I’m about to unleash blog on pre-adolescent sexuality that will cause the Hordes of Unreason to collectively clench their anal sphincters. LOL But not today... today, I will wax poetically about fucking.
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-=[ Surrender ]=-
soften yourself and listen:
Connected and motionless.
To the symphonic pulsing of our blood,
the crash of an eyelid,
the joyous trickle of a bead of sweat.
-- Edward-Yemíl Rosario
For me the erotic encounter is ecstatic in the literal sense of the word. It takes me out of my set position -- my stasis. It gives me the precious freedom to strip away all the masks, all the surfaces that I normally present to the world, and of existing in a state of pure being where there is no expectation and no judgment. The act of “making love” is an unveiling: a peeling away of layer after layer of custom and appearance. First goes the clothing, then every other symbol of status and position: job, title, and financial worth, to name just a few. Finally, but most importantly, modesty must go as well as pride.
My freedom lies precisely within my surrender, in my willingness to let go of even my painstakingly constructed and hard-won personality -- my image of who I am in the world and what I should be, my ego.
If I’m willing to travel this far and expect nothing, then nothing can go wrong. Here, there are no “sexual problems,” no “sexual solutions.” There is no technique and I am as a divine entity, whatever happens, happens.
Moreover, it is in this state of surrender, of not-trying, that my full erotic power is revealed. For I am now willing to lose everything and find nothing. All that maintains me in the ordinary world is of no use here -- grammar, syntax, sensory perception. Even differences in gender slowly fade away in the hot, wet climactic joining of our sexing. I am not male, my lover isn’t female. We are one, one entity. Through the tussle of our sexing, we arrive at a radiant stillness, at the very center of the only dance there is.
At this point, there is a choice that lies beyond our normal process of conscious choice, beyond choice based on trust, commitment, or passion. The choice to travel beyond space and time and enter a magnificent darkness. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, I am totally connected with my lover, and through her, to all existence. What was hidden is revealed, beneath all forms, beyond all distinctions, there is a deeper self that wears no mask. In the darkness, there is light. In our sexing, I have nothing and all things.
It’s not always like that of course. If erotic love is extraordinary, it also commonplace, Godammit! There are times when our sexing simply soothes and nurtures. There are times when a caring and considerate lover, half asleep, lends her body to me as a gesture of friendly love. As when you acquiesce to my stiff and insistent cock in the middle of the night -- separating your ass cheeks as you guide my man meat to your wet and inviting cunt. There are also many episodes of carnal, purely genital, lust, and dirty, sometimes angry, fucking. Not everyone can find a lifelong, committed erotic relationship, but everyone can be caring rather than mechanical, giving rather than manipulative. Love has many names and, contrary to popular belief, it is not in short supply.
Every erotic act offers the possibility of a loving human interaction.
To deny or fail to appreciate the ordinary is to lose the possibility of transcending it. I have also learned over the years that erotic arousal is not a predictable, mechanical process. Sexing is like the weather: unpredictably spiraling. I’ve had sex with women who, though they didn’t have an orgasm, enjoyed it immensely, and women I’ve taken to orgasmic delights who didn’t enjoy themselves. In addition, a sudden unforeseen decrease in desire doesn’t necessarily mean rejection or the end of a relationship. It is probably only a change in the weather of love. To wait patiently, to ride lightly with the rhythms of life, is no failure of will or action. For even during the lull of passion, the light of joining is in my lover’s eyes.
We remain connected -- to one another and to all things.
It is the glory and grace of erotic love that it offers each of us the opportunity of passionate embrace with one another and, through that, of a larger connectedness. The erotic impulse draws us toward Creation, toward the Universal Principle from which all existence unfolds. To make love or have sex (or fucking, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it) is to affirm life. In the light of genuine personal erotic love, the possible destruction of life on earth is no longer an abstraction -- something out there outside of ourselves. Rather, it is here in this placethis time: the possible destruction of our love, of all love. and
I believe that creative erotic love can be a healing force in this dangerous world. It shatters beyond all recognition any ideology that fails to distinguish real lives from ideas. It leads us gently to experiences in which it is not necessary to take a drug, commit a crime, or go to war in order to feel fully awake and vibrant. It connects us to other people and all earth and even possibly to other stars as well.
And erotic love is much too important to be repressed, it is also too important to be devalued, for to devalue love is to devalue life itself. I want my children and their children to live in a world where repression is no longer clothed as morality. I believe -- in some way we must all believe -- that love will prevail, that love (and I count erotic love as a form of love) will eventually join us in a family as wide as all humankind that can laugh together, weep together, and yes, share a common ecstasy together.
::drops mic, leaves stage::