To the contrary, having dated women throughout graduate school, I was definitely more familiar than most with being close to another woman’s body. So it couldn’t have been just the mere fact of pussy that made that spring morning in Austin in 2012 so impactful.
Looking back, I think the reason it shook me down to my bones to see her pussy that day was that I had never really seen a pussy for the sake of just seeing a pussy.
For the sheer purpose of being present with another woman’s sexual body.
Initially the proposition seemed appealing. Attend a 10-day silent meditation retreat at the end of a tumultuous summer with five of my closest friends. Living in Dallas, we live less than an hour away from The Southwest Vipassana Meditation Center in Kaufman, Texas, a modest cluster of buildings on 34 acres of agricultural land that draws would-be meditators from across the country. For the last two years I have witnessed community members who have come back from the course and raved of the benefits. It seemed like it was finally my turn.
Ever since grade school I have gravitated to leadership. Yep, I was that kid. The one who always got A’s, was quietly liked by most and ran for and got elected to Student Council President and Class President in the same year. I was 12. I still hadn’t menstruated. I wore big, horn-rimmed glasses and my hair was usually frizzy.
Being a leader began for me by watching my parents, especially my mother. During my years in Catholic grade school, Mom served as the head of our Brownie troop, the founder of our community prayer group, Founder and Editor of a newsletter on parenting and Director of the Adolescent Treatment Program at our family’s non-profit substance abuse treatment center in Richardson. It seemed to me that my mom could handle anything. I always saw her as a Superwoman. Continue reading…
I’d like to share something here about my grief process of late. Sunday, a very close friend of mine died in a car accident. No warning, nothing in her life indicated the end was near. A car hit her and she was gone.
You might think that Orgasmic Meditation – or OM for short – and grief have nothing to do with one another. But that’s not my experience.
When I read the news by text Monday afternoon, I immediately threw my phone down and crumpled to the floor. The news hit me, the way news like this hits. Like a stinging electric shock. Like my vision blurring. Like my skin prickling. As if it was coming unglued from my body.
My favorite line from The Princess Bride, my favorite childhood movie, begins like this.
“Surrender!” commands Prince Humperdink, as he and his henchmen surround a battered Westley and Buttercup as they limp out of the woods of the infamous Fire Swamp. With a poise that makes this scene immanently endearing, the bleeding, ragged Westley quips to the opponents who outnumber him, “You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept”.
It usually starts the same way. One of us has something difficult to share. It’s like a hot potato, difficult to hold. We toss it about, circling the conversation before eventually blurting some news to the other that lands like a burning coal we didn’t see coming. Ouch! Damage is done. And we spend hours on the cleanup. And then I think, if only he had helped me warm into it, the heat wouldn’t have burned. I actually like it hot, when I choose it.
Published in the January 2016 edition of Mystic Mandala Experience.
A simple tenet uniting all of us in holistic wellness is that we all want to feel good. Seems obvious! To have harmony with our spouses. To have that cute guy or girl call you back. To be running a bustling business. To wake refreshed each day. I know that’s what I want! And I want the people I work with in my intimacy coaching practice to have that too.
But though simple, having what we want is often not easy. Impediments abound. In my sessions and workshops I help my clients “unblock” whatever is in the way of them living the life of their desires. One of the main obstacles I regularly see is a phenomenon let’s call, “waiting for the other shoe to drop”. It goes something like this.