Wrapping Gifts

By yours truly.

My friend asked me to help him wrap presents for his daughter while he's out of town. I did it mindfully -- every cut, every crease, every fold -- peacefully and with a lot of love, anticipating the child's joy. I took my time.

I thought about this preposterous notion of holiday stress, which robs many adults of joy. Wouldn't it be better if we just gave ourselves the gift of time? Thanksgiving dinners that take days to prepare are swallowed in minutes. Gifts that are painstakingly wrapped take seconds to unwrap. The paper is torn apart swiftly, thrown away and then suddenly, it's over.

When we gift, do we take time to think of the receiver of the gift? When we receive, do we take time to think of the giver? Do we think of everything that must happen for that communion, that meeting of my gift in your hands, to actually happen?

It's kind of a big deal. A miracle, really. And it all disappears into the big black hole of pressure we've invented that has nothing to do with Christmas.

Wouldn't it be better to have a holiday without so much -- oh, what should I call it? -- all this "muchness" that dampens the very spirit of that which we're trying to celebrate?

To let time expand instead of spiraling into a tight wad of stress -- that would be a great gift for all. So, I'm not going to wish anyone a happy holiday. I'm going to wish everyone a mindful holiday.

As I wrapped each gift, I thought about my inner child -- that adorable toddler with diapers bunched up under her pajamas, standing next to the Christmas tree with a mischievous smile and eyes beaming delight. There'll be no more Christmases for my family: no more mom, dad in the nursing home unable to tell the difference between one day and another and me, alone.

And then I thought about a gift I unwrap every day: dawn. And the blessing of an even greater gift, the present I unwrap every breathing moment of my life: the love my parents and I shared.

You can't put a ribbon around that love, yet it is binding and freeing all the same.

I can't wrap or unwrap my other human family, either, nor do I want to, because they are gifts that give every day: my sweetheart, my friends, the people in my professional life and YOU.

I am blessed.

Every cut, every crease, every fold -- how are you wrapping the gift of your own life each day?

A Heart Never Sleeps

"Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again."

-- Almasy to Katharine Clifton from the English Patient screenplay, by Anthony Minghella.  Drawing by yours truly.

HeartCamp 2013

One of my drawings, inspired by this event.

Sex and the Beach will be on a bit of a hiatus until February. Yours truly is organizing the second annual HeartCamp, which is keeping me quite busy, in between work, caregiving for my elderly parents and planning a move back to South Miami.  Sometime life takes priority over blogging. Actually, if you're a true writer, you're always "writing," even when your hands are far from quill and paper.

HeartCamp will gather speakers and participants from all walks of life to discuss all matters of the heart, from the physical to spiritual and creative aspects of what it means to be a heart-centered being.  We'll discuss all kinds of juicy topics -- sex, relationships, nutrition, breathing, heart health, following your heart's desires in your career and life, motherhood, pregnancy, heartbreak. communications, neuroscience and so much more.  Speakers include Tedx presenters, life coaches (one flying in from Chicago), literary authors, sex educators, pharmacists, doctors, relationships coaches, marketing professionals and folks with just a really good story to tell.  The audience is invited to participate as well. We'll have a plenary open-mic session at the end.

This splendid day will take place on February 2 at Hotel Urbano Brickell in Miami.  It isn't just a girly event.  Guys are welcome, too -- day before Superbowl! But guys, what a great gift to give to your football widow, eh?

Learn more at HeartCamp or register at Eventbrite.  Deadline for registration is January 25.

I hope to see you there!

Tarde Em Itapoan

The other day I was talking to a friend of mine from Brazil about the things that mean most to us and it reminded me of a drawing I created in 2004, inspired by the beautiful song by Vinicius, Tarde em Itapoan, which is about the simple pleasure of spending the day on the beach with someone you love. (Itapoan is a beach in Salvador de Bahia.)

This drawing came from a previous romantic relationship, before I had ever started a blog called Sex and the Beach, as he and I had talked about going there, making love on the sand and enjoying some peace -- a plan that never materialized; he was full of empty promises.

Nevertheless, I always held the dream of love on the beach close to my heart and sure enough it did materialize, eventually. There have been beautiful moments on the beaches of South Florida, many passionate kisses under the moonlight and love making wearing nothing but the intoxicating ocean air.

Ironically, as you can see the woman is alone, looking out into the horizon, with a bird flying that represents hope and a sunset that symbolizes a future. Men may come and go, but dreams don't die and love survives.

This drawing is just as important to me now as it was then. And reviving this memory today, I've come to think that "sex and the beach" is really not so much about the beach at all, but whatever means most: a particular beach, a mountain, a city, a bed ... it doesn't matter. It is a state of heart. We all deserve love in the places we love, but love is not a place, it is a state of being -- no matter where you are.

Below, enjoy a lovely acoustic version of Tarde Em Itapoan below with Vinicius and Gilberto Gil.

A Death Prayer and Some Laughs

Well, before you start thinking the author of this blog has major mood swings ... something funny happens to you after you've flatlined. It's hard to explain, but boy does this change you forever. I was talking to an old grad school buddy about this and ya know, it seems like all in a day's work, but not really. It's possible to be all bumpity-bump and yet perfectly content ... the heart is a VERY fickle organ, but you still look at that electronic monitor like it defines you somehow. And well, that thing called death, it's like I walk hand-in-hand with her every day, eating a snow-cone or having a grand old time, all good stuff.

In any case, I was inspired by my friend over at Gaping Void for some profound thoughts on a death prayer, but even perhaps more so on just the thought of what if? based on my own lived experience. Well, more cartoons and inanity tomorrow, for certain ... no one ever said the laughs came easily. But they do come, don't they?

PS ... if it helps you to know, as I thought I was at death's door, I was cracking jokes with the cute ER staff in green scrubs, would you expect any less? Soon I will tell you about the hilarious experience at the hospital, no less than 4 EMTs as my witness!

tags: heart, cartoon