About Professor Taboo

Welcome — Come Immerse, Convalesce, Spark, or Simply Discern. Enter, the doors are open.

Blind Value

Posted on March 26, 2015 by Professor Taboo

(paragraph break)

“In every adversity lies the seed of an equal or greater opportunity.”

– Napoleon Hill

(paragraph break)

I had my ego handed to me on a skewer recently and soon politely stitched back together by some wonderful ladies. Though it was sometimes grimacing to read, hear, and own, getting rightly challenged is always a good life-lesson. Two worthy friendly intuitives were Victoria of Victoria NeuroNotes, and Ruth of Out From Under the Umbrella. Please take a few minutes to hop over and browse their excellent and provactive blogs.

(paragraph break)

* * * * * * * * * *

The discussion and padded verbal wrestling was over a critical, rampant social problem that must be addressed and improved. What is the social problem you ask? Blatant and subtle sexism in our cultures.

A number of people shy away from controversial issues; disagreeing can be exhausting, no doubt. Many times we allow our natural emotional defenses to bow-up because let’s face it, being shaken or jolted from your comfort zone is not often thrilling. Yet, in contrast, would permanent stagnation be the best disposition in a world constantly morphing and changing with people morphing and changing to adapt, survive, and succeed? Not to me. For me stagnation is smelly-risky, and intellectually and spiritually monotonous. Luckily, utilizing weighted physical, mental, and emotional workouts makes us stronger and wiser. Unfortunately, in zero-gravity the human mind, body, and heart weakens and becomes feeble!

Voluntary Blindness

There is a term and practice in one of my alternative lifestyles called sensory deprivation. It is sometimes called perceptual isolation. Though in my mind there are correlations between pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey or hide-n-seek, with sensory deprivation used in S.S.C. BDSM, this post is not about the lifestyle; so bear with me a minute while I elaborate.

Basically, sensory deprivation is the deliberate reduction or removal of stimuli from one or more of the senses. Simple devices such as blindfolds or hoods and earmuffs can cut-off sight and hearing respectively, while more complex devices can also cut-off the sense of smell, touch, taste, thermoception (heat-sense), and ‘gravity’. Sensory deprivation has been used in various alternative medicines, as well as in psychological experiments (e.g., Google isolation tank).

Like it or not, sensory deprivation has tremendous human benefits! A big one has nothing to do with my alternative lifestyle and yet it is actually promoted, albeit indirectly, in several therapeutic fields and practices. Most knowledgeable people already recognize that when one of the five human senses is non-functioning, the other four and the brain try to compensate. The compensation by the vigorous working senses are typically proportional in counterbalancing the lost sense or senses. Occasionally that compensation goes beyond normal expectations and so offers an otherwise new unknown level of stimulus. The human body’s adaptability from crisis is an astonishing kinetic work of art or horror when it has (or doesn’t have) the proper time to adjust, create, or regenerate! Here is a question to consider…

Is sensory compensation much different in common daily social interaction, private or public?

Into the Wrestling Rink!

When I took my bumps and bruises from Ruth’s two blog-posts and comments, and Victoria’s triggered exception about my inappropriate (private and public) sexist comment to her, I got a sand-paper lesson in flirting etiquette! And no matter how much I attempted to prove my intended fictitious jesting and poking, I couldn’t change what had been written under the influence of… animated egomania. My emergency iodine applications turned out to be (ugh!) industrial-grade salt in her eyes and opened wound. What I needed was deflation. I NEEDED AND DESERVED MY REPRIMAND.

Listen men, more specifically heterosexual men, there is a clear and undeniable line, verbally and non-verbally, that you/we are NOT supposed to cross or violate. Period. But wait, there’s more! Even if she initially hints or invites the crossing of a cloudy grey-line, you are still completely responsible for everything you say or do in response as long as you both are alive, or Stage 3 Alzheimer’s sets in. 😉 Humor aside, do we grasp the full breath of what that means!? We cannot go back in time and change words and actions — human time-travel may NEVER be discovered — so it should go without saying! But hello, it needs repeating and it needs reinforced teaching until stuck and sticks permanently…

Consider and choose your words and actions very precisely.

In fact, become a Master and Gentleman of Impeccable Etiquette — start now! Sorry, we will never have the perpetual Get Out of Jail Free card.

In hindsight, I broke one of my/our cardinal rules in the lifestyle and didn’t even realize it until Victoria then Ruth called me on it. My nature, personality, and lifestyle-mantra of 25+ years has been/is to be acutely aware and in-tune with my woman’s present and future condition. To a different extent that is also true to female friends, and I effed it up.

To be a principled advocate and model of my lifestyles publicly, the last people I need to harm are polite innocent outsiders or guests. Like it or not, first impressions are important, perhaps massive. Plain and simple, first, second, third, and later impressions show your intended guest how much you respect and value them. In my emergency attempts to spit-n-polish my foyer, I became the bumbling ice-skater who fell flat on his face! Tah-dah!

Back to Voluntary Blindness!

Two of my most memorable, successful, soul-mate-bonding long-term romances started without sight of each other. In fact, for the first three months of romance #1 we did not lay eyes on each other. It helped that we lived over 300-miles apart and both VERY busy single parents. The second romance was 20-days without physically meeting. Sight deprivation caused our early relationship to under compensate the often human eye-of-distortion or optical illusions that can (and often) prematurely grip us too tight, while allowing the more enduring (more reliable?) remaining senses to over compensate, or heighten. We willingly forced ourselves to learn each other through listening and speaking only. Certain deprivations for an extended length of time pays huge dividends! I recommend it for all new romances; better yet, it might be ideal to start without any optical illusions, literally ~~and~~ then metaphorically.

Here is my little suggestion to shrink (pun intended) social sexism by men, particularly men who are ~~totally~~ typically visual-dependent…or should I say blinded? 😛

One clever way to redirect is by having a blind date, literally! Did you know that there are restaurants who serve a four-five course dinner for two in total darkness? Yep, you can’t even see your own hands! Opaque – Dinner in the Dark is one such experience. Think how many preconceived fears, expectations, and optical facades get eliminated. In the circus of modern romance that’s three major minefields, GONE! And imagine the quirky fun making a mess of things together. HAH! You two get ahead of the love-game! But don’t limit this novel idea to romantic couples only! The experience can be enjoyed by all type relations and dynamics!

In every small or big challenge lies the seed of equal or greater opportunity!

To wet your appetites and spark your courage, this movie clip is from About Time, the 2013 film which ranks in my all-time Top 5 (maybe top 3) best films ever! Aside from its cinematic value and profound storyline, this scene demonstrates in a normal public setting the fun and impact that optical deprivation can bring to a friendship or romance. Watch…

So…in the context of sexism, how well can sensory deprivation help you in blindly discovering and enhancing parts about someone outside of their physical appearance, or beyond optical illusions? Could the discoveries be positive? Negative? Both? Neither? What are some other positive deprivations? When might deprivations become negative?

(paragraph break)ass

**For more darkside restaurants go here: Dining In The Dark: Top 10 Pitch Black Restaurants

(paragraph break)

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

(paragraph break)

Blog content with this logo by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.com/.

Constructive Provoking?

Posted on March 21, 2015 by Professor Taboo

President Ronald Reagan and his widow and former First Lady Nancy Reagan are familiar icons of American politics. What are some of the first things that come to mind when reflecting back on his presidency, administration, foreign policy, and his stance on social issues? Take a minute to remember some of the things he and Nancy were well-known to represent and implement.
(line break)

* * * * * * * * * *

(paragraph break)

President Reagan is noted for supply-side economics pushing a laissez-faire philosophy, freer-market or less-regulated market, and significant reductions in individual tax rates for Americans. He is also noted for escalating the Cold War with the Soviet Union driving their economy bankrupt by attrition. Another notable mark by Reagan’s presidency is his staunch fight and campaign to return vocalized prayers in public schools, later reduced to a “moment of silence” due to opposition by the Supreme Court and Congress. President Reagan is highly regarded in conservative Right politics and economics. This is also the family environment that sons Ron and Michael, and daughters Patti Davis, Maureen, and Christine Reagan grew up. Their father continues to be a favorite historical figure of American conservatism. But that’s the public image, the general image usually portrayed. Examining closely the Reagan family dynamics with his four children, things are anything but conservatively unanimous and smooth. For a brief family background of the Reagans by PBS.org, click here.
(line break)

Ron P. Reagan

In fascinating contrast to Reaganism, Ronald Prescott Reagan, son of the former President, joined forces with the Freedom From Religion Foundation in 2009. In May 2014 a controversial advertisement aired with Ron Reagan addressing the U.S. Supreme Court’s decisions to legally allow government bodies to impose Christian prayer onto everyone at the opening of public meetings as well as other such intrusions beyond and outside of church-related activities and business. Here is the advertisement…

(paragraph break)

Constructive Change and How To Implement It

“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” The same man said, A people become great exactly in the degree in which they work for the welfare of others. Mahatma Gandhi was perhaps the most prolific philanthropist and social activist of the modern era. All of his remarkable social change, democratic human rights movement, and struggle for independence from the Great British Empire were made and staunchly taught non-violently. Never did he himself raise a hand nor take up arms against the powers-at-be to facilitate the necessary change. He did it even in the face of cruel demeaning rhetoric and/or physical beatings by opposition. He allowed the arrogant self-righteous to become monsters and eventually self-destruct. Gandhi was the epitomy of proper change and how to encourage it.

Though I am inline with much of the Freedom From Religion Foundation’s mission statement and campaigns, here is my question and dilemma with Ron’s final statement. When an ideology is CLEARLY wrong politically based upon our U.S. Constitution — that is the deterioration of separation of Church and State as Ron properly explains — is prodding or provoking or inflammatory comments to your opponents the best method to induce change? And even though Ron’s patronizing of America’s religious isn’t physical violence, is it the BEST approach to initiate political and social change? Below I’d very much like to read your thoughts and comments about my question and Ron Reagan’s ad.

(paragraph break)

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

(paragraph break)

Steppin Back

Posted on March 17, 2015 by Professor Taboo

I’ve tried to complete my post El Dorado — Part II for almost three weeks and each time something happens. Tonight I throw up my hands and bow to Murphy (of Murphy’s Law and fame), but I do not do so in complete defeat. No, I concede to him laughing in his face. I’m feeling nostalgic! I am going back to my childhood and adolescence with my family… my DANCING family, my Mom’s stereo playing a few of these tunes throughout the house, and over the holidays with all my fantastic dancing cousins! Yes Mr. Murphy, now try to play my game! I wonder, do you dance as well as you make pandemonium? Hah-hah, try to keep up you bumbling idiot.

Dream Baby (How Long Must I Dream)

Stuck In The Middle With You

Cecilia

Hot Child in the City (Extended Remix)

Grazing In the Grass

The Beat Goes On

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'

Hopefully in the next few days I will have shaken Murphy and his tricks and finally be done with my next post. If not, then you may be tortured again with my musical walk back in time. Do you really want that?

(paragraph break)

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

(paragraph break)

How Much Time?

Posted on February 18, 2015 by Professor Taboo

It is a lazy Sunday evening. I am finally enjoying a full day’s rest and a movie here and there. I kick Ms. Kitty’s little play-ball down the hall and she spins her sharp-clawed paws like a drag-racer’s tires, launching into pounce mode. As the prized ball hits a wall and deflects to the other side, Kitty uselessly tries to change directions. Bwahaha! Ahh, my FAVORITE pet entertainment worthy of viral YouTube status! This day cannot get much better. More please! Then my phone rings. It is my wonderful soon-to-be married 20-year old college-junior daughter! Hmmm. But we just talked a few days ago. Granted wedding preparations need much communication and many decisions, but typically we talk every other week or three weeks…unless…?
(line break)

* * * * * * * * * *

For those of you who don’t know my family dynamics and recent history, due to a 2002 divorce and Texas Family Laws, I was forced to become a part-time Dad; a role that my family, extended family, and particularly myself never dreamt of becoming or wanted. If you’d like to know the dirty facts of our divorce, then Click Here for that page. It’s a brief narration.

Suffice to say, the divorce was finalized September 18, 2002. But this post is not about customary, nasty divorces by piles of wasted money. This is about the phone call. It’s about another ongoing conversation between an excited daughter and her tentative on-pins-n-needles Dad trying hard to say and do all the right things…a Dad who FINALLY has a pseudo-free daughter to chat with, to know each other a little better, and probably more accurately! This is a father-daughter relationship that got put on hold thirteen years ago.

The Question

We get through the usual formalities about what I’m doing at the moment, then I ask “So what’s up with you? What’s going on?” And this is pretty much how the conversation goes…

“I need to ask you something.“

If you think you know what’s coming, or you have maybe a clue, believe me you have not even scratched the surface of how many possibilities I’d already come up with.

“Yeah, what’s that?” I cautiously reply.

“What do you feel are the roles of a husband and wife?“

Silence.

Seconds later, “Dad? You there?“

A distinct deep inhale begins, “I hope so.”

I am now scrambling my brain for any non-transparent way to transparently show I’m not buying time to not give the most moronic, stupid answer by all fathers on the planet. All my past relationships, marriages, flash across my memory. Cue the music…

Of course my daughter would be asking me that question because I am the pillar of marital success… if you don’t include my two failed marriages; the first lasting a whopping four months! And if you don’t include my last two relationships that did not end at the altar when perhaps they should’ve. And if you don’t include the previous five relationships to my first wife. And if you don’t include my arrest after catching my once fiancé with another man. No, make that two fiancés. And if you don’t include my own parent’s failed marriage after 28-years by Dad’s suicide over their 4-day separation. And if you don’t include my incomplete master’s degree in Marriage & Family Therapy after the suicide. And if you don’t include my in-laws, her mother’s family naysayers, cutting opinions about her Dad. And if you don’t include the fact that now five years after my last live-in girlfriend I’m still single today.

Sure, why not come to me, obviously!

“What a LOADED question. Why on Earth are you asking ME!?” my mouth blurts out chuckling at the irony. Knowing her version of her Dad’s marital fortitude, she begins laughing…

“Dad, you’re not going to be graded on it!“

HAH! The irony just keeps coming, the voice in my head screams! After some fourteen long years, this was not how I pictured our early heart-to-hearts. Though I have vast knowledge and experience in the art of never-a-dull-day intense, passionate relationships and windows of loves-never-truer sprinkled throughout — some of them naval portholes and others large picture windows to gaze the constellations — in reality, I am considered anything but the model spouse my daughter has been taught to seek and decipher. My proper title in her circles might be What Not To Marry: Lessons in Proper Dodging.

“This is for our pre-marital counseling at church.“

This I knew. Now I am somewhat relieved that she and her fiancé had not had a huge blowout fight and she’s rallying the troops. My daughter DID fortunately inherit her mother and father’s “take no bullshit” confidence. However, by all indications my daughter has wisely…umm, refined it. To that, I nod in graciousness. But wait! There’s another mine in this encroaching minefield.

“Just one counselor?” I suspiciously ask knowing her “circles.”

“Well, it’s us and two other couples. Like a support group with a counselor slash moderator.“

That voice in my head leaps up screaming, Ah HAH! So I WILL be graded! Relief steps out, familiar stress returns… en-force.

I attempt to keep my voice inflection normal, “You realize that my answer is going to come out of wormhole left-field of what you’re going to hear around you!?” She let’s out a big laugh…

“Yes. I know Dad.” she explains, “I just want to offer a different perspective to the group.“

Well, ain’t that the most soothing answer I could hear. If any of you have read my blog-posts about history, civil rights, social issues and same-sex rights, love, romance, marriage, polyamory, swinging and open-relationships, Biblical history and the earliest Early Church, then you’ll understand my daughter’s definition of different is in this case, a bit understated. Oh yeah, and I almost forgot: my near 30-years of BDSM that utterly sent her mother into ecstasy-orbit for eight years.

“Are you sure you want my answer?” in a soft semi-begging tone.

“Yes!” she answers laughing again, thinking of her father’s known flair for the dramatic. I let loose a long deep exhale…

“How much time do I have to answer this very important question?” …which so happens to involve the major majority of my daughter’s life! I need to take some time to really ponder my answer so that it benefits, or at least helps increase the potential happiness of my flesh-n-blood and her husband! Right? She starts her response…

“Oh, I have about 10 minutes.”
(line break)

* * * * * * * * * *

Life can be stranger than fiction, even my fiction. It damn sure has a sense of humor. Daughters have ways of redefining the (in)sanity of love, marriage, children, and family for fathers, as well as the circus it sometimes takes to keep it all… normal?

WHAT! What are you looking at!?

I gave my daughter my crash-course in happy-love, happy-marryment in 5 critical points for both spouses. She gladly jotted-down my key points and words, even the ones I emphatically said to place all in CAPS because I’m ~~dramatic~~ passionate that way, we actually talked and laughed for about 30 more delightful minutes. What gave me the biggest smile and glowing heart to last for weeks, was that she felt it necessary to include me… the man, the Dad she hadn’t and doesn’t know day-to-day. Yeah, happy-dance for this father.

(paragraph break)

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

(paragraph break)

Blog content with this logo by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.com/.

Disposition

Posted on February 11, 2015 by Professor Taboo

Moments. There are moments in your life that define you. The crossroad laying before you that set the wheels in motion, all the wheels different with different outcomes. I have done some great things in my life. I have done some stupid things in my life. And I have done some things, little and big, that at first were stupid and then turned out to be the perfect thing; the right thing. The stuff when you say afterwards, “Get out the front door! Who’d of thunk?“

I have been accused of having a flair for the dramatic. This probably qualifies. It is a true story.

Growing up my little sister and I lived just a short walking distance from Pecan Grove Park. Mom would sometimes take us there after school or on weekends to get a break, a breather, by unleashing our never-ending supply of energy six, seven, or eight year olds possess. On this day to the park, my sister brought her rag-doll that she was never without. She had gotten it for her birthday weeks earlier. She slept with it. She traveled with it. She was proud of it. She loved it. It seemed like my second sister to me — and honestly, their relationship made me gag sometimes. At that age I guess a young boy hasn’t matured enough to understand that bond.

We had played out our afternoon park-time and it was time to walk back home. Our home, it’s street, and the park was divided by a busy major boulevard. Mom insisted on holding our hands every time we crossed because there was always traffic and sometimes a car or two that were driving above the indicated speed limit. It didn’t help either that where we usually crossed was atop a hill, where from one direction traffic wasn’t visible until it was just 40-50 yards away. The nearest red-light intersection was two or three blocks down the way, and if taken, two or three blocks right back up to our home street. Crossing the six-lane boulevard was too dangerous for me and my sister alone; that was made abundantly clear. This particular time of day was no exception.

Standing at the curb waiting for the right time, the perfect time, Mom held my hand tight. She’d lean forward but then stop, gripping our hands tighter to make sure we stayed put. The wind from the passing cars would blow my hair and my Mom’s and sister’s skirts. She would lean again, but stopped. This seemed to go on for ten minutes but looking back on it, she was simply calculating how quickly she could get across — at least to the median — with two small kids in her hands before the fast-moving cars would get close…too close. I sensed her rising anxiety.

Suddenly it was lift-off! “COME ON! NOW!” Mom yelled, and with our first step I don’t think our little feet touched the concrete! The three of us darted as quickly as we could to the middle! Gasping we had to stop. There was too much rushing traffic to make it all the way across. Now comes the harder part. We had to go through it all again: cross(?)…don’t cross! Step(?)…step back! There would not be as much time to judge the oncoming cars because of the hill. Mom was more nervous, her grip squeezed much tighter. LIFT OFF! Run! Run! And then my sister let out a blood-curdling scream.

We are safely on the other side as vehicles whizzed by but with one exception.

My sister had dropped her doll in the middle of the street and was beside herself bawling. Topping the hill are a couple of fast-moving cars. Lying motionless just twenty-five, thirty feet away, I stared at… my ‘second sister‘ who was probably about to get smashed and torn apart while my hysterical real sister watched. For the next few seconds the Earth stopped rotating, the noise, the engines, and the bawling fell silent… and time stood still. A moment became this moment.

In a split second Mom had my hand, in the next it was gone. I jerked it out and took off running those 30-feet — that blurred into a mile — with only one thing in my sight. Got her! I held her to my chest. I am standing motionless in the center. I realize I am not making it back. Time slows even more. I thought, the cars always travel between the lines, between the white dashes. That is where I must stand as they all (fly by it seemed to me) pass by. I cannot move; if I do, I become unpredictable to the drivers and their machines of major pain. Two or three cars pass and I run back to Mom and my sister. My sister was frozen silent with a gaping mouth staring at me. Mom was now screaming…at me! How odd I thought. I handed my sister her doll and got a smile I can never forget. Mom was a different story. I remember thinking how much trouble I was going to get into when Dad heard about it. In hindsight, I think his punishment scared me a lot more than what I had just done in the middle of Kiest Boulevard. In further hindsight today, saving my sister’s doll while almost putting my Mom into a mental institution was clearly a bone-head move, a moment, an impetus that could’ve defined my life permanently like many others I have pulled since: What Was I Thinking?

Would I do it again? Yes. Looking back over my many decades of stunts, of impulses, of moments of truth… I would do it again. I know myself too well. It’s who I am. Please do not tell my insurance agent.

(paragraph break)

For my sister and Mom: Happy Valentines.

(paragraph break)(

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always