DNA Dating - Beyond the Hook-Up

Good lord, what will they think of next!?!?!

During my daily digg-ing around the internet I stumbled upon scientificmatch.com, a dating service that’s differentiating itself from eHarmony and other online personals by claiming that it’s now possible to find your match with a saliva swab of your cheek.

That’s right, boys and girls! If you’re seriously looking for more than the weekend hookup, then the computers at scientificmatch will analyze your strands and spit out your dream date from their database whose smell will electrify you into ecstasy.

Of course you still have to fill out the forms about yourself and what you’re looking for –man seeking woman, woman seeking man, man seeking man, woman seeking woman, fit or fat – that kind of thing.

And you also have to declare your values and personality type and commit to it. That’s right! Once you complete the questionnaire, you can’t change your mind. So if you claim you’re the life of the party and realize later that you’re actually a misogynistic sociopath, pity the hottie who enjoyed the waft of your pheromone.

What next? After paying up, you’ll get a manila envelope in the mail with long cotton swabs like the ones you see on CSI. You then swab the insides of your cheek and send it back. (Please make sure you brush and rinse first. I saw an exhibit at the Exploratorium once and the kid I was with wanted to see his DNA on the screen. Well, he had just eaten a hotdog with all the fixin’s and malted milk balls. All of that gunk showed up on the screen.) The company assures you that no human will actually see your DNA (and don’t worry, they won’t send it to the FBI).

Point is, if all the superficial parameters of your search are met, all you have to worry about is narrowing down to physical chemistry.

Wait a minute. Isn’t that what real life dating is all about anyway?!?!?

No Room At The Inn

Without question, one of the most well-known biblical stories is the virgin birth of Jesus Christ to Mary and Joseph. The virgin birth by itself is remarkable enough. Giving birth to the savior of humanity is quite another.

But I won’t push that idea lest anybody think I’m giving primacy to the Christian tradition over any other. I’m of the firm conviction that all religious and spiritual traditions are equal in the eyes of The One -- The One God that each culture worships in its own native nomenclature. God is just way too big to be scrunched under anyone’s religious umbrella. But I digress.

I was awakened to the idea of a metaphysical interpretation of this scriptural story last year during a most inspirational talk by Rev. Andriette Earl, the hip and brilliant Assistant Minister at the East Bay Church of Religious Science on Telegraph Avenue in Oakland, CA, a mega-church member of the United Centers for Spiritual Living. Rev. Andriette transformed Joseph and Mary into real life characters that you and I know well.

Mary could be anyone of us with a shameful secret, a secret so shameful we want to run away from our past and present, a secret so shameful that our families and friends would shun us. I could be Mary with my shameful financial fiascos. You could be Mary with your pattern of failed relationships.

And yet, despite our human weaknesses, we have our very own Joseph who will stand by us no matter the circumstances. Joseph, the loyal hero (or heroine), who, inspite of pressure from peers, or forces from their own stressful lives, will remain steadfast in his or her support of us. I have a Joseph in Chris, my childhood friend who is always there for me no matter how stupid I get. Do you have a Joseph? Are you someone’s Joseph? Are you there for a friend who has fallen and needs you desperately?

Are you willing to see Jesus as that divine idea within you that is borne from your very own shameful secret? Are you willing to allow the transformation of your shame into your own personal savior?

When Joseph and Mary were turned away because there was no room at the inn, they were unforgiven for their “sins.”

In this holiday season and beyond, do you have room in the inn of your heart?

Laughter Knows No Language

A Song For You

In my dreams I sang in perfect pitch and awoke feeling flat. In my dreams.

Personalities in the Uni-verse of Recycled Relationships

This past Sunday morning while getting ready for the day, I had the tv turned on to PBS. I could hear the distinct tone and tenor of Deepak Chopra wafting in from the living room. I have to confess… everytime I see, hear or read about Deepak Chopra I think to myself, “Him again.” I get so ho-hum everytime I read, hear or see Wayne Dyer. Or Marianne Williamson. Same o’ same o’.

But if truth be told, when I let go of my initial resistance to Deepak, Dyer or Williamson, my spiritual sight is pried open even wider than before, I get epiphanies or startling revelations, and discover insights I would probably never have arrived at on my own.

Deepak was talking about the unity of all life. Okay already. Tell me something I don't know.

“You and I are one with the One,” he said. “We are all made of the same matter as the universe.” He continued, “That’s why it is UNI. It’s one verse, a uni-verse.”

Hmm…interesting thought. On my own, I doodled in my head, “uni-verse, di-verse…”

In the background, Deepak persisted. “We are One with everything. Our breath is recycled air, our blood is recycled blood, and what is our personality but recycled relationships?”

Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech! Halt.

Our personalities are recycled relationships? Our personalities are recycled relationships. We are the sum total of each of our relationships. Oh, my God. I did a quick inventory in my head.

I’m blessed to have an incredibly loving relationship with my family. I have very many dear and supportive friends. But there’s that asshole Brad I had a relationship with not too long ago, and there’s that jerk Gene. I’m carrying character debris from the asshole and the jerk? I’m part asshole and part jerk?

Shit!

"The Search" by Donna Miesbach

Last year I embarked on Unity’s "40-Day Program to Awaken Your Soul" and stumbled upon Donna Miesbach's poem, “The Search.” Her words went straight to my heart so I googled her. I wanted to curtsy in her presence and pay tribute. We’ve corresponded a few times since, and I have her permission to reprint her poem here. Donna’s words reveal a beautiful soul who has captured the glimmer of her own godbeing-ness. I'm honored to share it with you.

"Here within the quiet zone of inner space,
I find myself exploring, like those in days of old,
The potential of this vast uncharted sea
That harbors the meaning of existence.

Like all who’ve sought before me,
I can only grope within the confines of my soul,
And yet there seems to be a pull,
A gravitation toward some unseen inner light

that says,

“Here! This is the way!”

And so I follow, fully aware
That no matter where it leads --
This is only the beginning.
I can never exhaust my potential;
Growth is forever.

And even when I’ve changed
To a state light-years away,
I will become yet more,
For it is in the search itself
That truth is revealed
As I encounter
The essence of my identity."

To pay homage to Donna Miesbach, view her life's accomplishments and keep up with her current news, go to http://www.donnamiesbach.com/

Namaste!

Affirmations in Alpha

"In this moment, I choose to live in the present. I choose to let go of the past and let tomorrow be for tomorrow."

I recently took a weekend refresher course on the Silva Method. The Silva Method is a form of mental programming designed to use the untapped power of the mind to elicit positive results and accomplish whatever outcomes you desire. It’s based on the obscure research started in 1944 by Jose Silva, a self-made, self-taught electrical engineer, who discovered that when the brain is in the alpha state -- the relaxed state -- mental acuity is heightened. I know it sounds like woo-woo, but it’s not really. It’s now an established fact that the brain is an electrochemical organ, and its activity is measured in brainwaves.

Very simply, when someone is in the awake-alert state, that person’s brain is in beta. In beta, the brain generates amplitudes of between 14 to 40 cycles per second. Someone who’s engaged in an activity is in beta. A blogger blogging is in beta. I’m in beta right now, maybe in the 14 to 18 cycles per second range. Someone in road rage is probably at 40.

Mental programming or auto-suggestion can’t occur in beta. Your internal editor is present in beta. Your committee of censors is watching in beta. Guilt resides in beta.

In the Silva Method, you bring yourself down to alpha, the basic plane level of 9 to 14 cycles per second, where you can program your mind to do whatever you want to accomplish -- like cope with stress, or abolish bad habits, or heighten your intuitive powers, or in the extreme, perform remote healing. Now that’s a little woo-woo. Even for me. There’s also theta and delta but I won’t go into that now (my college art history professor Cedric Crofts once scribbled PEDANTIC across my test essay and then grudgingly gave me an A).

Point is, when your brain is in alpha, the relaxed state, it’s easier to imbibe new ideas. Can you imagine the power of affirmations recited during alpha when there’s no resistance present, when you bypass the internal critic, resident cynic, in-house skeptic?

How do you get to alpha? This takes practice, but as you get better and better, it becomes easier and easier to get there. The expert practitioner of Silva even has certain advanced techniques to get there even faster, even in awake states.

Start by taking a deep breath, and as you exhale, allow your whole body to relax. Do this a couple of times, allowing your body to relax more and more.

Then with your eyes closed, take a deep breath, and as you exhale, visualize the number 3 three times.

Take another deep breath, and as you exhale, visualize the number 2 three times.

Take another deep breath, and as you exhale, visualize the number 1 three times.

Now count backwards slowly from 10 to 1, and when you reach 1, you are now in the alpha level, the basic plane level necessary for programming your mind for any purpose you desire. Be gentle and patient with yourself if your mind is still rumbling with riotous chatter. Remember, this takes practice!

Now that you’ve silenced your self-defeating skeptic, say to yourself –

“My increasing mental faculties are for serving humanity better.”

“Everyday, in every way, I am getting better, better, and better."

“Positive thoughts bring me benefits and advantages I desire."

“I am One with the Universal Mind, my Source and Creator.”

“I am the perfect manifestation of God’s love.”

“I am a love magnet. Love flows to me and through me effortlessly and naturally.”

“Every cell of my body exudes health and beauty.”

“I eat what is good for me."

"I lose weight easily.”

:-)

LOL!!!

Daily Affirmation

In the stillness of this moment I allow myself to remember my divine center.

Juggling Juggernaut

It rained the other day and Arnold trailed mud and matted grass into the house after going out to poop. The bathroom floor is stamped with bear-like paw prints. He hangs out there. It's cool to his tummy. Arnold is a newfy, just turned four and weighs 185 lbs. His vet is livid that I've not been able to bring his weight down. I have to bungee cord the fridge whenever I leave the house. Arnold opens it and helps himself to the rotisserie chicken and apple sausages. He even closes the fridge door behind him so that I can't really tell he's raided the contents until I get to the living room and find plastic food containers strewn about. Arnold doesn't care for the sockeye salmon. He takes it out for the cats. I find little cat nibbles on the edges of the filet. Animal antics.

There's a teacup from last evening's chamomile, a mug from this morning's coffee, a teaspoon and fork, and a dinner plate unwashed in the kitchen sink.

Meanwhile, I'm blogging. The tv's on and the usual pundits are parsing the words of Romney's "I am a Mormon" speech. My gmail is open in another window and I see emails forwarding into my Outlook. My faculties are fully engaged -- I'm thinking, I'm creating, I'm writing, I'm listening, I'm arguing with the tv, shaking my fist in the air, and giving the middle-finger to Tucker Carlson. All at the same time. I'm multi-tasking!

There's a heap of laundry in the bedroom. I say to myself, "manana." It's been manana for a couple of semanas now.

By now, I've accepted quite a few LinkedIn invitations, read a bunch of messages on Facebook, joined more online causes, signed up for the 6 degrees of separation experiment, scribbled on Fun Walls, watched youtube, dragged and dropped emails into newly color-labeled folders, moderated a few posts, tried out a new widget on Grouply, and I am feeling the elation of accomplishment!

Ah, but where did the time go? It's almost dusk and yesterday's mud is now caked solid. I've run out of clean panties to wear. Arnold's devoured my protein supply. Really, all I've done today is put on lipstick and sit on my butt.

So much for the myth of superwoman.

Graffiti in the Gene Pool

Papa wrote:

I Shall Come To You

When the scented night has fallen
And the branches droop with the dew –
When your heart is filled with longing,
Dream, and I shall come to you.

I shall come to you when raindrops
Patter on the window-panes,
And a tender mem’ry, ghost-like,
Haunts the old, forgotten lanes.

I shall come to you on tiptoe
On the carpet of your room --
And surprise you with my kisses
Trembling softly in the gloom!

-- Abelardo Subido

Mommy wrote:

Filipina

You wonder why my feelings
For you, my love, are sung,
And never plainly phrased by
The unaffecting tongue.
It is because my passions
Are restless, rash, and strong --
To native sense immodest
Unless expressed in song.

I have made Speech and Song,
I have tried Silence, too,
But all interpret ill the thoughts
My heart would speak to you.

A motion of the hand, perhaps,
Half-wanton, half-withholding,
And such a smile, and such a glance,
Would best be love's unfolding --
Meaning that while my sentiments
Have need of more than word,
I dare not by a brazen move
Displease you, lord.

-- Trinidad Tarrosa

I wrote:

emotions in motion

did you feel the quake last night
it came as I was imagining you
rocking me hard
thrusting your love
deep into my soul
it felt so real
the earth shook
tilting on its axis
falling like my heart
for you

planet heaving
mountain breasts
belly flatlands
thighs spread

collapsing the chosen hero
in the fault that lay between

hearts in upheaval
dreams in streams
flowing subducting amplifying
molten core flowing
landscapes changing
lives intertwining
folding you into me
fossilized into eternity

-- Maya Tarrosa Subido Walker

A Story Within The Story

Even the sweetest onion, peeled layer after layer, elicits tears.

Luck Be A Lady

I’ve never won anything in my life. I’ve bought three, maybe four lottery tickets tops, and only because I got sucked into the office pool. Gambling makes me nervous and I don’t see the point of betting away my hard-earned money on black jack or slots.

But I’m a sucker for causes with or without gimmicky contests. Take The Pandora Prescription. Early in late spring or early summer I got a viral email asking me to join a petition to prevent the banning of The Pandora Prescription, a fictional expose on the villainous pharmaceutical industry. Having just seen Michael Moore’s “Sicko”, I was still fuming over the state of the health care industry in the country. Signing The Pandora Prescription petition was mindless -- it required a mere click of the mouse.

In late October I got another email announcing the release of the book with a clever marketing hook – if I buy the book and send in my receipt, my name will be put on the drawing for a weekend with author James Sheridan at the legendary Waldorf-Astoria, lunch at the shi-shi Manhattan restaurant Cipriani, and a $500 Macy’s gift certificate.

What are the odds? Like I said, I’ve never won anything but hey, isn’t it time to put all this attractor factor theory into practice? For years now I’ve been immersed in the study and practice of mind control and conscious manifestation. Instead of “I never win anything”, I changed my script to, “All things are possible.”

Whaddaya know!?!?! Yesterday I got an email from the publisher telling me my name was picked as one of five winners. Whodathunkit? So I’m flying to JFK on December 29, staying at the Waldorf, lunching with James Sheridan, now a national bestselling author, and shopping at Macy’s. I’ve even decided to stay a few extra days so I can see the ball drop from Times Square.

How ‘bout that for starting off the New Year?

Best of all, as my bff Kim would say, “James is da bomb, gurrll!”

The Persistence of Memory

Some things I remember that I'd rather forget...

Like the other day when I acted like a friggin' bitch at enterprise rent-a-car. I called the night before to reserve a hybrid and was assured by the pleasant-sounding customer service rep that someone would be at my door at 7:30 AM to pick me up. I had to be in Sacramento by 10 for an important meeting, and the drive on I-80 on a good day is an hour and 15 minutes. By the time 8:15 rolled around I was panicking. I called the local office and the management trainee who picked up the phone dropped it, and hung up on me. Hell, no! I re-dialed the number and the minute I heard a voice, I growled, "Did you know you hung up on me? Where's my pick up?" As you can guess, it went downhill from there. Though extremely few and very far between, I "treat" spiritually to bypass these unbridled and misguided moments of perimenopausal bitchery. It's morbidly embarrassing to self and grossly unfair to others. Sometimes I'm much too human.

Some things I forget that I'd like to remember...

Like my password to this or that website or account. Like someone's phone number, birthday or anniversary. Or like the time Becky Taylor played dirty with me but when I ran into her at City Center months later, I hugged her with love like nothing nasty had transpired between us. Truth was, in my mind, nothing had happened because I don't hold on to a grudge.

Some things fall between the chasm of remembrance and forgetfulness...

By sheer serendipity I ran into my music teacher from a decade ago. At first he was just a vague memory. Little by little, factoids and fragments of images started dripping into place like Dali's surreal faces of time falling into form. Michael*. Jazz. Taurus on the cusp. A figure emerging from figment to fullness. Not half-bad. Where do I draw the bright red line to delineate my memory and my projection-delusion?

As for his part -- total amnesia. Michael has no recollection of our previous incarnation. His mind is my canvas.

(*Michael's true name withheld to respect his wish and protect his innocence.)

He said, she said

He said,

"You are a poster child of cyberspace.
A temptress without geography wearing
a watch without numbers.
Here, the big and little hands wind up
on top of one another
motionless and pointing to "soon."
An alignment of the stars 22 days into may
or was it 24 or some other day
or simple happenstance,
a teaser on the screen and barefoot imaginations
running like airplanes in the dewy morning grass,
first two feet, then four."

She said,

"first two feet, then four.
you got me rising, soaring,
roaring, storming
thunderous ecstasy!
between legs meant for dancing
clutching hips meant for thrusting
binding wrists meant for vamping
frenching tongues meant for scatting
now down on the floor, i am --
in overwhelm, overcome,
overgasm, over you."