{ originally posted in 2016 }

” I ain’t changing my show.”

”ll give you the options. They just told me that there’s been complaints. That there are simulated orgasms, blah, blah, blah. It’s against their rules and regulations.”

“I am not changing my show.”

“I know you’re not, but can you wait five minutes for me to straighten it out?

“What’s to straighten out?”

“Hopefully we can change their mind.”

” All you have to do is tell them I’m not changing my show.”

Madonna right before the Toronto concert,
from the movie Truth or Dare

The most frustrating thing about reorganizing your business, about choosing your target market, and doing market research, is that 98% of your work will be the wrong direction, will be eliminated, will be obsolete and a dead-end road, no matter how great it looked.
And only 2% will lead to the next step.
And then that too will not work out and your work starts all over again.
The past few days have been the most frustrating experience ever.
So the 2% that looked promising were:
Yoga for professionals, leading to
Yoga for entrepreneurs, leading to
Yoga for men, leading to
A DEAD END ROAD
Dead end road because I would have to stop writing under my sexy pen name because men are unable to focus on yoga if they think of sex all the time, requiring a reversed coming-out on my pen name persona.
This was something a man who would have be my dream client (had it been a sales conversation) pointed out. And it made me realize that he was right. He was right that my writing was a problem if it hadn’t been for one little tiny detail.
(I m gonna yell now)
MEN HAD ALWAYS BEEN A PROBLEM
Not all men. Most men had not. But if there had ever been problems, it had been a man, and it had been because I was a woman.
Years and years before I had my coming out as a sex writer.
In fact, it has not happened since!
So yes, I was irritated when he said I would have to hide “her” again.
But especially since I realized that even if I did that (which would be spiritual suicide) it would never be enough!
I was by definition the wrong person to target middle aged heterosexual newbies.
And if I traced my steps back this was also an obstacle to yoga for entrepreneurs, and yoga for professionals… I was so on the wrong track.
72 hours, and I had absolutely nothing to show for.
Back to the drawing board.
But I couldn’t let it go… not something that I had been so excited about. I love men 40-60! And I can understand perfectly why they refuse to start yoga, if it means taking group classes between singing bowls, women, and Patchouli scented candles.
In one last attempt to make it work, I mused over all the things I would have to do in order to create a neutral, yet powerful and success driven studio, with strong professional boundaries and an impeccable reputation.
1. Move to a fancier studio (starting at four times my current rent) or specialize in house calls.
2. Invest in a killer wardrobe.
3. Stop making cheesy Madonna videos.
4. Stop using these childish Crazy Sexy Cards.
5. Kill my pen persona or at least ban her to the darkest corner of the internet and swallow the key.
In short: I would have to give up everything I love about my work, love about my life, and sell my soul to the devil in exchange for a still not guaranteed baseline income.
And I knew I would hold this against all my future clients.
I had not changed a thing yet, yet I already felt resentful to the bone. I hated them for making me hide my identity, reversing my coming outs, and undoing any and all personal development of the last 25 years, so that yoga would be something they could digest from a teacher that didn’t confuse them with mixed signals.
But more, much more than this tribe of imaginary future clientele, I hated someone else;
I hated myself.
For being a coward. For backing out. Lying. Pretending. For having shame that I liked Madonna, Crazy Sexy Cards, sex, and teaching yoga.
And that I loved my terribly modest but incredible cosy basement studio.
You can’t please everyone, that is for sure. But you don’t need to. In fact I think the idea of doing something to please someone else is probably the root of all evil. For the reasons as mentioned above.
You re giving away power and you will hold that person accountable.
You will create grudges and will stop growing as a person, if you behave inauthentically in order to please someone else.
It’s always better to be resented for something you are, than to be loved for something you re not.
So they’re all welcome; the burned out professionals for relaxing yoga.
The skeptical entrepreneur to find the meaning of life.
And the heterosexual yoga newbie who wants a Rock Star package.
But it will have to be with me. Exactly as I am.
I ‘m not changing my fucking show.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

My diaries en erotica are available at my BOOK SHOP

coming soon: new books 

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
2. I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
4. Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020 

{ originally written in 2017 }

Ever since I became single, I ve jumped down the rabbit hole and have been kind of surprised that even after ten years, it’s still a mess. Year after year, the thought grew stronger that I really needed to get my shit together.
Act like an adult.
Get organized.
PLAN – to stick with, not to then do something completely different.
Get some sort of control over my life.
Less than a year ago I still aspired this. I wanted to have a balanced life with a smooth running business, which I’d manage in a few hours of strategic desk work to then emerge a peaceful, poised example of a yoga teacher to my students. I would be like the always friendly smiling Marie Kondo of yoga teaching;
I had culled my life from all things chaotic, rooted out any disruptions, and lived my perfect yoga life.
I would also do ninety minutes of yoga every morning. Without checking Twitter or Facebook in advance.
Well okay, just Twitter then.
I really expected to be able to minimize my life and be off at four every day in order to, and remember the coach who said this; “Shower my babies with hugs and kisses”
That’s what adults did!
They managed their shit.
They didn’t get up in the morning promising herself she could touch her computer just a wee bit, to write a tiny little Facebook post. And then still be there at 4 pm, naked in a bathing robe, with coconut oil dripping down your face from your hair mask. That was entirely unprofessional!
For at least a year, but probably longer, I fought to get it right. Until one day, late December 2016 I discovered a coach who was something completely different. She didn’t organize, create, plan. She didn’t play by the rules, because she had been so long in business there were no rules when she started. Oh, and then there was that year when she did learn how to do things properly?
Know what happened?
She ended up a 100K in debt.
Hitting rock bottom made her return to what she had always done. And what she knew best; to do it her own way. Except this time, she really went all in and just UNLEASHED.
Oh. My. God.
It’s a good thing she has nannies and self-confessed has “reached the point where I don’t even know how to operate a washing machine” because unleashed does not sound like a safe condition to welcome the children home with.
But boy, does it sound exciting!
And yes, I know what she means.
She now laughs at coaches who teach you how to run your business in part-time, so you can have more time off.
“Time off of what? Your life?”
One time she was working in the lounge of a W Hotel. At 2 am she unplugged her earbuds, looked up from her laptop, and realized she had just spent four hours making sales, promotions, and creating content. And now everybody around her was dancing and the disco balls were flickering.
She had been pushing her multi-seven figure empire from the W night club.
The biggest mistake I ever made, was thinking I needed to slow down to gain control. There is no control if you are truly passionate about what you do. I tried quitting writing, in order to get around to publishing my books.
I literally felt like I had it nailed!
NO MORE WRITING!
Know what happened?
I started making daily YouTube videos, started organizing and reposting all my blogging, launched a video training for mistresses; And a year long program for my yoga studio.
In other words; while I was holding a firm lit on my writing, needing both hands, right behind me the fountain of creativity just EXPLODED!
Sometimes I think I ve switched species, ever since that coach.
It’s literally as if I am a whole new person than in 2016. Or as if the engine is already at six times more power, and the rest of me is still trying to keep up!
It’s so scary, but it’s such a big thrill.
And I understand why I was doomed to fail, at all those well-meant business advice formulas, and all that professional advice. You can’t tame, plan, smooth out or minimize something that can only be UNLEASHED.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

I’ve switched species  will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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{ originally posted 2017 }

This morning I woke up from an auspicious dream about me and a hot local writer, who has become even more stunning ever since I started writing about him.
Due to an unlikely turn of events the writer and me were located at the same building. Kind of an creative-urban-retreat thing that would last only for a few days. This was my chance to spend time with him, girlfriend free.
And I wasn’t the only one looking forward to that.
Soon enough we were more engaged in each other, than with our next novel. Our make out sessions were absolutely wonderful, and I couldn’t wait to take things further. But there was a problem.
I hadn’t waxed my legs.
Just like in real life, I had a few super thin hairs, scattered sparsely over my legs. So it wasn’t like I was growing legwarmers or anything, but it was a deal breaker non the less. I wasn’t going to get intimate with someone dramatically close to my dream man, with anything less than a perfectly groomed body.
I woke up with a strong desire to wax my legs.
But the dream was more than that. In a few months I will see him, and I had pictured our rendez vous as my personal reward for getting my new body. I ve designed a program where I will get my pre-work addicted body back before the year is over. But despite having the best intentions; Despite knowing exactly what the main reason is I gained this (hence the classification pre-work addicted body);
Despite my yoga practice being accountable, because recorded for my membership group?
It still didn’t work..
Painful as it is to admit, I m getting nowhere. Well, almost nowhere. I did seem to have lost an inch around the belly, and my body has responded incredibly well to the few work-outs that I actually did, but mentally?
I m nowhere.
This weekend I gave in to my suppressed and therefor accumulated need to write blog posts, and I totally binge wrote. My awareness was either with the party I would later write about, or with the stories I was forming in my head running some mandatory errands, or my awareness was in my computer.
Which was my favorite place, because then I could get stuff out of my head and into a blog post.
After every blog post I felt light and refreshed.
But I was also hyper aware of my deplorable physical state. Unshowered, hadn’t seen daylight, still in pajamas, and it had gotten too dark to record a good yoga video. Should I miraculously have found the inspiration to do anything more than taking a shower for half an hour until my limb body parts had some life in them again.
And the addiction to writing hit me even worse because I still had the dream of losing 15 kilos and getting my old body back! But Plan A – getting fattening stress and work addiction under control – was absolutely unattainable. And my idea of becoming addicted to my yoga mat instead was downright hilarious. But getting thin with a work addiction, felt as impossible as dropping the pounds on a diet of peanut M&Ms.
The whole reshape plan had to go back to the drawing board.
This morning, I realized; you don’t dream somebody else’s dream. And you don’t live somebody else’s life. If writing comes through me, and wants to be born through me, not someone else, then that is my dream. That is my life. That is ME.
And if I have the desire to drop 15 kilos than that is my dream as well.
By thinking the only way I can lose weight is by ditching the highly addictive, blog based, daily online writing, I am basically sacrificing one part of myself for the other. It’s as stupid as cutting off an arm in order to lose weight; you’re going to need that, and it’s a part of you!
Not only do I believe that you only dream your own dreams.
I also believe that once you dream it, you can do it.
Plan A might have flawed, but I m glad it did. Because now I am forced to look for a way to manifest that the dream of having quiet time on the mat, and being athletic and thin, without cutting off the proverbial arm of my writing. If I currently, in this moment, have both dreams (of being thin, and being a writer), it means both dreams are mine, and both can become reality.
I don’t dream someone else’s dreams. Not one, not two, not even if I had a hundred of them they would still be all mine to have.
And even if the hot writer chooses his own path, makes his own decisions, and does not end up with me in December, it still doesn’t mean the dream wasn’t mine to have.
Just that I need to wax my legs more often.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

You don’t dream somebody else’s dream will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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{ originally published late 2017 }

The year is drawing to a close, and I can honestly say that it is ending on the sweetest, highest note imaginable. For the first time in my life, I have “hacked” it.
For good.
This has to do with me finding my true calling and purpose work. But also with something else that I seem to get new levels of understanding of every time.
Love;
The joy is in the giving.
I have a little cat Max. He and my other now deceased cat Willem, have kept me more or less permanently home bound since 2009. My last night from home was in 2015 and I get a professional babysit to clean up and serve an extra portion of canned food, if I leave the house for longer than six hours.
Max is my number one priority.
But giving your time, money, energy without second guessing it, to a creature or a human trusted to your care, is the highest joy imaginable. If you have children (or a pet that you are attached to) I don’t have to tell you that. You know how good it feels to give it your all.
But to me, these dynamics were unheard of.
I had loving parents, but they never told me;
“It gives me such great joy to be here for you. I hope one day you ll have children (or if they were really broadminded; a pet) of your own because it is the best thing in the world.”
They didn’t say that.
And I do often hear;
“Children ask so much of you, but you get so much in return!”
No.
No “but” .
Because as soon as you make it conditional, you re on the wrong track.
People do it in relationships as well;
“I need you do this this and this for me.”
No, you don’t. Not really.
If you love someone you’re here to learn to stay true to those (your!) feelings, despite them behaving worst case scenario, in the most despicable way. That is your job. That is your reward. Not to have them behaving the way you think you want them to.
Don’t get me wrong.
I am very protective with regard to my boundaries. If a friendship or relationship (basically any other relationship than your child or your pet) threatens my financial security, my physical well-being or mental health? I will break up with them.
But that’s something entirely different than to stop loving them, or to be angry with them for breaking my trust or behaving in a certain way.
And the great news is, that if you do this consciously? If you overcome your ego (that demands that someone should behave like X, Y or Z, in order to be worthy of your love) and step into loving them instead? No matter what?
It’s pure ecstasy!
Like a love bomb exploding in you head.
Now with Max things are a lot less complicated. He wakes me up multiple times a night. He pokes my face, very gently, with his paw. And meows. He usually wants me to lift the blankets or he wants more canned food. And when it s not one of those two things, I assume he wants to be cuddled because I m kind of running out of options.
But whatever it is he needs? And no matter if he wakes me up once, twice, or waits until the morning before he pokes my face? I m always so happy I can do something for him.
That he s giving me an opportunity to be there for him.
Because the biggest joy is always, without exception, in the giving.
That is the return.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

You can poke my face anytime will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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{ originally posted in 2017 }

The Thing?
That is when you know you can be successful in every other area of you life, but as long as you maneuver around IT, you will always feel like you missed your calling.
Because you walked away.
You didn’t even properly try.
Maybe a weak attempt, but you already knew beforehand that at the first sign of resistance or inconvenience you would drop it like a hot potato.
Little word of advice; nothing is worth trying (in fact I resist the word trying altogether) if you know you’re going to drop it as soon as things get more difficult. Because everything eventually will have it’s own hiccups and challenges.
And if it’s The Thing?
It will have even more.
Performance artist Marina Abramovic stated it most clearly when she said;
“Always do the project that scares you most.”
The only requirement for this advice to work, is that you view your life as a work of art. And that it fascinates you to grow beyond your fears.
I’m not saying to grow beyond irritation.
Or beyond boredom.
I m not saying to grow beyond “That is not for me.”
Or “I I don’t fancy that.”
I’m not even bringing in anger, or obsessions, or any unhealthy behavior you might nurture, into this equation.
I m focusing on fear. On that feeling of;
If this blows up in my face?
I m toast.
If this, fascinating, alluring, exciting thing, takes a wrong turn?
I collapse into the ravine along with it.
If I go on this life altering journey?
I may never return.
When I was a child I lived in Africa. My mother always warned me not to pick up large stones, because there could be scorpions and snakes hiding underneath. Years later, I confessed to my mother that we did turn the stones. And then we ran away, before we slowly crept back in, curious what we had uncovered.
My mother said;
“That’s okay. You were careful because you were warned.”
Just like snakes, it’s often enough to be scared. It keeps you from doing anything reckless. It is never meant as something to make you stop doing it altogether.
Last week I almost pulled a book from being published, because it scared the f*** out of me. Book one to seven were clear. They were written a long time ago. They didn’t have any emotions attached to them anymore. But book eight could blow up in my face, drive me into a ravine and get me lost, never to return.
The moment I realized that therefor book eight should not be cancelled, but in fact favored? That was a huge thing for me. That the fear had not been a sign that it should be pulled from publishing.
It had been a sign it was THE THING.
All I regret now is that I waited so long to publish the first books. I missed the chance to publish them when they were still warm, and I still felt sensitive about them.
A book can be well written, an evergreen or a bestseller. But only when it still has the fear and excitement of the writer attached to it, is it
THE THING

<3LSH

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

That thing that scares the f*** out of you? It’s THE THING will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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{ originally posted in 2016 }

When cafe The Fuzz opened its doors it was a breath of fresh air. Originally run by both father and son, the male grungy energy set it apart from all the fresh, light, frumpy lunch cafes.
Even now, four years later and with half a dozen vegan, eco friendly establishments entering the market, The Fuzz still only serves bread (and was one of the first in the city to offer pastrami) and toasted sandwiches, with an amount of cheese that can only be digested by the fiercest of stomachs.
The Fuzz is warm and welcoming but it has that edge that makes it so much more pleasant than mainstream lunch cafes.
Meanwhile, humans were not the only one drawn to this.
Bert, a ginger cat, who was over ten years old at the time, immediately included The Fuzz in his list of daily hang-outs, which also included a hair dresser and an accountancy firm. He lived in a nearby neighborhood, but every morning he crossed the busy street to hang out in the inner city of Nijmegen. After half a year, the people from the Fuzz found out Bert had stopped going home. That’s when they started feeding him, to make sure he would eat enough. They have also been the ones who have saved his life at least twice, over the course of four years.
Last summer Bert would sleep at the Fuzz but currently he doesn’t sleep at the Fuzz, nor do I see him at night when I cycle home. From what we know from past stories, he has sleeping addresses all around the block, always with women, and usually in their early twenties.
There have been women falling in love with him and missing him. At one time Bert was gone for days and when he returned he was wearing a collar. Clearly someone tried to tie him down, which was of course a lost cause.
The collar you see on Bert now, was from a later date.
The Fuzz owners gave it to him, as a sign he was taken care of.
What I realized is that Bert’s behavior is entirely human, and matches how men behave (or would like to behave). Bert hangs out with the boys during daytime, yet he spends the night either with young women or by himself. And without making any commitments. Even on the street he behaves manly, since he can’t multitask; if he’s on his way, for example to the hairdresser (who always leaves his door open) Bert needs to focus on traffic and on the journey ahead. He doesn’t want to be petted. But if he’s just hanging out on the pavement, or on the chair next to the entrance of the Fuzz, he’s cool with a little extra attention.
I remember a conversation I had with a man. I was fascinated by him, but I knew he couldn’t commit. He wasn’t honest about his whereabouts, but it most likely included a whole string of women who were all still crazy about him.
“I can’t get with you,” I said. “You’re bad news.”
He was offended and said:
“I want you to understand that I would never, ever, do anything against your will.”
And I laughed and answered:
“Of course not. That’s for amateurs.”
And I realized it was crazy to fight this, because I love men who behave like Bert. They don’t do anything against your will and you eagerly go along. The terms of the agreement are completely irrelevant.
You’re under their spell.
And you know that even if you somehow manage to put a collar on it;
It’s not going to change even the slightest thing, about their ways.

<3LSH

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Fuzzy Bert will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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{ originally posted 2015 }

A few weeks back I read that men were much more capable of relaxing than women:
They could ignore the mess and everything that needed to be done in housekeeping, and go fishing. Read the paper. Or watch porn.
Well actually I made that last one up, but you get the idea.
Men are surprisingly easy going creatures in domestic areas. To some degree they all remind me of The Dude, from The Big Lebowski.
Men have the unprecedented ability to prioritize and don’t sweat the small stuff. Which makes them born ready to rule empires, acquire Guru status or develop a cure to overcome death.
It is also what makes them disastrous to live with.
It’s not that I don’t love men, I adore them, especially the rough type like The Dude can make my knees melt and my defenses vaporize at the sight of all that laid- backness. 
But I wouldn’t want to live with one. And that’s coming from someone who would love daily sex, and doesn’t mind a guy watching porn. I have a caring nature and make soup when someone is ill and I m great with relationships.
But despite all these nurturing traits there is one thing I can’t stand: clutter.
In a former life, I lived with my partner and I remembered a conversation about a set of tools, an overflowing toolbox and an extension cable that were neatly stacked to the hallway wall.
After a week I said:
“Listen, I want to put them away for you. But where do they belong? In the shed, or in the closet?”
Both places were already high-jacked by his tools and spare parts, but I didn’t say that.
He answered:
”Pumpkin, if I tell you I have no idea, does that help in any way?”
That’s another reason I love men: they have the best sense of humor.
Like most stranded relationships, there were multiple reasons why we eventually broke up. But it didn’t help that I felt his clutter monster was growing stronger every day. And that I had no idea how to fight it.
His new girlfriend did, so that story ended well for all parties. And I started living for myself, and finally, The Big Clearing began.
I don’t consider myself a minimalist. Nor do I have that Marie Kondo thing nailed down to the last box with cords and computer appliances I never use.
I have spare pillows for on my couch, spare fleece blankets for over the couch, a single duvet including covers that I use as an extra for in winter or when I have a snoring Lebowski in my bed and prefer to sleep on the couch.
And I have a whole guest set incl two pillows, that I exclusively use that one night a year I have a friend over.
So I cannot claim mastership over the Marie Kondo method.
But I do understand why (most) women cannot relax unless the house is done, and why we flee from a guy’s clutter monster. Because having a clean and decluttered house is our key to happiness.
There have been days when I didn’t feel good, and this is something I discovered years ago, but then when I cleaned and cleared my house, it was done. I felt better. On moments like that I feel I should have it in ink on my forearm, so that I never forget:
Wait! Before you do anything to solve your problems, clean your house.
99% chance the bad feeling you had, is gone.
Last Sunday I was at a birthday party and suddenly the most peculiar thing happened.
Two of us had used the Marie Kondo method, and we explained it by folding a few children’s clothes to illustrate how it worked.
The third woman then got so inspired, that without buying the book of Marie Kondo, she dived into her closets that same day, and started clearing out. She sent pictures to the host of the party, to thank her for the inspiration. It was so obvious that she had found tremendous joy in this clearing out of her house, and that she would make the house a nicer, more joyful place to live for everybody.
Judging from the stories I hear from others, even men will give in the moment they see their wife’s side of the closet so neatly vertically stacked and stored. But they need to get a visual first.
Marie Kondo urges you to throw everything away that doesn’t spark joy. So start with what do you want to keep?  It works best if you have an idea what you want your house to look like. Or what kind of house your future self would have.
On the outside it may seem that your house is not significant. But for a lot of us, our house represents our world within. And that’s what you’re changing:
By beautifying the world around you, you change the world within.
And that ain’t no small thing.

<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

Spruce up your nest will be published in the first English book under my real name:
I M NOT CHANGING MY FUCKING SHOW

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