SEXUAL MATURITY

On my 60th birthday, I plunged into mourning. I thought my sex life was over.

As I contemplated my bleak future, I took heart from Ruth Turner, who was quoted in Joyce Tenneson's book, Wise Women. At 75, Turner said, " I just got married again. I answered an ad in the New York Review of Books. That's how I met Larry. I am his sexual fantasy." I decided if she could be some ones sexual fantasy, so could I.

Further encouragement came while dining out one evening. As I prepared to order, I watched an elegant African-American couple of advanced years be seated next to me. She was somewhat frail, but he tenderly held her arm. I told her how lovely she looked.

With a conspiring air, he came over to me and said they were newlyweds. He proudly announced he had married a younger woman.

Patting him on the shoulder, I smiled and said, "Good for you."

He chuckled and said, "I'm 92, and she is 88."

As we ate, we chatted. As I was leaving, I bent over and whispered in her ear, "I just can't resist asking you. How is sex at 88?"

With a knowing smile, she replied, "Very interesting."

She promptly relayed my question to her husband, and we all had a good laugh.

A friend once said, "Nobody wants to talk to old people about sex." However, as a psychiatrist, my job is to ask questions, including questions about sex.

I once asked a depressed 78-year-old gentleman about his sex life with his wife of 50-plus years. He replied that it had always been wonderful until the preceding year. With a dejected look, he said that he was unable to have an erection because of his heart medications. He perked up when I suggested he talk with his cardiologist about oral and injectable treatments for erectile dysfunction.

A 92-year-old woman once related that she was saddened by her partner of 45 years who refused to be physically intimate. She said, "Old people still feel things. Believe me, I know."

Research has shown the need and desire for regular sexual activity does not significantly diminish with age. In fact, the ability for a man to achieve an erection and for both men and women to experience orgasm continues throughout their life spans. In additions, sexual activity, especially between loving partners, contributes to the physical and psychological health of the participants.

As mature women, we often have reared children and/or had fulfilling careers. Usually, we have resolved many of our emotional and spiritual issues and found peace within ourselves. In our maturity, we become comfortable in our skins. In the sensual and sexual realms, these can be our most fulfilling years.

So ladies, if you are having another birthday, put away your mourning shrouds. Enjoy your sexual maturity.

HAPPINESS

Individuals often speak of happiness as something they can directly achieve. However, happiness is a byproduct of a life well lived.

I recently attended a gathering of individuals of the Baha'i Faith. I have never been with a group who radiated so much love, acceptance, kindness and peace, the tenets of their faith.

The Baha'i describe the attributes of God as All-Loving and All-Powerful. According to Baha'i teachings the human purpose is to learn to know and love God through prayer, reflection and being of service to humankind.

Baha'i writings emphasize the equality of human beings and the abolition of prejudice. Humanity is seen as essentially one, though highly varied; its diversity of race and cultures are seen as worthy of appreciation and acceptance. Doctrines of racism, nationalism, caste, social class and gender-based hierarchy are seen as artificial impediments to unity.

The principles of the Baha'i Faith include:
- independent search for truth, unfettered by superstition or tradition
- oneness of the entire human race
- unity of all religions
- condemnation of all forms of prejudice, whether religious, racial, class or national
- equality of men and women
- abolition of extremes of wealth and poverty
- exaltation of work performed in the spirit of service
- glorification of justice as the ruling principle of human society
- establishment of a permanent and universal peace as the supreme goal of all mankind

(The information on the Baha'i Faith was taken from Wikipedia.)

Daily practice of the above principles would constitute a life well lived. Contentment, happiness and peace are its byproducts.

THE CUP

I saw a couple today whose college-age daughter will have her third cancer surgery tomorrow. Their pain was palpable. They pray, live one day at a time and wait for God's will to unfold.

On later reflection, I was reminded of Mother Teresa's comment, "I know God never gives me more than I can handle, I just wish He wouldn't trust me so much."

Then, I recalled Jesus saying something to the effect, "let this cup passeth from me." I went in search of the text, which is Luke 22:42. In one translation, on the Mount of Olives, Jesus said, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me, nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done."

THE HEALING POWER OF GIVING

The December 2011 issue of Ode, contains a series of articles on the healing power of giving.(odewire.com)

Author, Diana Rico cites various world religions views on giving.

"If you knew the power of generosity, you would not let a single meal go by without sharing it," the Buddha said ... Giving was advocated by the Buddha because it "both acknowledges the interdependence we have for each other and is the active practice of letting go, which is where freedom from suffering lies."

Paul exhorts, in 2 Corinthians 9:7, "Every man according as he purposeth in his heart so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver."

In Islam, the Qu'ran discusses the practice of giving alms. "It is intended not only to provide welfare for needy Muslims but to purify the spirit of the giver (who is cleaned of greediness and selfishness) and the receiver (who is saved from the humiliation of begging and envy)."

The Torah commands its followers "to open your heart to the poor and to the needy kin in your land."

Other authors discuss the body, mind, spirit and social healing powers of giving for both the giver and the recipient.

Another family shared their abundance by selling their lavish home and giving half of their proceeds to charity.

So goes the circle of life. Peace and happiness is the result of sharing, loving and letting go.

HAND UP

I enjoy asian food, and I look for wisdom within each fortune cookie. Recently, I received a true gem.

"He who climbs highest is the one who gives another a hand up."

This thought is one of purity and truth. Carry it forth into this new year.

STOP

My Divine Guides are attempting to teach me when to stop. I am given very clear inner directions in my painting. Yesterday, I knew I was to use bright-red paint on a 16x20 canvas. Initially, I thought I knew where I was going. All of a sudden the painting made a turn. My original idea was abandoned, and I began loading the canvas with another 16 ounces of paint.

(A friend of mine said that I do "paint sculptures.")

As I moved the luscious color with a brush, gorgeous patterns began to emerge. Suddenly, an exquisite design presented itself, and my inner voice directed me to "Stop." I hesitated, but thought I could improve it by one more stroke. Wrong. The vision now only exists in my mind.

With one stroke, it was gone. I worked the paint for another hour. Finally, exhausted, I came to what I considered a quasi acceptable form. My spirit guide said, "Don't analyze. Leave it."

The painting will dry in about a week. Then, I'll have a better idea of its form.

Today, I had a similar situation. I have worked on one piece for two months. I have applied layer after layer, with intervening drying time. The painting was coming into focus. I thought I was almost there. I was again instructed to stop, but I continued. At one point, I became so frustrated I started to smear paint all over the canvas and obliterate the design, which had come to me in a vision. I was into it a bit. Then, I heard, "Now that you have had your tantrum, clean it off and do it again."

With many warm, wet clothes, I removed the paint and resurrected the dry undercoat and began again. Believe me, the next time I was told to stop, I listened.

Obviously, it is very difficult for me to stop in the middle of a project. Especially, when I think, "If I work just a little bit longer, it will be the way I want it." You see where that philosophy took me the last two days.

Sometimes, I think I know where I am going, so I want everyone to move out of my way and let me "get'er done," as Larry the Cable Guy would say.

The truth is I don't know where God is taking me. So, when instructed, I must stop, rest and wait for guidance.

FIRST ART SHOW

Last night saw the first exhibition of any of my work, which consisted of two paintings. What was special for me was another exhibiting artist, Michael, raved about one of my pieces, "Roll With It," and complimented me by saying, "I wish I had painted it."

My art teacher, Patti, also said, "I've never seen anyone do the things with paint that you do."

Truly, the only thing I can claim as my own is hard work and perseverance. My emotional and spiritual healing opened the channels within me through which the Divine energy flows onto canvas. The visions and inner voice issues from the collective conscious of all that is and ever shall be. I feel blessed to be their recipient.

May each of you receive the Universe's blessings. L.B.

THE GIVING GIFT

Are you wondering what to buy for someone who has everything he or she needs, plus some? For the child who has a myriad of toys, are you tired of throwing money down the drain? I am certainly tired of buying presents for folks that don't need anything.

I have struck upon the perfect solution, Heifer International, (www.heifer.org/worldark.org/catalog). For less than you would spend on an unneeded item, you can change a family's future.

For the past few years, I have given my adult children and their spouses a llama ($150), sheep ($120) or goat ($120). I have stayed on the practical side with my six
grandchildren, clothes. Each one of them also receives a flock of chicks, ducks or geese ($20), honeybees ($30) or trio of rabbits ($60). For those of you who are more affluent, consider a water buffalo ($250), heifer ($500) or camel ($850).

Included in their Christmas card, which states their gift to another, I include a sheet on how that particular animal or group of animals can create a new life for those who live in great need. My grandchildren enjoy reading about how their gifthelps someone else.

Last year, a friend of mine gave her husband a goat. She thought it matched his personality. He laughed.

Purchasing any one of these gifts can help nourish and create an income for a family. With the money, children can receive an education. As their animals multiply, part of recipient's obligation is to pass on a portion of their offspring to others in their community. Make a difference with your money. Help others.

MISSING IN ACTION

For several days, I was abducted by paint brushes, beautiful colors and canvas. During such periods, I am fairly silent and non-verbal. Having surfaced for a few hours, I thought I'd catch up with my fledgling audience, whomever you might be. I recently made the leap from three to four followers. God bless you.

I often wonder, "What is the point of all this writing?" Then, something, like a new follower, helps me feel this blog might be useful to a very small sector of humanity.

I have been writing for fifteen years, resulting in five, adult works of non-fiction and six children's books. My investment, in time, emotions and dollars, has been enormous. My book sales have been negligible. This time of the year, I often become discouraged about these facts. However, after the slump passes, I pick up and go again. I write because I must write. The Universe will determine if any words that issue through me merit reading.

The good news is two of my books, Red Earth Woman and Red Earth Wisdom, are, or soon will be, in Amazon's e-book library. Carol and Edna will follow. Next, my newest book, Ivey Hayes: The Art of Living, will join its sibling's ranks. Then, my 2006 book, Renaissance Woman will join them.

I wish many blessings to all who wander into this blog. May you live in peace.

WASHING DISHES

My daughter and her husband, both excellent chefs, invited me for Thanksgiving dinner. On my arrival, much to my delight, three of my grandchildren, ages 4-to-9, surrounded me as I sat on the couch. They talked non-stop. Each one had multiple tales to tell. I partook of their loving bounty.

As all three of my children know, I am not much in the cooking department. However, following the meal, I am great in the clean-up crew. In dish washing, I believe in a sink of hot, soapy water, another of rinse water and a dish towel. Today, my seven-year-old granddaughter, Azriela, pulled up a stool and helped me.

As we worked and talked together, I thought nostalgically of my childhood, the holidays and large family gatherings, with their accompanying meals and dirty dishes.

I fondly remember those times, standing around the kitchen sink, washing and drying the dishes with my Grandmother Ollie, my aunts and my mother. It was the time the women chatted and caught up on the family news.

Women commune together as they work in the kitchen, the quintessential hearth. There, they return to their primal essence, the giver of life and sustenance.

RELEASING EXPECTATIONS

Recently, Chris, my art teacher's son-in-law, photographed fifty of my completed paintings. Earlier Chris had seen some of my work and appeared enthusiastic about it. After Chris saw more of my pieces, he seemed excited about showing them to his friend, who owns an art gallery. I am smiling inside.

In my art's process, be it writing or painting, I must release any expectations of the outcome. My job is to surrender to the Divine Source and follow the path that opens before me. When I release all of my expectations, the Source takes me on grand adventures, which are beyond my wildest imagination.

WHEN THE MUSE SINGS, DANCE

I awoke on the morning of 11/20/11, which was actually noon, with a painting dancing in my mind's eye. I saw one bold, central, dark color flanked by a bright color. The painting occupied my mind throughout the day. One by one, the canvas size, 24"x30," and its colors, turquoise green and orange, were revealed to me.

It is currently 2:00 a.m., my time, on 11/21/11. The bare bones of the painting is on the canvas. I know the piece will require several layers. However, I can now rest. Whether it is writing or painting, I know, when the muse sings, I must dance.

LIES

I look for the good in all beings. Lying is foreign to me, and those who use lying as a means to navigate in the world is almost incomprehensible to me.

Yesterday, I received information verifying my suspicion that one of my patients had lied to me on numerous occasions. I am deeply saddened and disappointed by his behaviors. His ability to look me in the eye and lie is uncanny. In his perfidy, his performances were of Academy Award caliber.

Because of his lies, over the past eight months, he has significantly increased my stress level and wasted a great deal of my uncompensated time. At this stage in my life, my energy to help others in therapy is very limited. Perhaps another could have benefited from my time. It remains to be seen if he, on some level, has benefited by our work together.

I see a great deal of potential in this individual. At this point, I am unsure if he truly wants help and is willing to work to change his behaviors. Only God knows the answer. Time reveals all. I may not be around to watch his story's conclusion, but I am certain God brought us together for a purpose. It is not necessary that I know the reason.

J. EDGAR

Recently, I took a movie escape break and saw Clint Eastwood's superb movie, J. Edgar Hoover. The man's tyranny was well known. The movie portrayed many complex psychodynamic elements, particularly the psychopathology of Hoover's relationship with his mother. However, the most memorable theme for me was Hoover's homosexual relationship with his second in command.

Again, like Memphis, the movie portrayed the trauma of society's condemnation of people for their sexual interest or orientation.

There was the very poignant scene of Hoover's conversation with his mother regarding his fear of dancing with a woman. His mother reminded him of their relative, Daffy, who dressed in women's clothes and eventually committed suicide.

Very pointedly, Hoover's mother said to him, "I'd rather my son be dead than be a Daffy."

Another powerful scene was after Hoover's mother's death. He put on his mother's necklace and dress and allowed himself to grieve.

The debate, of the movie's fact or fiction and its various psychological themes, could go on ad infinitum and are of no importance to me. However, what saddens me most about the story, which is based on social reality, that any form or expression of love is forbidden in our society.

We, the members of the human race, must realize love is just another word for God.

IMPRISONED BY FEAR

Over the years, I have seen many people imprisoned by their fear. No matter how miserable they are in a job, relationship or situation they refuse to change. They are terrified of the "unknown."

I have seen individuals paralyzed in marriages. The only freedom they will know is death, unless their spouse bails out first. In the latter case, as painful as that is for them, their spouse is doing them a favor. They are being forcibly evicted from their self-imposed prison.

The only true solution I know to fear is prayer, prayer and more prayer. The Divine Source will reveal the path. If they resist, their pain usually intensifies. Some will explore beyond their bars. Others, will huddle in the corner of the living death of their cell.

Enjoy the adventure of life. The wide-open expanse of all that is invites you to the dance. Check your fear at the door.

MEMPHIS

Yesterday, in Oklahoma City, I saw the Broadway Musical, "Memphis." The traveling play was on its first national tour. The music, singing, choreography and staging were superb.

Set in the 1950s, the story is based on the life of Huey, a white, Memphis disc jockey, who introduced the Caucasian population to the music of his "soul," the Rhythm and Blues of the "Negroes." In addition to the music, the story revolves around segregation and the forbidden love between a white man, Huey, and a black, female vocalist, Felicia.

At that time in our nation's history, there were anti-miscegenation laws, meaning laws against interracial sex or marriage. Hidden behind closed doors, Huey and Felicia were lovers and desired to marry.

To forbid love between two people, because of skin color and/or race is incredibly sad. I rejoice when I see racially diverse couples and their offspring. With racial blending, perhaps someday our planet will know harmony and peace.

ART SHOW - THE HEALING POWER OF COLOR

Today, six of my art works were photographed for participation in my first art show. When told of the opportunity, I was ambivalent. I wasn't sure that I wanted to sell any of my first born, especially those most dear to me. After some thought, I decided to charge what I felt they were worth. If viewers were not willing to pay those prices, they didn't sufficiently appreciate them, and they didn't deserve to own them.

When I began writing, almost 15 years ago, the words poured out of me onto paper. I am experiencing the same phenomenon with art. With visions of colors and forms, paints are exploding onto canvas. As some would say about independent souls such as myself, she dances to her own drum. From celestial origins, I love the beat of my drum. It soothes and heals my soul.

ANNOUNCMENT: The first showing of a small portion of my work can be seen on 12/9/11, 6-9 p.m., at the Shevaun Williams Photography Studio located on Norman's Main Street, between Peters and Crestwood. This event is in conjunction with Norman's Art Walk.

Eventually, my art work will be available on my website. I invite you to experience the healing power of color.

TRIP "HOME"

I have been estranged from my parents for over twenty-five years. Following my inpatient trauma treatment and memory retrieval, I was emotionally devastated and terrified of allowing them near me. I wrote them a note and stated, "A child remembers everything. Do not contact me again."

Over the years, I prayed for my parents. My fear of them and my anger toward them had largely abated. My pain had diminished, and I felt compassion and love for these two souls.

In 2010, I became aware of my need to see my parents. Before they crossed to the other side, I wanted to tell them that I loved them.

I sent them a card requesting to visit them. My mother responded. Over time and several correspondences, she invited me to visit. We planned to share lunch. I was to stay in nearby lodging.

In October of 2010, I made the journey to my childhood home. The distance required for me to travel far exceeded the mileage on the trip meter.

Having moved from the farm, my mother arranged for me to meet her at their new home in town. My father refused to see me. He had vacated the premises for my arrival.

At 86, my mother looked well. Her hair color and style were unchanged. Her face, due to cosmetic surgery, was as I remembered it. I was glad she had the means to meet her needs.

We had a very stilted conversation, as we sat at my parent's kitchen table. I inquired about her health and the various people in the community. With little visible emotion, she spoke of her health and reported the local news. She told me of her church activities and the monetary contributions she and my father had made to the church.

Throughout our time together, my mother avoided eye contact and made no inquiry into my life.

At an appointed time, she announced we were going to the farm where I was reared. My nephew, his wife and their two daughters now lived there and continued the farming operation started by my parents.

With my mother in the passenger seat, I drove to the farm. On arriving, I noticed little had changed. The house, barns, granaries were as I remembered.

As I gazed upon the various structures, I attempted to appear normal. However, I was experiencing a movie reel of flashbacks of the abuse that I had sustained in those buildings. The same was true when I entered the house. In vivid color, I was reliving my trauma.

I had not seen my nephew since he was a small child. I was struck by his resemblance to his father, my brother. My nephew and his daughters, ages two and seven, were filled with energy and delightful. I was unable to meet his wife, who was working out of town.

My nephew began to inquire about my life, profession and world views. To our surprise, there were many parallels in our journeys.

For lunch, we took my mother into town. Afterward, my mother was tired. I drove her home and returned to the farm. My nephew had invited me to spend the afternoon with him and his daughters.

At the day's end, I was exhausted, feeling emotionally fragile but glad I came. During the evening, on my return drive, I listened to the radio broadcast of the day's events. To my surprise, it was Halloween. Unknown to my conscious mind, my subconscious mind and Higher Source had coordinated the scheduling. During the subsequent four months, I was depressed and in emotional pain. The trip reopened my wounds. I had more work to do.

UNPLUG

I needed a respite from the world, so I unplugged it for a few days. I sought to disconnect from the chatter of patients and their interminable needs, but a few insisted upon intruding into my space.

Eighteen months ago, I was emotionally depleted, and my health was hovering on the brink of dissolution. I sent sixty patients letters stating, "For physical and personal reasons I must markedly decrease my practice and will no longer be able to see you." I saw this group of patients on an annual basis, and their medications had not changed for a number of years. In the envelope, I included 6-to-12 months of their medication refills, which gave them ample time to locate another psychiatrist.

Of this group of sixty, only one person contacted me with concern for my well-being. Most of them, when their refills expired, I received requests for renewal. Apparently, they mistook me for a free, psychiatric 7-11.

Over the years, I have seen patients who were very needy and self-absorbed. They consumed my energy. At times, I felt like they had an I.V. in my arm and were draining me dry. If I laid dying on the floor, I felt these people would step over me and keep on talking.

A few years ago, one such individual reported to me, with no sign of emotion, that her massage therapist, of many years, had died. His death appeared to be an inconvenience to this person. However, I was assured they had already found a replacement therapist, who was even an improvement over the recently departed.

Needless to say, to preserve my sanity and health, my work requires me to set firm boundaries and, on occasion, to pull the plug on it.

For several days, I have painted, read and rested. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time for me and plan to make it a regular habit. I encourage you to do the same.

PETYA

After a late night in the ICU, I was exhausted and famished. I made my way to a nearby restaurant. My mind was jumbled, but I finally found something on the menu that appealed to me. Petya took my order. As she spoke, I noticed her lovely accent.

After nourishment, I felt somewhat restored. I asked Petya of her accent's origin. She shared, thirteen years ago, she immigrated to the United States from Bulgaria. During each airline connection from Prague to London and on to Minneapolis, Petya noticed a man her age, who was on her flights. Finally, she asked him, Ivo, where he was going. He was also from Bulgaria, and his destination was the same as Petya's, a university in Edmond, Oklahoma.

"It must have been meant to be," said Petya.

Petya and Ivo eventually married. Each of them worked one-to-two jobs and, without student loans, went to college. They completed two-year degrees, followed by receiving Bachelors Degrees in Finance. They both continued to work and Ivo advanced to graduate school.

Ivo had just completed his Masters Degree in Business Administration and was looking for work. Petya proudly related rather than a CPA, Certified Public Accountant, Ivo wanted to become a CFA, Certified Financial Analyst. To obtain the latter certification, Ivo must work three years in the field and yearly pass a rigorous examination.

Petya plans to enroll in graduate school and possibly obtain a Masters Degree in Dietetics. After which, she wants to start her own business and work with obese children and diabetics.

From Petya's count, there are 10-to-12 Bulgarian immigrants living in the Oklahoma City area, and they are a close-knit "family." With Petya's evening job, she babysits, during the day, for two of her Bulgarian, women friends, so they can also work.

With the absurd furor about immigration, Petya and Ivo are people that I am absolutely delighted made their way to my home state. I'd like more people like them to follow their path. The have much to teach us about perseverance and hard work.