I View All My Clients As Lovers.

It is frequently assumed that I go on many dates with many men..

It is assumed that to be a coach who teaches people how to have more, and deeper better sex that I must be loose or easy to bed.

That sex is something I am addicted too even.

Its often assumed that because I am the mother of seven that I am uncontrollable and quenchless in my thirst for sex or orgasm.

People often say to me,
” you would think that a sex coach would have figured out what causes pregnancy by now.”

Many look at me with horrified questioning eyes as they inquire if I will have any more children or why I am not currently married.

The assumptions roll through thier minds and almost escape thier lips.

Perhaps even you dear reader and follower wonder and question.
Perhaps you are among the assumers.
And I want you to know that I thank you.
I thank you for all that you feel.
All that you think.
And all that you sometimes goofily share in your assumptions.

I see your humanness.
And I do not judge it.
As you judge me.

I know what my truth is.
I know whom I love.
I know that my heart,
My message and my calling is felt and seen by those it is meant for.

Not everyone can be like a taco as my best friend would say.
And even though I may have a body part that resembles,
I am still not a taco.

I write this musing this evening to shed the light on how we judge what we do not understand.
How we cast stones with certainty,
But are enraged when they are thrown back without due reason in our opinion.

Today I share with you from a place I choose to call the labyrinth of mirrors.

This is the place where we can choose to see ourselves in ALL we come in contact with on our life journey,
Or we can turn away from them,
Look downward and become lost in the maze of our own fears and self criticism.

What do you choose my sweet human?
To be judge and jury to all in your life
And that you meet on your path.

Or to be human.
To be human means to be compassionate.
To self and to others.
To know that we do not know what anothers shoes are like.
What the path they have traveled took them through.
To be human means that you stand as witness not judge.
And to witness another is one of the greatest gifts we can ever offer.
To allow ourselves to be witnessed is the next.

Just yesterday I was working with a dear client of mine. This man has love streaming from every energy fiber he has. And yet he struggles with allowing himself the simple pleasure of recieving that love back.

I left him with the words,
” One day I hope you give me the gift of you allowing yourself to recieve my love.”

Now that statement may instantly bring up assumptions and judgments in you about me.
Or my coaching practice.
What does Kendal do with her clients?
Is she in romantic relations with them.

And you can assume.
You can judge.
And you can cast your head down and keep stubling through your maze.

Be my guest.

What I can tell you is that each day it is revealed and I am reminded of the deep intimacy I hold with these souls that are labled my clients.

They are not my clients.
They are my lovers.
I love each of them deeply.
Men.
Women.
Couples.
The intimacy, vulnerability, rawness and depth that they trust me with is without messure one of the greatest gifts of this life time for me.

And yes….
I love my clients.
I love them for thier willingness to stop bouncing off the walls of thier maze and instead to sit still and let them selves be revealed through the mirrors that are presented on thier path.

I love them for thier courage to catch thier inner judge and jury and fire them daily,
While loving themselves at a more intense level.

I love them for the tender moments that they give grace…
TO THEMSELVES.

I love them for the humor and laughter as they learn how to skip through thier errors and self defeating patterns.

Yes they are my lovers.
And I love them for the blessings that they are.

Now back to that dating thing….
I have dated a few men in my time.
And I have dated many at the same time.
But the men of my current…
The men I choose daily.
These men you may or may never meet…
Some can be captured in picture.
Others in story.

More than one?
Yes in deed.

And does it matter whom they are to you?
Well lets just see if you have been listening.
The judge.
The jury.
They have your answer.

But the mirror will never lie.

As Always My Loves,
Stop Existing & Start Living
Coaching for Grown A*s Believers

 

The last word: He said he was leaving. She ignored him.

When Laura Munson’s husband asked for a divorce, she ducked instead of fighting. He needed to learn, she says, that his unhappiness wasn’t really about her.

couplehandholding

Let’s say you have what you believe to be a healthy marriage. You’re still friends and lovers after spending more than half of your lives together. The dreams you set out to achieve in your 20s—gazing into each other’s eyes in candlelit city bistros, when you were single and skinny—have for the most part come true.

Two decades later you have the 20 acres of land, the farmhouse, the children, the dogs and horses. You’re the parents you said you would be, full of love and guidance. You’ve done it all: Disneyland, camping, Hawaii, Mexico, city living, stargazing.

Sure, you have your marital issues, but on the whole you feel so self-satisfied about how things have worked out that you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I’m moving out. The kids will understand. They’ll want me to be happy.”

But wait. This isn’t the divorce story you think it is. Neither is it a begging-him-to-stay story. It’s a story about hearing your husband say, “I don’t love you anymore” and deciding not to believe him. And what can happen as a result.

Here’s a visual: Child throws a temper tantrum. Tries to hit his mother. But the mother doesn’t hit back, lecture or punish. Instead, she ducks. Then she tries to go about her business as if the tantrum isn’t happening. She doesn’t “reward” the tantrum. She simply doesn’t take the tantrum personally because, after all, it’s not about her.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying my husband was throwing a child’s tantrum. No. He was in the grip of something else—a profound and far more troubling meltdown that comes not in childhood but in midlife, when we perceive that our personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did. But I decided to respond the same way I’d responded to my children’s tantrums. And I kept responding to it that way. For four months.

“I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”

His words came at me like a speeding fist, like a sucker punch, yet somehow in that moment I was able to duck. And once I recovered and composed myself, I managed to say, “I don’t buy it.” Because I didn’t.

He drew back in surprise. Apparently he’d expected me to burst into tears, to rage at him, to threaten him with a custody battle. Or beg him to change his mind.

So he turned mean. “I don’t like what you’ve become.”

Gut-wrenching pause. How could he say such a thing? That’s when I really wanted to fight. To rage. To cry. But I didn’t.

Instead, a shroud of calm enveloped me, and I repeated those words: “I don’t buy it.”

You see, I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself. I’d committed to “the End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it.

My husband hadn’t yet come to this understanding with himself. He had enjoyed many years of hard work, and its rewards had supported our family of four all along. But his new endeavor hadn’t been going so well, and his ability to be the breadwinner was in rapid decline. He’d been miserable about this, felt useless, was losing himself emotionally and letting himself go physically. And now he wanted out of our marriage; to be done with our family.

But I wasn’t buying it.

I said: “It’s not age-appropriate to expect children to be concerned with their parents’ happiness. Not unless you want to create co-dependents who’ll spend their lives in bad relationships and therapy. There are times in every relationship when the parties involved need a break. What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?” he said.

“Go trekking in Nepal. Build a yurt in the back meadow. Turn the garage studio into a man-cave. Get that drum set you’ve always wanted. Anything but hurting the children and me with a reckless move like the one you’re talking about.”

Then I repeated my line, “What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?”

“How can we have a responsible distance?”

“I don’t want distance,” he said. “I want to move out.”

My mind raced. Was it another woman? Drugs? Unconscionable secrets? But I stopped myself. I would not suffer.

Instead, I went to my desk, Googled “responsible separation,” and came up with a list. It included things like: Who’s allowed to use what credit cards? Who are the children allowed to see you with in town? Who’s allowed keys to what?

I looked through the list and passed it on to him.

His response: “Keys? We don’t even have keys to our house.”

I remained stoic. I could see pain in his eyes. Pain I recognized.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re going to make me go into therapy. You’re not going to let me move out. You’re going to use the kids against me.”

“I never said that. I just asked: What can we do to give you the distance you need … ”

“Stop saying that!”

Well, he didn’t move out.

Instead, he spent the summer being unreliable. He stopped coming home at his usual 6 o’clock. He would stay out late and not call. He blew off our entire Fourth of July—the parade, the barbecue, the fireworks—to go to someone else’s party. When he was at home, he was distant. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He didn’t even wish me “Happy Birthday.”

But I didn’t play into it. I walked my line. I told the kids: “Daddy’s having a hard time, as adults often do. But we’re a family, no matter what.” I was not going to suffer. And neither were they.

My trusted friends were irate on my behalf. “How can you just stand by and accept this behavior? Kick him out! Get a lawyer!”

I walked my line with them, too. This man was hurting, yet his problem wasn’t mine to solve. In fact, I needed to get out of his way so he could solve it.

I know what you’re thinking: I’m a pushover. I’m weak and scared and would put up with anything to keep the family together. I’m probably one of those women who would endure physical abuse. But I can assure you, I’m not. I load 1,500-pound horses into trailers and gallop through the high country of Montana all summer. I went through Pitocin-induced natural childbirth. And a Caesarean section without follow-up drugs. I am handy with a chain saw.

I simply had come to understand that I was not at the root of my husband’s problem. He was. If he could turn his problem into a marital fight, he could make it about us. I needed to get out of the way so that wouldn’t happen.

Privately, I decided to give him time. Six months.

I had good days and I had bad days. On the good days, I took the high road. I ignored his lashing out, his merciless jabs. On bad days, I would fester in the August sun while the kids ran through sprinklers, raging at him in my mind. But I never wavered. Although it may sound ridiculous to say, “Don’t take it personally” when your husband tells you he no longer loves you, sometimes that’s exactly what you have to do.

Instead of issuing ultimatums, yelling, crying, or begging, I presented him with options. I created a summer of fun for our family and welcomed him to share in it, or not—it was up to him. If he chose not to come along, we would miss him, but we would be just fine, thank you very much. And we were.

And, yeah, you can bet I wanted to sit him down and persuade him to stay. To love me. To fight for what we’ve created. You can bet I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

I barbecued. Made lemonade. Set the table for four. Loved him from afar.

And one day, there he was, home from work early, mowing the lawn. A man doesn’t mow his lawn if he’s going to leave it. Not this man. Then he fixed a door that had been broken for eight years. He made a comment about our front porch needing paint. Our front porch. He mentioned needing wood for next winter. The future. Little by little, he started talking about the future.

It was Thanksgiving dinner that sealed it. My husband bowed his head humbly and said, “I’m thankful for my family.”

He was back.

And I saw what had been missing: pride. He’d lost pride in himself. Maybe that’s what happens when our egos take a hit in midlife and we realize we’re not as young and golden anymore.

When life’s knocked us around. And our childhood myths reveal themselves to be just that. The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: It’s not a spouse, or land, or a job, or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal.

My husband had become lost in the myth. But he found his way out. We’ve since had the hard conversations. In fact, he encouraged me to write about our ordeal. To help other couples who arrive at this juncture in life. People who feel scared and stuck. Who believe their temporary feelings are permanent. Who see an easy out and think they can escape.

My husband tried to strike a deal. Blame me for his pain. Unload his feelings of personal disgrace onto me.

But I ducked. And I waited. And it worked.

This essay originally appeared in The New York Times. Used with permission. All rights reserved.

This post comes from Theweek.com August 13, 2009

 

Extra Relationship Energy – By Janet Kira Lessin

1man2womenEarlier this month while Rose, my female lover, furiously rode my husband during a love-in, my body felt that old familiar pain in my gut and my heart once again. I silently collapsed in defeat. Jealousy! When will I ever be done with that ‘ol green-eyed monster?

“I can’t ever possibly compete with that,” I thought as I watched them, peeking between my fingers. “They’re so involved; so wild in their passion, they don’t even notice me and how miserable I feel!”

What chemistry do they experience when they feel that wildness, connection, joy? It looks like, but no, it couldn’t be could it? Could it be … NRE–new relationship energy?

Wait a minute here. My husband had been involved with Coyote and Rose for about 15 years! This was not a new relationship by any means. I met Sash, moved in with and married him. A month later, he introduced me to his lovers, Coyote and Rose. So, if anything, Sasha and I are the ones who possibly still have NRE, not Sasha and Rose!

But here it is, obviously, an energy that is still there for them after all these years.

I had been in two long-term monogamous relationships, 12 years each, spanning 24 years of MY adult life. I know how sexual excitement fades, how lovemaking becomes routine, stale, perhaps even boring. In those monogamous days of my life, I contemplated that “swingers” probably maintained the excitement in their love life by bringing that new, novel energy back home to their beds.

And what of my observations of Sasha and Rose, long, long time lovers? Their energy “felt” to me like NRE. I was jealous. Does he have something different with Rose and not with me-his wife, his buddy, his companion, his lover, his confidant? Perhaps there is a “key” here. What do they have together that Sasha and I don’t have?

Could they be so passionate because they don’t live together? Could it have something to do with the frequency of their encounters? And if there is a different energy for those who are infrequent lovers, perhaps we need to coin yet another phrase?

How about ERE? External Relationship Energy? Extraneous Relationship Energy? Extramarital Relationship Energy? Perhaps OPE: Outside Primary Energy?

Familiarity breeds contempt, doesn’t it? My husband and I counsel couples, triads and moresomes, so I’ve heard all the stories. I’ve also read hundreds of emails and had hundreds of emails, chats and instant messages from people bored with sex with their mates. Many complain “My wife (or husband) won’t make love with me anymore.” The neglected mate often goes out and cheats and feels justified for their actions. “We started out so passionate, so in love. What happened?”

What I think happens is we pent up resentments. Pent-up resentments create distance in our relationships. We always create resentments; we can’t help it. When we’re primary lovers with someone, we inevitably resent them.

We resent our lovers because we’re in the thrall of negative bonding patterns–repeated sour interactions fueled by our childhood conditioning. We react to our lovers as though they were our mothers, fathers or siblings.

We and our partners are imago mates, deeply imprinted, desired soul mates who complete each other, who give touch, sensitivity, intimacy and respect we still need but didn’t get (the way we wanted) from parents. The catch to lovers who could heal our hurts with parents is that our lovers could disappoint us again if they don’t do better than Mom and Dad. Our imago mates resemble our caretakers–not necessarily physically–but emotionally, psychologically and energetically.

Our imago mates mirror us, reflect our disowned subpersonalities, our inner voices. They show us disowned aspects of ourselves we need to use to center ourselves. They mirror underdeveloped parts of our humanity; they do this by what they do or how they are that we envy or hate.

Here’s how this operates for me and Sasha. He snaps at me because he’s scared ex-wife Joan will get our house. He’s upset by that but snaps at me. He morphs into an irritable father. I become withdrawn daughter, then angry mother. He reacts as rebel adolescent. We stick in a parent/adult/parent/adult vicious cycle till we center ourselves, apologize, reconnect and make love wholeheartedly again.

Sometimes partners find that though they forgave each other verbally, resentment lurks within and eventually kills sexual desire. They create internal scoring systems. She hits the “One Too Many Resentments” button and they separate.

We overcome our difficulties and survive in our relationships, react less to our lovers’ predicaments, and learn new ways to enrich ourselves by learning from our lovers. We learn, grow and appreciate our mates more. How do we prevent resenting the heck out of one another over time? How do we keep that passion of NRE or infrequent relationship alive in our primary pair bond?

I suffered jealousy for days; I ranted at Sasha. I penned a 7-page “hate” letter to Rose! (how dare she, that Bitch!). I analyzed my reactions with Sash and Rose when they came over. We’d focused on pleasing them and showing them a good time. But we lost feeling of being connected to each other. I resolved to return to Sasha during water and bathroom breaks. We’d bring each other the passion we’d just shared with our Rose and Coyote. We’d keep returning to each other. Sash enthusiastically agreed.

I keep communication lines wide open with Sash as loving, tactful and honest as I can. We stay orgasmic, follow our tantric practices twice daily, we can also enjoy sexual diversity and simultaneously keep linked to each other. Then we bring the electricity of other loves to each other.

Janet Kira Lessin: Original Post No Longer Available

Through the Looking Glass: Past Lives, Present Journeys

I crossed a stone bridge in the mist and as I came to the other side I was transported into a life I once knew. Gazing down at my feet I saw beautiful gold threads wrapping around them but no shoes. I knew I was a woman. I felt young, happy, and light bodied. Full of energy and love.

I was in love!

I looked around the room, it was just incredible, full of rich colors, reds, gold, browns, many intricate designs embroidered on the materials and lots of sheer curtains. A smell of incense in the air. A large grey beast sat in the middle of my room. It was not an elephant, but large. I never paid attention to its face, although I know it had a head dress on of some sort. At first thought I must be in India or perhaps a similar culture.

 I was dancing around in circles.

Joyously.

I had such beautiful long dark hair and there were all these veils of color hanging from my head. My skirt was beautiful, the colors and design swirled around me in a cosmic dance of fashion.

 I danced and danced.

 

Without conscious thought, I was transported to the scene of my death. A large man with rippling muscles stood beside where I lay. As I looked up into his face I could bearly see his eyes for the strange headdress. He was holding my arms above my head firmly, I felt another holding my legs down. I was laying upon some sort of rock/stone alter. There this “high priest” (I am assuming) with a wooden staff that had feathers and beads hanging from it said something about my sacrifice.

Emotions were running wild at this point. I could feel the anxiety in my heart. Why had I wanted this? What was I doing? Was is right? Was it really for a higher purpose or for not?

I was still young and in love.

 I recall the damn love. Damning it for the pain I was feeling. The loss I would once again feel. I gazed out over this vast, lush, beautiful green valley where my people stand below. It was a tropical forest created by the hands of the Gods. It was my death place. Looking out into the crowd, tears in my eyes I found the returning look my heart was longing for. Locking in on a young man, incredibly handsome. Dark beautiful skin, muscles toned perfectly, black shiny hair down to his shoulders. He smiled at me and my heart returned the smile as well as my face.

As the smile lifted my soul to the heavens I was quickly reminded of the pain that we can expereince in this realm; a sharp burning sensation below my ribs took over my consciousness….

As though time did not exist I found myself floating above my people. Over my lovers head, looking back from my aerial view I could see a stone pyramid shaped temple. Steps leading up to where I had just died. I heard cheering and then was whisked away and began to come back to an awake state of being in current “reality.”

“Perhaps expereince is the driving force that brings us back. Or perhaps learning something begets the desire to learn more, and learning more begets the desire to learn everything there is to know.” – P.S. Berg, Wheels of a Soul

Our past lives have a way of bringing us valuable lessons in times we least expect it. And with each visit of a past life we will re-learn a lesson and also be invited to awaken to another. This was the exact case for me during my Sacred Voyage to Maui. Little did I expect to be visited by the above past life regression.  Years ago I had done massive regression work to release my bondage to certain fears and discover the meaning of some important relationships in this current life that I knew had carried their energies from past. This particular regression opened up some interesting insights; from a fear of dancing to the saga of loosing love that seems to have rippled through lifetimes.

Maui brought home the fact that I was not yet done learning and releasing from this above life.

The morning was fresh when we decided it was time to journey away to the first of many sacred vortexes. As Greg “Magick” Bernstein and I drove down the pot hole filled road he looked at me and shared that the sight he was being guided to take me he had not taken anyone for many a year. Uncertain as to why he was being guided to do so, he shared some of the history of the sight. Known as the Temple Gathering Place of the High Supernatural’s, this was the site where the last human sacrifice of Maui was done.

 

However before we venture into the realm of sacrifice and worship, we must first prepare our physical beings. Protection, Appreciation, Understanding, and Honor. These things he would cover with me in Iao Valley Park. There beneath the trees, beside the running river of time, we sat and talked. Among the tales shared was one perfect for the birthing of the adventure at hand. One that not even Magick knew as of yet.

 

 

“Once there was a couple who sat and watched a cat in the weeds and flowers. The woman said, ‘Oh, look honey, the cat is smelling the flowers.’ The man looked over to the cat and said, ‘He is not smelling the flowers, he is peeing on them.’ The woman said,’ Well that is not how I see it in my reality!” (Story adapted from the one Greg shared)

Two different realities.

 Providing spiritual clarity as to why he was guiding to this temple, I shared my above regression.

 

Once we were prepared we ventured off to the temple. At our arrival the gates were closed. Magick looked at me and asked me to sense if we were to continue or not. It was my intuitive call.  I called out to spirit and was told to move forward. As I crossed through the gates my heart began to hurt. It quickly became unbearable, almost as though it was being ripped out of my chest. As we rounded a curve on the path my eyes set out on the remains of two adjoining temples that commanded a view that when build I am sure was spectacular. Stepped stones that towered above a below stream almost covered in overgrowth, this pyramid like sacrificial mound took in the view of ocean, valley and high country. The energy that released from its blood soiled ground was strangely peaceful and even calming to my being although my heart chakra did not stop vibrating with its intensity until I found my meditation place. Here looking back at the sacrificial site from a vista point of stepped stonework I sat. Back to the sun, breathing in the universe and allowing the four winds to dance with my ethereal being. As my soul danced and listened I heard the call of spirit. Particularly the call of Snake.

There in front of me grew a bush up through the ancient stones. Upon it was a small white pod of sorts. It sorta looked like a wishing weed. Spirit was asking me to take one and eat it. I argued with spirit out of fear, out of doubt. “How crazy to hear spirit telling me to eat some strange plant at a death site. Yeah most likely not the best of all ideas.” But with each argument the winds would blast me from different directions, pressing themselves into me and the vision of snakes within the stones would grow stronger. Spirit was speaking! Loud too.

Finally I asked permission from land and plant to pick the small pod flower. However chose not to eat it. Asking spirit if I had to, I was answered with a vision. The vision was of a dark cave, rocks, fallen trees, moss and tall grasses. I had no idea as to where this was so asked Spirit to share this vision with my guide, Magick.

Through time and space our many lives ripple into each other.

Even science is starting to realize that what we believe is our reality,

more than likely is nothing more than an illusion. Through the awareness

of our previous lives and the lessons that we still need to learn from them

and the strengths that we can harvest, we can not only advance our own

growth and light energy but also our healing. As we heal, accept and learn

to value those things that we in times before thought limiting or nonsense

we too can learn to love and share more freely in this life; creating more positive

manifestations for our current reality.

 

Through the looking glass of time, I was blessed with a beautiful opportunity to face

my fears, my doubts and my heart. Here at the sacred site of death, I sacrificed my old

self for the birth of a new reality. One where, my heart would no longer carry the fear

it had for so many life times but instead would call out to the heavens and LEAD my

current incarnation. There is only so much wisdom we are allowed to gather at one

given time, and with each drop of this wisdom we must always realize that the birthing

of our new reality will not come without first a death… Here is where we must have

CERTAINTY and KNOW that we are not alone. Perhaps we cannot see all that is to

come to pass with each choice we make, however the Creator can!

 

“Even the wisest cannot tell that a mirror shows many things. Things that were, things that are and things that have not come to pass.” (Galadriel, Lord of the Rings)