So, here we go. The topic is hot.
For me, sex is everywhere and in every moment. Let me explain.
When I’m present, consciously connected to my experience and willing to stay with it fully, I am penetrated by everything around me: breath, visual wave forms, sound, touch, smell, taste, ideas, dreams, fear and desire… it all enters me.
I take it all in. I move towards the pleasures of aliveness, wherever that is, and I cast my attention upon each wave of sensation from the subtle to the massive. I feel it all in my whole body. It’s an expansion and a symphony, lived poetry.
And, in return, I also penetrate the world around me; my thoughts, breath, words, and actions also flow outwards shaping the place and space that I occupy. It’s multidirectional, the whole exchange is divine. The Divine Exchange: like oxygen and carbon dioxide passing between my body and the local vegetation. We are massaging each others’ molecules.
I give, I take, I allow, I receive; in all moments.
This extends beyond the experience of love making with my husband and includes every moment in between.
The precious time we have together to touch and be touched.
The religion of ‘skin on skin’. Holding and being held all at once. The feel of a long, slow caress like sunshine warming one side of my body and the tender fingertips tickling or grabbing depending on the mood.
Each touch is fresh, a first time experience. Stunning, awaited, apprehended.
A string of first times, adding up to an immersive emulsion of two people waxing and waning in a sensual shared dance that has ancient roots.
The way my body turns on, is mine to own and explore. My power lives in my own connection to this sensuality and it is not something I would give away: it’s shared.
In other words, it is nobody else’s job to turn me on—this is my way of being. To be turned on is to choose to feel. To remain open. To not shut down. It’s a choice. And choice is power.
Sex, for me, is not a transaction or a sport. It’s not a bribe or a destination. It’s not an effort to achieve something and it’s not a relief release.
Sex, is a conversation that never ends between me and the world around me.
It’s a choice I make to sway my hips and extend my arms as I move from here to there. To dance while I cook. To allow food to be a pleasure.
It’s the delicious and sacred act of breastfeeding with full attention upon the whole experience of nourishing my little babe and simultaneously receiving a huge hit of loving hormones and neurotransmitters.
It’s nature’s high. And anyone who has conscious connection to their body, and a willingness to fully feel it, can share this high.
However, it’s lost if I’m on my phone or multitasking, distracted by othering and chasing ‘stuff’.
I work with people suffering from unexplained complexities, persistent pains and sensory disturbances; pleasure can be zapped and life can feel deadened. Part of their healing is returning to sensuality. To reawaken felt-sense and to learn how to feel again.
Sensuality and sex are born from presence.
Pleasure comes in waves: orgasmic waves. A subtle flow of vibrations that arouse the body, head to toe, at any moment that there is this turn on. A choice to feel, breathe into, and to follow the pleasure. Birdsong. A crisp wind. The quirky shape of a mud puddle. A sunset that arrests. A piece of rotting wood on a shoreline. A group of teens on their phones enjoying each other. A bug that alights. Or movement, music and breath.
The experience of this Divine Exchange, sex, pleasure, waves of orgasm, is endless. It’s everywhere.
If we tune inwards and expand into life.
The more I tune in to the subtle parts of life and open up to the pains of being human—the harder stuff that we traverse in loss, tragedy and isolation—the more I feel aliveness wash upon my sensory shores.
There is a fine, fine line between pleasure and pain. Maybe pain is a form of pleasure once it has been surrendered into and allowed passage to dance through the whole body. Pain is a dead end or a portal.
To open up and to move toward the deepest, hiding pains with loving attention is the key that unlocks layer upon layer of pleasure.
I hold that space within myself as I explore to the farthest reaches of my sensory aliveness. I dangle my toes over my own edges and I pause, breathing. Soaking up the space that invigorates and hosts a pocket of fear.
To thaw the ice. Gently. Slowly.
To awaken the sacred sensuality that we all have, as living beings. I go there.
Sex is an art, a way of life.
It’s a conversation without words, and it’s reciprocity in action.
Foreplay is every moment that sits in between. I am learning that life itself is nothing more than a long lesson in how to flirt.
May we all return to our sensuality and breathe into and through our pains, awakening the Divine Exchange: a knowing that we shape our world and that our experiences are Sacred.
Not cheap, rushed or disposable.
Sacred.
I dream of a world where we belong with each other because of our beautiful differences rather than being addicted to sameness, cliques, hiding, and monocultures.
Sensing Ground is a community to explore the many invisible layers of shame, pushing through, pretending and masking that we all live through.
Sensing Ground is for every person, whether you identify as man, woman, or non-gender; as profoundly gifted, autist, ADHD’er or neuronormal; as young or old; as any religion or any race.
Sensing Ground is for therapists, teachers, yoga and pilates devotees, doctors, surgeons, builders, plumbers, tech workers, healers, and artists.
Everyone belongs, because we all have a body.
Our common ground is that we all want to discover how to understand the sensations of our body and respond to it like a compass.
Join me in Sensing Ground to explore your Sacred Belonging within yourself and to transcend the separation paradigm of the identity wars. We all belong here. Our bodies know this.
Together, we find that home is in the body itself.
Join the early notification waitlist for Sensing Ground here.
