My heart is craving connection. Even thought I know it isn’t true, I’ve been indoctrinated to always assume connection happens with “other”. My system looks for, believes in, “other” in many ways. Sometimes casually, sometimes desperately. Either way, without that “other” here, I’m left with me. And with that comes a whole lot to feel.
Being “left with me” ultimately means I’m just left wide open and vulnerable. Tagging along are my human fears of rejection and human wants of love (all based upon “other”). And yet this fear of rejection and wanting of love beckon **me**- not other- to respond. *I* am invited to feel it all. These fears and wants are inviting me to accept and love myself as I feel what I feel, as I experience what I experience. To take it all in. To connect with all my bits as they reveal themselves. To connect with the overwhelm and wanting to pause. To connect with the fear of rejection. To connect with wanting to experience love. All of that gets to be allowed here, in this human experience, as intimate connecting happens. Here.
I mention all this because my study with sensation, sensation as it dances with/as me, apart from “other”, is soaking my attention today. My strokers finger barely existed today. Clear references to “other” were not holding up in solid ways. I was deeply submerged in energetic resonances that were “under” divisions of me or him.
Today’s OM: Sometimes the orgasm feels like it is pressing itself down in/onto me. Other times it feels like it is barreling out of/from me. And sometimes it feels like it is doing a dance between the two. I think I need many more field hours to explore this. 😉
The orgasm pressing down inwards oscillating with flowing outwards… I don’t quite have the words for it, but it seems to point to the dance of life. The dance of energy and the dance of life: openings and closings, contractions and releases, constriction and expansion.
At one moment in the OM it felt like there were so many hands on me! (talk about the paradox of “other”!) It felt like there were hands on my thighs, under me, around me. My orgasm was engaging in so many ways outward, and then would come barreling back down inwards- as if it was pressing down into my clit and to the rest of my insides from there. The contrast of the gentle orgasmic flow around me, to the rather intense urgent kind of expression, was a lot.
All of this mirrors life to me. The 15 minute window to the rest of life. So many kinds of experiences in our days- so much pushing, pullings, grasping, releasing. So much pleasure, amidst distance and discomfort and overwhelm. So much that seems to be coming from other, that is other “based”, but is ultimately only ever arising within/as oneself.