listen to them in the moment. Without interpretation, past judgment, a replay of the memorized TV Guide, anything other than what they are saying.

           This is a very raw state of affairs to exist in but is worth it for the possibility of having an exchange where someone really listens to you. If you have never had this experience, let me tell you, it is incredible. Instead of battling to get your point across, you become inspired to reach new heights.

 I did this exercise recently with a friend. I talked for two minutes about something that I care about, in this case, my writing career, and she had to actively listen to what I was saying. With this kind of encouragement, I was able to come up with greater ambitions and the plans to put those things into action. Her listening stimulated my dreams.

We then repeated the exercise and my friend had to pretend that she was not listening: study her fingernails, read a magazine, avoid my gaze. After about thirty seconds, I gave up. It was too hard to keep going. And this, mind you, is a topic I am passionate about. That is not true for many of the things I say, so you can understand how quickly I would give up in most cases.

This is why creativity and ideas are so suppressed in our society.

Imagine how the entire world would benefit if everyone was listened to in this manner all the time? How much more inspired would we be as a race? It would certainly encourage me to be more interactive in society.

How many times do we complain that no-one hears us, that nobody understands? What if everybody understood? How great could we be? The payoff of being heard is definitely worth the effort of listening to others.

So I am stepping into the future without my filter, willing and eager to hear whatever anyone has to say. Which is kind of scary, but better than the alternative of retiring from society altogether and just emailing my agent occasionally.

It might even frighten my commentator into, if not silence, then at least a dull roar. And I'm pretty sure I'll still exist. Mostly sure. Wouldn't you think? Anyone?

My pulse is racing. My hand is shaking as I write furiously. The tip of my tongue is stretched out past my teeth in concentration. I have exactly seven minutes left to complete the task at hand. Am I nearly done? No. Actually, I haven't even started. I am too busy compiling a list of everything that I need to do in order to get this urgent mission accomplished. And I have used up three of my precious ten minutes so far. You may think that I am wasting time, but I couldn't get this task done without the list, so for me, it is essential.

There is something innately contradictory about the act of writing a list. On the one hand, in order to even contemplate writing a list, one must be passionate about the subject. One must care enough to want to complete the task well. To sit down and think of every little thing that must be accomplished in order to complete this task perfectly - and this is the point, perfectly - one must care so much that the loss of one tiny element becomes simply unbearable.

On the other hand, the act of writing a list only delays the completion of the task itself. It is a way to work on something without actually getting any closer to finishing. We list-writers delay the inevitable and, in our small way, we freeze time.

List-writers are people who are at the same time terrified of change and desperate for it. They care deeply about progress, but are afraid of the emotional whirlwind that may ensue from evolution actually occurring.

As an inveterate list-writer, I am aware of this paradox but helpless to prevent it. I could no more accomplish something important without a list than go without oxygen for a day.

I can't even imagine it.

I have tried, in my way, to go about a task without writing a list. I go from the extremely organized and capable person that my friends and family would recognize to a neurotic puddle, worrying over everything, a semi-quaver away from a panic attack.

Sometimes, I go into floods of panic just thinking about it.

For it is not only the fear of change that motivates us list-writers. There is the fear of failure, of judgment, not of other people, but the far worse, unavoidable and inscrutable gaze of our own inner critic. There is also the fear of forgetting something, or more accurately, the secret fear that we are insane and self-sabotaging. This one never loses popularity with me.

Then, conversely, there is the fear of actually achieving something and what that would mean. If we achieve what we set out to do, certain expectations are levied upon us. We will have to keep achieving to avoid being perceived as more of a failure than we were before we achieved anything to begin with. And we all know what that would mean.

More lists.

The thing is, lists are really a sociologically sponsored fraud. They appear to be functional, useful items. Everyone recognizes this.

"Oh, you have a list. How helpful! You must be very organized!"

No.

If I were truly organized, then I wouldn't need a list because I would remember all that I need to remember when I need to remember it. I need a list because I believe that without it I would never get anywhere. This list sets me apart, alleges to the world that I am not a failure, but actually brands me as just that.

We all know this, and yet we allow the con to continue because who wants that level of honesty on a day-to-day basis? People get very hung up on honesty, but I say why bother? Cats purr, humans lie; that's what we do. That is how society works. We call it tact. Can you imagine how it would be if we told each other the truth of what we were thinking all the time? We'd all be hermits or worse.

Another paradox regarding lists is that in order to compile a list, we do actually need to know what is required of the task to begin with. Why is it that we think that we will remember more of the elements that need to be accomplished by sitting down with pencil and paper, than we will by actually getting a move on and starting on the tasks required?

We are masters of procrastination and I do not mean this lightly. One does not become a master of something without good reason.

I have only just noticed this preoccupation I have with lists. As a Briton living in America, I have never really missed my home country until recently. Then, out of the blue, it all came over me in a wave. I was driving home from work and all of a sudden I was so homesick that it physically hurt. My stomach knotted up and my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. My heart ached for home.

You know what I did? I wrote a list. I listed everything that I missed: marmite on toast, curries at two in the morning, pubs, milk delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles, Ant and Dec on the telly, Top of the Pops, prawn cocktail crisps, people actually knowing what proper prawn cocktail is: not chilled shrimp with a side of horseradish flavored red sauce, but proper prawn cocktail with tiny prawns, Marie Rose sauce and crappy shredded iceberg lettuce; the Sunday Roast, sarcasm, cynicism, harsh reality, proper swearing, shagging instead of screwing, smoking on the TV, good theatre. My friends. My family.

You see, I couldn't handle the emotional pain of it. It was either sob my eyes out for hours over something that couldn't be changed, or distract myself.

My list saved me. It let me think about what I was missing, without having to suffer the pain of it all. My list stopped me feeling. And that's when I knew I had a problem.

So I made a decision. I am not making lists any more. I don't want to be part of this paradox. I don't want to be distracted and I am sick of delayed perfection. I want evolution and I want, above all, to feel. Now, I just have to figure out where to start.

OK, I'm back. God, it's been a while. Today's theme song.... drum roll please.... Sunshine Superman by Donovan. I don't know anyone who listens to him any more, but believe me when I say he is a big bag of psychedelic awesomeness.

I have been doing some article writing on various topics and have had some interest from other Zaadzsters, so I will be posting them in the next couple of days. Would love to hear your responses - good, bad or indifferent.  

You Know You're From LA When...

You're driving on the 101 and see a clear cut definition of where the smog begins and ends You go to a karaoke bar and battle with seven year old divas-in-training who are trying to steal your thunder You're sitting in traffic for at least an hour at any given part of the day You go to the beach and see that real lifeguards actually do look like the lifeguards from Baywatch You see purple and gold and the word "Threepeat" on every corner You begin to "lie" to your friends about where you are (i.e. "Yeah I'm like 20 minutes away") - when you know that it'll take you at least an hour to get there). You eat a different ethnic food for every meal You look around at the nice cars around you during traffic, thinking it'll be your favorite Laker or WB star. You make a conscious choice to watch Jay Leno over David Letterman You mourned for Tupac and not for Biggie You know it's best not to be on the 405 at 4:05 pm. Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about "twenty minutes". You know what neighborhood someone lives in by the degree of damage incurred during the riots. You've inadvertently learned Spanish. You've got to bring the cat/plants in when it drops to 55 degrees. In the "winter", you can go to the beach and ski at Big Bear on the same day. You've bumped into a celebrity at El Pollo Loco. You know what "sigalert", "PCH", and "the five" mean. Your pizza delivery guy is also on contract with Warner Bros. If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you're definitely driving. You have a gym membership because it's mandatory. Your TV show is interrupted by a police chase. You can't fall asleep without the lull of a helicopter flying overhead. When tourists ask where they can get souvenirs, you direct them to Venice Beach. You know someone named Freedom, Rainbow, Persephone or Destiny. You've trespassed through private property to get to the "Hollywood" sign. You've partied in Tijuana at least once. You know Hollywood has a "lake". You don't stop at a STOP sign, you do a California Roll. You've lost your car in the Century City Shopping Center parking lot. You've ever bought oranges, flowers, cherries or peanuts on a freeway off-ramp. You think that Venice is a beach. You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don't notice. You've started crossing a street and returned to the curb when the DON'T WALK sign started flashing. You've never listened to NPR. Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code. You have a favorite Thai restaurant. You think Johnnny Rocket's is an accurate depiction of a diner. You think Manhattan is a beach. You eat pineapple on pizza. You've been to Disneyland more times than Downtown. When giving directions , you follow up with the phrase: "With/Without traffic." You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An "818" would never date a "562" and anyone from "323" or "213" is ghetto/second class. Best area code: "310." Driving along, you see a high-speed police chase approaching in your rear view mirror. You don't panic or even flinch. Instead, you call your friends on your car phone and tell them you're on TV. You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald's or a Starbucks. Your cell phone has left a permanant impression on the side of your head. You never, ever go into the water at the Beach. You barely touch the sand. Everyone you know has 3+ phone numbers. Home, Office, mobile, pager, two-way, voicemail..... It is not unusual for your waitress at a restaurant to have blue streaked hair, a dragon tattoo and tounge piercing. You are awakened in the middle of the night by a moderate earthquake. Your reply: "That ain't even a 5-pointer" and go back to sleep. You think you are better than the people who live "Over the Hill". It don't matter which side of the hill you are currently residing, you are just better than them, for whatever reason. You live 10 miles from work. It takes you 60 minutes to get home. Walking out of Jamba Juice, you see that a movie is being shot on-location across the street. You are not happy, or even slightly exited that there may be a movie star there. You just say, " They f*ckin better not be blocking my parking space." You have to yell at your bank teller through a 2 inch thick wall of plexi-glass. That last one goes for your local convienience store man, too. You go to Las Vegas for a weekend getaway and the whole trip cost you $50. You personally know at least 5 people with agents. You personally know at least 3 people who have been in a movie or TV show. You know what In N Out is and feel bad for all the other states because they don't have any. You know that not everyone in Beverly Hills is a millionaire. You know who the tinsel underwear dude in Venice Beach is. You've done something on a street corner in an attempt to get money (i.e. sang, tap danced, told jokes). You've gotten parking tickets from parking in the red zone in front of your house. You say you live in LA when really you live in a subsection of a subsection of a subsection of southern LA. Any major movie star is picking out the best portobello mushrooms next to you at the grocers and you don't notice. The guy at 8:30 in the morning at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney IS George Clooney. You really can never be too rich or too thin. The gym is packed at 3pm...on a workday. The workday starts at 10am...or whenever you get out of your therapy session. Any invitation comes with, "Starts at 8pm or as soon as you can get through traffic." You have never met a waiter that wasn't really an "Actor." You never go to a coffee house without a copy of a script - any script. It's sprinkling and there's a report on every news station about "STORM WATCH '99" You call 911 and they put you on hold. You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Blanks himself is teaching the 4:30 tae-bo class. The three hour traffic jam you just sat through wasn't caused by a horrific 9 car pile-up, but by everyone slowing to rubberneck at a lost shoe lying on the shoulder. A nurse can look at you in all seriousness and ask, "you don?t drink or smoke, right?" All the "cool gyms" allow pedestrians on the street a full-view of those working out. Literally, you can?t drive by Wilshire without staring into L.A. Fitness. Perhaps a new form of window shopping? The hot seasonal party favor is a candied apple from Neiman's. The apples are called "Skinny Dippers." The waitress asks if you'd like "carbs" in your meal. Bars card. For real. You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Los Angeles.

Thank goddess, am finally starting to feel better and am back to work today. Today's theme tune... Me & You Versus the World by Space. Truly one of the best songs ever. Don't have much to say right now, except gratitude to the universe for being upright again.

Oh, and thanks to Jessica for putting together the first SoCal Renzaadzvous on Saturday. Much fun at California Vegan. :) The first of many, I hope. Stay tuned for my Be-Pod to get really pumping in the next few days. My cousin is coming into town on Thursday night and I'll be off adventuring, so will try to have something up before then. Peace everyone.

Today's theme tune - Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan.

Have been out sick for what seems like forever but is in fact only six days. This flu is evil. Except that I don't really believe in the flu. Well, I accept that there are viral strains out there known as Influenza Type A etc., but I don't think they do what Western medicine says they do. We fight off these things on an almost constant basis. If they take hold, its because of a problem with our defense, not with its attack. Sometimes, we need to be sick. Everything has its place, right?

I am fortunate in that I very rarely get ill, and the only reason that I am down and out right now is that for about six weeks now I have been working with bodyworkers and an acupuncturist to open up my chest. And, lo and behold... The cool thing is, that even being sick with the usual crap that appears in the upper respiratory system, my chest still feels really open spiritually. I am so glad it is sticking - it would suck to have done all that work and then have it close right up again.

I find that, when I feel ill, it is usually a manifestation of something that is going on for me spiritually or emotionally. Well, my throat feels like I swallowed a handful of razorblades (Note to self: When eating razorblades, chew thoroughly.) and, guess what, I have a situation in my life that is not only extremely painful to talk about, but is being repressed. Surprise - I get a throat infection. 

It is getting better because I am treating it spiritually and energetically - with Reiki, meditation and conference with the universe. Oh, and lots of tea, which is good for everything. :)

I started learning transcendental meditation yesterday, and what a ride that is. My teacher, Thom Knoles, describes it as "charming", and that it is. I have never looked forward to meditation sessions so much in my life. Charm away.