It really slips my comprehension of why sex is such a casual thing to most people I encounter.
Like a matter of hygiene or something that one does on the side, even as a routine, simply because it’s done – possibly to close (or start) a day or to get some assumed physical needs met (which, let’s be honest, mostly are a result of missing connection with one’s own spirit and blocked energy channels).
Like a quick fix for getting pleasure that fills a moment but doesn’t last. Like touching upon a tiny spark of divinity while not cultivating it to an ever-present momentum.
Like an attempt to fly ending in a stumble instead of smooth gliding along the waves of innate bliss.
For me, it just is so much more
It is the sacred encounter of two spirits through the means of physical connectivity.
It is a conscious witnessing, touching, experiencing, cherishing, and sharing one another’s bodies – our souls’s visible densifications. It is a curious adventure filled with awe and sensation.
It is a way of calling another deep into myself, my heart, my beating rhythm of life. It is breathing in a soul different from my own and sensing their energetic make-up on multiple levels in a multitude of ways.
It is being internally touched by another consciousness’s imprint, moving in different tides. It is awakening the senses to give and receive and to kindle the circulating of life energy between the two (or for some, possibly more) of us.
It is figuring out how we as spiritual beings translate into electrical impulses being picked up by senses forming inner and outer images and how we affect and influence (flow into) one another, what we can spark in one another.
It is reaching to the essence of who we are – together with another. It’s a journey of homecoming. To the most sacred places that we have known throughout our entire existence.
I made every effort I could muster
I walked into all kinds of directions, talked with many beings of a variety of backgrounds, social entanglements, and psychological wiring.
I explored so many varied angles regarding this matter, tried so much to understand other’s relationships to sexual encounters – inwards and outwards. I bent my mind and my preferences, stretched, even over-stretched, and lost myself.
I silenced my heart and my inner wisdom at times, for the sake of flexing myself out of myself into an entirely new understanding – because I so deeply desire to comprehend.
I asked questions, unraveled the convoluted grids at the depth of the psyche, witnessed the dynamics of correlations, inhaled and exhaled a for a single brain impossible amount of information, ingesting, processing, learning, integrating.
Now, I know, see and feel a lot. On so many planes that I am no longer able to translate into understandable words.
Still, I fail
And still, I have to admit that I absolutely and gloriously fail in getting how others – anyone – would not be able to see and sense the utter sacredness, gift, and magic of a sexual experience.
How they still – at the moment with the potential for total connection – don’t know how to or refuse to connect. How their heart cannot open and revel in love. How their insides can remain untouched, unshaken, unmoved… while I myself tremble with every inch of skin that I feel under my fingertips, with every gaze into another’s eyes, with every heartbeat close to mine.
While I myself die in a tight embrace and my skin and soul begin to glow under the energetic surges of another’s touch. While I wander between the worlds when another blesses me with offering me their body so that I can take their soul under my skin and their heart into mine.
While I feel their spirit running through my veins, pulsating in foreign rhythms that slowly become my own. While I fall home into the other and their trust, their beyond beautiful vulnerability, their simultaneous fragility, and strength.
Oh, I’m not talking about a momentary orgasm. I am talking about sharing a naked, orgasmic soul that indulges in being present on all possible levels with another being present in the same – in the undivided, unmasked most intimate presence of one another. Where every moment becomes an infinite ocean of bliss.
Being present means offering all of oneself as a gift to another.
I fail to comprehend why one would neither treat themselves nor me (another) to such an invaluable gift
I just fail. Because to me, being intimate with another is like the journey into an entirely new universe that dismantles me to my core while I get to breathe the other. It is one of the most beautiful – utmost tender, yet powerful – gifts that one can offer – sharing their temple, the habitat of their particular shard of consciousness (including their spirit, obviously.) Reaching back into the whole through dissolving the borders when becoming one with someone else – not just physically.
Not being aware of how precious such encounters are feels like a waste of energy, time, and consciousness to me. Like a waste of life and a promise to death. Like neglecting and even condemning oneself instead of harnessing and inhaling the power of life.
Of course, I know about the identification with the physical body and the constraints coming with it. But see, we don’t have to submit. We are free to walk beyond who we think we are and find out who we really are. We are free to awaken fully and to embody all of ourselves.
Most people just don’t seem to do that. And so I fail to comprehend.
So much wasted potential, beauty, and life force saddens me.
November 20th, 2020