June 21st, 2000 Zen and the Art of Sex Advice| Heather Corinna My teaching is like a finger pointing to the moon. Do not mistake the finger for the moon. - Buddha Magazines, web sites, books and other media are exploding with sex advice and many people are eating it up in big, gluttonous mouthfuls. Unfortunately, most of it isn't very good advice. That isn't always the fault of those giving advice, it's the nature of the beast; it is a flawed construct. Asking someone for intimate sexual advice, who does not know you or your partners, your histories, your bodies, or the dynamics of your relationship day in and day out, is at bit silly in the first place, when you think about it. If I were to, say, ask you to help me write this editorial, knowing neither my life experience, my audience, nor my aims and goals, but knowing only that I wanted it to be good, you could be of little help, and that's no fault of yours. It's my fault for looking for a quick product in what should be a long and thoughtful process. If by chance you could do it all for me, I'd have missed out completely on learning and doing what I needed to grow. I recall hearing a very popular sex advice columnist state once that he did not answer people's questions as correctly as he could, nor even as accurately or as sincerely, but instead, told them what they wanted to hear. Doing that makes your work popular, and brings many people to you for "help." Doing otherwise makes a lot of people looking for simple answers to very complicated questions very unhappy. Most of them will turn instead to the one who just says what they want to hear, and that's a pity. It is like putting a band-aid on a wound too deep: it will bleed through in time, and while we're going through boxes upon boxes of band-aids, we can cover the wound, but it cannot heal. For some strange reason, many people equate "learning" sex or intimacy with learning to do something rote like cooking a particular dish, riding a bicycle, or memorizing a bus schedule; they think it something they can learn once, and never need to learn again. I would gander that many feel that way not because they truly think it is that simple, but because they direly want it to be that simple. It'd sure be nice...or would it? One of the real glories of sex is that we can never be it's master, even if we fool ourselves into believing we can. Just when we think we've got it all down to a science, life throws us a monkey wrench: a new partner, a change in our bodies, hearts or minds, a new idea, a new notion of our sexual imagination, a new moment, always different than the last. It is as if sex, anthropomorphized, is trying to tell us that not only can we not master it, but that if we feel we have, we've forgotten it's very essence; we have forgotten our very essence. If we could master sex, we'd all be horribly bored, unhappy and dissatisfied in no time. We would all have a plow, but no horse to drive it. If sex were simple, few of us would be very fascinated by it. Few would be angered or scared of it. Heck, I would also be out of a job. If sex were simple, it would not be sex, and it would not be as integral a part of our being as it is. If we think of sexuality as a moon that a finger might point us towards, we can perhaps see how tragic it would be if in our lives we only saw but one face of it, or worse still saw only someone else's rendering in words or in paint, rather than the whole of that glorious orb with our own eyes, wide open. I offer you all the sex advice you'll ever need in but four words. The real truth of it is, sex IS simple, but it is simple in a way in which the most healthy and enlightened way of being is that of a neophyte, not a master, and in which we come to it empty, open and innocent every single time. Accept. Honor. Analyze. Communicate. One of the larger problems we have in our culture is that we are prone to say, "This is wrong, fix it and fast!" to our partners, or our doctors, our bosses, and so forth. Too many of us, upon barely recognizing only the slightest symptoms of a problem, quickly turn to someone outside ourselves to serve up the magic trick, pill, diet, religion, twelve-step program, videotape, manual, magazine article. Quite frankly, capitalism and dictatorships depend on people to behave this way, as does western medicine. We can say that the world is set up that way and so we must relent and adapt to it, but it is only we who have made it that way and support those systems. What I'm suggesting is that you flick a few switches in your brain when you have a problem, and stop trying to cut out the middleman. Instead of running to get someone else to "fix" something that's wrong, try this: recognize that something is wrong, and do nothing but that. Accept that it simply is, and it is for a reason; not the "as cruel the fates will" sort of reason, but something real, tangible, and within your control on some level. Having a problem is not a roadblock. More often than not, it is an opportunity for growth. Thich Naht Hahn once said that when driving, many of us tend to get very annoyed when we hit a red light, as if it were deterring us from our course. But if, as he suggested, we see it instead as a pleasant break, which allows us to quiet our mind for a little bit, to breathe and relax before continuing, we can see that it isn't keeping us from getting to where we're going at all. It can help to get us there safely, peacefully, and provide little respites all along the way so it isn't a mindless activity. If I were a runner in a marathon, and I got a cramp that kept me from running for a bit, I might see that as an impediment to winning the race. On the other hand, I have that cramp because I have overexerted my body in such a way that it is trying to tell me to stop before I do irreparable damage to it. It is a help, not a hindrance. Our "problems" or our suffering are often necessary and helpful, but it's difficult to see that when we are too busy and frantic trying to fix them and make them go away. "Our difficult mind states become a problem only if we believe they are going to go on forever." - Sylvia Boorstein Once you acknowledge and accept something, you can analyze the root of the thing. Let's say, for instance, you have a simple sexual "problem" like being unable to satisfy your female partner with intercourse. I get letters about this all the time. So, you recognize that it is an issue, and that it is making you suffer in some way. You honor that issue by acknowledging it, and then you pick it apart a bit to find it's source. Perhaps you first think your technique just stinks. So, go learn proactively. Look at anatomy charts, look at your partners' body, experiment. It's likely that in looking deeply at the issue, you'll realize it's far more complex than simply not being able to angle your pelvis at a recommended 35 degree angle. Maybe you and your partner don't communicate well enough during sex or outside the bedroom for you to know what she wants. Maybe you or she are doing things for the wrong reason, or are uncomfortable with some part of the act. Maybe one or both of you have other relationship issues that only seem to come to light when you're sexually engaged. Maybe you're just too hung up on being King of Intercourse when you should be simply enjoying yourself and your partner. Quite frankly, maybe you aren't using the same simple process in sex: accept and fully honor the body and it's parts, understand how they work, and communicate as best you can. Don't rush it, don't "fix it," utilize it for growth and understanding, and relish that process. No one else can evaluate the whole of a personal situation but you, and to really solve a problem, we have to process it all the way through, or it'll just come back. It's a bit like getting over a cold: if we just take some medicine and carry on with our lives as if we aren't ill, it takes us forever to get over it, and because our immune system wasn't ever given a rest, we make ourselves more likely to keep getting ill again and again, until our body finally gives us no choice but to give it the rest that it was, illustrated by that first cold, asking for to begin with. The people telling you what you want to hear may be making you feel better, but they aren't really helping you at all: they're holding you back because you're asking them to. How much better we'd all be at giving advice if for every question someone asked of us we simply said: ask yourself first. Accept. Honor. Analyze. Communicate. A little perspective also never hurt anyone, and if we are being truly reflective, we'll get some. When we are completely wrapped up in our troubles, they can consume us and take us over, and what with perspective would be a small thing indeed, becomes a veritable mountain without it. We may be impotent, but are not starving or homeless. We may have a disease, but can afford medicine and care for it. We may be unhappy with our partner or our sex lives, but we have the luxury of the time to even fret about them. We forget, all too often, that our problems are not unique to us: everyone has them, someone has always suffered what we are suffering before, and it is not something to make "go away." It is a necessary facet and reality of every human life and in nature, and without it, our personal and universal growth would stagnate. More times than not, your pain, suffering or "problem," isn't an impediment to you, and running around trying to make it go away as quickly as possible is the best way to guarantee that it never heals, and never goes away, in sex as in anything else. Want my advice on who to ask when you have a sexual problem or issue? No problem: ask yourself. It isn't quick. It's probably going to hurt. Moreover, you may find your problems are even more complicated than you thought they were, and there rarely will be a quick fix for any of them. That isn't, most likely, what you want to hear. But if it was, you might never have the joy, the terror and the sheer awe of seeing the whole of the moon because my fingers were in the way. "It is hardest to cure a disease when the medicine we take itself causes the disease. We scratch the itch, and the scratching only makes it worse, we try to quench our thirst by drinking salt water, and we make ourselves thirstier." - Joseph Goldstein © 2000 Heather Corinna. All rights reserved. wenches of yesteryear | home