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By John Ballew
 Our North American culture is goofy when it comes to sexuality. On the one
hand, sexuality and sexual information is suppressed; perhaps because we
confuse ignorance with innocence. On the other hand, sex is everywhere - used
to sell toothpaste, brain-dead television sitcoms, soft drinks and cigarettes.
Our culture is also goofy when it comes to spirituality. The scientific age in which we live has us satisfied only when we have broken everything down into the smallest parts possible. "Mystery" has come to mean failure a to understand or research thoroughly enough. Mainstream religion – meaningful for many, but a compromised resource for lesbians and gay men - seems equally uncomfortable with the puzzles of life's meaning at the end of this millennium. Despite all our knowledge, we find ourselves adrift. Sexuality in America is more often associated with entertainment (think "movies") or medicine (think "Viagra") than with spirituality. This reflects our nation's Puritan Protestant roots. We have a prurient but ambivalent attitude toward sex, and we may find it unimaginable that other traditions take a very different approach. Tantra, for instance, understands the cultivation of erotic energy as a pathway to the Divine. Taoism views the raising and cultivation of erotic energy as a pathway to health. A Cherokee friend told me once that in his language, the phrase for masturbation means "to pour honey on the heart." Most of us did not grow up in families that talked about pouring honey on our hearts, if they talked about sex with us at all! Where is the mystery in our sexuality? Gay folk may have more insight into the potential sacredness of sexuality than others. For us, the journey into our sexuality has often resulted in growing in our self-understanding, acknowledging our identity, taking action in the world, finding our place. We experience revelation in our sexuality as well as the potential for communion.
 Many of us have felt the touch of the Divine in the touch of another. Whether
simply the joy of connecting with another eager body or the sharing of
intimacy and passion with our beloved, we can acknowledge the mystery involved in the
erotic. Despite our cultural conditioning, we intuit that something uniquely
powerful is upon us.
As children we explored our bodies with joy and without inhibition. Left to their own devices, kids play doctor and touch one another without shyness. Boys bathing find their hands travel predictably to their genitals, there to explore sensations and the body's delights. Judgment is not a part of this process unless an adult is around to shame the child. As we enter puberty the sensations of the body and the meaning of our exploration changes. What is erotic becomes more powerful. In this culture, it often becomes more dangerous as well. Boys anxious about their own bodies may project their fears on each other and wound one another. For queer kids, the simple delight of sharing touch with another boy may be replaced by taunts and name-calling. Our bodies and our sexuality become problems for us and we learn to dissociate ourselves from our sexuality. Some of us disdain our bodies or turn our physical selves or those of others into mere objects. Many of us enter adulthood with a high degree of ambivalence about our bodies and our sexuality. Joys of earlier years are replaced by disconnection between our spirit and our physical self. Sex becomes a performance or a test of our manhood. Any sense of the sacred is fleeting or gone completely. When erotic joy is gone, we wither and fragment. The alternative is to seek pleasure in our own selves as a way of reconnecting with the mystery of our bodies, the mystery of Creation. Similarly, deepening our capacity for lasting physical intimacy with others requires us to look to our relationship with our selves first. Consider making a date with yourself. Imagine touching your body the way you would want a lover to touch you. Experiment and explore with yourself as if you were touching your body for the first time, not the ten thousandth time. Instead of focusing on sexual release, make pleasure your only goal.
 Light candles. Burn incense. Warm some oil. Put on beautiful, sensual music.
Perhaps start with a warm bath. Run your hands over your body. Touch your
skin. Allow the oiling of your skin to be a sort of anointing--one of the
oldest ways we humans have of honoring one another. Explore yourself with a
mirror. Then close your eyes. See with your hands. Relax your breathing.
Move your hips. Stretch. Let your hands travel to your genitals without
hurry.
Imagine sex without a goal other than self-enchantment. How much pleasure will you allow yourself this time: 30 minutes? An hour? Maybe a second hour? Let the honey come to your heart in its own time. Breathe. Relax and smile. Savor the moment. Can you take your body by surprise, catch yourself off-guard with some little happiness? Another process I like is something I call meditative masturbation. As you slowly pleasure your body-self, focus on each sensation. Let go of thought and fantasy. Be present to yourself. Breathe consciously. Follow sensations around the body. A client of mine who uses seven-syllable mantras in his meditation chants, "This pleasure is my birthright." Let your touching slow to stillness if you would like, conserving your ejaculate in the Tantric or Taoist fashion. If you choose to ejaculate, take your time and allow yourself to do so in a state of total relaxation--not tensing your body, which restricts the sensation. Savor the stillness afterwards. What sensations drift into your consciousness? Is there a revelation here for you? In another article, I'll suggest ways to cultivate erotic energy, joy and a sense of the sacred with a partner. I welcome your thoughts or questions; you can reach me at jballew@bodymindsoul.org. http://www.bodymindsoul.org Photos: From the movie Kama Sutra (http://www.thekamasutra.com) |
© 1997-98 BEI