Tag Archives: self talk

Intensity and Growth

I’ve been quiet a long while, as life has torn me apart and remade me a few times since my last blog. Recently, I had the pleasure of a spiritual dalliance that was so much more than I felt ready for. I only knew I was on the cusp of something I had never touched before and I didn’t want to regret another opportunity. I was afraid of the intensity of how I felt. It has been so long since I allowed myself to think about surrendering to pleasure, to vulnerability with another. Yet there I was, with this man whose energy is sensuality and sex, and I was able to allow him touch me. Not sexually; I think I would have bolted if it had become outright sexual. All I could feel was my desire to surrender, to let go. To be whatever and wherever I was in the flow of those moments with him. And so, I did. I felt a fire grow in me, one I have tasted of long, long ago, yet never like this. So sharp. So full. So dangerous to my control. Once I thought something was left unmade in me, as I had never experienced what my girlfriends described. Until him.

Was it because it has been so long for me? Was it a response to him and the irresistible call of his body? I think both perhaps. To touch him so innocently and feel him react against me had me fighting for control, with the taste of his neck on my lips and an inferno in my body. It was all I could do to just stand there and breathe, pressed against him, praying that I would not let loose this thing inside me that threatened to wreck us. The intent of our meeting was not the removal of his clothes, and there I was trembling on the edge of a massive loss of control. I rode it, learned to let the energy move through me and not to hold it trapped. Eventually the intensity calmed, to my relief. I was shaken, scared, yet still salivating. How could this be happening? I have felt so alien for most of my life, as desire does not move in me often. I’m the woman that needs to be coaxed with consistency, with impeccable word, with a slow seduction before I surrender my body. Before I’d even think to allow it.

My body was so there with him in those moments, along with part of my mind. The other part was throwing up warnings like checkered flags that the rest of me ignored. What happened next?  The moment changed, got quiet. I closed up, the fear caught me and had its way with my center. I felt his eyes on me and my mouth opened. Jagged glass fell out, and I vomited a river of fear. The last remnants of the blockages I had been healing splashed onto his feet and I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was feel, be there in my past pain and not stop the train of my very human moment. When I came to myself, the damage was done. Strangely enough, the feedback I received helped a lot. It has been a very long time since a man seemed to hear me and reflected back what he heard intelligently, without trying to fix it. He was beautiful in those moments, which he always is to me, just differently so.

I feel a shrinking in me when I think about what happened, yet I know that night couldn’t have happened any other way. We were both messing with things it was clear we weren’t ready for. Lesson learned. I know with much more clarity what I am transforming within myself, I just don’t know what will show up to effect the work. He has been a wonderful teacher via experience for me. That flavor of fear I no longer run from. I know that accepting pleasure is honoring the divine within. I will not forget that again. I feel more womanly than I have in over a decade, and that I will always cherish. I feel like thanking him for the divine spark jump-start, though I am unsure if he would understand. Those moments allowed me to shed the skin of beliefs that no longer serve me and hear that quiet inner voice more clearly.

I have no idea what will happen now that this fire that has been lit. I know I can choose to put it back to sleep or to let it out and teach it to dance with me.

I’ve really missed dancing.

“O” Story B

“O” Story B
I feel like the girl from the book: “Wallbanger”.
I get close
but no actual “O”.
I think she’s been
telling me for a while now
to give her more time and attention.
I ignored her
because
I didn’t need a man
to feel her happiness.
At least, not a man in the flesh.
No men means I
give her more time to express,
and I can give her imagination her head
to run as fast and far as she wants to.
Maybe that’s why she left.
I never gave her much time to stretch.
Her heavy breathing
is my comfort level O,
the one I like the best
yet shortchanges her creativity.
I’m so sorry O.
I could promise not to do it again,
yet I already know
you won’t believe me.
I can promise you a man O,
I know you like men.
I can promise you I will give you
time to express more fully.
You like it and I do too.
I am not patiently waiting O,
just so you know.
I know what used to light you up,
and I’m using every dirty trick
in the book
to bring you back home.
We’re happiest together O,
and I hope you never forget that.