My Ninja Journey Part VII: "One of Life's Sweetest Pleasures"

"A kiss is something you cannot give without taking and cannot take without giving."

 "A kiss can be a comma, question mark or an exclamation point." 

~Mistinguett

"It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to its sweetness; it is the affection that sanctifies it."
~Christain Nestell Bovee

Kissing. It conjures up a swash of wonderful emotions, sensations and meanings. Originally an instinctual prelude to mating, kissing has transformed humankind by becoming the universal glue that binds. A nonverbal communication that declares a thousand things. A bridge to our past, present and future. Destiny where "soul meets soul on lover's lips" (Percy B. Shelley).

A kiss is both given and received. It's spontaneous. Unique. Intuitive. Indelible. Secretive. Affectionate; passionate. Romantic and blissful. It can be sexual. Or pure. Innocent. Or provocative. It can't be faked. Its duality can bring great joy. Or deep sorrow. Render you weak. Or brave. Vulnerable. Or invincible. It can awaken. Or even kill. A link between our inner psyche and outer world, a kiss is a mysterious, yet revealing, life-sustaining force. A symbol of tragedy. And betrayal. Of greeting and farewell. Simple, yet so complex, its power is infinite.

A wise NGF (Ninja-GirlFriend) of mine once noted it's a sweet piece of the big loooovvvee puzzle. And most of us girls, being the super sleuths that we are (especially of the ninja-variety), have a remarkable ability to spend an inordinate amount of time considering this intricate and intriguing mystery of the heart. In our pursuit of romantic nirvana, we think about kissing inside and out. Front, back and center. Morning, noon and night. In the shower; driving. Shopping. Doing our makeup. Sleeping. Whatever and whenever.

When the self-evaluation is semi-digested, we discuss it with our fellow NGFs. Sharing experiences, looking for meaning, finding relevance in subtle nuances and casual gestures. Making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. It's amazing how our imaginations can spin yarn when it comes to this rather carnal activity, convincing us of truths that might not otherwise exist...

But beyond the shiverin', sexy-feel-good of it, what do we really know about kissing? Is it truly the doorway to the soul that poets wax on about? The barometer of connubial bliss? The yin to the yang? The moth to the flame?

For me, understanding the meaning of this potentially intoxicating interaction has become my manifest destiny. (Not really... "Manifest destiny" just sounded cool.) No, seriously and truthfully, I've long felt its gravitational pull. It's mesmerized me and preoccupied me. It's shaped my perception of things.

As a little girl, I remember believing that only married people could kiss on the lips. (Did I mention I had a very strict upbringing?) In my innocence, I sensed there was an intimacy to this sacred act that warranted an official union. How else did I account for various characters on TV who kissed each other? According to a six-year-old's code of ethics, thin pieces of cellophane must have sheathed their mouths, preventing unsanctioned lips from touching. (Clearly, I was already familiar with Medieval social manifestos on propriety and decorum because kissing was considered serious business back then. One could be forced to the altar if caught kissing in public!)

Eventually, (at the age of 24... no, just kidding) I came to realize that a blood test and license were not a prerequisite for locking lips. I'd also come to know that the quest for kissing of the truly romantic kind would be a tad challenging in "grown-up" life. Despite a spirit that's always been ready, my fulfillment would
swing from feast to famine.

Not long ago, I was experiencing a seemingly terminal kissing pause - the kind that has you appreciating just how a nun can live a life of chastity - when lo and behold, I found myself at a party standing next to a guy with major kiss-a-risma. He was chatting up the girl on his left, but his magnetic allure distracted me from my own party-companion. Somewhere toward the end of the evening, we started talking. I liked the way he thought. I liked the way his mouth looked when he talked. I liked the ease that washed over me. As we made our way away from the party, he suggested we find a coffee shop to continue the evening. We moved from Starbucks to CC's, sipping coffee and hot cocoa while sensing that palpable crescendo of chemistry and synchronicity. Somewhere in between deep personal questions like "Have you ever had a broken heart?", the kissing began. It was kissing of the highest order. A flatlined sex life was suddenly shocked back into a healthy rhythm... Sigh...

The kissing that occurred on that most memorable, sacred night would break the drawn-out dry spell. Almost overnight, a whistlin' tundra was transformed into a lush, tropical jungle. And so I began an unprecedented kissing romp-capade, jumping from lily pad to lily pad.

Months later, waking up one morning in a hazy state of early-dawn daydreams after an evening of some very scrumptious kissing, I began flipping through the "Boys I've Kissed" pin-up calendar in my mind. Seemingly forever possessing a 14-year-old mentality, I pulled myself out from under the cozy covers to scribble
down the jumbled "Kissing" file-cabinet that was suddenly unlocked from the deep corners of my mind.

These notes of historical (or hysterical) significance got me thinking about all the utterly delightful kissing experiences I've been lucky to have. Women are often told they'll need to kiss many a frog before they find their prince. Or that kissing is the key ingredient to a happy romantic life. Mostly, a kiss is simply a nice way to say hello. And spread a little love. It's also fun to do in the shower, at the movies, on a park bench, over a candlelit dinner, or in bed first thing in the morning. There's really no better way to spend time with someone you love, like, or unabashedly lust for. Whatever else it may be, kissing is a beautiful thing.

So spread a little love with a kiss. And remember the "Kissing Credo:"

Kiss with enthusiasm and respect. 
Kiss with adandon and no regret. 
Kiss knowing each one counts for something. 
And forever be in quest of kissing!

Until next time...

My Ninja Journey Part VI - "Mount Fugi of Life"

 By the time I was twenty-five, I had stumbled into acquiring everything I assumed a human who might later be forced to attend school reunions should have. I had rustled up a tall, good-looking husband. I had a job title that made my parents proud, one I liked to say out loud. I had purchased a home with my husband in a quaint little suburbian subdivision with everything a first-time home owner could want short of a picket fence, despite the whole "being able to afford it" part. I finally felt like I belonged to the world, like I was enough.

Fast-forward to present. Everything I had acquired that I thought made me complete, whole, is now gone (along with a few extra things I had taken for granted that I'll just call "bonus points"). The beautiful home that I was going to start a family in burned to the ground, my husband and myself barely escaping with our lives, not to mention losing EVERYTHING. The job I had was long gone. Even the tall, good-looking husband I had "rustled" up fell out of the picture. Throw in my parents' divorce, my mother's death, along with my grandmother's and aunt's deaths within a three-year span and the picture I painted in the first paragraph doesn't sound so appealing anymore... Everything I had mistaken myself for had been systematically stripped away. I was left starkly naked. With or without my permission, life had broken all my ties that blinded. Who was I if not these things that stamped societal approval of my existence?

Like a snowball with a seed at its center, we roll down the Mount Fuji of life, amassing layers of expectations and misbeliefs about ourselves and how we should live our lives, until the simple seed can no longer be seen. This blind, insulating accumulation starts to seem like life stats taken at the the hospital: "Yes, she bought her first home, check! Blood pressure and career title? Check, check. Pulse and marriage certificate? Check."

I've learned that as humans we sometimes tumble far from our truth. As warriors, we fight to come back. We shed every single thing standing in our way, and sometimes when we we don't, life has this lovely way of doing it for us anyway. I've been asking myself a lot of questions of late, and although I haven't found the answers to any of them yet, I mull them over almost daily: Who am I living my life for? What ideas about myself are holding me back? Am I keeping my life small because of some misconception that i won't be liked if I'm successful? Am I afraid I won't be liked if I'm not successful enough? Am I afraid to move on from a situation because it would involve risk, change, and uncertainty? Am I afraid to stop eating a baker's dozen before bed because mainlining sugar is more comfortable than sitting still and being in the moment?

I'm still reading the Shambhala book, "The Sacred Path of the Warrior," in my quest for ninjahood, and Master Trungpa says "one must cut a few buds if you want your rosebush to grow back twice as abundant." Look at your life. Intuitively we all know what is not authentically a part of ourselves. We know what is ready to be clipped. Whether it's a relationship or a little habit, letting go of what stands between you and your most pure self can be painful and radical. A warrior-ninja is here for epiphanies and progress. With that said, I have come to the realization that in my quest to become a ninja, I must identify all the ties that blind, and then let each of them go.

The warrior's way is to get in touch with the core of you, the you at the center of all that snow. The you that laughs easily and feels light and can't wait to wake up in the morning. The you that looks straight in the eyes of the one you love, speaking nothing but your truth. The you that doesn't need to prove anything or live for anyone, is just enough - exactly as is. So your life rarely feels like a "have to," and nearly always a "want to." A "can't wait to." Think about it.

Until next time...