Who is Candice Holdorf? (VIDEO)

So...this happened yesterday. What began as a quick audition morphed into a playful video that we shot in one-take and that inspired me to edit into a autobiographical "sizzle reel" (gotta admit, I kinda hate that term). Anyway, it was fun to create and hope you enjoy it.

PS-Bonus points to my brilliant husband who told me to ditch my lame-ass script and said, "Just tell me 5 things about yourself. GO!"

Lessons from the Erotic Void

Black Square, Kazimir Malevich, 1915

These past few months have been some of the most emotionally intense of my life. I am sitting square in the center of every fear that I didn't dare admit:

-I'm fat (As a recovering anorexic, this is the equivalent of death).
-I'm a mediocre actress.
-I'm an inexperienced writer who isn't good enough for a book deal.
-I have no viable skills and can't even get an entry-level job.
-I'm a terrible lover.

All these voices (which I recognize aren't really me) arise and feel all-consuming in the face of how little external validation I've been receiving.

But the truth is, I've been in a very internal process. Since Burning Man, I have purposely reduced the number of social media posts in order to release myself from the pseudo-erotic hit of human connection I receive whenever someone pushes "Like."

I've intentionally carved out the 6-month quiet space I need, free from professional and personal commitments, to finish the draft of my book (which I did December 1) and to complete my personal edits of it before passing it on to a pro editor (which I intend to do by March 1).

In going over my manuscript, I realize that there is something so genuine, pure and undeniably erotic growing in this moment--a profound intimacy with my own voice. I am not writing this book--it is writing me and it's medicine comes more for my own healing than anything else.

And perhaps, it's time to stop complaining and start listening to its wisdom.

EXCERPT FROM PART ONE: INVOCATION, CHAPTER 6: EROTIC DEPRIVATION AND THE COMMODIFICATION OF SEX

"Most of us are stuck in craving mode because we are socially barred from experiencing the erotic in our everyday life. Our society values the logical comforts of stability over the mythical possibilities that rest in the unknown. We’ve linked our value as humans to this “logical stability” and to other quantifiable means of success—so it’s no wonder that we rush in fear and craving towards anything that will temporarily fill and silence that painful void.

Our modern commercial industry and business culture know our insecurities and continuously reinforce these addictive habits—it’s what keeps them profitable, after all. They pose a problem in your life, show you the emotional struggle and then offer the one and only solution (often adorned with scantily clad women, once again fusing and confusing the world of eros and sex) that will take care of everything for a low, low price. But the truth is eros demands we pay the highest price—letting go of all the pride and vanity that stand in the way of unconditional love. And the kicker is that no one else can give it to us no matter how much currency we offer. It is only found by sitting in the discomfort of our own erotic void.

Eros thrives in those moments of "wanting" and it is through the dynamic tension created between “wanting” and “having” that orgasmic energy can build and power us. Yet we spend our lives lamenting how we aren't "having" and miss this key opportunity to tap into the erotic fulfillment that flourishes within the gaps of our lives."

The Tragedy of Falling in Love

The tragic beauty of falling madly in love with every moment is that you must simultaneously grieve as each second passes. This is the trade-off for opening your heart wider to love: the heart must swell and break within it's own pulsing for you to be fully alive. 

This was my lesson at this year's Burning Man--specifically at the Temple of Grace. The willingness we have to feel even a single teardrop of the world's grief will determine our capacity to receive the world's blessings, which are always here, simply waiting to be acknowledged.

At one point, I saw the faces of the many men I have loved in my life and asked for their forgiveness where I lacked compassion. At another point, I sat before the altar, channeling the Divine Mother, and sang Ho'oponopono, while those around me prostrated in the most reverent and humble prayer. And still at another point, I clutched my Beloved Adam as we sobbed in each others' arms, both in gratitude for our life together and in sadness in its ephemeralness.

I am still learning how to walk with an open heart. I am still learning how to trust the erotic voice quivering within my soul. I am still learning how to be in continued connection within a community where, even after three years, I often feel like I don't quite fit. Please have patience with me as I stumble my way towards Grace.

Thank you. I love you. Please forgive me. I forgive you. Bless you. Bless you.

To Love a Woman (Part Deux)

Photo: _mubblegum_

View this article on elephantjournal.com

Inspired by EJ’s recent articles on femme/femme eroticism (most notably by Lori Ann Lothian and Lyla Cicero), I decided to do my own inquiry into my attractions, both emotionally and carnally, to the female form.

I will not deny that when I see a woman’s shape molded by an elegantly tailored cocktail dress (complete with stilettos), I feel my skin prickle and my mouth water.

I love to bite the soft, peachy flesh of her neck. I love my fingers wrapped up in strawberry-scented hair.

And yes, I love the wet, velvet tang of a woman’s pussy.

No doubt this is no shocker. I think it would be a rare human indeed who was not physically attracted, in some way, to the feminine form.

And yet, there is more to my story than pure lust.

Yes. I had had sexual experiences growing up: playing ‘Romeo + Juliet’ as a pre-pubescent girl; cuddling topless as a teenager; and the usual ‘makeout-with-your-female-classmates-so-the-boys-think-you-are-cool’ in college.

But when I chose, at the ripening age of 28, to give my presence to a woman and ride the undulating fire of her orgasm, I discovered that being with a woman was no experiment or titillating dare: it was one of the most miraculous experiences I’d ever known. It was like God raining on my fingertips.

And it was fucking hot.

It confirmed something I’d always suspected but was too ashamed to admit: a woman, surrendered to her orgasm, is undeniably, divinely irresistible.

Was I ‘in love’? Well, yes—in that moment, when the old hetero-normative patterns faded and I simply said ‘yes’ to what felt right, I can honestly say there was nothing in my world but love—within and without.

That first real experience with a woman opened a door for me. A door of abandonment. A door of disarmament. A door of possibility.

A door of love. Love: that burning teacher who whispers chilling truths.

And love: that gentle wind, which molded and shaped my heart so I became capable of receiving both woman and men into ecstatic embrace.

And love: the magnetizing force between my life partner and me.

A few weeks after my feminine epiphany, I wrote the following poem to capture the holy magic of that night—for to love a woman is to love all that is strange and exquisite about humanity:

To Love a Woman

Her liquescent cries

Inundate the hollow night

And it is here

In the palm if my hand

That the earth’s story

Is born.

The lotus

The lily

The magnolia

Unfolding flowers

Whose nectars

Form the seas

My fingers

Tickle Her petals

My thumb

Discovers Her pearl

My mouth

Alights on Hers

And as the sloop slips under,

Descending the

Ocean of our Love,

Sweet, salty waves

Rock us

To death

Who knew that

Unexplored reefs

(With the potent power

Of floral coral)

Could produce

Such radiant life?

10 Lessons from the Playa: Acheivement Brain vs. Orgasmic Brain

 

Read this article on elephantjournal.com 

This moment…is forgotten when you start thinking in terms of achievement. When the achieving mind arises, you lose contact with the paradise you are in…guilt sits on your chest like a rock, it crushes you; it does not allow you to dance. How can you dance? How can guilt dance? How can guilt sing? How can guilt love? How can guilt live? So the one who thinks he is doing something wrong is guilty, burdened, dead before death, has already entered the grave. ~ Osho

It’s that time of year again: dust off your sparkle pants, grab your goggles and hop on your bikes, cuz we’re going to Burning Man!

Okay, okay I know. Many of you reading this may be thinking “Dear God, she’s one of those crazy, drugged-out hippie people.” Perhaps you’ve gotten jaded by the popularization of it all (yes, I too have noticed the recent surge of fanny pack-wearin’, picture-takin’, bucket list-completin’ tourists). Or it’s possible you see it as an irresponsible way to use time and resources (I get it; I also want to punch the faces of college-raver kids who leave their beer cans and glow necklaces in the port-o-potties).

Or it’s possible you think it’s a really cool experience you’d like to explore. Maybe you’ve been and it changed your life. Or perhaps you’ve never even heard of it.

There is a gift within these seemingly various perspectives and it’s reflected in the first principle of Burning Man:

1. Radical Inclusion: Anyone may be a part of Burning Man. We welcome and respect the stranger. No prerequisites exist for participation in our community.

That means that the jaded guy, the college-raver, the tourist, the explorer, the believer and the novice all have a place within the system and provide value with their voices.

This may seem at odds with how we normally interact with life. Typically, we choose a perspective and work tirelessly to gather evidence that supports our perspective while rejecting anything that is in conflict with it.

This is an example of how the “Achievement Brain” works. It’s a pattern of reasoning that’s a product of social breeding. It’s based on a system of reward and punishment. As children, our parents offered us ice cream if we sat quietly in the corner. In kindergarten, we got gold stars if we kept our hands to ourselves. In school, we were graded on a scale from A-F, which determined our intellectual merit. And now as adults, we use any mix of money, trophy spouses, cars, food, houses, jobs and spiritual development as “proof” of our worthiness.

When we are living in the Achievement Brain’s world, nothing is ever enough. We have to constantly seek new, bigger, better things to fill the holes in our lives. Each new achievement may provide temporary solace from the fear monster; but it’s only a matter of time before we have to scramble to keep our pedestals super-glued, cemented and duct-taped together.

The antidote to “Achievement Brain” is “Orgasmic Brain.”

In the realm of orgasm, everything that arises is fuel for transformation. Our sense of well-being comes from within. We move only when we are inwardly moved (as opposed to moving in blind reaction to something outside of ourselves). In the orgasmic world, the present moment is alive and the spirit of play, connection and improvisation guide the way.

Burning Man is the ultimate orgasmic world and Camp Contact, a camp at Burning Man, is one representation of that. Originally founded as a Contact Improvisation Dance camp, they are now taking their dance philosophy into workshops that focus on relating, intimacy and the never-ending tango between femininity and masculinity.

Their list of workshops includes: “Tune-Up From a Loving Bitch,” “Shame, Pride & Play” and “Embracing Awkwardness.” What separates Camp Contact’s workshops from many others is that the workshops are created based on the conversations, inspirations and in-the-moment surprises that arise during the festival week. There’s no set structure for any of these classes and nothing is pre-planned. All that exists is the course description, a question and a box of tools; anything that happens within that container is solely based on the connection generated between the facilitators and the participants.

This dance between each of us and the magic that is created is at the heart of orgasmic living. It’s not to say that any one way of thinking is better than the other. However, in my opinion, we have lived in a default muggle world for far too long. The principles of fun, spontaneity and the unknown have given way to certainty, safety and a “nose-to-the-grindstone” mentality that is out of balance and therefore draining us of our vitality.

I’m not saying that schedules and plans and hard work don’t have their place. Without them, we’d be floating around on dingys at the mercy of whatever storms life tosses our way. But without orgasm as our compass, we are unkindly over-taxing our systems trying to doggy-paddle “where the reward is,” when we could be effortlessly flowing where desire guides us.

And maybe your desire takes you to Burning Man. Or church. Or creating a business. Or travelling to Peru. It doesn’t matter how the exploration of your Orgasmic Brain expresses itself; what matters is that you took the journey in the first place.

So, in the spirit of the 10 Principles of Burning Man, I offer you 10 Lessons from the Playa: Achievement Brain vs. Orgasmic Brain.

1. Achievement Brain resorts to force. Orgasmic Brain thrives on surrender.

We are constantly doing and working harder and faster to feel like we are making progress in our lives. The Orgasmic Brain takes us out of the role of “doer” so that life can effortlessly flow through us.

2. Achievement Brain is transactional. Orgasmic Brain is self-generating.

The Achievement Brain is constantly asking “What do I lose or gain if I do this thing? What is my reward or punishment?” The Orgasmic Brain simply acts out of its own pleasure, without the fear of loss or gain, because it has a self-generating source of energy.

3. Achievement Brain divides the world into Good & Bad. Orgasmic Brain includes everything as an opportunity for play.

The Achievement Brain categorizes things as Good/Bad, Right/Wrong, Winner/Loser, which can be fertile breeding ground for shame. Anything that is good is to be clung to and anything bad is to be avoided. The Orgasmic Brain has objective neutrality that allows space for everything that arises. Note that this neutrality is not a sort of dissociative passivity, but is a full-body engagement and allowance for what is.

4. Achievement Brain seeks to fill the void. Orgasmic Brain expresses from the void.

Rather than stuffing ourselves with more things to numb our hungers, the Orgasmic Brain wants us all to grow big enough (and brave enough) to unleash our desires onto the world.

5. Achievement Brain focuses on lack. Orgasmic Brain focuses on sufficiency.

Again, the Achievement Brain uses objects to temporary relieve the quiet the places where it feels like it is not “enough.” The Orgasmic Brain knows that it is enough, expresses its gratitude for all that it has and acts accordingly.

6. Achievement Brain obsesses on the past and future. Orgasmic Brain is rooted in the present.

The Achievement Brain is obsessed with processing “where we went wrong” and securing ourselves against impending doom. The Orgasmic Brain rests in the wisdom found in the present.

7. Achievement Brain craves an answer. Orgasmic Brain lives for the question.

The Achievement Brain goes insane without a problem to solve and an answer to seek. The Orgasmic Brain flourishes in continuous curiosity within the unknown.

8. Achievement Brain clings to the goal. Orgasmic Brain enjoys the journey.

The Achievement Brain has a very tiny lens with little space for spontaneity and mistake-making. The Orgasmic Brain knows that if there is fluidity in the journey, one can make a “wrong turn” and end up in a space far richer than previously imagined.

9. Achievement Brain lives by “shoulds.” Orgasmic Brain lives by desire.

The Achievement Brain wants a “How-To” Book on life—and unfortunately for many of us, that comes with social dogma on how we “should” be living. The Orgasmic Brain works within our own personal code of integrity.

10. Achievement Brain seeks absolution. Orgasmic Brain knows it is free.

Guilt, guilt, guilt. The Achievement Brain soooooo wants to be punished so that it can feel better about all the bad things it’s done in the past. The Orgasmic Brain rests in the knowledge that it deserves to feel good, wholesome and healthy, without having to pay the toll for a pleasure-filled existence. It’s this level of acceptance that allows the Orgasmic Brain to nourish itself and be of service to humanity.

Journey Well: A Short Story Inspired by Nicolò Sertorio’s Photographic Series, 'Peregrinations'

Nicolò Sertorio's Photography Series, Peregrinations

The greatest explorer on this earth never takes voyages as long as those of the man who descends to the depth of his heart.  ~Julien Green

I’ve been on this journey for what…five…six hours now…may as well be five or six hundred years, judging by the exhaustion. My head is heavy. I feel bloated.

Yet despite my duress, I am clear that were I to attempt to shut my eyes at this moment, my mind would not allow me the gift of slumber. Lights talk to me (or is it the mountains?). Red skies paint themselves across the inside of my eyelids, while the outside view is of sands shifting into mazes I can’t seem to navigate.

Yup. It’s official.

I’m tripping balls.

Why the fuck did I do this to myself? Did I actually think I’m going to get some sort of mega download from the cosmos? Like the answers to all my questions would suddenly pour into my skull via some multi-colored, amorphous goo of consciousness? I can’t even tell which direction my camp is located, let alone navigate my life right now. The moment I think I’ve oriented myself, it’s suddenly two hours later and I’m nowhere near where I thought I was. I’m like a Heisenberg, psychedelic farce.

I feel like a fool. The last time I saw Alex and her friends, they were pedaling away from me as I screamed at them for their unwillingness to surrender their limiting egoic identities.

Jesus Christ, I’ve even picked up their vernacular.

Who does this? Really? Who spends a thousand bucks buying a bunch of food and camping gear and costumes and useless crap to hang out in the desert for a week? I could be home right now, in the comfort of my living room, a lot warmer, hydrated and able to pay my rent.

And yet…here I am. Why? Eh…why doesn’t really matter at this point. All I’ve got to do is park my ass in this sculpture-thing, wrap my sparkle cape around me and wait it out.

Wait it out…

I miss my mother. I miss her smell. Fried bacon and roses. I haven’t seen her in years. Haven’t seen most of my family in years for that matter, which was part of the reason why when my crazy-ass sister insisted I come to this thing with her, I couldn’t say no. I was propelled more by sibling guilt than by any real desire to be here…

I’m used to being by myself. I prefer it. I can do what I want, when I want and don’t have to deal with anyone else’s bullshit. And yet…

Jesus, I’m crying. Seriously?

Maybe it’s just the drugs. A bad trip. Although…it’s so weird…but right now I feel utterly hopeless. I have no idea which way is up or down and there’s this pain…in my chest…it’s this ache of…hollow…fuck I hate to admit it...

Loneliness.

And the thing is, I don’t even have it so bad. A roof over my head, food on my plate, water in the tap.

But my heart…my heart feels…empty. Hurting. Cracked. Which may not be a bad thing, since most of the time I just feel numb and tired.

I wake up.

I hit the treadmill.

I go to the office.

I enter numbers in a computer for eight hours.

I come home.

I order dinner.

I catch up on TiVo.

I go to sleep.

People like me do not end up covered in purple glitter and wearing furry underwear while huddling for heat next to a neon mushroom.

And yet, maybe they should. Or at least, they should have a moment of some kind of magical catastrophe that shakes up their world.

I have to pee. Man…I really have to pee…nobody’s going to see me pee on the ground this far out here, right?

I shouldn’t though. I mean, it’s not right. They tell us not to.

Fuck that. I’m tired of being told what to do. This whole thing is about breaking the rules, right?

Ugh! I’m so confused. And angry. And my nose is running and I don’t have tissues and I have to pee and I’m cold and exhausted and I don’t want to be high anymore and I’m pissed at my sister for abandoning me in the middle of this place (what were we fighting about? Did she really call me the angel of death?), and most of all, all I want is…

What?

What do I want?

I…

I…

I don’t even know.

Man. OK. I need help.

God, I know we haven’t chatted in a while (feels like centuries), but I could really use some guidance right now. With everything. I feel lost and lonely. I have no clue what I am doing here. What I want. What I need. I feel stuck and stupid and I hate my job I hate my life I hate the treadmill I hate the TV I hate my ex I hate I hate I hate

I

Just

So

Fucking

Hate

Everything!

(breath)

(breath)

(breath)

Whoa. I can breathe. Like a real breath. And that breath…it’s wide. And cool. And fresh.

Thank you. No really. Thank you. Whatever that freak-out was, I needed it.

Peace. If only for a moment. But right now, this moment is worth the fighting and exhaustion and snot and tears cementing my palms as my fingers clench together.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry Alex for yelling at you. I’m sorry mom for avoiding your calls. I know you just want the best for me—even if it comes off as intrusive and micro-manage-y. I’m sorry Billy for throwing your Mac out the window. Yeah, you cheated on me, but really, we knew it was over two years before that happened.

I’m sorry life, for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for wasting my days and blaming everyone for my problems and I’m sorry for not saying ‘I Love You’ often enough.

I love you.

(breath)

OK, that’s a little scary.

I can do this.

It’s OK.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you…

(yawn)

Oh man. Something just hit me. I’m slipping under. I feel like I could sleep for ages. I can barely keep my head up. Thank. God.

Alex, I’m sorry. And thank you. Wherever you are tonight, thank you. The next time I see you, I’ll make sure to tell you that. Also, I love you.

It’s so simple. I’ll just walk up, take your hands and say:

“Alex…”

(snooze)

Epilogue

Friar Ramón Pane jerked from his catatonic bliss with a sharp intake of panicked breath. Despite the fluorescent green glow humming on the edges of the trees, the known world instantaneously reassembled into his mind: the ship that brought him here, the dark woman, the powder she fed him.

As if by divine manifestation, the dark woman appeared beside him, holding him, cradling his head and muttering something in her Taíno tongue. Although Pane could speak her language, his mind was still too concentrated with the powder to take in her words.

Her hands were firm, but warm. Calloused, but inviting. He leaned his head into her palms and gazed into her empty, black eyes. An endless void.

And yet, there was something in the nothing. Light? Reflection? Himself?

He began to cry. Too much. Too much for him to understand right now. All he could fathom was that either this woman had shown him God or had taken God away from him (which may have been one and the same thing).

Her breath—wide, cool, fresh—whispered across his face.

Peace. If only for a moment. But right then, that moment was worth the fighting and exhaustion and snot and tears cementing his palms as his fingers clenched together.

And as he surrendered to her embrace, a single, sweet name exhaled from his lips:

“Alex…”

Orgasmic Journey: Oh The Places You'll Go

I've been reflecting on this past year and I have to say, it's been pretty awesome and in no way what I thought it was going to be. I've moved across the country, sold 75% of my belongings and am in the midst of completely tossing out all the old maps to "getting to where I think I should go" and am learning to follow the moment to moment compass of desire. It hasn't always been easy, but I've magically ended up in some cities I'd never planned on visiting (Austin?! Montreal?!). And it all arose from simply saying "yes" to the opportunity before me. So upon seeing the recent Burning Man viral video, Oh The Places You'll Go, I was inspired to share some photos of my 2011 Orgasmic Journey.

New York City

Times Square, December 31, 2010

Empire State Building, January 2011

Frost on Bush in Astoria, February 2011

59th St and 5th Ave, March 2011

Broadway and 10th St, March 2011

Strawberry Fields, April 2011

Astoria, April 2011

My Stoop Sale in Astoria, April 2011

Washington Square Park, April 2011

Ducks in Central Park, May 2011

Manhattanhenge, June 2011

Street Fair in Astoria, July 2011

Orgasm Is in Union Square, July 2011

View of Harlem from NJ, July 4, 2011

Manhattan Bridge from Brooklyn, August 2011

Occupy Wall Street, October 2011

San Francisco

Tulips of Pier 39, March 2011

View of Alcatraz from Pier 39, March 2011

Haight-Ashbury, August 2011

Hayes and Octavia, October 2011

Golden Gate Bridge and fog from the Headlands, November 2011

Yerba Buena Gardens, November 2011

Fill Up America, December 2011

Castro Heights, January 1, 2012

Muir Beach, January 1, 2012

View of Noe Valley, January 2012

SF Skyline from Bay Bridge, January 2012

SF from Lincoln Park, January 2012

6th Street in SoMa, January 2012

Los Angeles

Beverly Hills, October 2011

Rodeo Drive, October 2011

Santa Monica in the sunset, December 2011

Venice Beach, December 2011

Miscellaneous

Washington DC Capitol, February 2011

Little Pond, Bethlehem, PA, August 2011

Little Pond, Bethlehem, PA, August 2011

Place Jacques Cartier, Montreal, August 2011

Notre Dame, Montreal, August 2011

Jardin Nelson, Montreal, August 2011

On the road to Burning Man, August 2011

The Temple of Transition, Burning Man, August 2011

The Man, Burning Man, August 2011

Calistoga, CA, November 2011

Calistoga, CA, November 2011

Austin, TX, November 2011

Barton Springs, Austin, TX, November 2011

On the road from LA to SF, December 2011

Atlanta, GA, December 2011