The song of orgasm singing

I’ve been contemplating  sexual predation so it seemed apt to study predation in today’s OM.

I laid down and situated myself  and am reminded immediately of how vulnerable it can feel to OM.  My legs spread wide open, pussy fully explored. Here I am. Here’s my pussy.

My OM partner covers me with a blanket. He’s been paying attention and knows I like a blanket on me, over my pussy, when he first starts to ground me. He’s here, present.  He aware of my vulnerability.

My foot is connected to his. His legs are warm, and angled just right as to not press down onto my belly. His wide hands ground me slowly. He knows I’ll let him know when I’m ready. He waits for me.

If there is any predatory energy on his behalf, I don’t feel it. I feel safe. He’s here to support me, and here to feel himself. I let him take care of himself, and I let him take care of me.  And I take care of me. And I take care of him by being true to myself- conveying my wants and needs.  I safe port him. And he safe ports me. Funny how this all feeds the both of us.

The bell dings and he begins stroking my clit. I check in to see if there is any part of me that feels like prey, and him a predator, and I can’t find it. I’m wide open exposed to him, but I’m not at her mercy in any way. I make my requests. I feel my orgasm.

At some point my attention notices how his hands feel on my pussy and legs.  The touch feels so gentle, soft, loving,  and present. It’s profound, and I feel my whole system relax into this comfort. If there is any predatory energy on his behalf, I don’t feel it.

My attention goes to the song of my orgasm- I can feel her singing. Unknowingly my intention shifts from studying predation to studying the song of my orgasm. My attention is glued to her. After while it is no longer me letting her sing- I’d stood back and my orgasm is now in control. My orgasm is singing, and it is my attention’s job to honor her. Somehow, I’m using my attention in such a way as to allow her song to be held.

This happens in a nuanced way that I can barely describe, but know exists because a space for her song is carved out with clarity and focus. I become devoted to her song, and sing she did.

Is there any predatory energy? Not that I know of. I feel safe. I feel more then safe. I am surrendered to the song of orgasm- not knowing where she’ll go, or what she will look or sound like.

I stay with her and she takes me places. Deep into the core of my pussy, and high above my body. Around me, and through me. It is a subtle song, and it took some discipline to stay with her.

I repeatedly watch my body “prepare” for climax, and then I intentionally relax that which is preparing. This happened many times. At some point I stop deviating from her song, and when I do climax “happens”. It’s hard to explain with words, but at some point there stops being a participatory witness, and the movement becomes it’s own totality. Time and space fell away. My body climaxes and the song continues. She sang through the continued stroking (my stroker never deviated from his stroke, which pretty much amazes me), through the shaking and undulating of my body, and through the continued climax, which seemed to go on and on. The bell had rung by this time, and she wants to continue to sing, and she does. Until the witness comes back, and I let my stroker know that it’s ok to go into down strokes.

I no longer need to ask if there is predatory energy, or any sense of predation. My body continues to orgasm, and laughter erupts. Ahhhhh ohhhhmmmmmmmmm. ❤

Different, not necessarily better

It might be the hardest thing to convey to someone- OMing really isn’t about climaxing. Seriously. No, really. We’re not working toward that. It’s not the goal, in any way. It doesn’t mean success. It doesn’t mean anything, other then climax.

In a previous OM I had waves of fear arise and fall away. Moments of terror, and moments of sadness. I cried. I shook. I grimaced. I also orgasmed. And smiled and laughed and released released released. It was a great OM. Whatever that means, i’m not exactly sure. 🙂

In another OM I had no fear, no tears, no ptsd responses. Oh, and I climaxed. As I sat up my OM partner said something about how this one was better. I’ve forgotten the words because, well, oxytocin high. But yeah, he assuming better because I’d climaxed. I smiled and said, really, the OM isn’t better when I climax.

How crazy is it that I mean that. But even in my oxytocin high I had the sobriety to know that it was true. Sure, climaxing is great. It’s fun. To be so present to such a physiological response, and all the yum that comes with that. It’s freakin’ awesome! But it really, truthfully, it wasn’t “better.” Climaxing  feels damn good. And so does releasing trauma. So does being present, with whatever is arising. Does anything really feel better then presence?

I get that from a certain perspective climaxing could be identified as better. Or, the other OM, where I healed some trauma, could be identified as better. But “different” seems like a useful word. All OMs are profound- they are all rich, deep, in their own uniqueness. And they are all different.

Exploring sexual predation

“How can you make yourself prey like that?”

A friend asked me that when I was explaining OMing. I got it. And I think that most women who have OMed have had that question run through their minds. Maybe we haven’t always asked it with those words, but hell yeah! there is a lot of vulnerability lying there, flat on our backs, legs spread open, our pussy being looked at, scrutinized even. It’s quite easy to see how, from a certain perspective, one could feel How could we not feel like prey? (fwiw, i’m not saying we are actually prey, in the OM container, just that one could have that idea…)  The sad truth is, well, we’re pretty used to it. Not that we’re fine with it. Not that we don’t even hate it sometimes. But we’re used to it, and, we’ve adapted. But I wonder if we’re really aware of how far it goes- how much we’ve adapted.

 

Someone, a male, once told me, “I’m constantly thinking about how I can get the woman I’m talking to to have sex with me.”  He shared this with no shame or embarrassment. I’d witnessed this often in his interactions- his attention was often preying on women. It wasn’t just him- other men have shared this with me too. To a certain extent, in this culture, this is the “norm”- to objectify women, and to prey on them- energetically or through action. Sometimes it’s overt, but a lot of times its quite subtle, and even sublime. A toxic culture yielding toxic norms resulting in a predatory culture- becoming the air we often breath and live from.

To acclimate to the predatory culture we exist in, it’s no wonder we as females have sexually predatorized ourselves- over time we’ve unconsciously but purposefully objectified ourselves to make ourselves prey.

Think about it. In our consumerist society “beautifying” is a huge business- all the way from cosmetic surgery, to lingerie, to make up, to dieting and exercise. We’ve adapted in such a way as to basically make ourselves be attractive prey. (And when we don’t– we’re homely, unattractive, prudes, shy, conservative, masculine, fat, flabby, unhealthy, unkept, afraid of our femininity, and so on.) We know how to play the game, so much that sometimes we don’t even know that we’re playing a game- that we’re in the game.  (And yes, we do it to men/other women, too.)

Do women **really** beautify ourselves to feel good?  “Feel good” based upon what? Can we even separate how normal it has become to be prey, as well to preyed upon, from our autonomous well being? Complicated questions for sure. And no easy answers. But a lot to consider.

OMing- and being celibate for 6 months last year- have helped me wake up to more of my own patterning and the toxic culture that I have unconsciously acclimated to. It has been so easy for me to get swept away by a toxic society’s expectations as well as my own conditioned desires to be loved/wanted/etc. I have not only sexually predatized myself, but have sexually preyed on men/women- *I* have tried to get them to want/have sex with me. It is sad but also innocent that in our culture this is what it’s come to for me and many women to feel empowered. There can be another way though, I know this deep in my heart. OMing has helped me in seeing this.

I’m involved in a new relationship and am learning that while sexual predation may be the norm in this culture, it is a toxic norm. This new dude has not bought into masculine toxicity in the ways that so many of my past lovers have, and it’s simply blowing me away because, quite frankly, I’d convinced myself that “this is how it is” so thoroughly that it became safer for me to join the mindset then try to beat it. (And join it I did- I can predatize and objectify myself like no body’s business. And then I can prey on other from that predatitized state. The toxic cycle is vast.)

I just recently read a friend’s account of multiple ways he experienced sexual predation by people in power up positions, so I think the masculine is starting to recognize how sexual predation exists in our culture in overt ways. But we, as a culture, don’t realize is how covertly it happens- how it is woven itself into “normal” behavior, perhaps because the masculine is the power up gender in this culture. Because it is the air breathed, men not only don’t see that, they likely don’t have the motivation to change it.

It is going to take women, with the conscious support of men, to stop playing the “normal role” of sexual prey. That’s asking a lot of ourselves when we’re used to getting attention and admiration because of our tits and ass and being “beautiful.” But through diligent mindful exploration we have had the potential to start to disarm the toxic predatory cycle. There really is another way!!!!

How does this relate to OMing? As I was sharing my journey of OMing with him I realized that when the container is really followed, OMing has a great potential to disarm the toxic predatory cycle. OMing has the potential to bring mindfulness to so much patterning- it really started to blow me away as I shared my own gleanings and what I’ve learned from a lot of the healthy men in the OM FB group. There really is another way!!!!  PHEW!!!!

In future blog posts I’d like to connect with the ways that OMing has helped me to shift out of old objectification and predatory patterning. I think it’s a valid and important exploration, and I think the microcosm of OM is a good place to study it as any. It feels a bit daunting to try to encapsulate it in words, as a lot of it is still unfolding for me. But I think there’s some concrete ways to talk about it.

While my friend’s first question was one of doubt, by the time we finished our chat she understood that, when done “right”, OMing is not a predatory practice. All the more reason to keep the container clean and clear- so that it can really serve it’s purpose. I’m looking forward to continuing the study! 😀

Trauma and OMing

This morning I woke up experiencing some ptsd trauma from a past relationship. I could feel that frozen energy in my body- taking me back to various times when i was with him, frozen in place, unable to get out of abusive situations. I let my body feel and experience  all that came- sadness, anger, fear… self loathing and judgment… compassion and forgiveness. Tears, sobs, shakes and eventually smiles. Release, and relief.

My OM partner was due to arrive shortly, and I thought about cancelling OM because some of what I was processing was sexual trauma and I didn’t want to further traumatize myself.  Trauma and OMing is a big topic- I know from personal experience OMing has the potential to help heal/integrate trauma, but I also know it can re-traumatisze.  Instead I contacted him to see if we could push it back 15 minutes. I didn’t hear back from him, and felt ready when the appointed time came. I turns out he had misplaced his phone, so wouldn’t have gotten a cancellation message anyway. I thought about cancelling, once again- “will he be too stressed out about his phone to hold space for me?” I wondered. We’ve come to have a wonderful container over the the last year of OMing, and I decided to go for it. I safe ported him, and myself, explaining that I had been releasing some old stuff that morning, and so it was likely my body might shake during the OM.

I could feel him more deeply arrive in himself. As we situated ourselves I could feel his attentiveness to my comfort. I set an intention to continue to release what was ready to release. We began.

There wasn’t content- it was as if i’d already met that earlier that morning- but I could immediately feel a frozenness in my system. I kept grounding myself, into myself, also using his leg and his foot and his finger. There was not a lot of sensation in my clit. I wasn’t surprised. I kept feeling more into his legs and his foot. Into my hands, my legs, my feet, and my breath. I felt a sense of disconnect, but stayed patient with myself. Attention came to my heart, and I tended to her. She was scared, and as I felt him stroke my clit, I felt my heart being stroked. My body shook.

The fear kept arising and I felt immense vulnerability. At one point I asked him to pause the stroke so that I could feel what was there without any more incoming stimulation. I felt him. I felt me. My heart opened. I sobbed. I felt the fear. My body shook. I released.  We resumed.

Not long after my clit came back on line and  hot energy surged through my legs. I felt the energy from my clit go deep downward into my body, as if something was sucking my clit and his finger and everything into itself. My body undulated, deep sounds came out of my mouth- almost growls at times. At other times my clit seemed to open upward and a heart and clit energy merged in an ethereal space above and around me. I used attention to explore the “going down/into” energy of the orgasm and then the “going up/out” energy of the orgasm. They both felt expansive and deep in their own way. Perhaps this was a yin/yang kind of transmission or energetic exchange happening within my system. The two together felt both powerful and gentle. Nourishing and penetrating. Shortly after I felt a deep grounding into my lower chakras, particularly at the base of my spine. I felt immensely grounded into the earth, and into being. Hard to put into to words- but very connected. The opposite of how the OM started.

This OM seemed to contain so much within it- so many travels within travels. I didn’t want it to end because of how profound it felt for my system to have such a safe place to explore the ins and outs (no pun intended) of my clit, my emotions, …. my beingness. I felt so grateful for him, as I hugged him goodbye. Off he went to try to find his phone. And I was left contemplating the way OMing has the potential to heal trauma.

I don’t necessarily think OMing is a useful method for everyone when it comes to healing and integrating trauma. In short, I think there has to be a lot of self awareness, the ability to hold one’s own space (so to speak), and other kinds of existing support/processing with regards to the trauma being explored. But if those are already in place, then OMing can be a profound way to augment and assist with trauma integration healing.

About 30 minutes later my OM partner texted me:  “I remembered the code! and have recovered my phone! I will credit our OM time for stimulating my memory.”
And I will credit our OM for healing that which I can’t even grasp with thoughts. Thank you OM. ❤

 

Container Integrity

In my experience the profundity of OM’ing comes from consciously constructed container, as per the OM practice. When done correctly, this tightly formed container has the potential to put a cog in old cultural paradigms-  there are many but the one I’m thinking of today is the control the masculine has over female sexuality. The masculine has assumed control over female sexuality for so long that it’s pretty much the ocean we all swim in. The OM container- the “stilted” and “artificial” set up- can help to create healthy dynamics that are functional for both genders/partners and can exist outside the time/space of control dynamics.

I’ve written many times about the container, mainly because of how much I learned by not having a good container in the first year of OMing. And I’m still discovering ways the loose container supported old paradigms- it’s taken me nearly a year of OMing with clean, solid containers to spot the subtle perpetuations from that first year.

 

Deviations from the container and how they distorted my OM experience.

In my first year of OMing we OM’d on a bed. Clearly this is a no-no in OM ettiequte but being a rule bender by nature I ignored this. It seemed silly to OM on a floor when there was a perfectly good bed nearby. This started the slippery slope into how OMing perpetuated rather then cleared dysfunctional sexual dynamics. Thinking I/we knew better then the practice and not being willing to be disciplined enough to adhere to it’s tenets was an obvious set up from the get go.

How easy is it to end an OM and lie down together after an OM when it’s on a bed? Super easy. The progression started from there- laying down with each other became subtle snuggling became touching became kissing became rubbing became blow jobs became intercourse. Parting after an OM also shifted from a clean good bye to a lingering hug to a longer lingering hug to kissing to clear sexual exchange of energy. The separation btw OMing and sex was less and less distinct the more we OM’d, until we got trained a year later.

It seems to me that there became a pavlovian dog type of development- my body knew that it was going to get and give attention after the OM. I understood that “my job” during the OM was to keep it on the finger, and not drift to the future. TBH this was the most fabulous aspect of those first few months- to watch how my mind would do so, and how I could consciously pull attention back to the present moment stroke. As any meditator or student of direct experience knows, this is the profound work of mindfulness and being truly present. It took me a few months to master that but at some point future became irrelevant while OMing.

Or did it? In some ways my mind became very disciplined, which was amazing to experience. However, other things were happening that continued to lessen the full impact of the OM experience. As the dynamic btw my main OM’er and I became more entwined, the bleed over from OM’ing right into sexual behaviors happened more. My body knew, on some level that “if i was good” while OMing, I’d “get” to engage in sexual engagements after. I particularly remember one period of time when I was having a lot of moments of wanting to engage in sex while we were OMing. The desire was so intense I’d sometimes say it out loud. My partners response was often, ” You can, later.” or something similar. Here is where the distribution of power entered into OMing- in a subtle way he controlled my desire, my sex. If I could just remain disciplined, which I could, I would get rewarded later. And I did get rewarded.

I get that this may not seem apparent to all those reading. Again, the ocean we swim in is so filled with “power over” dynamics – men controlling our sexuality- that it’s hard to even notice sometimes. I certainly didn’t notice it, and only can see it now that the OM containers I have are so clean and clear. The giving away of sexual energy is so profound, for both men and women- without a clear and clean container it’s almost impossible to stop this perpetuation.

When I look back, unintentional/culturally learned power over dynamics were part of our OM dynamic from quite early on. I can’t help but think OMing on the bed was a key factor in that- as it has so much bleed over into other sexual forays. But just as important- wrapping up the nest and disentangling from the OM dynamic was rarely employed during that first year. We often purposefully or unintentionally used OMing as foreplay, even when we said we weren’t.  This was part of our bending the rules and lack of discipline approach. Now I am able to see how arrogant it was, and how it didn’t serve the depth of what OMing had to offer. I also see how it led to an unhealthy relationship with oxytocin, which I’ve written about previously-here and here, to name a couple.

If you really want the container to be clean and clear, and to get full benefits from OMing follow the container, and then some. If you find yourself wanting to deviate from the container, don’t. Never OM on a bed. Be conscious after the OM is over:  clothes back on. Frame. Wrap up the nest. No sexual activities for an agreed upon time afterwards- I’d be as so bold to say an hour – to really let the hormone levels shift/have the oxytocin not be taken advantage of.

If OMing is used as foreplay or as a way to explore sexuality, it’s not OMing. If it’s being used to “loosen” each other up for sex, it’s not OM. If it’s being used to playfully get to know each other sexually, it’s not OM. If it’s being used for any reason other then to mindfully notice direct experience, without agenda, it’s not OM.  It may be fun and amazing- but it’s not OMing.

Be honest about your intentions and have integrity: the sense of empowerment and integrity that comes from OMing can be significantly impacted, potentially lost, when old paradigms enter into the container. It is in both genders best interest to release the old toxic gender/sexual paradigms of the past- and OMing, if done with integrity, can be a way for that to happen.

Heart Stroke…

As the morning passed I started to notice a subtle anxiousness arise. My solar plexus was tight- gripping almost. A lot of energy running through my body, which is typical, but this had a angsty feeling with it that wouldn’t quite settle.

There wasn’t content so it wasn’t as mental as it was energetic. Who knows why- maybe because we’ve just launched missiles into Syria? Maybe because of personal stuff unwinding and birthing?

I decided to safe port my OM partner when he came in and briefly told him what was up. “Just in case I have some kind of something,” I said. He listened and thanked me.

As he began stroking me my orgasm was no where to be found. I waited. I was surprised because earlier that morning my pussy and body was quite alive!  I waited. My orgasm was still out of my attention but my heart was quite on line, and tended to her, gently. Something was going on, just not in my pussy.

I alternated attention between my heart and my pussy. I made some requests, directing him to how my pussy wanted to be touched, and he responded vocally and in touch. My heart softened. I wondered if this would be one of those OMs that wasn’t so much about my pussy.

And then my orgasm unexpectedly arose. With full vigor and aliveness. But not in my pussy. My orgasm arose in my heart, and tears started to fall. I drew more breath into my heart, and she grew.

It was my heart that was being stroked. My precious heart. With each stroke my heart was being stroked. With care. Kindness. With Presence. Tears. Love. Gratitude. My heart was opening. She was safe to open. She was being met.

Feeling rather vulnerable, open and exposed, I  made another request, in an almost timid voice; “Would you mind bending your knee more?” “Oh, yes,” he gently responded, and moved his leg. More tears spilled from my eyes and I started to very subtly shake. My openness to him, my openness to myself, was returned with openness. Tears. Relief. Healing.

There is something so powerful in being open to someone who has the ability to then be open in return. And it makes me wonder- is anything more precious then to have one’s heart stroked, tended to, met- without pretense or defense or expectation?

All of the sudden- out of nowhere! my pussy came on line, and my orgasm flowed down through my body and into my clit and through my pussy. Ahhhhh.

The OM went in a totally different direction after that- from heart orgasm to full body orgasm. My clit was full of sensation, my breath was surging through me, kundalini was flowing up my back- my being was yielding to the orgasmic flow. I was hers.

Attention continued to flow between my heart and my pussy. I remember one time in the OM when my heart felt so wide, so deep, tears streaming down my face, and with that expansion I felt a huge movement through my hole body, particularly in my pussy. Ahhhhh.

It may not always seem true, due to the protective shields that most of us have around our hearts, but it seems as through the heart really is the key to the pussy. Once that shield has been removed, a new wisdom reveals itself, and a higher level of expansion flows forth, and it becomes self evident how true that saying really is.

Oh heart. Thank you. ❤

 

 

 

March was…

Fast write, Prompt: March

 

March was the month I trusted.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” you’d shared before you left. I need more then words, I’d replied. I knew this sentence, and others that were music to my ears and lube to my pussy, were fresh on the heels of you diving into your shame and shadows. I opened to possibility that you were not the same guy.

While you were away I did my own work. Deep sea diving into the dark depths of rage and then up to the heights of love, and everywhere in between. I emptied out my heart. I died, to live again.

I crawled out of winter’s cave open, forgiving and trusting. I opened my heart to you again, willingly. I couldn’t not- it was already in progress. But I could not open my pussy to you- that too was already predetermined and not up to me.

March was the month I trusted, over and over, that exploring my pain was for my best interest, and it was. I loved you fully, and I loved me more still. Not in all moments.. I lost myself a bit, again, as I tend to do. But in the end it was me I choose, not you.

March was the month I found pain, desperation, and the volcanic emptiness of mental fatigue. A sweet and savory song danced through the prickles and pokes, and to her I returned over and over and over again. She saved me.

March was the month I finally accepted the message that had been repeatedly transmitted and I refused to hear: my open heart does not feed you, it is not what you want. I shrank as small as I could to overcompensate, but it didn’t matter- that strategy was dead. Liberation.

March was the month god showed me myself- loving, compassionate, adventuresome and rebellious. The train of footsteps undefined yet mine- leading to freedom from, and freedom within.

March was the month life began a new, and died a bitter sweet death. In like a lamb and out like a slaughtered lamb. But a dove remaining, and the heart of a lion proclaiming, Thank You March.