Okay, Girls, don’t let your hair stand on end just yet. I am not implying that we are inferior, only observing the obvious. In the words of James Brown, “It’s a Man’s World.” That being said, how we choose to fit in is of critical importance.

Like you, I sing praises for the advancement of women over the last 100 years—we now get to vote, and we are making progress on the equal wage front. Although most of our professional sisters have hit their heads on the glass ceiling, many of them have gone out on their own to become successful business owners. In fact, today more than ever—with some financial backing, a little luck, and innovation—we are becoming recognized as competitors in the marketplace. For most of us, this is no surprise because we have been the strong, supporting foundations for our families throughout our lives. Each of us is typically willing to use her entire god-given skill set to get the job done! So success is no surprise.

Collectively, we have learned the value of loving ourselves—thank you, Oprah! And we are forever working on no longer needing validation from men to reflect our worth. Yet I still live in a world where archaic views are kept alive. In this world, a middle-aged man introduces himself and shares that in his younger years he was a Chippendales dancer, and instantly an image of a hot stud forms in the minds of most. However, his female equivalent in age, upon stating that she was once a pole dancer, is booed for being a formerly loose . . . . Uuummm, and the difference is?

I still sense a strong undercurrent—a still existing double standard—for the valuation of females, and again I can’t help but think that this standard was set by men. Yes, women grow up assimilating these concepts and learning the rules of the “way to be.” Either you become a member of the rank and file and live by these rules, or you choose to be less feminine by the cultural standard. If you are a woman, the message is that it is better to purr than to roar. Why? Because men don’t like it when we roar. But when a man growls, we consider it a god-given rite of passage from boy to man. Maybe that is where the fork in the road of double standards exists.

Some of our sisters have retired their “pretty girl party shoes” for a life of resignation after realizing this lop-sided game brings little fulfillment. They know that somewhere along the way, they made the choices, and with each choice there is a consequence. It may be that they came to the realization that prince charming either doesn’t exist or would not pick them even if he did. So these gal pals improve their quality if life by forsaking their feminine allure as unfulfilling prophesy and go through life by bolstering their gal pal support.

That being said, there are those of us who still enjoy facials and wear stilettos (our girl power shoes). Although the trade-off of the former looks easier, I not sure I am ready to forsake the vagina for Crocs. Should there even be a need to choose? Something to ponder.

I recall two integral moments in life that, albeit different, contained the same life-defining message. Each episode was inconsequential on the surface; however, what I experienced was riveting. In each event, the common denominator was an eclipse in time when I was evaluated as a female “not attractive enough” to garner the interest (dare I say respect) of a man. These stories led to the stories shared in Owning Patricia.

I have always been friendly by nature, and during my 20’s, I was often adventurous as well. Once, when I was pregnant and approaching 30, during a long drive on the 101 corridor along the California coast by myself, I encountered another driver. We kept in step with each other for several miles. He waved; I waved. I pulled off for gas, and he was already at the pump ahead of me. Our eyes caught each other, and a smile was shared. I got out of the driver’s side with my 7-month pregnant belly leading the way, and he turned white then abruptly turned away. WOW! I get it that he was startled, given the obvious, but why did he stop being cordial?

Was I wearing a neon sign saying “Subhuman! Do not approach, make eye contact, or be decent and kind”? No, clearly he had been being friendly because I appeared to be well . . . available for the fantasy of whatever—that is until my baby belly sent out a tazer reality check. Okay, note to self. . . . When a woman is not sexually desirable to a man, her stock value plummets.

The next scenario segues to a larger, perhaps epidemic pattern promoted (perhaps unintentionally) by both men and women. I was 19 years old, and after trying with little luck to fight against the male consensus that by body was a formidable asset, I entered the underground world where sex was an industry and I was a worker. In this rather sobering environment, I had a brief stint as part of the inventory at (the once notorious) Mustang Ranch in Nevada, where prostitution was legal.

Unlike the street worker, the downfall for the worker at the ranch was that, once there, she had no choice about whom she would partner with. In contrast, on the street there was a selection process; he approached, you approved at your discretion. At the Mustang ranch, however, the girls were displayed like garments for purchase hanging from a rack for the male customer’s selection process. He would walk down the line eyeballing our assets to select the girl fitting his appetite. This scenario evokes a fierce emotional (from both men and women) response of revulsion. I get this.

For me it was in giving up my right (however minimal) to choose. For those looking in from the outside, the response may be to the exploitation of women: our sisters, our daughters, and dare I say ourselves. Yet a sophisticated and homogenized version of this selection process occurs in most male-female encounters, and this pattern has been as invisibly tolerated as the many other “-isms” in our culture. It can sting to read this—in a raw, distressing way. However, if luring or securing a man has been a purpose or remedy for us, what is that saying? And what if we don’t like that pattern as a reality, especially when it doesn’t make us look attractive or nice? Remember, we didn’t make the rules, and at any time we can change our participation and perceptions of their value in our worlds.

We are not strengthened if we attack, defend, or make excuses for one another. We are only strengthened when our resolve to stop participating in that selection process comes from us, by us, because of us as individuals regardless of our gender.

For those of you who may not have learned the skill of courtesy, there is no time like the present! Newsflash: today you’re middle aged and single. If you were once a thirty-something hottie and needed only to smile to get the girl, those days are over. Girls–strike that–women worth having in your world (non-psycho and self-supporting) are respectful of a man who knows how to SHOW UP as a gentleman rather than just another guy.

I am aware that, as years get added to our calendars, too often we grow complacent and forget the importance of pushing boundaries, extending comfort zones, and perfecting our abilities. We grow arrogant and begin to think that we are just fine (forever) the way we are today. Men and women both demonstrate this human trait. If you are single and want to stay that way, carry on. However, if you want a companion to share in your life, you must be willing (and, YES, able) to develop your valor in the dating market place.

Both men and women can begin this process by banishing trepidation, mediocrity, and self-imposed restrictions. Challenge yourself to move a few steps beyond where you are today. Extend your capacity and improve your opportunities.

For women, this may include the following: stop assessing a man’s earnings or potential as if you have the right to carry a yardstick. No one deserves to be assessed as if they are enlisted to create a life for you that you were unable to create for yourself. Girls, at this stage in life, it is about sharing.
So play nice and be open with who you are and what you truly want.

Men, stop listening to what other men (especially single guys) say. They are blowing smoke up your–well you get the picture. The human truth is that everyone wants to be loved and cared for. Scientific data supports the notion that this is how we thrive. Men in relationships live longer and are healthier; I don’t care what your single (perhaps unhappy) guy pals say. The trick is choosing wisely. To do this, you may have to modify some behaviors. BECOME the gentlemen you have the ability to be.
Perhaps your parents failed to teach you these gentlemanly skills, or perhaps your once rough nature was charming enough. Whatever the case, stop and allow these suggestions to wash over your gray matter. You are no longer looking for the barely ripe Chiquita; you are looking for substance, and that is going to extend to you as a warm reverence for the man you are. To garner this appreciation, however, you must first have the ability to present substance.

Like attracts like; if you don’t like what you are attracting, modify how you are acting.

Show your intentions. This is not the time to hold back or play hard to get. A woman of substance is honored by the display of a man’s of interest in her. If she is not, this is perhaps a red flag to spend your time or interests elsewhere.

On the other hand, if she is responding, the question becomes this: How does a man develop an ability that he has never had to use or rely upon?
Simple: just do it; ask her out, set up a date night. Send her a cute card, email her warm thoughts, or share tender words. Just as you are drawn to the smell of good cooking, these actions will deliver a fragrant aroma to her world.

Treat her like a lady if it is a lady you want. (Yes, she can still send shivers up your spine in the bedroom.) Be considerate of her words and slow to action in consummating the deal. In fact, put the bedroom on the bottom of the ”to do” list!

Get to know her and contain your lustful overtures. Self-control, boys: learn to wait for the goodies. If they are delivered too soon or too readily, they may not be all that good.

Something worth having is worth waiting for. Touché.

Let things progress in their time.

WARNING: Don’t be negligent or afraid to invest. Invest and grow it . . . one step of Chivalry at a time.

Decide today not to live in historic events. There you will be investing time from the past as well as the present (double dipping) on this story line. If the experience of the story is unpleasant, stop. Ask yourself how is the repetition of this possibly serving you? Get honest–then get over it–end the connection to what didn’t (doesn’t) work.

Become an advocate for your life and get in the game–willing to play (all hands), believing in faith, and yes even taking risks to enhance the learning curve rather than expecting immediate results or relief.

On the flip side of time wasted is time invested! This is where your heart shifts from a dormant position to a position of power! It is here. You are taking steps to live life fully. Time invested in the form of learning creates a payoff in knowledge and increased opportunity and joy!

First, you must decide and believe that you can achieve and create the life you desire.

Make today the day. Decide right now that you are going to invest your greatest asset, which is your time, in learning and implementing skills–things that will bring you closer to your desires. Take action. Use your dreams to move you in a desired direction. Use your heart to inspire your goal(s).

Do not dupe yourself into believing that achieving your goal will provide lasting satisfaction in and of itself. Become committed to achieving the collateral benefits today, too, then from here (in fertile soil), plant and harvest seeds for the goal to grow. Nurture it daily in the ways you “show up” (consider and serve) to others.

In joy!

~Patricia

P.S. Strategies that take your life to the next level may be found by listening. . . . However; success comes in practical application (doing), through trial and error. . . . Yes, over and over–until you get it! The more willing you are, the easier the process becomes. From there you then move to the next lesson on life’s game board.

Our truth is designed by who we are–in totality. This truth embodies our beliefs, our priorities, and our view of our role in the world. It speaks to our relationships with family, friends, and others who have had an impact on us along our journey. It speaks to our dreams as well as our fears. However, while being influenced by these variables, ultimately our truth is who we are to ourselves. It is born out of that relationship with oneself.

For most of us, finding our truth begins with looking at our past truth (who we were), our present truth (who we are right this moment), and our future truth (who we wish to be).

My truth several decades ago (who I was) was that of a neglected, angry young girl who felt no sense of belonging. I sought refuge in physical promiscuity, as I believed I was the sum of my body parts. I had no dreams, and although I wanted something better, I truly didn’t believe it was in the cards for me. This posture promoted an angry undercurrent inside my soul. After being raped and desecrated, I woke up to find that I could use my body parts for things that bought food and shelter. However, after years of experiencing the painful reality that was prostitution, I remained segregated, an outsider–a continuing member of the street social tribe. At that time, honoring my body was a foreign concept to me; however, the psychological and physical beatings that went along with that way of life finally caused me to flee. I began to allow myself to want more and believe that perhaps I was worth more (this is who I was at that moment). That pivotal position launched me onto a path that promoted education and the nurturing of myself and of my small child. I still had much to learn; however, the gears had changed, and the path I was on no longer was defeating my potential. Within a few years, marked changes occurred, and although I still struggled with how to live a quality life, I began to try with all my might (who I wished to be) to become an educated, upstanding, professional member of society with the credentials to help other people in similar stuck positions. Like many, shifting my life circumstances did not have a quick fix. It was evolutional.

It included disappointments, setbacks, joys, and accomplishments.

While these factors certainly influence the quality of our lives, they DO NOT define who we are; therefore, they cannot become the truth of who we are. That truth lies in what we each extract from every circumstance; it resides in the experience.

So I ask you to take a look at your role in your life. Examine how past and present relationships with family and friends have impacted your willingness to live in alignment with your truth (who you are). How has your truth been influenced by your relationships with others? Who have you become in these roles and in these relationships (who you are right at this moment)? Now imagine how this way of being may impact your future (who you wish to be). If the answer is that your current role or relationship does not foster who you wish to be, perhaps you are out of alignment with your truth. In this scenario, I encourage you to consider changing gears and perhaps becoming an advocate for your truth. This means changing who you are being.

If you are miles off the path of what you want for yourself versus what you are getting, perhaps it is time to ask yourself if you are serving your highest good by remaining in your current posture. Is it in alignment with who you are being? Perhaps an adjustment may be needed to bring you into accordance with your truth. You can facilitate that by changing your behavior, aligning with actions now to change what your truth will be.

Once we come face to face with our truth, the path towards alignment becomes almost automatic.

This is personal power and a huge testimony to self-love and fulfillment. It is the process of integrity shaping the design of what you stand for that is your truth. There is no right or wrong to one’s truth because it is unique for each person, originating from a culmination of her or his personal experiences. It cannot be disputed. However, it can be augmented with time, events, and, most importantly, behaviors. The secret is establishing a role as your own best friend “in action,” underscoring that you are worthy and deserving of the life you are out here to live. Each of us has this in our heart–seek it and you will find it. Acknowledge your truth and begin to live it!

I will share one further secret: living in truth, you will find that blame and deception melt away, as they have no significance—wham–living in truth; therefore, their grip is released.

Often we don’t see what is in front of us; we see who we are.

When I was a youngster, my mother was hospitalized, and I was often left home alone for protracted periods. Then she would go home and return to a pill-popping regime until the next hospitalization. As a result, good-natured strangers would improvise and make room for me. I remember when I was eight being enrolled in dance school early in the year. I suppose the thought was that I would be watched after by the staff. My mother, a perfected martyr, was always very adept at conveying to the school staff the tragic degree her illness imposed and how it did not allow her to be available as a parent. Over the weeks, as I waited for a ride home after each class, the staff began to befriend me. Within months I was at the dance school daily from 3-7pm. As a result, I became pretty good at gymnastics and tap dancing. However, I knew I was there only as a substitute for being home without supervision.

I became familiar with the families that came and went, and I remember being hugely impressed by parents that stayed to watch their children perform. I have always had an inquiring mind, so I got to know the details of many of the families. They learned about my absentee parent and always showed concern mixed with sympathy. I hated that. You see, I knew that my mother manufactured a list of illnesses that regularly pulled her way from our family. I watched her flirt with the doctors, lap up the attention of hospital staff, and enjoy visits from unrecognizable male suitors early in the day while my father was at work. This ruse was not working for me. And the fact that strangers bought it and made it out to be a tragedy irritated me.

On one occasion, I remember feeling so jealous of another student (and her intact family) that I hid from her the newly purchased satin toe-dancing slippers her mother had just bought. It took her an hour to find them, and I was caught red-handed and felt smaller than small.

I became good friends with the Asian family that ran the corner market, popping in for daily visits and rewarding myself with handfuls of candy bars. I spent time talking with them, amused by their different look and accent, until I got bored watching their parental glee as they witnessed their child’s most recent achievement.

Then the summer came, and there was no school, so it was decided that I would live with a nearby single-parent family with three obese teenage daughters living hand to mouth.  Surely a good resolve was to send me to these willing strangers in exchange for a token payment. So there I was living in a home where making white bread, mayonnaise, and bologna sandwiches was the focus of the day. These people lived in squalor, yet they seemed connected with one another–I was the little girl outsider living in their house yet feeling like I was watching it all from outside a window. It was in these two months that I remember fearing that if I went to sleep I would die. I would fight to stay awake, all the while believing that if I let go, I would perish. Needless to say, during these days I spent most every afternoon at dance school and often upstairs napping.

I also remember taking for granted what my body had been trained to do as no big deal to anyone else–so it was not big deal to me.

Something strange occurred 45 years later. I attended a yoga class for the first time in my life. People had suggested yoga to me over the years; however, I never had the time to sit so still…or so I thought. Now that I was in this new chapter “in life,” though, I decided to sign up for yoga and learn its practice and lessons. This would no doubt improve my new way of being spiritual, disciplined and mindful.

I arrived at the beginning class, and in came a man who would become not only my new yoga teacher, but also someone who would introduce me to new principles for living. He was generous in heart yet strong in his intention, something I have not readily seen demonstrated by males I encounter. The gift he offered his students was to slice out the 90 minutes in time in which the class could disconnect us from self-interest and draw from a source point that could fuel our souls. He taught us how to gather sustenance for ourselves.

Now, these lessons were not spelled out, nor did they involve a set of techniques. The time the class was together held a loving focus that encouraged us to disconnect from all else. The physical application of where our bodies went created intention. Each one of us did our own forging forward. I went inside to the furnace of my being and touched the fire power of my body. I assume that it was of no coincidence that several of the poses were reminiscent of my earlier days at dance school. However, something incredible had occurred, instead of being dropped off as a lonely child, I was found.

You see, in the decades that followed dance school, I came to intimately know and love myself. Now I could do the physical formations with pride as I alone witnessed the accomplishments. I didn’t need anyone else to notice or validate me. My body had been taught some wonderful configurations as a youth, but I was too emotionally twisted and hurting to behold them.

Something else occurred in that yoga class: I found the refrigerator, and it didn’t have bologna sandwiches! Instead, there was an array of healthy choices, each of which encouraged sustenance through a focus on quality rather than quantity. No need to fill up. I am not empty!

Ironically, we also live in a time and place where the evolution of enlightenment has begun. People want a life of purpose and significance. Many have embarked on the journey to learn, know, and grow. The terms authentic and transparent resonate with so many.

Yet journeys take time. Learning and growing take time. As time passes, we age, and by the time we have gained wisdom, our authentic and transparent selves are not fully acceptable–because we are seen as “old.”

I was recently talking with a group of people, both men and women, who ranged in age from about 35 to 55. The topic of conversation was the benefits and drawbacks of various kinds of running shoes. The conversation was lively and enthusiastic. One woman was describing her favorite shoe but couldn’t remember the brand name. “Oh, I know which one you mean,” I said, “but I can’t remember the name either.” We smiled at each other.

“I don’t know why we can’t remember,” she said, and I answered with a laugh, “It’s called menopause.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately. An uncomfortable period of dead silence ensued, as if I had broken a taboo. The taboo had nothing to do with a woman’s menstrual cycle, which used to be a taboo subject for polite conversation. No, mentioning menopause now was taboo because it relates to age.

So much for enlightenment. I guess vanity is stronger. After contemplating this incident, I understand that so many view aging as vulnerability. But why is the vulnerability associated with aging so uncomfortable, especially if we feel and look so much better than our parents did at our age? I suppose it is because it speaks to the mortality we each share. When we are young we are hot and alive, and when we are old we fear we may be stagnant and dying. Ouch!

Youth embodies so many dreams and promotes the promise of the journey to come. Age promotes wisdom and accomplishments and creates a person of confidence who is open to sharing. One does not outshine the other. So why do we act as if it does?

What is the answer? Instinctively, I am certain that love creates beauty through the ageless sharing of our souls. I know that arms wide open can heal and that this gesture creates joy.

So I close my eyes and say a prayer. I pray to remember that my life has endless possibilities and that my gray hairs simply mean my understanding of life has grown. I open my eyes and realize in this moment that my life begins again right here with the face in the mirror looking back at me. Then I offer a toast to our future of ageless dreams.

Take subcultures, for example. They are primal in expression, so we immediately cast them aside because they do not fit in with our need to be polished and unified. In fact, their statements of independence often strike against mainstream concerns about “how we should look/act,” and we are offended by their sheer defiance. Perhaps we find their failure to yield to the values and ideologies of the majority unpalatable. Yet that is exactly why they are subcultures. Their members behave and dress (a simple expression) in unconventional ways that hit a nerve in us.

We are often equally affronted (and intrigued) by the brazen nature of other subcultures such as the Mafia (and other organized crime families). Many of these groups lack regard for mainstream ideologies and subscribe to sets of rules that define their own social norms. Yet their members have in place very distinct values regarding loyalty and the consequences of questioning the hierarchy that erected the organization (uummm, sounds a bit mainstream). They value family, take care of their own, and turn on traitors in a heartbeat. The rules are raw, unveiled, and as a result, hard to digest. Yet below the surface, these rules are not very different from those of many other cultures. They demonstrate fear of reprisal (condemnation if you don’t play by these rules), and intimidation or rejection (no longer being a part of the family group or unit) is prevalent.

Now let’s take a look at organized religion. I recall visiting the Vatican and becoming hugely impacted by that which I did not expect. In this holy place, I expected humanity to be widely demonstrated for all, thereby acknowledging human equity and a reverence for humanity. The sadness that swept over me as I witnessed the tremendous wealth strewn throughout the city to glorify priests–all of whom were mortal men–in the name of the lord baffled me. The contrasting poverty around the city gates only intensified that distinction: there were the anointed, and then there were the others. I recognized no god among the 18-karat gold caskets and shrines to popes of the past. I became harshly educated on the hierarchy (man’s world) that has been erected in the name of religion.

Various cases of organized religion represent the sharing of values as introduced by leaders. The leaders create a forum so that members of the religion’s family gain security by becoming part of the group rather than remaining isolated. As humans, our inherent need to fit in is so primal it often can become insidious. The need to belong and be validated can become so strong that we forget to question the “norms” or hold onto our truths or individuality. We can become consumed by a measure of rank and a desire to be understood for who we are and what we stand for, even when “fitting in” means being different–like everyone else–as in a subculture.

During the promotion of my book, I recently visited the South. I was astounded by the number of bishops, prophets, pastors, ministers and reverends I encountered, all intent on leading their flocks (yes, there was a profit) in the name of God. Once again, the veil of fear was present via the threatened consequences of not turning one’s life over to God. The suggestion to join “us” was accompanied by the the fear that you might be doomed if you did not. The wealth of these successful leaders was generated by their followers, investing money to become members of the “family” and subscribe to pre-set values and ideologies.

My story is intentionally transparent because transparency has no veil. It was written and told in honor of truth. It does not attempt to conceal or conform by pandering to readers. It strikes a chord in women whose feminine power has been stolen and held for ransom by an industry (or a man) that has made a living by selling the sexuality of women–perhaps another subculture. It challenges how we view women sexually. It also calls into question how little empathy we sometimes show for both ourselves and others.

However, the story culminates in how forgiveness and love can transform. It speaks of believing in the God in you, that piece in you which distinguishes good from bad and knows right from wrong. In living in this world, we have become so compromised by fear, intimidation, hesitation, and isolation that we have reached for whatever we can find to gain refuge from the “what if’s.” So before moving forward, we must address the ever-present fear factor that resides in all of us–just as love does. Love is truth; fear is hesitation. Begin by believing in the love of self and coming into alliance with the god in you. This inner shrine truly is the testament to how you are living.

My god holds residence in my heart. I pay tribute through how I treat others rather than in financial offerings. He is my trusted anchor, encouraging truth while fostering my ability to act for humanity without judgment or persecution. He does not foster fear; he unshackles it. He encourages my voice rather than pinning me down with oppressive thoughts about what others may think. He promotes compassion and encourages acceptance. He does not limit or bind. He rescues and restores through acts of courage and honor. He never shuns the dignity of another, regardless of their past mistakes or misfortune.

In a world that is compromised by criticism and injustice, he nurtures and shields. He does not become limited by fear, as in his love it cannot exist. He turns hurdles into forward strides and recovery from disappointment into appreciation of the lessons learned. He is in you and in me. Our choice and perhaps responsibility is to nurture and feed that reservoir (love), trust it (faith), and share it (acts), and so He shall be substance for our hungry souls and our inherent need to belong rather than simply be left behind. Just tap into the reservoir within and let it flow. BTW, he is she . . . as are we.