The year after I lost my son, I felt moved to return to podcasting. It had been years since my first forays into podcasting – originally under shows like “The Opening Door” and “Lunch with the Loveologist” – and I had fond memories of learning during those early days. In such tough times, I felt called to do something that would bring the joy of real conversations and open dialogues about important questions.
Thus the idea of “Dear Sex,” podcast was born. As a career inventor, I thrive in the light of things yet to come; but I quickly learned that I was not really prepared for the obstacles this new project would present.
Every aspect of the project proved to be more of a challenge than I first imagined and it seemed that as soon as we thought we solved one problem, another presented itself. In fact, we ended up losing all of our initial interviews due to a technology issue, which represented dozens of hours of work. And, lining up interviews with interesting and insightful guests proved much more difficult than before. Podcasting had become so prolific, that many of the guests I reached out to were not as easy to book.
But the biggest issue was my own confidence. After losing my son Ian, I had become more of an introvert than I realized. Staying quiet for so long left me as not nearly as good an interviewer as before. It seemed that the art of conversation was lost on me, and the cadence of diving deep had become elusive. Like with most everything important to our happiness in life, the problems we face in the outer are mere reflections of what we hold inside.
After committing to re-learning the art of conversation, I became more comfortable in the spaces between deep listening and more open to the curiosity of real inquiry.
I had learned so much of my craft during the early years of my career in the hours I spent speaking with authors, teachers, scientists, and innovators who understood so much about the mystery of sex and intimacy. A need for these kinds of real conversations was sparked again, as was the memory of so many people writing in with real questions that deserved answers.
As I worked to remember what it was that originally ignited my longing to continue exploration of sexual health and honing my listening skills, I listened to competitive podcasts, and was often disappointed by the lack of real information.
But what occurred to me as we continued to work through one problem after the next was how very similar this process of bringing the “Dear Sex,” podcast to life was to the sexual questions we often receive. The very real struggles that our letter writers share in “Dear Sex,” demand the same commitment to work through obstacles – require the same willingness to look at our own truths.
Coming back to a sex life after we have been hurt takes a huge leap of faith. Trusting that our broken relationships and our unresponsive body parts can heal takes faith. Taking the initiative to name our intimate struggles and ask for help is perhaps the most courageous path to finding real answers and opening up to new ways to live.
Join me on this journey of learning to listen and cultivating deep conversations with leading experts about how we can all become more sexually satisfied and erotically intelligent.
