Jung & the Eternal Splendor

Jung illustrated the Red Book himself --
This is an example of his original artwork.

Tonight, while in deep contemplation of life, the universe and the pursuit of love, I turned to Jung's Red Book.  Jung wrote the Red Book during and in between a series of intense schizophrenic episodes -- as an early psychoanalyst, he was at times conscious of (and even analytical about) his illness, and at other times barely aware of the difference between inner and outer worlds.  I can only imagine the courage it must have taken for Jung to study his own psychosis.  Through such journaling, he has shown us how schizophrenia can result in striking revelations and heartfelt truths.

As I was reading, I turned to my own passion -- the wonders of creative sexuality.  I was reminded that I can't be more myself than when I am sexually intimate, whether alone or with a partner.  Accepting the sexual creativity we carry within us is akin to accepting our whole selves.

While reading the following from Jung's Red Book, I suddenly saw solo sex and individual fantasy as an inner light, a flame -- and though that isn't an image that's new to me, the following still held incredible power when viewed through that sexual filter:

The life of the solitary would be cold were it not for the immense sun, which makes the air and rocks glow.  The sun and its eternal splendor replace for the solitary his own life warmth.

His heart longs for the sun.

He wanders to the lands of the sun.

He dreams of the flickering splendor of the sun, of the hot red stones spread out at midday, of the golden hot rays of the dry sand.

The solitary seeks the sun and no one else is so ready to open his heart as he is.  Therefore he loves the desert above all, since he loves its deep stillness.

Then further down the page...

You think that the solitary is poor.  You do not see that he strolls under laden fruit trees and that his hand touches grain a hundredfold.  Under dark leaves the overfull reddish blossoms swell toward him from abundant buds, and the fruit almost bursts with thronging juices.  Fragrant juices drip from his trees and under his feet thrusting seed breaks open.

Thank you, Jung.

Folks, go and have sex.  With yourself or with others.

Being alone isn't barren.  Be you.

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Sassy Gay Friend

A dear friend who knows a thing or two about humour recently introduced me to Sassy Gay Friend.  If you don't know these ridiculous vids, take a look.  They're a scream.

Call Yourself a Slut?

I have a new post at Boston Magazine's Boston Daily, in which I argue against feminist Rebecca Traister, saying it can be a good thing to don fishnets and call yourself a slut.

Can't believe I almost forgot to thank my dear friend, Erin Kate, for the inspiration for this post.

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Keep Singing, Amy

"Attract me, till it hurts to concentrate,
Distract me, stop me doing work I hate.
Just to show him how it feels,
I walk past his desk in heels.
One leg resting on the chair,
From the side he pulls my hair."

From Amy, Amy, Amy by Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse, you sang and wrote about sex with passion, honesty and power.  I will miss you and your fuck-me pumps.  Rest, but never stop singing.

Three Pink Boxes (Part One)

Pic: Ed Schipul 

Seeing as it's Friday, why not treat yourself to part one of my new erotic story Three Pink Boxes, which went live at the Good Vibrations Magazine today?  For those putting up with this ridiculous heat, you'll be glad to hear that the sex takes place in an air-conditioned office.

Did I hear a communal sigh of relief?

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Do Men Who Hire Sex Workers Really Commit More Crime?

Does an anti-prostitution activist seem like the right person to head a research study into the effects of buying sex?  Take a look at my new post at the Boston Daily.

Also, do check out Violet Blue's brilliant post on the topic.  Intelligent, angry, refreshing.

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Quentin Tarantino, You Can Bring Your Foot Fetish to Boston

I have a new post up at Boston Magazine's Boston Daily.  Quentin loves feet and we love him for it.

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Baby, Call Me Angel

William-Adolphe
Bouguereau

Today a beautiful stranger called me angel because I held the door for her.  I could have stripped for her right there and then -- surprising when you consider I've never longed for this particular endearment.  Then again, maybe for her, I really was an angel...in that moment, I mean, when I held the door.  And perhaps for her I longed to be an angel.  In fact, maybe a part of me always does.  But only when it's said with a certain intensity by a stunning woman with jet black hair.  And only when I feel like I've subbed just right.

And only when the speaker believes it.

Speaking Out About Being "Saved"

Please do visit Dr. Laura Agustin's blog to read about this poster, which was created by brothel workers at the EMPOWER centre in Chiang Mai, Thailand.  After recent raids and rescue operations, these workers have written "a list of reasons why they do not wish to be rescued by police, ngo or charity workers" (to quote Laura Agustin).  Do take a look.  It's powerful stuff.

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A Foxy Column at the Boston Daily

I am proud to announce my new sex column at Boston Magazine's online blog, The Boston Daily.  I'll be posting on a weekly basis.  This week: Why Sexpert Betty Dodson is Wrong.

I love Betty Dodson, by the way.  But in this case...I ain't agreeing.

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The Hot Topic, vol. 9: The Sex Store, the Break-In & the Blow-Up Doll

I have a new Hot Topic column at the Nervous Breakdown.  Before you take a peek, ask yourself this:  What would you risk for a few stolen moments with a hot, inflatable woman?

Side by Side, No. 3

You may well have read or heard about "Marriage, with Infidelities," a feature by Mark Oppenheimer in the New York Times this weekend.  In the article, Oppenheimer considers Dan Savage's arguments that "the goal of marriage should be stability not monogamy."  It's an intelligent, thought-provoking article and well worth a read.

Oppenheimer writes:  "'The mistake that straight people made,' Savage told me, 'was imposing the monogamous expectation on men.  Men were never expected to be monogamous.  Men had concubines, mistresses and access to prostitutes, until everybody decided marriage had to be egalitarian and fairsey.'  In the feminist revolution, rather than extending to women 'the same latitude and license and pressure-release valve that men had always enjoyed,' we extended to men the confines women had always endured.  'And it's been a disaster for marriage.'"

In her essay Marry Me from The Sexual State of the Union, Susie Bright writes about how she changed from being skeptical about marriage to taking a more embracing stance:  "Our families, our friendships are made up of quixotic erotic individuals, and denying their variety and substance is the childish hysteria of the antimarriage prudes.  When I speak to a crowd, I always assume that my audience is made up of queers, and queens, and virgins, and people with daydreams I could never imagine.  I have FAITH in their sexuality as a creative guiding spirit in them; I know that they've taken their damage and are an undetermined blend of innocence and wisdom.  If they find someone to share that passion with, what is there to do except throw rice and bless them?"