Show Overview
I am coming to you from the quaint town of Tavira, Portugal, part of my year long travel around the world and the subject of my third book “Blue Skyways.” I’ll tell you at the end of the show how you can access an exclusive copy of Blue Skyways, but for now, I want to talk about sex. Yes, this next show is another in my “sex in the second half” series, and not all the content is suitable for the kiddies, so please use discretion before playing this podcast over your elementary school’s PA system.
Now I’ll admit, I am as dumb as a bag of rocks on many of these issues, which is exactly why I’m curious to explore them. At 63 years old, I can feel my body changing, and that is affecting my sex life. Sound familiar? Furthermore, my ideas about relationships are shifting. Is traditional marriage still the right model for men and women who want to have sex, or is there something else? What about living together 24 by seven by 365? Might there be another approach that is not quite so…ahem…suffocating?
I talk about all this and more with my next guest Wendy Cobina DeMos, who is the founder of SacredSexualMusicFestival.com and JuicyMeJuicyYou.com. Wendy and I met in her home city of Vancouver, British Columbia, where we huddled for this recording in her festival van on a rainy evening. Not only does Wendy have a wonderful vision for restoring the sacredness of sex, which you’ll hear about in this interview, she also is a talented musician. You can hear one of her songs playing in the background.
So please join me on the Dance you my conversation with Wendy Cobina DeMos of SacredSexualMusicFestival.com.
What you will learn about the Sacred Sexual:
- Wendy’s chants and chant music
- What is Kundalini yoga? How is it different from other kinds of yoga?
- The effects of the #metoo movement on how men and women are relating
- How a conversation with a friend who said she was “done with sex” led her to start sacredsexualmusicfestival.com
- Terri Daniel and The Afterlife Conference
- Terri’s new book Grief and God: When Religion Does More Harm Than Healing
- Why Wendy uses a Yoni egg
- The Wheel of Consent by Betty Martin from Seattle
- The different types of talks given at the festival
- What kind of men attend the festivals, and how they behave
- What other models for relationship are there that might be a better replacement for the traditional model of marriage?
- Esther Perel and her Youtube channel
- Polyamorous relationships. Do they thrive?
- Kamala Devi and her show on TV
- Wendy’s thoughts on the one night stand
- Organic alternatives to Viagra
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I Am a Racist
Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
Mark Twain
I often hear nowadays, people being accused.
“He’s a racist.”
“She’s a racist.”
“Trump’s a racist.”
“So and so’s a racist.”
What I have yet to hear is: “I am a racist.”
So let me be the first.
I am a racist.
Yes.
I see the ugly thing, creeping around my soul like a roach in the kitchen. I squash it, but sometime later, there it is again.
I know there is a nest somewhere, eggs hatching, a source deep within me, hidden away where it’s easy to deny. There is where I'll find the library of my false beliefs, the lies I tell myself over and over, so often they become grooves cut into my gray matter, like fissures in rock where the water runs down, cutting deeper and deeper, until fissures become swales, and swales become canyons.
When did the first racist raindrop fall? I don’t know. As a child, for sure. How many drops of poison does it take to pollute the vessel of pure water of which we are born? When, exactly, does a person become a racist, and who gets to decide?
I don’t know, but then, neither does anyone else.
I don’t believe in permanence. That’s one thing the Buddhists have taught me.
Everything changes.
We can become aware of that library of false beliefs, that nest of nasties that colors our perception of things, often for the worse. Awareness alone brings change. We can cut new grooves. My challenge as a human being is not to deny that I am a racist, for that would be as foolish as denying I have cancer when I really do. My challenge is, rather, to stop the cancer from metastasizing and poisoning the whole man.
I doubt I will ever fully eradicate my racism. Unfortunately, I suspect some vestige of it will always be with me. But what I can do, and what I do do, is expose myself to experiences that lessen my racism, those being travel, kind and honest conversation, and breaking bread with “the others” whenever I can. These experiences, like wind and rain, smooth rock and, over time, lay low even the highest mountains.
So when I hear the angry crowd shouting, "He’s a racist,” I want to ask:
“Who among you is not a racist? Stand up then and take a bow...for you are surely a god.”
I moved to Substack!
Hi there. If you've read this far, then you enjoy, or are at least intrigued by, my ideas. If you want to learn more, jump over to my new website on Substack, where I continue to write about travel, the second half of life, and other mad musings.
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Presto and grazie!
