When Bad Kitty’s Go Good

Dear Boys and Girls,

Due to the overwhelming response to “Mother Teresa and the Cone of Silence”, Miss K would like to clarify a few things: #1. My column is, first and foremost, for fun and amusement. #2. Once in a while, some gem of a point is made - but for the most part, see #1. Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jesus Christ, Maxwell Smart, Yoda, and the Kama Sutra were all mentioned in a single column last week. This profusion of wanton name-dropping should have clued you in that this was not a solemn, bend-over-and–bow-at-the Miss Kitty shrine-of-knowledge moment!!!!!! Since many of you took me quite literally – and seriously - by calling me a naughty kitty, I (with kitty deadpan-poker face) give you this week’s contemplative, sedate and completely serious column…P.S. I agree, the Kama Sutra is amazing but it does have some tricky bits for some of us!!!

At some point in our lives, we develop a vision of what our ideal partner will be like; he or she is a collage of images and attributes, both real and imagined. Cut and pasted pictures, cataloged from childhood memories; faces and voices that feel safe - perhaps we have even seen our future love in a long-ago dream. As the years go by, we actively seek that imagined someone, and eventually acknowledge that some of our precious longings have been outgrown. We realize that the illusion that Mary Ann or Ginger would make the perfect wife is as ridiculous as living on coconut cream pies. We smile at some of the items we can now leave off the menu and feel sorrow over those we realize can never be. But the characteristics and the soul of our ideal lover exist in our minds; even if the actual experiences we wish we could have had with them, may never be. Perhaps the treasure is better when it is discovered, instead of found.

We trek higher and higher up the relationship mountain to seek out the ideal dream lover (and the lover of our dreams). As we follow the treacherous trail, it becomes a constant challenge to continually resurrect the once shining beacon that lures us from our caves of shyness, and fragile sense of self. Before we gain the common sense to let the wisdom of time and experience guide us along the path, we often simply wait - until that unique luminary steps into our focus, and holds out a hand to bring us into a reality for which we are finally ready.

How do we really know who we are with, when it is a daunting exercise for most of us just to perceive what we want in the first place? Even if we do know what we desire, what we need, and what we can’t do without - how can we know that who we think we have, we really do?

For some, it's a long waiting game, but for most of us it is always worthwhile - in every sense - to hold out for better than the ho-hum, the everyday, the rote. The mediocre is so easy to acquire, yet so hard to change into anything else. The fragment of James Bond in every man or the smidgen of Marilyn Monroe in every woman is never enough. We must lift the gauzy veil, to see the beauty or the beast which dwells in the “pretty” house. When we hone our vision so it is clear, and let go of what we know is not the best, we have a valuable talent at our disposal. A talent that deserves to be taught, (right up there with reading, writing and arithmetic) at an early age. The ability to clearly see just who is in front of us, and who they are, at all levels.

Once in a great while, it is easy. There comes along a love so strong that the bonds can never be broken. There is never a moment needed, or wanted to question the peace that's so seamless and unfolds gently, embracing such goodness. He or she is a safe place that perhaps we have never known. Before this, maybe we have never trusted anyone to really be there, or that our infant trust was taken away once too often. It can be scary. Perhaps the perfection is frightening because it is so right. Then again, perfection is in the heart of the loved and once accepted, the journey is complete.

Have a naughty day!

Mother Teresa and the Cone of Silence

We follow the teachings of those honorable individuals who speak to our souls. Those who have lived the highest caliber lives –role models like Christ, Martin Luther King, and Mother Teresa, have shown us the worthy and wise life paths. But what happens when we realize that the original teachings of the great ones have become corrupted? Although we revere the original, the now perverted, digested-until-unrecognizable ideals no longer serve us - but instead send us disgustedly running in the opposite direction?

Religion swings both ways; the good that is done can be easily undone by those who do not truly embrace nor understand the original concept. Just like the misconstrued concept of religion that we blame for so many of the wrongs seen throughout history, sex - a truly simple and pure concept - is no exception to the lets-mess-it-up-and–ruin-it-for-everyone rule.

Suppose Yoda was teaching a Jedi class on intimacy. Armed with nothing but a light saber (vibrating at a low but powerful frequency), and dressed in a casual robe, he would repeat the same lesson over and over again to the oblivious Jedi wannabes. Finally, a fed-up Yoda would exclaim in Yoda-speak: “Great lover I am, but what are you? Wish upon the Death Star, you must, as purpose you have none! Membership in class, cancel you will, or meet three times a day until you learn sex is controlled entirely by mind – or until your light saber batteries dead they are, whichever comes first!”

A Jedi lover can never retire, according to the secret lessons of Yoda; not unless his or her mind is captured by the dark side, and forced to decline from any real sexual practices. Once Darth Vader (with his very heavy breathing) has enveloped your sexuality, the force is no longer with you, and you have become nothing but a slave (and not the good kind) to an artificial and phony perversion of what physical love actually is.

Intimacy, and open sexuality, have had some excellent proponents throughout history. From the pseudo teachings of Hugh Hefner, (attempting to bring sexuality into the open, and fake bosoms into vogue.) to the Kama Sutra, (attempting to make sex and chiropractic therapy one.), it appears that those who attempt to take human sexuality into the light, succeed for only a limited amount of time. It is the ultimate story of one step forward, and three steps back.

Take the G-Spot for example. Dr. Gräfenberg was trying to do a good thing: identify and confirm a source of pleasure. Great job until it came to the naming. G- Spot? Sounds like it’s harder to find than Cuba on a 1950’s elementary school map. G-Region! Now that sounds like something that’s easy and friendly to find - not esoteric, mysterious, and lost in the Bermuda Triangle!

It is distressing to Miss Kitty, that something as innocent as sex can be so lost, distorted and confusing. We are like Maxwell Smart, inside the Cone of Silence, straining desperately to hear important information on CHAOS, being screamed by “Chief”! We try our best to hear what is relevant and good, while we are so easily bombarded by the ultimate dark side of sex: the Darth-Vader internet with its easy-to-participate-in, cheap-and-tawdry, repugnant forms of anti-sex.

Since the beginning, humans have been figuring out what works and what doesn’t; what is acceptable and what isn’t; what is possible and what is not. Like Maxwell Smart, we look for secret rooms, doors and Cones of Silence, in order to find a safe and quiet place, where we can discover the truth for ourselves. Boys and Girls, you do not need a Jedi master or mistress to steer you clear of the dark side, and teach you the highly spiritual art of lovemaking - just a clear conscience about your own personal sense of right and wrong - and really good lube!

Have a naughty day!

Forever and Forever

We try to map out our lives as best we can; we seek love on well-defined paths, which lead to even clearer destinations. But between the red-letter days that are pre-printed on calendars, and the age-defined celebrations, come all the in-between moments that actually define love.

If Cupid’s arrow made a hole in our heart with someone’s name upon it: someone of great substance, worthy of our devotion, with whom we were able to share life then inevitably there will come a time when we are faced with the worst - a truly unimaginable moment. A midnight black cavern of immense pain and untenable aching will appear, and we have no choice but to walk through. The wretched moment when we say a last goodbye to our beloved.

Like the fragile rays from a weak winter sun we stumble across the dry desert, swept along by pain, longing for what is not, and desperate for the relief that only time can bring. Time does not care, and as minutes feel like hours, and hours feel like days, know that hidden in the magnificent package that is true love, there is a security blanket, which may be used in just such an emergency.

You will not know it’s presence until, in the inky darkness, you stumble across its gentle and calming gift: that although we may loose our partner, the love that was shared is still very much alive, and nothing and no one can ever take that away. Love cannot get sick, love cannot be stolen, love never dies - and as long as one is here to remember, love will always be there.

Love is more than scents, memories and photos. It is the teachings, the healings, and the gift of the self that has transformed us, more than we will ever know. Love does not leave just because one of the participants does. The very experience of having a love of such high caliber is why the pain is so immense. But would anyone trade the immeasurable joys of pure love, along with it’s inevitable soul -crushing pain, for a life where love is no more enchanting and captivating then tepid lemonade?

Both alone in the quiet of the days and nights to come, and when the arms of those who care for us are wrapped tightly around us, sharing a measure of our pain, we will find that love is walking with us, and will continue to do so, forever. For love, with it’s wisps and tendrils, which seek out all the many moments of our existence, is a soul unto itself.

With great love for Karen.