Last summer, I was obsessed with the Sturgis motorcycle rally that took place in South Dakota as it has for the past 74 years. There was some handwringing on the part of the mayor, local business owners, the event organizers and, despite the surge in Coronavirus cases headed their way - they decided to go for it. For days, I scoured the internet for stories, trying to understand how someone would come to such a conclusion. I wanted to know, if the draw was so great, how it felt to be there. I wanted to see their maskless faces and—to be honest—I wanted to pass judgement. What about the locals who didn’t get to choose? The Native American tribes just to the north who can’t control their borders? The family members back home who would be sharing the experience, and the virus, whether they wanted to or not. I read reports that estimated that 260,000 people became infected and I also read reports that said that number was inflated and that it was impossible to know.
I must admit, I took pleasure in my judgement. What surprised me, though, was how much pleasure I felt from the photos of the gathering. I could feel the chorus of engines as they passed down Main street, the love of lifelong friends at a chosen-family reunion. And the delight of a group whose identity is based in-part on a raised middle finger defying science, authority, and reason. I got the why. We are animals. We are meant to gather. To be with our tribe.
Last week, as we awaited our Covid results, I was a ball of anxiety. I wasn’t so worried about what path the virus could take in my own body, or that of my family. I’m hopeful that we would be among the fortunate majority who survive it, and that we might be in the even more fortunate top percentile of people who have a mild case.
The real anxiety was because we were planning a small gathering of friends in the woods. I suddenly related to the Sturgis bikers and business owners who deliberated in their own way about the balance of pleasure and responsibility.
A friend wrote to me after last week’s newsletter, wondering how Neitzsche’s words, “Build resilience by attending to what is pleasurable rather than focusing on the wound,” fits into this equation. “There is a strong connection between molding your own reality but,” he asks, “is there a dangerous line that borders on losing sight of others around you?”
My response to this line of questioning has been that I have a deep trust in humanity, in the goodness that would emerge if we were able to discard the shackles of obligation, if we were able to decondition ourselves, get back into our animal bodies, and live in harmony with nature. If we could do this, then following our desire, the path of pleasure is the right one. Is it possible that what is gluttonous for one is healing for another?
But there is so much noise in the channel between self and other, between self and the world. It is hard to get a clear signal.
I didn’t want to give up the weekend, one that was a seed that took root and had grown into a deeply meaningful gathering. It was a much needed balm after the months of skin hunger, of yearning to cook meals and dance with friends.
And yet, I couldn’t bear the responsibility of being a vector of contagion, of convening friends and then sending them home to their families and communities with the virus. I could not bear to be the host, as the White House has twice now - of a super spreader event. All week, I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if I needed to be reminded of the stakes. There is a blurry line between having the virus and fearing the virus. There were moments I could not breathe.
Our friend Tory is trained in both medical and esoteric arts. “The only thing to do here,” she advised, “is communicate as openly and accurately as possible.” It is the truest responsibility we all have, to allow others to have all of the information that is available so that they can make their own, informed decisions. And so I wrote the group. I told them about the date and time of my daughter’s exposure to Covid, how we would be tested, how everyone would get tested, about my deep fears but also how, when I tuned into my body and asked for guidance, I got a clear yes. I wrote: This is truly the lesson of Covid: There are no guarantees. I trust that everyone will make the decision that is right for them.
They called one by one. Some said they would still come. A few said their sense of responsibility to their community was stronger than their desire. Our doctor took one last nasal swab, helped us weigh the risk (I wouldn’t come!) and sent us off to find some Pepcid, a hot tip coming out of China, to ward off the virus.
The truth is, I realized, we all have Covid. All of us. The air I inhale is the exhaust of the Sturgis rally. It is the exhalation of the White House lawn, our ICE detention centers, our prisons and hospitals and schools. It is the same air that Julius Cesar exhaled. It is the air that plankton and algae and plants inhale. This is the miracle of air. Our masks may constrain the radius of our exhalation but ultimately, air cannot be contained. Physically and emotionally we are all in this together.
We all carry a burdensome load of responsibility. It is a daily practice to sort through the things that are under our jurisdiction, the ones we can control, and, as the Serenity Prayer goes, to let go of the ones that are not ours.
As friends arrived for the weekend, I wondered if I could find pleasure in the risk we were taking. Despite all the testing, I still noticed every fork passed, the countless times we hugged. Could I set Covid-fear aside, or, better yet, could I embrace it, invite it in, dance with it and get curious about the complexity of this moment. And I wondered if I would have the courage to own my decision, enough to tell you, my readers, about it, to face your judgement knowing some of you have foregone weddings and funerals, vacations and jobs. Collectively, we have all made billions of decisions, personal and collective, that have brought us all here to this moment, this breath.
It doesn’t matter what I, or you, think of the Sturgis Rally or the maskless supporters at a Trump rally or the millions of people who will be traveling to be with family for the holidays. We can judge but that doesn’t change that we are all in this together, breathing in one another’s decisions, actions and carbon dioxide.
#One breath.
From The Lexicon of Pleasure
Consent: most often used in agreements about sexual relationships, consent is permission given for something. There is a giver and a receiver and requires the ability of one person to define their boundaries and expect them to be met by another, or others. Consent should be communicated clearly by all parties involved. The best consent is not just a yes but a hell-yes.
You are receiving this newsletter because either you have given consent by signing up for it or because I carried your email over from my previous mailing lists, in which case, I may not have received your resounding hell-yes. If you would like to unsubscribe from these weekly Pleasure Reports, you can find the link at the bottom.
We will be exploring the pleasure of consent in future letters. If you are interested in a provocative lesson on receiving and giving, you will find a gem here with The Wheel of Consent by Dr. Betty Martin.
TPR Invitations:
We Write Truth
We rescheduled our inaugural event, We Write Truth, to accommodate all the post-election dancing that had be done. We invite you to join us tomorrow, Saturday Nov. 21 from 6:30-8 PM EST, for a communal writing event over zoom. We will read published work on the subject of The Truth, host a series of writing prompts and share our writing. It's a salon, a sanctuary, a literary foxhole. It just might be a communal, cathartic scream.
Please join us. There will be music.
From the Institute of Pleasure Studies:
Breathing Lessons: Turns out, there is so much more to breathing than inhale/exhale, repeat, repeat, repeat. There are many online breath workshops. Alchemy of Breath is among the finest and they have free offerings. And, our breath can take us to a new heights. Holotropic breathwork was developed with the intention of developing a method for achieving a psychedelic experience via only breathing, for use in self-exploration and inner healing. I’ve done it. It’s real.
Deconditioning: Loosening the grip of social and cultural expectations is one of the most difficult things we can do. Sorting out obligation and desire, especially for women, can feel like million little deaths. It is also exhilarating. Kasia Urbaniak has been teaching women how to tune into their animal body to wield our power. Her first book, Unbound is coming out soon. Pre-order it and enroll in her free class, Good Girl Reform School. She is a master teacher who studied with Taoist nuns for ten years before becoming the highest paid dominatrixes in NYC.
Go Inside: Insight Timer. If you don’t have this app on your phone, we can’t recommend it enough. You can set your own bells and meditate with community around the world or listen to guided meditations and talks from some of the best teachers out there. Some favorites include Elizabeth Gilbert on Facing Fear with Compassion and this guide for transcendental sleep
In other lovely news: Alvin Ailey’s winter season is online and free to all.
The Earth Breathes, too: “To live, rather than to merely exist like inanimate rock, is to borrow and repurpose the elements of the world around you, and then release them again,” writes Curt Stager in Your Atomic Self. This video shows the inhalation and exhalation of our planet over time.
Making Art out of Thin Air: Artist Emily Parsons Lord reconstitutes ancient air and shows us what we might be breathing in the future.
Give the Gift of Clean Air: Looking for a way to share the love of breathing? Consider donating to the Pachamama Alliance on your behalf or as a gift. Their Sacred Headwaters initiative supports indigenous leaders to become legal stewards of what remains of the pristine Amazon rain forest.
"Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet."
— Thich Nhat Hanh (Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life)
We are exploring what we can do in this playground of a shared digital space. If you enjoyed this edition, we invite you to share with friends. If you have ideas for a future topic, please send word!