Monday, March 24, 2008

The Pleasure of Surrender

My friend Eleutheros wrote something the other day that just made my jaw drop for the sheer force of the truth he shared. At first, all I could say was "Oh my God. Yes! Yes!"

I've touched on this topic as an aside in other discussions, but I've never seen it put so succinctly before.

Writing to another awakened wife (my friend Gemma) Eleutheros wrote:

[quote]As your awakening progressed, begining with your decision to not refuse sex to your husband, it likely struck something positive in your core to find that you enjoyed submitting yourself to your husband's sexuality. It tickled you inside, didn't it, to find yourself not just enjoying sex wantonly with him but craving it!
And in delivering yourself over to this wantoness, to this found the power in your sexuality to pleasure yourself with your husband's love. And I'm sure, when you saw the delight in your husbands positive responses to your wantoness, your beautiful feminine soul felt a deep fullfillment that you never expected to find you were capable of experiencing.[/quote]

This is the beauty of how a husband's and wife's eroticism feed off each other, egging each other on until their passion takes on this beautiful spiral a sexual chambered nautilus of eroticism.

This dynamic of letting go inside and surrendering myself to the passion, letting myself let my hair down and just revel in it, this is high-octane powerful stuff! This can happen alone, in fact the first awakenings of this feeling happened in the sacred interior of my woman heart as I embraced and made friends with my sexuality. Reading books on sexuality, learning how to pleasure myself were important parts of this process. But the heat kicked up to a whole nother level when I started revealing my newly-minted wantonness to my husband. Whoa, baby!

I offered myself and he took me greedily and with fervor. And when he did, I remember the moment I completely let go and let myself get off on his craving, his loving, his wanting, his taking. It was a huge personal risk inside to let myself want him that badly. To let myself want his wanting that badly. Because wanting that badly runs a risk of dissapointment. I had matured enough as a person that I was convinced my sexuality was good and I was okay (David Schnarch calls this holding on tightly to yourself) so as I said it remember the moment I first gave into the craving.
Not tolerance (well okay if you want to
not desire (hey I'd really like it if we..)
not passion (yes! I want to)
but craving (OMG yes! yes! if you stop thrusting within me I will simply die).
It was in that encounter that I had one of my first vaginal orgasms.
Christopher McCluskey calls this Apex Surrender Control to Each Other.
David Schnarch calls this Wall Socket Sex.
I call it fucking.

Body and soul, I literally take pleasure in abandoning myself to my husband's loving.

Like a chambered nautilus, the surrender goes in stages and spirals building a beautiful momentum. In order to surrender to my husband's love, I had to surrender to my self to my own eroticism, and in order to surrender to my self my own eroticism I had to surrender to God. And the joy of fully inhabiting the sexual nature of our covenant makes my husband and I want to worship God which brings us full circle in a beautiful spiral of love.

I have come to believe that some risks are worth taking. I have literally come to this belief through one soul-shaking orgasm after another, my body and heart have learned it is good to want my husband wantonly. Risky? Lordy yes! Letting yourself truly want anything that much is a risk becuase if you are dissapointed you will feel the dissapointment keenly. But there is such a thing as a good risk. And surrendering to the sexuality God placed within me and craving that sexuality, reveling in it with my husband is a real good risk. He is a good man and surrender to his his love for me is a very good risk.

It would show lack of integrity on my part if I didn't reveal that like every other human, I sometimes experience dissapointment. As wonderful as my Delighted Husband is, we are opposite enough to attract and opposite enough to sometimes disagree or misunderstand each other. Lordy, how he can piss me off! Lordy how I can piss him off! When we get our signals crossed and out of synch with each other, it's awful. And we've learned to communicate through those roadblocks, pray, seek wise counsel and get back on track. Every couple goes through temporary disconnects.

But there is another risk that is also costly and that is the risk of never taking a risk. If I die tomorrow, I am deeply grateful that I fully lived. I have fully inhabited the feminine sexual body and feminine sexual heart God gave me and I gratefully consider it a risk worth taking.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Why do we cry when we come?

Why do we cry?
Why do we cry when we come? Not every time, perhaps, but why do we sob in those gasping tender moments just after?

It is because we have desired and desired and desired and desired hoping with a fierce burning white hot longing and then….we were not disappointed!to the relief of the soul!

Our soul so profoundly relieved to have displayed our desire so vulnerably and having our desire not abandoned or left to go hungry, but instead having our desire met with recognition and eager urgent nurture.

Our soul’s profound relief when our lover offers us themself unhurried yet urgent, unaware of time but completely absorbed in the tenuous interplay of desire and pleasure, pleasure and desire, asked and answered.

What relief of the soul can be found in the embrace of a lover who wants nothing more than to watch our pleasure unfold, shiver by delicious whimpering shiver.

And then we want and want and want and want our lover’s glorious urgency to keep going for we will surely die if they stop.

And then the exultant cry as we are surprised by a joy we intently, secretly, then openly longed for but we really only hoped existed.

(another excerpt from Erotic Mystic: Musings on God and Sex)

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Garden of Delight

Today I'm enjoying the sense of sight and smell and touch and hearing and the deep inner knowing of sensuous self-awareness. And I'm getting very dirty in the process!

What am I doing?

I'm reflowering my garden. Four flats of petunias are making themselves at home in beds and boxes and pots all over my garden.

I LOVE flowers. Y'all know this. Many of you may remember the last time I experienced the Sacred Romance, God gave me flowers. Well He's done it again, and this time I don't just get to look at them, I get to play with them. I say play because truly it feels like the delighted absorption of child's play instead of the hurried labor of landscaping by the clock.

The petunias, big rich purple blossoms heavy with scent, are so vibrant and extravagant with blooms 4 inches across they run the risk of being gaudy, but instead they come across as unashamedly profligate—self-satisfied in their fragrant velvety elegance.

The cool but not too cool breeze wafting over my skin feels soothing and refreshing. As though the very air is saying "wake up" and "welcome back" to skin exposed by my that hasn't seen outdoor light all the long winter. Skin that was apparently quite appreciated...according to the the admiring glance of the teenaged boys in the neighborhood. Their admiring looks hidden in friendly greetings both embarrassed and flattered me. At my age! (giggle)

All the kids in the neighborhood must be away at soccer games or indoors playing gamecube, because they're not outdoors playing their happy screaming games of chase. It's so quiet outdoors I can hear the birds singing. No noise. Not even a lawnmower! It's just my day. A present from Himself.

I've long thought that all creation quietly sings with Eros and today only confirms my suspicion.

There's something so earthy and wonderful about laying down on your belly, propped up by your elbows, at eye level with soil and earthworms and leaves and mulch and sweet delicate blossoms attached to living green stems attached to roots so overgrown and eager for new soil that they look like tufts of white hair. These little plants are so ALIVE just teeming with life and fertility and color! I love the voracious nature of roots growing beyond the plastic pot searching reaching demanding MORE MORE MORE!

So yeah I like my gardening. ;)

And I also savor this feminine self-awareness deep inside, knowing that even though my knees and elbows are caked with dirt, my aquasocks are caked with mud and my gloves are so dirty the sunny yellow is barely visible, I feel a secret satisfied joy in knowing that underneath all that dirt is a woman all beautifully manicured and pedicured and lovely. There is beauty above the dirt (my lovely petunias) and there is beauty underneath the dirt (my lovely me).

Fertility and beauty and color and joy!
God, I love being a woman.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Revival (sequel to Come Just As You Are)

sequel to Come Just As You Are

Afterglow was nothing less than a revival.
His sweat and my tears made me clean.

Just like I would at a revival, I began to weep for joy at the profoundly good overwhelming of being seized by the power of a great affection. The experience of being so deeply known in all my glory and imperfection and so deeply loved. The point wasn't being perfect. The point was being perfectly one.

I lay there reeling in afterglow grasping and caressing his forearm and hand. I didn't fondle him. I read him like braille. Savoring memory imprinted in body and soul from the countless times I had felt his hands on me, seen them, touched them. I began to recount the innumerable ways his hands have loved me. And I began to weep over them, kiss them with the devotion and passion of the woman washing Jesus' feet with her tears. In gasping little sobs, I recounted the story of his hands and the story of him as a man, and the story of us.
  • These are the hands who work so hard to provide for me.
  • These are the hands that caress my cheek, mold around my cheek in a palmed embrace.
  • These are the hands who held our wet wriggling children after they emerged from me in the birth chamber.
  • These are the hands who unconsciously pat my butt when he is deeply lost in sleep.
  • These are the hands who open my door for me, car doors, restaurant doors, career doors, church doors, any and every door, for years without fail.
  • These are the hands who wash the dishes after I have spent my energy in a fit of culinary creative passion.
  • These are the hands that wordlessly grasp the tray or book that is slipping out of my grasp.
  • These are the hands that steady me when I nearly lose my purchase on an icy sidewalk.
  • These are the hands that when clasped with mine produce a powerful surge of erotic joy and friendly companionship from the very first handhold.
  • These are the hands that have carried boxes into our new home after signing endless documents at closing.
  • These are the hands that I hold without concious thought on every date whether that date is a grand fete or a watching a netflix movie snuggled on the couch.
  • These are the hands that placed two ice chips in my dry panting mouth during the few precious seconds that punctuated each contraction.
  • These are the hands that hold my Bible for me while we read together in church.
  • These are the hands that do open-heart surgery on my computer when it is sick and make it well again.
  • These are the hands that push the mower, wield the paintbrush, grasp the pressure-washer wand to keep our home presentable and inviting without ever being asked.
  • These are the hands that press a proud jealous claim into the small of my back when we are out together on a date.
  • These are the hands that clap for me when he sits in the second row of each and all of my performances.
  • These are the hands that unconciously open like petals shyly blooming as he offers his worship to God when he thinks no one else is watching because his eyes are closed.
  • These are the hands that press countless Christmas lights into the eaves of our home's second story because he knows I feel a child's delight for Christmas lights so he gives it to me as a gift even though he could go without them every year and be perfectly happy.
It is these hands, so integrated into every chink and curve of my life that have just pressed into every chink and curve of my body and called forth a resounding sexual response I didn't know I possessed. It is the wholeness, the absolute integrated nature of our love that leaves me weeping in revival. The breathtaking scope of lifelong love with fucking being a natural spot on the wheel of loving. He loves me with his hands in the full spectrum of life. It's in this sacred vernacular that I am loved by this man loved by his hands in every conceivable way. Is it any wonder I weep for joy?

Come Just As You Are

Sometimes your best-laid plans going off-course is the best thing that could happen to you.

I had a major diva moment planned for this evening. I had been planning to think sex all day and I even took the day off of work to allow that to happen. But this was the busiest day off I've ever had. I love audiobooks, they're such a great companion along the busy day. So knowing I had loads of domestic goddess stuff to accomplish today, I was Proactive Polly and bought a romantic audiobook this morning so I could "whistle while you work" so to speak while I ran errands and did the laundry and paid bills. The blasted thing wouldn't work. Oh it would work on my computer, it just wouldn't work on my PDA or MP3 player. And since I can't lug my computer around with me all day, then for all practical purposes, the audiobook wouldn't work. I kept trying. In between errands and counselor appointment and lunch and laundry and I would take a crack at it every couple hours or so. No go. After the kids came home from school, I managed to sneak off for a hot bath with candles and perfume and that did the trick. I finally managed to get out of my head and into my body. Ah. Sigh of relief. SW is finally ready for DH.
The cellphone rings and it's the difficult customer from hell. Calling me on my day off because son-of-a-biscuit-eater! I am still on call. This customer is complaining like I owe them the moon when I am the one doing them an extra special favor from the get-go. But to hear them tell it, I have ruined their weekend and they are ready to take their favorhogging business elsewhere. Which to tell the truth, leaving would be the kindest most decent thing they could ever do for me. Let them go favor someone else adnauseum. But that's not how I was raised. I was raised to take the high road and let the customer win. To keep my promises and be noble and end on a good note. So I apologized where I could without outright lying and I promised to help them leave with all the loose ends tied up. You want to leave? Okay. Let's just have you leave the classy way not the bitchy way. Okay.

All this took a tremendous toll on my sexual mojo and my heart in general. And now it's nearly 6 o'clock. I have this great Mata Hari seduction scene planned and I can't get anywhere close to horny.

I'll skip the dinner and parenting moments except to say that they were positive and loving and took twice as long as usual thereby sucking up the time I planned to spend revamping my mojo by taking another bubble bath (hey it worked the first time) or reading a good old printed page romance novel.

DH came home early to find me reading Harry Potter to the kids wearing a green mask and pajamas.

But I had so many plans for this evening!
I was going to be the confident grand seductress!
So I hustle into the closet looking for a negligee the way Superman looks for a cape.
My precious momentum is shot. I feel discombobulated and frantic.
I hustle into the bathroom to put on a little lipstick and confidence.
When I emerge from the bathroom, he makes all kinds of approving happy sounds.
We begin to snuggle and I began to cry. I realize that lovemaking is like worship. We show up as we are. Happy, hungry, confident or broken, we show up and offer all that we are to our beloved. Just as we are without one plea. DH doesn't need a Mata Hari performance. Although he will surely enjoy one if I feel that I want to do some confident seduction. But I realized that, like God, all DH wants from me is me.
What a relief.
So we lay there entwined and told him I had hoped to be my confident sexy horny self and had taken deliberate steps toward helping that happen but that instead the woman in our bed tonight was loving tired stressed and willing. To him that was more than enough. He began to...well I want to cherish him by not giving you the blow-by-blow. I'll just say he began to adore me and enjoy me and I found myself aroused inspite of how far down the path the cares of this world had pulled me, he drew me back. Closer to home and closer and closer and closer. He, my most dearly beloved, made me do things and make sounds I didn't know I was capable of. It was a long road, much longer than usual, but his body is the roadmap to joy, his sexy grin is the beacon to the homeport, and he drew me out and helped me come home.

That derailed seduction scene turned out to be one of the most emotionally spiritually intimate and satisfying moments of my life.
Sometimes you "bring it".
Sometimes you come just as you are.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Stay Sensuous

A dear friend of mine closed our conversation with those words.
and you know what?
He was absolutely right.

It's so easy to get caught up in the cares of this life and forget to stay sensuous and deliberately remain alive to pleasure.

One of the things that really inspires me to keep the home fires simmering is to read stories from another wife who is enthusiastically enjoying her husband. And just such a wife shared her story and I was inspired. Please allow me to introduce my new friend Gemma. She's wayyy in love with her husband, Gemma's Ravisher, and she's not ashamed to talk about it. I admire her candor and her passion for her husband and her God. Now, dearies, if frank sexy talk offends you, then perhaps Gemma's not your cup of tea. The rest of you, enjoy! I think Gemma poses an excellent question, "Why do spouses allow the busyness of life to take priority over their sex lives? Would someone please give me a good reason "why"??? What could be more important than tending to our passion for each other?"
Last night Delighted Husband and did a little something about that. Okay a big something. Okay, a shagfest. He was a little surprized at my fervor since it had only been a few days but for me a few days with nary a sexual thought or twinge of desire is an ETERNITY. But we're all back on track. I squirm just remembering. (ooooh)

God is good. Giving me the little nudge in the right direction. He knows what I need better than I do. And what I needed was several doses of Delighted Husband Love.