Archive for the ‘Dreaming’ Category

Someone asked me the other day about my response to a photo of a Lady Slipper flower. He had taken this photo on his forest walk. I was immediately transformed to my childhood and the magic I found in the forest.

I grew up in central British Columbia. This place is in the western part of Canada, inland from the ocean and up high on a plateau between mountain ranges. I grew up outside of a small town and there was lots of untouched land all around.

In the winter we would wait in eagerness for the temperature to drop to minus 25 degrees Fahrenheit. The school buses would not run and we would have the day to toboggan and play in the snow. The ice and the snow was the magic of that season. We would build forts and try to make igloos from blocks of packed and crusty snow. Much to the horror of our mothers we would build tunnels and play games of hide and seek.

In this long winter season in the northern part of Canada, the northern winter light would create a heightened sense of this magical world, as the temperature dropped, the sun, low and bright in the sky would create blinding rays that I loved to stare into. This blinding light would alter my view of the world for just a moment. The bright winter afternoon light filtering through the coniferous evergreen trees was a tonic and it was always a little warmer in the shelter of the forest floor.

Another magical time was when troops of us children from the few houses around my childhood home would trek our way about a mile from our houses through the forest to a ground fed pond. When we arrived at the pond, the group of children would naturally and easily divide the tasks to prepare for the magic of skating. Groups would clear the snow off the ice. Someone would chop a hole and flood the ice with buckets of yellow sulphurs water that would bubble up through the hole that they had industriously chopped.  Another group would build a fire so we could warm up as we waited in anticipation for the ice to freeze over and miraculously create a smooth surface that we could skate on.

Skating was another miracle to me. I was never awkward on skates. This was a childhood phenomenon, because as an adult I am self conscious and totally awkward whenever I put skates on.  As a child I hated hockey. A group of boys, and some girls would be eagerly engaged in this active and wild game. On the other side of the pond I would glide and twirl and listen to the swooshing and scraping sound of the blade on the ice as I seemed to fly and float and soar away into my own world.

The forest around my childhood home and the scrubby undergrowth played a part in my childhood magical life. The trail that we walked through in the winter turned into a muddy mess in the spring. We would keep to the pine needled sheltered areas under the trees as we made our way back out to the pond to find clusters of frogs eggs and globs of gelatinous green slimy fiber that house the miracle of life as the pond woke up to the spring.

I adored the frog eggs and would trek out to the pond often to check the progress of the eggs. Over time the eggs would start to change, it seemed like forever, although it was likely days. The eggs would morph into a bubbly mass with tadpoles. Eventually the tadpoles would turn into tiny frogs and the tiny frogs would grow bigger. Some of the kids would capture the frogs or tadpoles. These poor creatures very often died in the confines of their Mason jar prison. Somehow, by watching this dawning of life I came to believe that life was indeed a miracle and that there were forest gods and unknown earthly forces that brought life.

Later in the spring, likely sometime in May and June the sun would be much higher in the sky and the temperatures and light would have dried the ground, everything would be warm. The forest floor would be fragrant and vibrant. In this sparkling undergrowth, this was where the trees would magically filter the light. The wonder of the forest floor would bring forth the fairy world. I still believe that the fairies could be present in the form of the tiny flowers that would burst through in the brightness of their petals and the strangeness of some of their shapes and forms. The Lady Slippers were few and far between but they were the manifestation of the good magic in the forest.

Where there is good there is often bad. This bad would be hanging from the trees in the form of hairy green and brown and black moss. This moss told the story of how the evil witches had left their hair hanging in the trees as they fled the power of the coniferous trees branches. The trees and the flowers and the ever changing plants were to me a symbol of good. The hanging moss was simply bad, evil and seemingly dead. The witches who had been stripped of their hair were evil spirits wandering through the trees searching for stray children who they would capture and force into their evil coven. My sister and I would scare ourselves as we wandered in this magical wood, always searching for the goodness of the Lady Slippers and the Blue Bells and the Buttercups. Sometimes we would find tiny strawberries bursting with flavour and magic.

As the summer progressed and we were free of the binding pressure of school. We would go as gangs out to a lake that was about a thirty-minute drive away. There could the five or six or seven or eight of us in the back of an old pickup truck. We had to go by ranchers fields to end up at a cold and crisp beach that was at the end of the third lake fed by a slow moving stream. There are several magic moments from these wild rides that reside in my now adult body.

One of these moments is being in the back of the pickup truck, wind streaming over my face as we sped careening down a very steep hill. There was magic in being able to breathe in the face of the force of the wind. I would often seek out this sense of asphyxiation, by poking my head out of a car window. Just like a dog. I sought out the simple joy of catching my breath and seeing my ability to breath as a sign of the magic that I was. I am now surprised that I never passed out of fell over the walls of the truck. I am sure my sister would have held onto me as I giddily played with the force of the wind.

The magic and wonder of these trips to the lake was also found at the mouth of the stream that fed the lake. Here in this slow moving flow of water there were magical fish. I never knew where they came from. It seemed like there were millions. They were large. These fish were long, likely as long as my forearm. Perhaps that is an exaggeration. It is okay to exaggerate as these fish were magic. The came from the water of the stream, they simply appeared. There was, over time a dawning in me, that indeed, these fish came from eggs, just like the tadpoles.

There are more magical stories of fish and water. There were minnows and tiny fish swimming and travelling in the lake. Sometimes the shoals of tiny fish were being chased by bigger fish or perhaps there were even bigger fish that lurked and floated near the bottom. These bigger fish were nefariously waiting to gobble  up greedy mouthfuls of the tiny fish. There was a sense of good magic and bad in the images of the layers of fish in the water.

I hated that some of the boys in this gang of kids would go to the mouth of the stream and seek out the bigger fish. Although these fish, suckers, they called them were very ugly, it did not stop me from seeing these sparkly, slimy fish as magical. These kids would pull the fish out of the water and mercilessly murder them by clubbing them and throwing them out onto the ground to writhe and suffocate gulping for air that they could not breathe. Again, forces of good and evil. Fish or children, I do not know.

Another image that resides in me, from this lake, was being under the sparking water. The lake was cold and rich and full of mystery. I would sink down in the water and sit on the bottom, opening my eyes to see the vast amount of life swirling through the water. Again, for the child, this naïve being that I was, I was excited and thrilled to be witnessing the magic of light and life. Life would sparkle through the creatures and layers of the water of the lake. There had to be good fairies here in this water. This water was cold and fresh and I enjoyed bursting out of the water after my little sojourn to the depths. I was magic as I burst out of the water. I was life and I was fresh and pure and brilliant in the sun.

At other times and by other bodies of water, I would lie on a big towel and soak in the rays of warm light. The sunshine soothed me and calmed me and put me to sleep. Of course, I would wake up and my skin would be burned to a raw red. Funny enough the sun was not a bad witch. I was just a greedy boy soaking in all the goodness that the sparking rays of light shone on me. The sunlight contained those magic fairies that were in the rainbows that filled me with good, even though they punished me for my greed with the discomfort of painful sunburn. A little later, perhaps, at about 11 or 12 I had had a lot of sun, so sunburned that I became really, really dizzy and passed out from sun stroke. I adored the uncontrollable feeling of passing out. My mother was horrified and wrapped me with cold compresses and fanned me with a Sunday Church Bulletin in a frantic effort to wake me up.

Summer light and magic played through a great amount of my childhood spent in a special bower. This bower was a shelter of branches that provided a quiet refuge for me to get away, escape my reality and read. I loved the quality of the filtered light and warm lazy temperature of midsummer. I could feel the security of this canopy of branches that could surround me and protect me from the ravages of the world. There was good magic here in this shelter. There was good magic for me as a curious child when I sought out this sheltered refuge to read. I read ferociously and with a hunger and thirst for knowledge and escape that was unquenchable. There was magic in words, they could transport me. Words could help me escape and words could help he find some understanding of the magic. I was so entranced with the words that one summer I spent my time reading the World Book Encyclopedia. Reading ll 22 volumes from A thru Z was a wondrous  journey

There was more magic in the passage of time and the unfolding of the calendar. This magic would come with the fall, the return to school and the inevitable harvest of the garden. My mother would magically preserve fruits with water and sugar and jars and canners of boiling water. I loved watching her can and preserve fruits for the winter. She was like a squirrel or other forest creature, gathering and preparing for the barrenness of winter. It was a miracle that our garden could bring us food. From the planting of seeds in the spring, through the bursting growth of the summer, the fall would bring harvest and my mother, the ever-good fairy, would be able to feed us all through the winter.

The fall would again, with light and frost produce magic in and on the forest. I would look from the front window, across to a rising hill across the way. I would watch day by day as the patches of poplar, birch and aspen trees would gift me with their brilliance. Like magic they would turn:  yellow and orange and red and scarlet. These clusters of deciduous trees stood as brilliant patches of color surrounded by the dark greens of the coniferous tress. The hills around my home were magic in the fall.

The leaves would swirl from the forest and spiral down over me. The sparkling light in the morning would cast a sparkle on the frost over the ground. I would search out the perfect leaf. Perfection dictated by colour, shape and the lack of spots of mould or off colour markings. I would gather the most precious and the most wonderful of these leaves and like magic with an iron and some waxed paper they would be preserved for my future furtive glances when the world had transformed from colour to black and white. The leaves were a product of the fairies and they were my gift for living and watching and participating in the ever changing life that surrounded me.

As I remember these childhood times they are filled with light, sunshine and the openness of the sky. There was magic for me in the sky as it changed through the day. There was also magic in my furtive glances at the moon and the stars. My relationship to the moonlight and the dark and twinkling of the night sky is another chapter of a magical life. Perhaps one day, or perhaps one night I will recount that other source of magic that I found in the night.

Love always. Phillip

The Cure

We think we get over things.
We don’t get over things.
Or say, we get over the measles
but not a broken heart.
We need to make that distinction.
The things that become part of our experience
never become less a part of our experience.
How can I say it?
The way to “get over” a life is to die.
Short of that, you move with it,
let the pain be pain,
not in the hope that it will vanish
but in the faith that it will fit in,
find its place in the shape of things
and be then not any less pain but true to form.
Because anything natural has an inherent shape
and will flow towards it.
And a life is as natural as a leaf.
That’s what we’re looking for:
not the end of a thing but the shape of it.
Wisdom is seeing the shape of your life
without obliterating (getting over) a single
instant of it.

–Albert Huffstickler

This poem was posted by, Mark Fleming, a colleague who I met and worked with many years ago. I have had no contact with Mark other than the poems he posts on social media.

Today this poem had a profound effect on me.

I the past couple of hours I have read this poem over and over again. The emotions, memories and visions of my life that this poem evoked have been unnerving and at the same time liberating and strengthening.

To be told there is a “cure” for trauma, hurt and grief, has always enraged me. To the told “get over it” has enraged me even more viscerally than being told there is a cure for what I feel and experience.

The profound effect of this poem is the affirmation in seeing the natural flow of life, the good and the bad. There is something in me that bursts with joy, power, strength and courage when I can shift my mind to seeing the “WISDOM” that can be found in experience. The “WISDOM” that can be found in every form of the experience of life, pain and happiness, rejection and acceptance, peace and chaos. Each of these expressions of life has a form and when I can nurture the experience, the expression rather than obliterating, “getting over”, I am able to bring myself into the flow of life and experience.

Perhaps this poem, and remembering the words, savouring the meaning, will allow me to be able to find the “form and shape” in the pain that that has flowed through my life. Perhaps in remembering this poem, I will be able to bring my pain IN, allow my pain to be a part of me, rather than “getting over” my pain and “obliterating” my pain.










Loving you from here.


About Albert Huffstickler ~

“In 1988, Richard Lance Williams wrote in The Austin Chronicle about Huffstickler’s poetry, commenting that “travelling [had] instilled in him a great tolerance for the diversity of human behavior and a deep understanding of how a rootless life can drive one to insanity.” As Williams noted, “his poetry reflect this diversity.” “Long or short, elegies or curses, comic or obscene, sad or jubilant, but always in his vocabulary of ideas,” Williams continued, “his poems speak to the longing of a human for an understanding of their place in this strange, dangerous universe.” After another interview with Huffstickler in 1989, Williams commented on Huffstickler’s interest in “the artist’s blessing, the curse; why artists have to create because the terror is so great, the universe without them so incomprehensible, too comprehensible….” As he requested in a poem, Huffstickler’s ashes were scattered in an arroyo outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico, and by chance or fate, the arroyo turned out to be on Hyde Park Road. As Williams’s eulogy concluded, Huff remains “a soul who even now is on a bus somewhere between here and eternity.”

Photo of Albert Huffstickler, taken in 1999

Photo of Albert Huffstickler, taken in 1999











March 1, 2020

From the Awaken Studio – Toronto

March is here. Will the green come through the snow and mud? All of the turbulence on the outside can be simply calmed with a breath and a sweet calm look to the inside. How are you doing inside?

There is lots here for you at the Awaken Studio this month and beyond.

First, is the weekend of the 21st and 22nd of March. Saturday features an afternoon of erotic genital touch and Sunday is features a full day of Best Practice for Anal Massage Pleasure. 

Registration is here:

Second, please keep an eye open for the announcements about a NEW Naked Yoga class for Men. We will be testing out Partnered Yin Postures with Movement – Stillness and Meditation. Announcements for these classes will be coming out in the next few weeks.

Third, and for me the most exciting and thrilling offering. May first, second and third, the Awaken Studio will be hosting – Awaken Festival 2020. This festival will feature all of the Yoga teachers, presenting classes that are dynamic and suit your needs. There are events that explore, Tantra – Yoga – Breath – Meditation – Movement & Massage for Men. The Festival will open on Friday evening with an evening of short films, Coming OUT – OUR Lives – OUR Stories. Saturday will start at 9:30 am with a Morning Yoga class and close with an evening session of Partnered Yin Poses. In the middle of the Yoga classes there are classes that explore Self Touch, Breath & Movement. Sunday will start again with a Morning Yoga class at 9:30 am and continue through the day with Breath, Chanting, Meditation and Orgasmic Energy classes. All leading to a Pleasure Exchange on Sunday afternoon. We will close, the weekend, with a meditation that we are calling Dreaming Towards OUR Erotic Future.

Part of my excitement about this weekend festival is that the Awaken Studio is able to offer all of this with a full weekend pass that will cost Full Access Members $150.00. You can compare this weekend to other local weekends that can cost as much as five or six hundred dollars.

Imagine a weekend at the Awaken Studio that holds the enormous potential of Lighting UP YOUR Erotic Life all for $150.00 .

Purchase your Awaken Festival Weekend Pass here: Weekend Pass

Purchase events individually here: Awaken Festival Events

I hope you enjoy the pretty pictures that are a part of this email. If you have curiosity, want to know more or simply want to say hello please email at

Love and Light and ALL the Best,

with immense gratitude,


Phillip Coupal

Counselling + Coaching + Bodywork

Sex Coaching + Sacred Intimacy + Erotic Education

Facilitated Groups Exploring Embodied Erotic Experience

How may I be of Service to you?

Telephone: 416-557-7312


Awaken Studio

276 Carlaw Avenue, Upstairs, Unit 217B

Toronto, Ontario Canada M4M 3L1

Rejection – Pain -♥- Sweet Juicy Heart at the Awaken Studio Toronto

A voyage through pain, from many sources, to a simple discovery.

Today. Monday June 13, 2016.

Today a day of feeling so much grief, so much loss and so much pain.

Yesterday was a full day. Holding space for a gathering of men sharing from the heart, at the same time, containing my knowledge of this terrible, terrible rampage of hate and violence and murder and compounded by the weirdness of being separated, for the day, from my husband, my love.

There were so many emotional and thoughtful elements yesterday that I went to sleep with a huge burden of emotional confusion. We had spent the day speaking in our ritualized circle and what I came away with, were twinges of memory around family and secrets and how mostly it was to be a gay boy child. Spending dinner in a quiet gathering instead of what was usually a raucous and vocal group. After cleaning up, I had of course, looked at social media and read the reactions of anger, seen the pictures of the gatherings and witnessed over the internet, the pain that glowed in the candlelight, being present to the terror and the fear and horror of not knowing who was alive and who was dead. As I prepared for sleep I wondered why I was feeling so detached from the events of the day. I was numb, a state unfamiliar to me.

In the night, I dreamt, dreams that I can not remember. I woke up with a resolve to not dwell in the ever repeating world of the “news”. I resolved instead to spend the day in introspection and wondering about my own feelings and my own process.  I began the day, fixed myself a cup of coffee and looked at the newspaper. Unrolling this printed bundle of stories, the first that I read was the tormented and powerful text conversation of a mother receiving the love of her son, as he told her he was going to die and begged her to call the police and get help. The day turned solemn. All seemed hollow after reading of this parent’s love. My heart opened as I realized that I know my mother loved me in this way.

Going with my husband to lunch and not being able to speak with ease as we have in the past had this terrible confrontational conversation about gun control in the United States. We totally misunderstand each other and this creates some level of pain within me. The reason we go to lunch together is to prepare ourselves for the counselling session that we will be attending as a couple. During lunch I wonder how things will go. Just after lunch at the counsellor’s office which is just across the street we begin our conversation. My mood being as dark as it has been in a long time, my emotions running in a rich and dense pulse through me and my wanting so much to be understood.

We proceed in the session. Our conversation is deep and the love that we have for each other very present. The pain that we each had a sharp and constant draw of the blade. Our conversation continues, our understanding deepening our connection, solidifying who we are together. The sharing we create assisting each of us in going a little deeper. Our conversation falls from the torment of the present to the pains of the past.

Through the conversation the depth I reached was not surprising, as much as terrifying. I think I truly scared myself as I revealed the suicidal thoughts, the dark and horrible pain and the frustration of not sensing that I could reveal myself. The pain of being in relationship and not feeling that I could be me. The truth came out. The truth of hurt and loss and self-deprecation and sublimation of self to get acceptance and love. The joyful and uplifting part was that no part of this torment was actually coming from my husband. This torment came through me and my own process, and is a direct result of the many rejections that I have experienced and felt in my life.

In this session, I discovered that rejection can create pain, in the mind and in the body. That from rejection, humans can feel pain on emotional and physical levels. This pain not unlike the pain that comes from a cut or other physical violence. This pain, in me, so awful and so old. This pain connected in the most surprising places. Places that I had not connected before. Places that I thought were far in the past and if not from the far past that I had dealt with and survived. These rejections that had caused so much pain came from the rejection of who I was as a boy by my father, a myriad of rejections as to who I have been in my life as a male, rejections from contemporaries of my body and my way, of being and finally the most visceral rejection by the director of the American corporation that I had worked for over a five-year period.

All of this caused me to seek out some information about rejection, emotional abuse and pain. My quest for information, not surprising, given the myriad bursts of pain that I feel. Pain that is intensified when I am insecure about who I am. This pain can become greater when I am in the visceral act of separating myself from the perpetrator and the agents of the rejection and ostracism. I wondered about how this connected in a historical way, especially with my father, the experiences in school and the life I lived as a gay boy in a small rural setting. The information for me, from me, was that over time and space those old pains had settled. The new pain, the pain that I felt the strongest, was the pain and emotional violence from the most recent abuse. The cause of this pain and the perpetrator of the rejection was very obvious. Next was to search for the trigger of this newest wave of emotional pain.

I thought that the trigger was in something to do with colliding groups and conflicting values, all present in my day on Sunday and with the group that had gathered and all the energy that was brought forward looking to family connections. My next discovery was surprising. The pain that I have been feeling is not connected to this old pain, the pain comes directly from being told, by the director of the school that I had worked for, that I was “IRRELEVANT!”. The pain was being inflicted on me by the voice and actions of that inhumane, corporate director who said that what I cared for did not matter. Who I was was irrelevant. That my vision and my dream was not relevant to his business or the community that I was working from. The subsequent corporate bullying and the legal threats that ensued, were all backed up by the director’s partners, created an intensification of the pain then, and now.

All this emotional violence, the pain of isolation, the pain of having my voice muted and the pain of ostracization were flooding in me. I had worked so hard to contain the discomfort and distress perpetrated by my tormentor. The wound that I had so carefully addressed was irritated by all the recent vulnerability and was running close under the surface. The most painful part was that further below was the volcanic pain of being in the face of hatred and rejection. This intense pain of rejection and isolation was deeply triggered by the senseless hatred, violence and murder unleashed against the innocence of a group gathering to share in the dancing and loving and pure joy of being themselves in that nightclub in Orlando, Florida.

The conscious spirit streaming in me that needs to be myself, clashed with the historic message that I was not allowed to be who I truly was. This message of rejection most recently delivered by that managing director, I had worked for and then reinforced by his business partner. This rejection subsequently compounded and further reinforced by the forced ostracism and shunning by many of those I had worked with over those five years. My voice had been silenced. My vocal chords cut away by the threat of legal action.

Time has not healed this slash. My anger at being silenced and shunned has not dissipated. The wound has not been salved by loving self expression.  The hurt and pain has not been replaced by the good works of years of dedication to self and conscious acts of self care. The flow of love that has calmed the pain of all those decades ago, has not calmed the hurt from this most recent rejection. The pain of that rejection inflamed and intensified by watching the senseless hate filled murder of those who are like me, those who were simply being themselves.

I wonder now, several hours later, what self-loving acts it will take to let me be myself, free of the pain of conformation. Secure in the fact that the world that I create loves me and accepts me. Will it be more of the practice of kindness, compassion and grace that I instill in the groups of men that I gather? Will it be more of the excitement and joy that is created when I can work with a man and create an experience that fulfills his deepest dreams? Will it be more glorious dancing? Will it be simply in the beauty of self expression and the great freedom that unfolds when a gathering of men can come together and practice loving kindness with both themselves and others?

From my musing today, I know that there are somethings that will ease over time. There are some things I will never forget. I know that there are somethings that I can forgive. Finally, I know with all of my heart that I simply can not forgive the senseless violence that is perpetrated on the earth, I can not forgive the murder of innocence nor the slaughter of fellow human beings.

I know, in every atom of my being that I deserve to be on this earth. I know, that my voice and my love will persevere through all of my work and all that I create. I know, with every fiber of my physical form that those who dare to be themselves will never be extinguished, will never be eradicated from this earth.

I look forward to the day when life is free from pain and we can be gloriously loving, gracious and kind human beings.

Celebrating FREEDOM.

An introspection one year after setting myself free. Freeing myself from a business model and a business liaison that was, from my experience, unsupportive to me and the community that I represented, confrontational and blind to working and creating business from a heart centered model.

Today, as I was breathing and enjoying the freshness of my early morning walk, I pondered what this FREEDOM has meant for me. One year later and I am no longer shackled by the constraint of a larger body, domineering, bullying and demanding. In my business I have been able to open to a heart centered, more compassionate and gracious model of carrying on my LIFE work. In this freedom I have had to look to see where I go to exercise discipline and  to remain on course towards my goals.

These goals very simple and include:

  • Living from a SHAMELESS base
  • Enjoying Celebrating my FREEDOM
  • Flowing from my CREATIVITY
  • Walking GENTLY on the EARTH
  • Giving from a POWERFUL place
  • Offering from my heart, with GRACIOUSNESS and KINDNESS.

This personal and business FREEDOM has not had it’s fair share of challenges. The greatest of these is the sense of isolation I feel when I look around. I sometimes find it very difficult to see others who are living their passion and their heart from a business model that I am able to identify with. I have been working on opening my vision farther and farther, seeking out others who can operate their business and live their lives, opening their heart and offering to the world with, FEARLESSNESS, LOVE and COMPASSION.

As part of my work this summer. I will be building, nurturing and creating a project that I will call the “Awakening Tree“. This will be  tree in which one can place their personal wishes for what they would like to “AWAKEN” in their life. This project is inspired by the YOKO ONO HOPE TREE and the Guggenheim in Venice. For more information about the “AWAKEN TREE PROJECT” contact me at . Watch for more blogs about this project.


Celebrating my First Birthday and my Emancipation at

Celebrating my First Birthday and my Emancipation at

As I approach the final anniversary in May, I am again reminded of the power that emanates from within.

Last night at dinner, with a wonderful group of men, I was asked about how things in my life, were going. Yes there was the usual surface gratitude. And then, when I checked for a moment, inside, I was overcome with a greater sense of deeper gratitude and power, an internal and much more earthy gratitude. I was aware of a deep and rich sense of gratitude and power that radiated directly from my source.

This reminder brought up a great well of very lovely, juicy and fertile energy. My greater sense reminding me that this richness resides within me and flows from my source. The source of life, the within. This within, the place where I am nothing but myself: a beautiful and meaningful, radiant, blissful being.

I am filled with gratitude and pleasure as I realize that the past year has exercised, strengthened and enlarged this great pool of within and the personal strength that comes from my, within. My life source has been enriched by the experience of being made irrelevant and being cast aside.

The within in me, is the source of all of my life and my energy.  A year ago I would have never thought or even imagined that I might have within me the power to move ahead and become more myself than I have ever been.I am so very grateful to have been able to access and utilize and pump out from this well, this source, that accesses the within. The power within me to overcome those that would have me be powerless and without strength or individuality.

Today when I am utilizing this life force, when I am accessing and actively flowing from the source, I am letting myself come out to play and create and bring meaning to my world. I am full of relevance and fortitude and I even have power. I am anything but “IRRELEVANT” I am powerful and full of meaning.

A note to those that might feel bullied, coerced, forced to be something that they are not, shamed and dominated, made to feel powerless. Your LIFE source, the power within you, to be you, is within and is full of the brilliant radiance that is you. When you can let this source energy flow and be in the brilliance of exactly who, you are, you will have full and resolute power.

To those that have been bullied, please never take on the words, coercion, ridicule, shame or domination of those bullies. Please reach inside and bring out your brilliance, especially in the face of those who wish to wield power in a brutal and careless manner. The world can only be a better place if each and every human being, could live from the BRILLIANT RADIANCE that comes from source and resides in each of us, in the within.

LOVE ~ Phillip

Living LIFE as a RADIANT BABY ~ Accessing the Bliss Body

Living LIFE as a RADIANT BABY accessing the Bliss Body

Living LIFE as a RADIANT BABY accessing the Bliss Body


Fresh LOVE?

No this is not about going out and having a Spring Fling… This is about travelling inside and creating a lasting internal LOVE.

  • Turn on the flow inside.
  • Create love inside.
  • Turn on the light inside
  • Nurture the inside.
  • Nourish the inside.
  • Reassure the inside.

Sometime we need to work with the shadow, sometimes we need to let everything go, sometimes we need to cultivate some new stories.

When you want to create some FRESH LOVE for yourself, let me know I can be there for you and guide you as you start something NEW.

Creating a FRESH start with new parts of your life can be as simple as booking an introductory session.

Book yours online at or Call 416-557-7312 or Email at

Holi – a festival of abandon.

References to this event are often made as playing Holi. This festival of colour and a celebration of the riot that happens as Spring takes over the world holds a place dear in my heart.

I love the idea of playing with abandon and letting oneself get into the muck of what is. Playing in all this colour and the riotous quality of what one has no control over can be exhilarating and freeing.  The story of Krishna playing with the milk maids as a lowly goat heard is inspiring… The thought that good can transcend evil and that everything will be okay as long as we remain faithful is a source of strength. God to me is the divine nature and internal source that we all have in our own individual self.

Here is a description of the background of the festival:

Originally known as the ‘Holika Festival’, this ancient Indian festival has been part of the nation’s tradition for over centuries already. It is celebrated on the last full moon day of Phalguna, a month in the Lunar Calendar which falls between February and March. It marks the beginning of the spring season where colors spring to life to beautify the surroundings even more. Furthermore, it is the day when the Hindus pay homage to their legends.

According to Hindu beliefs, Holika is a devil who has the gift of immortality. He was defeated by Vishnu, the main Vedic god of preservation and the universe. It is this story of good triumphing over evil which is the main cause for the Holi Festival. It constantly reminds the people that everything will be okay as long as they remain faithful to their gods.

However, it is not only the religious anecdote in which the whole celebration is based. The act of wetting people with scented water and subsequently dumping them with bright powder colors came from the Hindu belief that the god Krishna is fond of playing pranks on little girls. He loves dumping them with water and bright colors.

Healing through play… smiling helps and the JOY of life to be found in the act of Celebration.

Men 4 Men Touch Exchange – Monday February 18

Men experiment with giving and receiving erotic touch in a safe, honouring, uplifting environment.

Experiential Embodied Erotic Exploration – Healing Bodywork for Men

Touch exchanges are offered at the Awaken Studio on a monthly basis. Curious? Please contact Phillip Coupal at

Celebrate your erotic nature, honour your self with heartfelt touch.

This gathering of men delivers the opportunity to give and receive full bodied touch. The elements of Taoist Erotic Massage and erotic and genital touch as originally taught by Joseph Kramer are incorporated into each exchange.

There is a practice of Breath Work, Body Awareness and Conscious Heartfelt Touch. Each exchange is offered on a weekend afternoon and is held in the comfortable, well equipped and private space provided by the Awaken Studio.

You will be asked to make a personal agreement before you attend this event. This agreement about group behaviour will be outlined in a confirming letter and delivered to all participants.

Spaces are limited this group is limited to 12 participants.

If you are curious about this group and would like to have more information before you register please email and let me know your questions, comments or concerns at

Check the website for cpmplete information and registration details:

Touch Exchange for Men - Awaken Studio - Toronto Explore Erotic and Sensual Touch in a safe and uplifting environment

Touch Exchange for Men – Awaken Studio – Toronto
Explore Erotic and Sensual Touch in a safe and uplifting environment

Men experiment with giving and receiving erotic touch in a safe, honouring, uplifting environment. Men 4 Men Touch Exchange.

Experiential Embodied Erotic Exploration – Healing Bodywork for Men

Touch exchanges are offered at the Awaken Studio on a monthly basis. Curious? Please contact Phillip Coupal at

Celebrate your erotic nature, honour your self with heartfelt touch.

This gathering of men delivers the opportunity to give and receive full bodied touch. The elements of Taoist Erotic Massage and erotic and genital touch as originally taught by Joseph Kramer are incorporated into each exchange.

There is a practice of Breath Work, Body Awareness and Conscious Heartfelt Touch. Each exchange is offered on a weekend afternoon and is held in the comfortable, well equipped and private space provided by the Awaken Studio.

You will be asked to make a personal agreement before you attend this event. This agreement about group behaviour will be outlined in a confirming letter and delivered to all participants.

Spaces are limited this group is limited to 12 participants.

If you are curious about this group and would like to have more information before you register please email and let me know your questions, comments or concerns at

Check the website for cpmplete information and registration details:

Touch Exchange for Men - Awaken Studio - Toronto Explore Erotic and Sensual Touch in a safe and uplifting environment

Touch Exchange for Men – Awaken Studio – Toronto
Explore Erotic and Sensual Touch in a safe and uplifting environment