Every book resting on those shelves I consider a treasure, both of knowledge & sentiment. I adore my books, & any that I add to my collection I add with the intent to keep them for the rest of my life. I very, very seldom loan books out. I like the idea of having them always, as though just their being there emits wisdom upon me.

And as much as I’d love to hold onto all of my books for sentimental reasons, I can’t help but think that some of them could serve someone in my community much better than if they were to sit on my bookshelves & collect dust (which they continue to do).

So. . . in the spirit of Spring cleaning, I’m giving away four books from my personal collection.

These four books are very special to me because they were the first sex/sexuality books I read when I began to step into my sexuality & eagerly seek oneness with my sensual, feminine self.

Here’s what I’m giving away (with dog-eared pages lovingly intact). . .

THE BOOKS:

For Yourself absolutely transformed me, & because of this it is a book I have recommended most to women who have asked me which books they should read as they dive into sexual self-discovery. (Perhaps I’ve even recommended it to you.)

I bought For Yourself when I realized that not only was I completely ignorant about my sexual self — my body, especially — but I had some deep core wounding that had never been tended to. Feelings of shame haunted me incessantly as I tried to come out of my shell sexually, & it wasn’t until I started reading this book that I began to make peace with my natural erotic side.

Of all the books on my bookshelf, this one is the most treasured because of its impact on me. I read this book three times in two years when I was in my early, early twenties. The wisdom it gave me, the comfort I was immersed in as I read each chapter, helped me feel less alone & thus more normal. Sex Love Liberation exists because of this book.

• This one’s perfect for. . . sensual ingenues who are just beginning to explore (or are becoming reacquainted with) their sexual essence.

≈

The Sexually Confident Wife was the first book I read as I entered into a steady sexual relationship with my fiance (now-husband). Before we moved in with each other, I was very confident in sexuality. But as soon as we became serious, I became frigid (for lack of a better word). Suddenly I was conflicted about sex & couldn’t pinpoint why. This was a lonely & confusing time for me.

Reading The Sexually Confident Wife helped smooth the ridges in my sexual relationship at the time, & allowed me to have a better understanding of my role as wife/girlfriend/lover — which, I soon found out, was not a “role” (i.e., duty) at all, but simply a celebration of my feminine sexuality.

I found this book on sale at a bookstore in Pasadena, CA. I bought it randomly & without knowing it would shift my perspectives of sexuality & my capacity as a female for pleasure.

• This one’s perfect for. . . sensual ingenues in a committed relationship who seek sexual confidence & connection with their erotic capacity.

≈

Mars & Venus in the Bedroom was a book I bought for Jonathan & I to read together. We were newlyweds at the time, & I was still learning what it meant to be a sexual adult female & partner. I was also fervently curious about how different my sexual expression was from his, & I wanted us to continue in our sexual relationship with maturity & harmony.

Through Mars & Venus in the Bedroom, I learned the importance of speaking openly about sex with my partner. It also helped me to understand how he & I are different in our sexual expressions, thus giving me a deeper appreciation & respect for them both.

• This one’s perfect for. . . at-heart sensualists in committed relationships who desire to wax poetic with their partner about sex & sexuality & explore the unique polarities between masculine/feminine sexual tendencies.

≈

The Good Girl’s Guide to Bad Girl’s Sex, when I first got it, terrified me. I bought it on a whim to push past my comfort zones & try a “naughtier”, more bold sexual persona. But as I paged through the book & read through the exercises, I remember feeling my stomach drop. This, of course, was a good thing, a signal that I was going to be stretched for the better, but at the time I thought myself “unequipped” for erotic boldness.

Admittedly, sections of this book I didn’t get through because I stood in the way of my own potential — I didn’t think I had it in me. But I hope that you’ll give it the love it deserves. It truly is a great read.

• This one’s perfect for. . . sensual ingenues & budding sex goddesses with a curiosity for naughtiness & a desire to play beyond their comfort zones.

≈

HOW TO WIN ONE OF THE BOOKS:

Leave a comment below telling me which book(s) you’d love to add to your collection & why. From there, your name will be entered to win one of the books you selected.

If all four resonate with you, say so, & your name will added to each pool, giving you one entry per book.

Four winners will be selected at random & announced Friday, May 10th by electronic mail.

And the winners are. . .

Roni, Courtney, Laurel, & Zuri! (Check your inboxes, beauties.)

Thank you everyone for playing. If you didn’t win, don’t worry. I’ll be doing this again sometime soon. I’ve got lots of books that could go to good homes. xx

recommended reads:

1. Giving Thanks + a Special Gift for You
2. The Sex, Love & Liberation Manifesto; a Sneak Peek
3. You Have Only 72 Hours to Rock Your Life

One of these words is bisexual.

The moment I typed out that I was bisexual, I felt a jolt of energy pulsate through my body, as if I had just licked a battery, as if I had been startled by a noise outside & a million tiny hairs on my body stood on end with alertness. I could feel my breath halt for just a few seconds at the utter realization of that one truth: I am bisexual. I ruminated over this one sentence & the rest of the writing for several days after it was composed, not entirely sure if I had the guts to publish it.

And when I finally did decide to publish it, I felt that same jolt of electricity, that same zap of in-the-moment presence that accompanies any hard or exciting or scary choice I make. It’s hard to explain the feeling. It’s part exhilaration, part queasiness, part soulful elation.

I felt those three things again, coupled with that jolt of electricity, when I actually spoke the words I am bisexual to a listening ear. Only this time, the sensations that moved through my body lingered longer. It made me dizzy. I couldn’t stop wondering if I had spoken too spoke, said too much, revealed a part of me that perhaps needed to rest longer.

And then all of that anxiety & self-doubt vanished, & I stood in awe of my truth & the courage it took to spill it.

Since I’ve confided in people about my sexual orientation, both on this platform & in my personal, face-to-face life, I have found myself, while retelling my “coming of sexual-age” story, grimacing at the word bisexual. It’s a word I trip over, a word that bothers me. I feel no connection with this word.

It only tells a small fraction of the people who hear it who I am, what I believe, what I feel as a woman with sexually & romantically fluid preferences. It’s a word that, upon hearing it, signals to the brain a certain type of scenario in which a certain type of person performs a certain kind of role.

It’s true that I am a certain type of person — a certain type of woman — who performs certain kinds of roles. But the archetype this word, bisexual, represents is does not fit me.

What fits me? What fits?

I know that I am attracted to both women & men in the most different, paradoxal ways.

I am attracted to women for their delicacy, their softness. I feel passion for their bodies, their voluptuousness, their daintiness — for when I look at them, I see myself, a mirror image of my femininity, & this soothes me, lulls me. I am attracted to the cyclical ways of women, the peaks & valleys of their emotions, their depth of feeling. I see women & I want to be engulfed by their feminine essence, filled up with their potency. I am attracted to & intrigued by women for the same reasons I am curious & captivated by my own self.

I am attracted to men for their brawny, intangible masculinity, a trait that is so elusive in its spiritual essence. And that masculinity, which is so apparent, even if they are not dangling it in front of my face (which is even better), stirs in me a raw, heart-quickening kind of carnality. To be frank, the masculine energy of most men drunkens me, & my first reaction, the most immediate predominant impulse I feel, is to fuck & be filled up by them.

And this is where it gets tricky. I have felt the same sensations of masculine & feminine delight with people who are not within the usual black & white gender binary. People who are trans. People who possess chameleon-like qualities to become masculine & feminine interchangeably, intermittently. People who challenge my ideals of what it means to be female & what it means to be male.

Bisexual doesn’t fit me because my sexual desires extend way past the bi in binary.

So then what fits me? What fits?

There are other words I could use. I could use queer, but I don’t feel a connection with queer because I don’t feel queer — as in, odd, strange, slightly ill (from the dictionary’s definition). On the contrary, I feel lively, open, sensual.

I could use pansexual, which essentially means that I am gender-blind & that genitalia is an irrelevant feature in determining who I am sexually & emotionally attracted to. This word doesn’t make me cringe, & I’ve actually used it when describing my sexual preferences. But pansexual — as with polysexual — isn’t a word most are familiar with. And while I’m not opposed to educating people on the terminology, I’d rather there be a word that has a simplistic finality to it, one where the chances of additional questions being asked would be small.

And there is a part of me that feels that pansexual doesn’t resonate because it implies that anyone — all — are welcome to be my beaus & lovers, & that I will express my erotic nature with them equally. While I have yet to test this theory, I feel that this is not true for me.

I long to be with men for their masculinity, & women for their femininity, yes, but there are other features that can coincide with this openness. Personality traits, emotional maturity, common interests. What pansexuality suggests to me is that I am attracted, no matter what, to all people. And truthfully, many people do not resonate with me, nor I them.

What I know is that I am not straight or gay or bisexual in the common use of those words.

What I feel is sexually fluid, a sensual inclination (& freedom) to move from & towards different sides of the sexual-identity & erotic spectrum; to feel a resonance with people who understand the innermost parts of me, to flow like water with my attraction to them & their attraction to me, & to ebb with the rising & falling that accompanies it.

I feel an openness to know people’s souls, to become intimate with them in ways that are not being exercised frequently enough. I feel a desire to become familiar with bodies — bodies that vary in size & in color & in shape, because I long to experience the diversity that comes along with consciousness, not just with sex & love but with food, music, knowledge, religion, desires.

I feel a natural tendency to fall in love, to care for people with the utmost attention, to give to them parts of myself that I feel they deserve because they are beautiful, captivating, intelligent, unique. And I feel a pull towards those whose spirits I feel I’ve danced with in past lifetimes, where the music we could make would be so exquisite & harmonious if only we’d give it a decent chance to begin.

My sexual preference is more than just sex. It is about connection, empathy, playfulness, openness, respect, & mouth-watering attraction with the ability to flow & move with range as I do.

I have yet to find a word that encompasses that & the rest of it without compromising the truth of who I am.

It’s maddening.

recommended reads:

1. On Discovering My Sexual Orientation
2. An Open Letter: You Matter
3. The Lie of Femininity

But to sit in darkness is difficult. To succumb to the cold, deafening silence of solitude, the misery of depression & confusion—to admit these terrors & to speak of them openly feels like a sick glorification. And there is no glory in darkness.

I sit in sunlight with abandon. I sit in darkness with shame.

When I am lightness, I am as weightless as a feather.
When I am darkness, I pierce infinite nothingness.

I do not want people to see my darkness. I do not want them to know the depths I’m capable of. But to deny that it exists within me feels like a gross disavowal of my truth. And my truth is this:

What I feel right now—& have been feeling for months—is a gnawing hunger, one that aches inside my belly as if it were ravenous & craving nourishment. It is a longing I cannot shake, an intense kind of desire to do, to feel, to experience. It is driving me mad. It is keeping me restless.

I have dreams that are wild, borderline nonsensical. I lust for things I have never experienced. I know what it is I want. I know what it looks like, what it smells like, & what it might feel like to have those experiences in my possession.

Some of these things I want are tangible, but many of them are as untouchable yet pervasive as air, & like air, I need these things to breathe; I need these experiences to live fully. Some of them are foolish. Some of them are ambiguous, so very difficult to pinpoint that if I were to try, it would be like asking me to swallow the sun. Some of them are superfluous. All of them, my desires, are important.

And as I desire, as I sit & allow the sweetness of my daydreams to permeate through me, I feel profound loneliness creep in. It does so stealthily, it does so without regard for the purity of my wants.

I feel profound loneliness because what I crave I do not think I can attain in this lifetime. I feel profound loneliness because my desires remind me of what I deserve to have, yet I do not. I feel profound loneliness because within my longing is the reality that I have been here before, aching for more, & aching because I am aching for more. I feel profound loneliness because I feel like I do not belong to this era.

From this loneliness, envy is provoked. And from envy, inferiority. And from inferiority, unworthiness. And from unworthiness, right back to desire, except this time it is desperate—for love, for acceptance, for attention, for inner peace.

This is where I am today.
This is my darkness.

I have been spending many of my days spinning with these two deities, Lightness & Darkness, & their peculiar paradox: the exhilaration of desire, the lilt of longing, paired with the depression of loneliness, the hopelessness of isolation.

I am equally familiar with both, but only proud of one.

In this moment, I am reconciling with the paradox of my lightness & my darkness—that which is deep, potent desire & impassable, all-consuming loneliness.

I show this side of me to you without shame or regret. I show this to you to proclaim my truth, to express the magnificence of my duplicity, & to embrace the darkness, for it is that which creates in me great depth.

// Comments are closed for this post but you’re welcome to leave me a private message via email. xx

recommended reads:

1. Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: An Experiment
2. Live Your Truth
3. A Lost & Strange Art for Discovering Yourself

I just feel better when I stay unwaveringly true to my self. The cells in my body buzz with Yes. The cycles of my existence are perfectly synced. Life becomes full of openness, flow, & ease rather than a series of against-the-grain instances that scrape my spirit.

And there is another element that arises when I’m locked into being unwaveringly true to my self: The hard truth that I, in a deliberate attempt to live my truth, hurt the ones that I love.

Emancipations, staying home, screening phone calls, telling those how I truly feel, revealing what I truly want, creating boundaries to keep my well being protected. . . all of these things, when done with loving, conscious intention, bring about such a surge of liberation to my being.

They also create tension within my relationships.

Of course I do not intend for it to be this way. I do not wish to inflict harm or turmoil onto the ones I love. And I try to have every decision I make come from love, kindness, & grace, while respecting the delicate avenues that such a decision is built around.

But even with caution, even with keen attention to the hearts of my loved ones, even with a tone of voice that is gentle, assured, & forgiving, I will hurt them, I will disappoint them, I might even offend them.

This is inevitable. And somehow, beyond what I can readily explain. . . this is okay.

The most powerful thing I can do in this world is to be a loving, peaceful, actualized being. And honoring myself is the fastest route to these things—albeit tricky when I carefully consider someone else’s emotions & psyches.

And the truth is, it’s utterly impossible to consider everyone’s feelings as I consider my own at the same time, all the time. And at the end of the day it is not my responsibility to be a constant purveyor of happiness & contentment of those around me.

I cannot give what I do not have, & neither can you.

So when you end a relationship you are not happy in. . .
When you choose to only associate with people who will lift you higher. . .
When you switch to a raw vegan diet. . .
When you heed the urge to stay home. . .
When you decide against the big fat wedding in favor for a small civil ceremony. . .
When you tell a friend that they hurt you & you need space to deal with your emotions. . .
When you take an hour to steal away from your babies to get a pedicure. . .

Anything you do that puts your best interest at the nucleus to retain happiness, fulfillment, safety, arousal, alignment. . .

. . . Prepare yourself for darkness, for those close to you will be puzzled & annoyed. They will see your actions as a direct punishment or insult to them, & it will create in them fear & anger & sadness & discomfort.

They will not always understand your reasonings behind your expression of radical self-love. And I don’t think they’re supposed to.

But proceed with grace & anyway, & with the notion that you are the most important person in your life because you are all you have.

Give yourself the love & care & tenderness you need to continue on in your journey. Do it unapologetically, & feel proud of yourself for simultaneously balancing one of the trickiest feats of being human, that of healthy selfishness.

recommended reads:

1. Self-Love/Self-Hate
2. Reader Question: Self-Love & Body Image
3. Things You’re Doing to Exhibit Self-Love… & You Don’t Even Know it

“[Men] . . . you are Shiva, the Divine Masculine: unperturbable, totally loving, fully present, & all-pervading.” —David Deida

You’re always horny! You just want to get in my pants. God, is sex all you ever think about? I’m not surprised that’s what you want. You’re just thinking with your other brain. Get off of me, you horny bastard! What are you trying to do, rape me? You’re such a perv!

If you’re a man, you’ve likely had these things said to you by a woman.
If you’re a woman, you’ve likely uttered these words to a man.

Men, this isn’t coming from women in bars who stand ready to throw a drink in your face.
And women, you aren’t saying these things to drunken fools making deragatory remarks.

Men, these words are coming from your wife, your girlfriend, your gal pals.
Women, you are saying this to your boyfriend, your husband, your fiancé. 

Of course there are men who deserve this kind of admonishment.

But this writing isn’t for them.

This writing is for the men who hear the above statements & have done nothing to earn them, for they are in the process of being their natural, sensual selves. . . & their partners do not honor them in this way.

On the contrary, your female partner transforms the well-meaning expressions of your male sexuality into vulgarities, & suddenly their tongues become knives that slice their way into your sexual center, telling you that you are a monster, a nasty sex fiend. . . with a joking tone & a smile on their face.

Oh, how I am guilty of this.

Men, there is something you should know. . .

As women, we’ve been taught to see you (& your sexual nature) as threats to our womanhood, to our virginity, to our own erotic nature. Because of this, we view the majority of you as “horn-dogs” to keep ourselves protected from your overt (& sometimes forceful) sexual natures—& rightfully so.

Rape is so prevalent in our culture that we’re constantly on guard from the lot of you & your possible intentions. We stay on the defensive from you to ward off broken hearts & unwanted pregnancies—amongst other things.

I’m sure—I hope—you understand.

But all of these things cannot (& should not) justify the harsh words we—your girlfriends, your wives, your fiancées, your dearest friends—subject you to in response to your masculine sexuality & arousal.

I can’t help but wonder how many of you are walking around on this planet believing our words—that they are perverts, that their arousal & desires for us is “nasty.” My heart breaks as it tries to wrap itself around the number, a number I have expanded with my own gross misinterpretations of the expression of masculine sexuality.

I take full responsibility for the part I have played in shaming you.

But especially to my man: I am sorry.

Which brings me to my sisters. . .

Women, we must understand that our words cut deep in the hearts & sexual centers of men.

When we say things like this—even if we do so with a playful inflection in our voices—we diminish our beloved’s sexual expression & shame them. This leaves them believing that their sexuality is not valued by us, that we don’t take it seriously. That, in fact, we perceive their sexual identities as a sickness.

Men are not void of feeling. When they hear these strong words in reference to their sexuality—Molester, Pervert, Bastard—they begin to associate their sexual selves with that of molesters & perverts. How could they not? We are only reiterating falsehoods they have heard over & over in the course of their personal history—from past lovers, from media, & from culture.

Except that when it comes from us, their trusted lovers & companions, it hurts much worse.

One thing that I don’t think we can fully comprehend is that men are exquisitely sensitive creatures. They are sensual, passionate. They know & appreciate beauty; they feel & understand pain. We are not so very different from men as we’ve been conditioned to think. What hurts us, will hurt them. And if you think otherwise, try taking the playful inflection out of your voice & replace it with a curt, belittling one as you call him a horny bastard.

Women, it is a harsh double standard to expect that our sexual expressions should be treated with respect by our men when we are directly inflicting shame onto their sexual lives with hurtful words & snide labels.

We must hold up our brothers in the same way we hold up our sisters. We must stay conscious of the way we treat our beloveds & the manner in which we respond to their masculine arousal.

We must remind ourselves that just because his expression doesn’t match our own, that doesn’t make his wrong. He has desires as we do, & he wishes to actualize them the same way we wish to.

Women, please validate your man’s sexuality/sensuality. Honor it by acknowledging that it exists. Give him the space he deserves to blossom & move freely in his sexual expression. And if you are simply not in the mood, say so without admonishment or cheap, hyperbolic exclamations.

Men, I promise to try harder. I promise to hold space for you as a sister, as a lover, as a friend. I promise to honor your masculine sexuality & sensual expression with the understanding that it is important & worthy of respect.

recommended reads:

1. It’s Okay if You’re Not Horny All the Time
2. If You Want to Become More Sexual…
3. 6 Things You Must Know About Sexuality

This past October, I took a four month hiatus from my work to turn inward. I witnessed & realized many things while in my state of quietness, & I want to share everything with you now that I’m back with fresh eyes & an open heart.

The Importance of Lying Fallow
A Virtual Workshop
Today (3/1) @ 2pm Pacific / 5pm Eastern

I’ll be chatting candidly with you about my four month long hiatus from blogging (& why I took it), the inner journey I went on to “re-find” myself, & how you can create your own sanctuary for retreat—for now & for later.

It’s all happening LIVE on Facebook. Click here to watch!

(Having trouble viewing on Facebook? Click here.)

How it’s going down:

• I’ll be on video & you’ll be able to comment or ask questions via a chatbox OR video chat in real time (as for that last one: I’d love to see your pretty face!). Of course, if you’d rather just sit back & enjoy the event, that’s fine, too.
• I’ll take Q&A afterwards (& I’m opening the floor to any & all questions about sex, love, & liberation).
• We’ll be chatting for about an hour—depending on how many questions are asked.
• This workshop is open to everyone.

Can’t make it? Don’t worry: the workshop will be recorded. Just follow me on Facebook to get the recorded link.

I can’t wait to “see” you! xx

With love,

Make a joyful noise!

Eager to hear @ev_yan speak about sabbaticals, sensuality, & self-love! Join us here: http://on.fb.me/YCTTgF

YES! @ev_yan’s LIVE workshop is happening today at 2pm PT! Looking forward to talk self-love & sensuality. http://on.fb.me/YCTTgF

So excited about @ev_yan’s workshop today on self-love & sensuality @ 2pm! It’s FREE & open to everyone. http://on.fb.me/YCTTgF

recommended reads:

1. Let’s Talk Sex, Love, & Liberation; a FREE, live, sultry event.
2. The Sex, Love & Liberation Manifesto; a Sneak Peek
3. A Thank You Letter + Interviews

With the women I have known, we’ve seldom been hesitant to unfurl our souls or open our hearts with expansive vulnerability. We’ve seemed to be able to talk about everything if not most things: work, school, our future kids, our father’s indiscretions, the brand of conditioner we’re using.

We’ve spoken our truths in coffeeshops, on lumpy vintage couches, on long drives to the coast, under many different kinds of sky, against a plethora of backdrops. The scenery might change, but the conversations stay unwaveringly aimed at the heart of our immediate lives, always in the realm of our personal desires & inner battles.

But when it comes to matters of the sexual, we somehow find ourselves speaking vaguely, only slightly revealing slivers of truth about who we are sexually, what we are sensually hungry for.

How is it that we can divulge so openly about topics of the heart but are so quiet when it comes to matters of sex?

We hint at it, of course; always hinting, only hinting. We go out of our ways to not speak too much about this one very intrinsic, very important part of us.

Or. . . we make it into a kind of satire, something we can speak about without really speaking about it, keeping the conversation mindlessly silly—wonky, flesh-colored dildos, memorably awkward one night stands, condom conundrums.

Perhaps it has something to do with privacy that we make wholehearted sex talk into a kind of joke. It could be that, but in my heart I don’t think that’s the whole truth. Because if we wanted true privacy, the kind wherein we reveal nothing, we wouldn’t have opened our mouths to speak candidly about the uncomfortable truths of our childhoods (for example).

No, I believe we don’t have wholehearted conversations amongst each other because we’ve never been prompted to. No one’s ever asked us to. No one’s ever asked me to.

Except for one.

We were sitting in a quiet coffeeshop in Northwest Portland, catching up after months of having not connected. The question of how my family was was posed, & I answered as I usually do: “Fine! They’re well.” And then the question of how my lover was was posed, & I answered as I normally do: “Fine! He’s very well.” And right after I answered, she asked, “How’s the sex?” She asked this without blinking bashfully or lowering her voice, but with the same conviction she had asked when she inquired about how my mother was doing.

This question, “How’s the sex?”, comprised of three tiny, simple words, stunned me & shattered to bits the grey monotone mood our conversation was drifting toward as two sisters are becoming reacquainted with after a period of absence. I didn’t know what to say.

I considered answering her question in the same way I had modestly answered the others—”Fine! Very well!”—but I knew that this rare question was being given to me from her as if it were a precious gold amulet. And with the knowledge that I might never again be asked such a question by another, I answered it is truthfully as I could muster despite being a bit blind-sided by it.

I told her that the sex was good—no, better than good; it was rapturous, spiritual, heart-opening. I told her how sensual I’ve felt since getting off of birth control, how my sex drive was finally set free from the layers & layers of manufactured hormones, allowing me to feel & desire & expand. I told her that I never imagined that sex could be so ecstatic, & I felt blessed, utterly blessed.

She smiled knowingly (she is indeed a woman who knows), no doubt pleased that her gift—her question—was received earnestly, veraciously. And I. . . I felt radiant, heard, understood, & acknowledged as a sexual being, a sexual woman.

True friends ask how the sex is.

They ask if your needs are being met—as a sister, as a confidant, as a supporter of your sexual nature. They ask not to be nosy—they respect your privacy—but because they want to know that you are allowing your sexuality to flourish. It is important to them.

True friends ask how the sex is because they know that if one of their fellow sisters/brothers is satisfied in their erotic lives, the rest of the world will be made better for it. They know that sexual energy is a potent force, one that can be sensed by all creatures, one that is sacred, powerful, magical, important.

Ask how the sex is. Ask to support the sexualities of your fellow sisters. Ask because we need accountability as we continue to move forward in our sexual liberation—myself included. Ask because in doing so we indirectly pay homage to both the erotic lives of our loved ones & our own.

Ask how the sex is, & keep asking.
Because we are sexual & we need to be reminded of that.

recommended reads:

1. Sexual Healing: A Confession of Trauma
2. Non-Monogamy & My New Marriage: A Date
3. The Dark Side of Pornography & the Price of Pleasure

For over four months, I have been lying fallow, resting my weary soul to pay close attention to my desires & my dreams. In this process, I have been diving into more soulful, spiritual things—gods & goddesses, gemstones & moon phases, the deep inner dwellings of my psyche, the visions I have as I sleep—all in an attempt to better know myself.

Because for a moment there, I got side-tracked.

One of the most poignant things I became fully conscious of during my hiatus was that, even though I feel wise beyond my years like an old soul trapped in the body of a woman in her twenties, I still have great, big things to learn & unearth within my being.

This one seems so obvious, but its reverberation created a crucial shift in my awareness, prompting me (begging me) to go easy on myself.

I must not abuse myself for the things I didn’t know.

Throughout & within this period of hibernation, I have done some much needed tilling of the soil in my heart by way of book reading & meditation & dancing & satiating my hungers—literally & figuratively. And as my mind & body have been in this heightened state of quietness, I have seen magic.

I have seen the wispy essence of my Genius, & she takes the form of a whimsical, turbulent, playful spirit who chooses to present herself at times that are sporadic & most inopportune. I am still learning to take advantage when Her Eminence Lady Genius comes into the room & whispers masterpieces in my ear.

I have found that being connected & in communion with life, friends, family, love, & my community are the main motivators for my own deep & conscious living.

I have discovered that my dreams tell me things; that I am highly intuitive—almost to the point of clairvoyance.

I have realized that I am most fearful & resistent of my talents as a writer because I am terrified of rejection & the magnitude of the consequences of my gift. But I understand that suffering for my art is not mandatory but optional.

I have seen miraculous things happen when I drop away from a need to please, a need to be a particular something or someone.

I now know what it means when people say words like Source & Divine & God (in capital letters), for I have harnessed my Source, I have danced with the Divine, & I have witnessed God.

I know that I have reconciled with the predicaments I’ve had with sex & my sexuality, therefore freeing up my mind to do & surrender to other things, like spirituality, the exploration of my self, & connection to my true purpose. What a blessing this is!

I know that I thrive better when I am not attached to certain systems or outcomes. I also know that my old soul, this ancient, wise deity within me, is hindered by certain forms of technology. (One of my words for this new year is ANALOG.)

I know better on a profound level the importance of honoring myself, my natural rhythms, my intuition, my ability to say No & Yes without guilt, though I am sure that this is a lesson I will continue to learn & relearn, as I have a tendency to lose my way.

I know that my creative self is stimulated & nourished by the attention I give to my sexual self.

I know that I feel comforted at the notion that there are & have been women like me who feel what I feel, desire what I desire. And I have found that these women exist now & in my personal & spiritual lineage—& knowing this makes me feel less crazy & more validated that I am precisely who I am & should be.

I know what it is that I desire & what it is I don’t. I know that I am a woman with a body that feels, with a heart that is tender, with an ethereal spirit that is hungry for shameless release.

I know that I am vast & limitless. I know that incased within this thin flesh are the legacies of Aphrodite, of my mother & sacred sisters, of passion & yearning, of God itself, & of desire—so much desire.

I know that I must speak from between my legs & write from within my womb, my sacred creative center.

And I know that I must cooperate with my creative self, rather than with the oppression of it.

It is my deepest, most sincerest mission to honor all that I am & all that I have yet to become. This is my journey of deepest self-discovery, & I thank you for joining me.

- – - – -

To celebrate my re-emergence, I’m hosting a LIVE virtual workshop I’m calling The Importance of Lying Fallow. It’s happening. . .

Tuesday, February 19th @ 2pm PT / 5pm ET

I’ll be chatting candidly with you about my four month long hiatus (& why I took it), the inner journey I went on to “re-find” myself, & how you can create your own sanctuary for retreat—for now & for later.

If you’d like to be there, leave your name & email below. I’ll send more details over the weekend. (Note: If you’re already signed up to my newsletter, you don’t need to do anything.)

recommended reads:

1. Sexual Energy is Creative Energy
2. A Lost & Strange Art for Discovering Yourself
3. The Splendor of Total Vulnerability

(via)

Occasionally, I’ll ask you a bold question & invite you to divulge your thoughts in the comment section.

Today’s burning question:

What would you do if you could live in the body of another gender for a day?

And what gender (or non-gender) would you choose to be?

Share your answers below. You can stay anonymous if you’d like.

And feel free to add any details in your comment that you feel might be relevant to your answer (your age, gender identity, orientation, relationship status, etc.).

recommended reads:

1. Q: What is One Thing You Simply Will Not Do Sexually?
2. An Open Letter: You Matter
3. 6 Things You Must Know About Sexuality

Let me set the scene. . .

Your heart has sent out a special intention to the universe for some sexual play to take place. You’ve trimmed your pubic hair, lit earthy-smelling incense, & anointed your body with oil. You’re wearing your best lacy things, or your best coy smile, or perhaps nothing at all. A record that coaxes out your most saucy carnal kitten plays softly in the background.

You lay your head against a soft pillow (or the crook of the rim on your bathtub), your hands strategically placed onto, over, within your most secret pleasure centers. You breathe in deeply, relaxing every part of your body. You’re ready & rearing to go.

And so you begin the voyage towards sexual release, dancing with the rise of energy building in the room & between your legs (& perhaps with your partner, if they’ve decided to take this trip with you). Waves of desire travel throughout your body, making every cell within you radiate with pleasure & longing.

Suddenly, your breath quickens, your vision blurs, your body fuzzy & slowly melting into the surface below you. The epic release is near; you can feel it, & you’re anticipating it, the grand finale of your erotic play.

But. . . nothing comes.

So you try once more, continuing to focus on the tipping point of your senses, rallying for that ecstatic moment when the space-time continuum halts & the lush, sultry dopamine kicks in. You diddle away diligently, conjuring up your most naughty fantasies, hoping to further seduce your orgasm.

But still, nothing comes.

Perhaps your partner has finished by now, or is waiting (patiently, curiously) for you to join them alongside their own erotic explosion. Or maybe you’ve looked over at the clock on your nightstand to see how much time has passed — 11 minutes, 39 seconds in counting. Or maybe you’ve lost wetness, though your arousal is still present. None of it really matters now that you’ve lost momentum

It is then that something else begins building up inside of you: Anxiety. Confusion. Exasperation. Nagging. Your thoughts turn from licentious to utter discombobulation.

Where is my climax?

This question tightens around your subconscious, & the more you pull away from it to focus on this moment of high passion, the more it continues to constrict around your mind like a Chinese finger trap.

The clock is ticking. Your partner’s getting closer (or more confused). Your bath water’s getting cold. Your frustrations have peaked to the highest level.

And at this moment of unrelenting stagnation, you feel you have two choices:

In our minds, faking an orgasm appears to be the lesser of two evils. To admit defeat is to succumb to our perceived sexual dysfunction, our inadequate shortcomings. Walking away limp & flustered implies that we quit; that all of that beautiful, sexual energy must now be prematurely put to rest as we give up & in to our brokenness.

With faking an orgasm, however, we’re aiming to serve the greater good of our sexuality — a noble cause. We want a release. We want to feel electrically charged with arousal. What better way to hurry along the process than to fabricate a climax. Perhaps if we fake it adequately enough, we might finally begin to feel something, thus spurring on a true, honest-to-goodness orgasm (or so we think).

That is perhaps one reason we fake it — to try to feel something, anything. Others might be out of niceness, out of obligation, out of fear of disappointing our long-winded & sexually-eager partners. But one of the most common reasons we fake it is to perfect a specific self-assigned role within sex.

Sex is often misperceived as an elaborate performance, one that has been rehearsed over & over in our minds since we first began to understand what sex is. If this performance goes as planned, we & our sexualities are validated. If the performance doesn’t go well, if our bodies defy us, we panic. We stammer through our lines, we fill in the blanks, we imitate arousal.

We fake our orgasm because it’s easier to lie than to face the truth of why we may not be climaxing in the first place. {tweet!}

With this lie, we create a specific role to play, a caricature of what our logical minds envision sex & arousal to be. Our identities then get so wrapped up in the role we’re playing that this fake portrayal of orgasm becomes our orgasm. It takes time for this to happen, of course, but it does happen.

I heard a story once where a woman faked her climaxes so often & for so many years that she had no concept of what an orgasm — what her orgasm — looked or felt like. In that same story, her partner, who had always felt very proud of the way he gave her pleasure, never knew she was faking it & felt utterly betrayed by her dishonesty.

We don’t immediately see it, but manufacturing our arousal has negative repercussions, & not just in our sexual relationships.

Falsifying orgasmic release by mimicking the fake climaxes we’ve witnessed with our own eyes is a slap in the face to our sacred sexuality.

Faking it stunts our sexual growth. It creates a dark cloud of dishonesty that hovers incessantly over our relationships. It’s also a gross misuse of our erotic power, the one that is sacred & spiritual.

This is why we must never fake our orgasms.

Next time you find yourself straining for orgasmic release, rather than take the easy way out by way of elaborately performing a fake climax, say these words (or something like them) to yourself:

I choose to honor what my body is trying to tell me in this moment.
I will not force it to do something it does not want to do.
I will not be angry with myself or with my body for its idleness.
Instead, I will let it be. 

Deciding to halt sexual play because you cannot climax doesn’t mean you lost a battle, just that you’ve pressed pause on your sexy time.

You can always finish what you started a little later.

BONUS: Questions to ask yourself. . .

If you want to go even deeper in the Why of faking it, ask yourself these questions:

+ How much pressure am I putting on myself to perform in a “role” of sex?
+ When I fake it, from what emotion does it stem from? (i.e., niceness, obligation, impatience, frustration.)
+ What can I reveal to my partner (or myself) about why it is I fake orgasms? 

//

Q: How do you feel when you fake an orgasm?

recommended reads:

1. You Cannot Be in Your Shame & in Your Orgasm Simultaneously
2. Reader Question: Sexual Frigidity & “Pushing His Hands Away”
3. It’s Okay if You’re Not Horny All the Time