Write Me Sexy

Sexy Cards

Posted by on Apr 26, 2018

My Literary Artist and my Healing Artist are having a tug of war.  In the middle of my bed.  At 2 am. This is the antithesis of sexy insomnia.   My Literary Artist has scheduled an afternoon meeting with a website designer to brush the dust off this website and initiate the process of getting my memoir re-published. My Healing Artist, who has plans to get a massage and soak in hot springs, isn’t interested. Literary Artist: We are going! We have a super sexy book that needs to get back out in the world.  Healing Artist: We’ are canceling! It’s been so great to unplug and not have you mentally drafting blog posts while I’m trying to meditate. Literary Artist: You’re boring. Healing Artist: You’re manic. They are both right. And if they wake up my Inner Catholic Girl, things are really going to get complicated so I get up, stoke the woodstove and bring my angel cards back to bed.   I hold the deck in my hands, close my eyes and ask for help with my decision. As I swirl the cards around and around on my comforter I can feel my artists, peering over my shoulders, waiting to see what card I pull.  My right index finger skids to a stop on a card that is on the bottom of the pile, so I have to  keep the pressure strong and really focus to reel it to the edge. All of us are holding our breath as I flip it over: As I read the card  and the text in the accompanying book, it truly feels as if some beautiful, benevolent being is speaking to us: You have the ideas, the drive and the self -discipline required for entrepreneurial work Self doubts make you hesitate We assure you that you have what it takes to succeed Fully commit to succeeding   All of it resonates, but the indecision has been so unsexy. Fully commit to succeeding is exactly what we needed to hear. Looks like we are diving back in. Sexy Link: My angel cards by Doreen Virtue were a gift from my sister.  I love them. So do my craniosacral clients and yoga students.  Order some...

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The G-word

Posted by on Jun 2, 2017

This post is sexy in that hook in deeply, craniosacral therapy kind of way.  I wrote it for my family for our first Father’s Day without my dad.  He’s not here anymore but he is certainly not gone~   My craniosacral teacher used the G-word today. Until now, Thomas and all my other craniosacral teachers, have used spiritually neutral terms like potency, source, life force and energy to describe the realm of healing we are accessing with this light touch form of therapy. But it’s day one of a four-day training, the third one I have taken with a group of five students learning under the tutelage of Thomas and his wife Gale on a ranch perched above the Yampa River in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  A tribe-like intimacy has developed between us this past year as we’ve studied and practiced the techniques on each other. So no one is surprised or spiritually offended when God showed up at the end of our morning lecture. As Thomas reviewed the principles of embryology, he reminded us that the human embryo is a sack of fluids and how the intelligence of those fluids forms the body in its perfection. “With these techniques, we are learning through the lightest touch possible, to connect to the subtle fluid body in our clients and when we tap into that intelligence we are accessing…” he hesitated for a moment as he searched for the right words before his arms extend out in a gesture of surrender, “…we are accessing God.” We are quieter and more reverent than usual as we move to the massage tables to practice on each other. For an instructional exercise involving the sacrum, I have paired up with Cheri who is a physical therapist, a horsewoman and the owner of this ranch.  Per the instruction, she slides her hand under my sacrum and cradles it. As she does, I hear in my head the last line of an Irish blessing that my father liked so much that it hangs on a plaque in the kitchen of our family home. May God hold you in the hollow of his hand. A wave of sadness that churns with the poignancy of life crests and floods my eyes  because I indeed feel held in such a way at this moment.  The emotion ripples through me as I’ve come to expect with this work.  My sacrum sinks into the massage table in a gentle release. After a few moments, Cheri’s intuition is spot on as she shifts her hands to my sternum, cradling the energetic center around the heart, the heart chakra, between her two hands.  She stills. My thoughts and emotions continue to flow. The second to the last line of that same blessing was the one my older sister Nancy chose to have engraved on my father’s gravestone. Until we meet again. I didn’t have to wait long for that. My torso sinks heavier into Cheri’s hands releasing some long- held tension in my left shoulder as I find myself remembering the final weeks of my father’s life when I told him the veil was the thinnest when I was alone at my cabin meditating and if there was any way, he should come visit me there. He looked at me, really looked at me, and despite the ravages of cancer, his blues eyes twinkled. “I will,” he said. A month after his death, on a Sunday in late July he did. The Colorado wildflower season was peaking around my cabin where I sat on the deck taking in the early evening. A ¾...

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Looking Up

Posted by on Feb 15, 2016

So many times I tried to walk away from the daunting prospect of writing an erotic memoir. But my muses were insistent. They lured me from my yoga mat when my inner critic was quiet and my heart opened wide. They pushed me to my keyboard and gave me a glimpse of what it felt like to have a river write through me which left me trembling like a junkie wanting more. I was hooked and they knew it. I understand now the old stereotype of the hard-drinking writer because the most compelling material is out on our rocky precipes.  No wonder writers are notorious for knocking back a stiff one to take off the edge. But my party girl days seem to be (mostly) behind me now and lately my drug of choice is meditation. I’ve learned to sit and follow the flow of my breath to both harness and quiet the crashing waves of my mind.  This has helped immensely during the publication process which has been a wild ride and not always an easy one. I had to work through my Inner Catholic Girl’s sexual shame. I had to unleash my Perfectionist who I’ve kept tethered to my yoga mat because she wreaked so much havoc in my 20’s and 30’s.  She’s unrelenting and quite honestly a bitch but I needed her for the proofread. She just about drove me crazy since I don’t think it is possible to find every single typo but she has a very high opinion of herself and had to try. Now my focus has shifted to marketing and promotion. When my brain starts buzzing like a trapped bee after hours on the computer trying to figure out social media, I use meditation to land it on the nearest flower. My first book is now out of my hands and out of my head.  It came through my heart and was harder than I expected but healing in a way I never anticipated. I’m publicly launching my book at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival on April 24, which will be a manifestation of a vision I’ve had for five years. The cake is  baked.  Now I get to frost it. Things are looking...

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When Roses Speak

Posted by on Jan 24, 2016

Hard. Transcendent. Sexy.  Three words that sum up my latest foray into erotic fiction. I was on deadline last week to submit a story for the Literary Arts division of the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival. I didn’t have much to work with, just some messy notes I’d jotted down last spring when my favorite photographer, Alan Shapiro (he’s amazing) posted a photo of a rose that mesmerized me with her black cherry beauty.   She wrapped her thorny stem around my heart, brushed her silky petals up against my ear and whispered:  Write me. At the time I was in the throes of polishing and submitting my erotic memoir, Seduced By a River, for publication (release date: Valentine’s Day!) so I couldn’t indulge in the flirtation.  But when roses speak, I’ve learned to listen so I created a Word document, named it Rose and threw a whirlwind of inspiration in it. I have enough ideas in that file to write a book, but all I needed for the festival was a 1200-word short story.  I extracted some notes about a couple in bed with champagne and roses. It was so awkward at first, me in bed with them, trying to construct fiction after all these years of writing memoir. But I  kept showing up, day after day, trying way too hard and then not hard enough until finally they started showing themseves to me. The tattoos.  The scars. The piercings of flesh and heart. Their I’m in this with you no matter what kind of love. Suddenly, as if they existed in some other realm, they were writing through me. I found myself leaning to the right to better allow that conduit of creativity to come straight into my heart and down my left arm to my hands that were dancing across the keyboard. My muses threw their heads back and laughed, Finally! They ran their fingers through my hair and tickled the tip of my nose with rose petals. As I wrote the final sentence, my hands were trembling and my eyes blurred with emotion and my god I love it when that happens. Sexy prompt: What does it feel like when you tap into your deepest creative self? When do your muses show up?...

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Sexy Speech

Posted by on Jan 5, 2016

I found a sexy new way to scare myself. I’ve been so busy with this process of getting my erotic memoir out to the world that I haven’t had much time for running whitewater, skiing the back country or doing erotic photos shoots. So I’ve been going to Toastmasters. It works. I finally worked up the nerve to do my first speech, the Ice Breaker, where I introduce myself to the group. My Inner Catholic Girl and My Inner Stripper showed up. Unlike my previous forays with public speaking, when  I read my erotic stories at the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival, my voice didn’t squeak. My legs didn’t shake.  This is very sexy progress since at this year’s festival (Save the Date!  April 23-24) I am doing a book launch for my erotic memoir, Seduced By A River. Scared yourself lately?  Tell me about it in the comments. Here’s the video of my Ice Breaker...

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