Baby the World… Final “Radical Evolution” blog for 2011

by Jenny Block

My sister’s partner just had a baby. I spent a week in Portland with them in early December and it was a powerful experience. Everyone should spend time with a new baby. It’s a powerful reminder of what a gift, what a fragile and precious and fleeting gift, life is.

She’s so tiny and needs so much care. And she’s so breakable. She has to be changed and fed and put to sleep on her back. Her head has to be supported and she can’t be left atop of anything off of which she might fall.

And it got me thinking, why don’t we treat our own lives and the lives of others so carefully once we are grown? Just because we can take care of ourselves doesn’t mean our lives deserve any less care.

The new year is upon us. And as my first evolution for the new year, I would like evolve into the kind of person who cares for myself and others and the universe, in fact, as if they were all tiny babies. I’m going to do my best to respect them and protect them.

I’ve learned a lot about being thoughtful and conscious since I began practicing Nia. And it’s amazing how different my life is. So much of what I did before was just a matter of doing without even knowing half the time what I was doing.

And when I didn’t know what I was doing, it was hard to know whether I was doing it in a way that respected my life and the lives of others, let alone the universe at large. When I eat carelessly, I eat stuff that’s not good for me.

When I drive carelessly, I use more gas than I need to. Even when I brush my teeth carelessly, I let the fresh, clean water run down the drain without giving a thought to its power and worth.

But when I was caring for my niece, I thought about everything. Everything. Right down to what time her last diaper change or bout of hiccups was. It’s a consciousness that goes hand in hand with helpless and need. But it doesn’t have to be.

Everyone deserves to be conscious and to live consciously.

Smoking’s a terrible idea. But if you’re going to do it, don’t do it where ANYONE else can be harmed by it. Move to a spot where no one else can smell or breathe the smoke. If you’ve waited too long to make your exit, don’t cut people off. Take the next exit.

If you’re seated in the back of the plane, wait until the people in front of you get off. If you’re in the front and your luggage is in the back, wait until everyone else has gotten off the plane to retrieve it. And don’t leave a play before the curtain call. Yes, there will be traffic getting out of the parking lot. But those actors worked hard to perform that show for you. They deserve your applause and your respect.

If you don’t know what you want to order, don’t get in line yet. If you can have a piece of fruit instead of a Cheeto, have the fruit. You get the idea.

So, here’s to a happy, healthy new year where we all live consciously rather than cautiously. Where we all think less about ourselves and more about others. And where we all remember what it’s like to hold a wriggling newborn in our arms.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Out and Equal

by Jenny Block

It’s hard to hate someone whose story you know.

I went to a massive conference at the end of October called the Out & Equal Workplace Summit. It took place here in Dallas at the Hilton Anatole. More than 2500 attendees from 26 countries gathered to talk about equal workplace treatment for members of the LGBTQ community.

It was amazing and empowering and uplifting. It was thrilling to be with so many people working for what’s right and what’s good. People who have devoted their lives to the cause. People who see no sense in the fact that some people hate other people based on nothing other than who they love.

It was also saddening and angering and frustrating. It was even a little annoying. Not because of the work that was being done. But because such work still needs to be done. “It’s 2011,” it made me want to scream. “It’s almost 2012. What’s wrong with people?” But I would have been preaching to the choir.

The folks at Out & Equal felt the same way. But they refused to let it consume them or stop them. Instead, they used it to motivate them. We are behind as a race of beings. And it’s high time we caught up. It’s high time we didn’t just accept everyone, but that we also truly loved and respected everyone. It’s high time we evolved.

The thing is, it’s counter-intuitive to hate. United we stand. Divided we fall. If we want to have an earth to live on and people to live with and resources to work with, we’re going to have to stop turning away from each other and start turning to each other for help and companionship and, yes, love.

Evolving is about higher thinking. It’s about getting past ourselves and our egos and looking to something bigger than individuals. And, perhaps, even bigger than the whole. Evolving is about forgetting about the here and now and thinking instead about the future and the universe.

And evolving is about worrying less about who and how people love and instead thinking about feeding and housing and clothing and supporting all people, here and all around the world. It’s about worrying less about how others are different than ourselves, and instead think about how we are all, essentially, the same. The same.

Out & Equal was an amazing experience. It was humbling to be with so many people doing such amazing work. It was inspiring to think about how far we have all come. But it was confounding to think that we still have to do this work. That we still have to explain to people that being gay doesn’t make someone less human.

We owe it to ourselves and to one another to take a step back and to think about those we are unkind to, those we hate. They have stories too. Families and jobs and memories and success and families. We need to learn one another’s stories. Because it’s much harder to hate someone whose story you know.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

The Body Remembers, When the Mind Forgets

by Jenny Block

photo by dee.hill.photography

I haven’t danced since August. I don’t know where the time has gone. I’ve traveled some. I’ve worked a lot. I’ve been sick a little. But it’s September. Almost October. And I haven’t danced since August.

I don’t know why really. I miss it. I miss the floor. I miss the music. I miss my teacher. I miss my friends. But sometimes, even when I am home and awake and could go, I don’t. I can’t.

My computer hums at me. My phone blinks at me. My body creaks at me. And I don’t go.

And now I am suffering. The work is still there. The computer and the phone never go away. But I live in my body and it is sore and tired. It aches for movement. I know better than this.

Why is that? Why is it that even when we know what’s best, even when our bodies know what’s best, we simply don’t listen?

I can only guess. But here’s my guess. Because the further we get away from something, the easier it is to let it get even further away. And, suddenly, we completely forget how good that thing was that is slowly slipping from our memory completely.

But bodies are funny. Even as our minds forget how much we love to do something, how much we need to do something, our bodies, no matter how faint the memory, our bodies remember.

Mine remembers. It remembers in the car when a song plays that I’ve danced to in class. My hands dance. It remembers when I’m putting away the laundry and I bend down to pick something up. My back dances. It remembers when I stand on my toes and reach up for something. My arms dance.

That’s why I have to get back. My mind may be confused and distracted by life and all its minutia. But my body is still single-minded. It wants, it needs, to dance.

And that’s the interesting thing about evolution. Even though our minds evolve, they can still lead us to choices that might not be the best ones. But our bodies, no matter how much they evolve, they know what they need, what they have always needed, what they will forever need.

Our bodies need to move. They have to move. And for the last few weeks, mine has been still. So very still. And my body is suffering. My legs ache and my back hurts and even my arms hang.

Stillness is a little like a cage. It can certainly feel safe. But ultimately, it’s simply not where we belong.

The good news is, for me, for us, the cage is a psychic one. So, all we have to do is decide we want out. So, I’m putting it out there, telling the universe in case my mind tries to get the best of me again – I want out.

I want to out on the dance floor. I want to be out stretching and rocking and crawling and moving. I want to listen to my body because unlike my mind, it always knows best.

It’s time to dance.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Praying With My Feet

by Jenny Block

Some people pray with their hands. I pray with my feet. When I walk, I pray. When I dance, I pray. When I swing my feet over the side of the bed and stand up to start a new day, I pray. I pray with my feet, because they stand for everything I pray for.

I pray that I will be able to dance until the day I leave this earth. And so I dance. I pray that I am able help those around me. And so I run to their aid. I pray that I’ll be able to help my daughter grow into the woman I know she can be. And so I stand by her side.

I pray with my feet because they touch the earth. I think we forget. I know I do. We are an extension of the earth. But we spend too much time reaching for the sky. The sky, we cannot touch. But the earth…that we can. And we should. When we don’t touch the earth, when we don’t pray with our feet, we forget.

I pray with my feet because we have forgotten that we have them. We drive everywhere we need to go. We valet. We park as close as we can to our destination. We wear shoes that cover and crowd our feet. And we forget them. We forget that they are what keep us standing up, moving forward, reaching the places we want to go.

I pray with my feet because they are the hardest workers I know. My feet never say no. Even when I walk 60 miles in three days to fund breast cancer research. Even when I train for my Nia belts and dance all day long. Even when I walk the long lengths of beach that I have the good fortune to visit. Even when I cage them in shoes and boots when they’d prefer to be able to wiggle their toes and stretch their arches and feel exactly what’s beneath them. They never, ever say no.

I pray with my feet because not everyone can. Some can’t walk. Some have no place to go. Some are afraid. And for them I pray with my feet because I can and so I should. And so I do.

I remind myself when I walk or hop or dance or hoop or skip or hike that there are some things you should do if for no other reason then because you can. Because what if tomorrow, you can’t…

I pray with my feet because they are clear. My head gets confused. My heart gets confused. My soul gets confused. But my feet, even when they fall asleep beneath me when I sit on them for too long, they always remember. My feet remember that we have places to go and people to see and things to do. And they remember to give thanks and ask forgiveness and to do good.

And so I have evolved the way I pray and I have progressed from the top of my body to the bottom.

And so today, every day, I pray with my feet.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Got Fear?

By Jenny Block

I used to hate to be scared. I’m still not a big fan of horror movies. But no I longer avoid doing things because I’m “scared.” I don’t mean the reasonable kind of scared. The “Don’t walk through a dark alley late at night” or “Don’t jump out of a plane without a parachute” scared. Those are the good, save your life kinds of scared.

I’m talking about the “Ten toddlers just went on that ride so what’s your problem” or “They wouldn’t advertise this to tourists if you were going to die” scared. The thing is, I’m not even sure what I was scared of since most of the things that frightened me had safe, clear outcomes.

Still, up until five or so years ago, I avoided anything that involved my feet not being on the ground. Two things happened – I missed out on all kinds of experiences and I got bored. Really bored. That’s the thing, no fear=no adrenaline=boredom.

Then I started dipping my toe in the water and was amazed. It wasn’t that I loved all of the things I tried. (I’m still not a fan of that flip-floppy thing one’s stomach does on a roller coaster.) Instead, it was that I discovered how much I love and how much I need the exhilaration and motivation and confidence it created in me, in my day, and in my life.

When I look back at the times I was happiest, they were the times I challenged myself the most. So nowadays I figure, if I’m scared of it, I probably should jump in and try it. I recently rode a bobsled on the actual Olympic track, with a driver, of course, at Olympic Park in Park City, Utah.

I was so scared, that I wasn’t even scared any more. The ride itself was insane. 4 G’s makes your face do that waggly skin thing usually reserved for cartoons. And, again, that nauseous stomach thing isn’t really my idea of a good time. But after I did it, I really did feel like I could pretty much do anything.

And that is the real point here. If you want to evolve into someone who gets things done, you need to prove to yourself that you can do them. Nothing does that better than overcoming fear. And, if you dose yourself up everyday, you could be well on your way to doing everything you want to do.

It doesn’t have to involve a bobsled or even an athletic feat or an adventure. All it has to be is something that scares you. Eating alone in a restaurant, going to a movie alone, visiting a nude beach, speaking in front of a group, doing stand-up comedy. Anything that makes you’d think “I’d rather die.”

Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” You only have watch one episode of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive” to know that that’s true. If we want to empower ourselves to make things happen, to evolve into the people we truly want to be and know that we can be, we have to challenge ourselves to face our fears.

Want one more quote? How about, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself,” Franklin D. Roosevelt’s famous words. He made that statement for the same reason that so many renowned people have talked about fear – a lot of people suffer from fear as a stumbling block. The trick is to use it as a stepping stone instead.

Each fear you conquer brings you one step closer to wholeness. And isn’t  becoming “whole” what evolution is all about?

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Heed Myself, Heal Myself

By Jenny Block

Why is it that it’s so easy to give advice to others that we have so much difficulty following ourselves?

An acquaintance of mine called me the other day when she was stuck on a story she needed to write. A story about something she knows best. A story that’s inside her and should be the easiest story of all to tell. And yet she’s stuck. She’s scared. She’s frozen by the fear of not being perfect and so I tell her all of the things I tell myself. All of the things I know to be true. All of the things that apply not just to writing but to anything you want to accomplish in life.

1. You have this in you. It’s all there. All you have to do is let it out.

2. Because it “should” be the easiest thing to do, it becomes the hardest. Because you “should” be able to do it, you worry you won’t be able to do it. Forget about should. Just do.

3. Quiet the inner critic. He is your worst and your only true, natural enemy. But he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He just talks because you will listen. So stop listening. Block your ears. Forget the “You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. You’re not smart enough. Fill your head instead with the sounds of “You can. You will. You are.” And forget the rest. Our lives are only as positive as the messages we replay to ourselves in our heads.

4. Tell the lizard to relax. Our lizard brain is the one designed to protect us from harm. When writing begins to feel like a life or death situation, he rears his ugly head. He tells us to lay low. Be quiet. Stay back. But none of those things lead to good writing. The best writing is honest. The best writing reveals. So tell the lizard to go back and warm his belly in the sun. You’ve got this.

5. Listen to the folks at Nike. They got it right. Just do it. In the end, all you can do is just do it. The key to writing is butt in the chair. You have to start if you ever want to finish. So start.

6. Forget planning. Chances are you’ve already done all of the necessary planning in your head. Besides, not everything has to be planned down to the last dotted “i” and crossed “t.” Trust the universe and it will serve. It is no longer the time for planning. Now is the time for doing.

7. Make space. In your head. In your house. In your life. It’s easy to keep yourself from writing by telling yourself there’s no space to write. Your head is too full of worries. Your house is too full of kids. Your life is too full of, well, life. Well, clear it out. Treat writing like the most important thing. Like the thing that must be done. Because it is. We can always create space. No excuses because you know it’s true. We can always create space. But only if we choose to.

8. Forget rallying the troops and accept the solitude that writing requires. If we convince ourselves that we need others in order to complete something, then we can avoid completing that thing by arguing that the others simply are not in line. Forget about the others. This is about you and the words. It’s scary to be alone. But it’s also wonderful. Give yourself permission to trust yourself and yourself alone.

There are more. More stories. More ideas. More positive messages to play. But in they end they all boil down to one thing – granting ourselves permission. And they all apply to everything we seek to do in life. They  apply to writing and to having sex and to dancing and to creating and maintaining relationships and to staying healthy and to caring for and being a part of a family.  And so on and so on.

We all know what we need to do to have the peace, the people, the place we want in life. But we have to start listening to ourselves. Our gut knows.

I want to evolve into the kind of person who trusts herself and listens to the words that friends call from all over the world to hear. “Tell me again that I can do it,” they say. And I am happy to.

But I must also learn to tell myself. And not just to tell, but also to heed.

Heed yourself, heal yourself. We are complete beings. All we have to do is be.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Just another day for you and me in paradise…

by Jenny Block

I recently returned from Mexico. I stayed at the Grand Velas Riviera Maya, a fantastically beautiful hotel with spectacular service. I couldn’t have been more delighted.

Funny thing was, one of the other writers on the trip was unimpressed. Unimpressed by the massive suite. Unimpressed by the oceanfront location. Unimpressed by the vast selection of incredible restaurants right on property. Unimpressed by all of the people ready and waiting to offer their help and service. She’d felt like she had seen it all, so now her vision was so clouded that she can no longer see anything.

I decided something that week.

I decided that I never want to evolve into someone who doesn’t appreciate all of the gifts I have been given.

It can be easy to do, to stop appreciating what it really a gift. Everything in life is a gift. Another day to walk into. Healthy kids. Happy relationships. A place to call home. None of it is a given. And, much like that travel writer who is always being given lovely trips and lovely places to stay, we can lose sight of just how brilliant, just how wonderful it all is.

And it is wonderful.

This economy doesn’t help our vision. Nor does the state of our world in many ways. But the existence of bad in the world should not eliminate our ability to relish in the good.

I met a woman once whose marriage and family was falling apart because she was so pained by all of the tragedy in the world. She was carrying so much global grief that she was no longer able to see local joy.

Local joy. The present. That which is in directly in our reach. For me, that’s petting my dog Walter, having a snow cone with my daughter, going to a concert with my husband, giggling in the dark with my girlfriend, dancing with my friends at MoveStudio, being an ear for a close friend.

So whether it’s the millionth lovely hotel I’ve had the great luck and pleasure to stay in or the fact that there’s just enough milk left in the carton for my cereal, I will remember to appreciate it. I will keep the universe in my heart and in my spirit and in my head. But I will also constantly be aware of the local joy I am gifted and blessed with every day. I know what those things are for me.

What are they for you?

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Like the whole world applauding for itself.

Nia at MoveStudio will move your body and soul.

by Jenny Block

Last year I took my daughter to see Taylor Swift. At one point in the concert, at the end of one of her songs, Swift simply stood and took it all in, the clapping, the cheering, the lights. And she started to cry softly. She shook her head, her face all disbelief and joy. Then mouthed the words “thank you” before wiping away her tears and starting the next song.

I saw her do that again at another concert and I don’t believe it’s an act. Call me naïve, but I believe she really takes that moment to be in that moment, to feel all of the love of her fans, to appreciate where she gotten and who she has become. As the audience clapped and cheered and Swift stood and waited, the sweetest smile on her face, I looked into the stands at the thousands and thousands of people around me and wondered what that must be like. How it would feel to have everyone around you celebrating you with joy?

Well, I actually got my Taylor Swift moment in Nia class the other day. Ok, not exactly. But I swear it was close. As everyone, all twenty-four of us, free danced around the room it was like the whole world was applauding for itself and I couldn’t help but stop and watch and cry.

All of that movement and expression and happiness. All of those people winding around each other and around the room. All of the music and the incredible power being created and held in that space. That has to be what it feels like. Only, this has to be better. It was interesting because after that class, apropos of nothing and all at different times and in different ways (in person, via Facebook or Twitter, or whatever), all of these different people who attended that class marveled at how energized they felt. And I think it was that moment that did it. I mean, I’m sure it was the whole experience.

Having Jule as our teacher. Listening to such an amazing soundtrack she created for us. Dancing with so many other bodies just as happy to be moving and playing and being. But it was also that very moment. That moment when something about the way we were moving so freely made it feel as if we were applauding for ourselves and one another and the other universe.

Thank you, our dancing said. I appreciate you, our dancing said. Love is all around, our dancing said. Don’t forget, our dancing said. We’re here.

I put that moment in my pocket and I carry it around with me. I let it out when I need it or when someone around me needs it. And I remember that although most of us will never have a massive stadium of people cheering for us, we all have one another, lots of other beings working together to figure all of this life stuff out and though you might not always be able to hear it, we are cheering for you.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

The Gift of Witnessing

by Jenny Block

You know, there’s another component to evolving that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately – witnessing the evolution of others. Sure, a person can evolve all on his or her own. But to be witnessed, to have the needed space held for you, ah, what a blessing that is.

It’s not something that has to be discussed, unless the person evolving reaches out and wants to discuss it. It’s more a state of being, of listening, of tending to needs as they arise.

Parents must do this for their children all of the time. We should be doing it any way. My daughter turned twelve at the end of April and so I feel as if I am doing it now more than ever, listening to her stories, empathizing with her hurt (perceived or otherwise), walking with her (not in front of or behind, but with), and being present (even when she would prefer I get lost).

I don’t know who it’s harder for. I mean, I realize growing up is hard (I’ve been there) but holding on while letting go is equally difficult.

Interestingly, my girlfriend is going through an evolution of sorts of her own, having decided to move out of a condo her parents own and into her own place, no roommates or family, just her.

It’s been hard to be there as a support system without usurping the process. It’s hard knowing when to heed the call when she asks for my help and knowing when she needs to do certain things on her own. It’s hard to be there and not be there at the same time so that she continue to trust both me and herself.

And she’s having to wrangle with her mom as well, how to tell her she can handle things on her own, how to tell her no, how to be strong and still be loving and respectful. Not an easy feat when you’re as close as my girlfriend and her mother are.

And there are opposing interests at stake, which is never easy. One wants a room of her own, the other wants to clear out and sell a condo as quickly and easily as possible. Meanwhile they must both evolve into the next stage of personhood that these changes will bring.

It’s hard. All of it. But it’s also wonderful. And having someone to witness your evolution can ease the way.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.

Hooping is Evolutionary!

Jamie hoops it up at FlowFest!

By Jenny Block

I don’t remember being particularly good at it as a kid. But I certainly do remember it being a heck of a lot of fun. The bright colors swirling around and around our waists and hips and that familiar rattling of the ball bearing racing around inside.

I’m speaking, of course, about hooping. Hula hooping, we called it then. Seems hooping is the hip, new term now. And the activity is all grown-up. The fun isn’t just for the kids anymore. I am astounded at the number of classes and conventions and DVDs and products that are available.

I’ve been intrigued for a while now about trying it out again for the first time. So, I finally got the guts to go to Julia McPherson’s class. Julia is the owner of Sassy Hoops and her infectious smile and way cool tricks on her website were what ultimately tipped the scales for me.

From the minute I entered the classroom, I felt perfectly at ease. Julia was excited to see new faces in the classroom. Music played as she handed me several hoops and told me to give it a whirl.

And I’ll be damned, I can still hoop. I guess it’s just like riding a bike because in seconds I had that hoop spinning just like I did in the front lawn beneath crab apple tree in my childhood home.

We played around and tried some tricks. I was blown away at some of my classmate’s skills and felt confident that I too would be able to do a few of those in no time at all.

I also lost control of the hoop again and again as I tried to whirl it overhead and switch it from arm to arm or waist to arm. But Julia was an never-ending source of support and encouragement.

When I told my girlfriend and daughter about my newfound love, they were both so excited, that I got all of us hoops for Valentine’s Day. It seems like the perfect family activity with Spring right around the corner.

Julia designed and made all of our hoops and I am obsessed with the rainbow set she made for me. The coolest part is that they basically fold in half so they are easy to wrangle on the go.  I have fantasies of picnics in the park with Waltie, our Chihuahua/terrier in, chasing the hoops as they spin and sparkle in the afternoon sun.

I have only been able to take a few classes since that first one. But I look forward to making hoop classes and hoop practice part of my regular routine. Could be a pretty cool new evolution to add to my ever-growing list.

Becoming a hooper at forty. Sounds pretty radical to me.

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Editor’s Note: You can hoop too! Hoop Dance Basics series starts 5/18 at MoveStudio. Drop-in hoop classes and Hoop Making workshops also scheduled! Visit our website at http://www.movestudio.com for details.

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Jenny Block is a freelance writer and the author of “Open: Love, Sex, and Life in an Open Marriage” (2008 Lambda Literary Award). Among other gigs, she writes a weekly sex column for FoxNews.com.  Jenny holds a BA and MA in English and taught college composition for ten years. For more on Jenny, visit her website at www.jennyonthepage.com.