When a colleague recently suggested I create a four-week course on something I already knew, that I could “teach in my sleep,” I immediately thought about a class on “Sacred Pleasure.” Perfect. Got that. No problem. Easy.

Now that I’m in it, I’m remembering that the best stuff I have to offer always comes from my willingness to have my butt kicked as a student again. So here I am bouncing back and forth between my naivete (I don’t know) and arrogance (I know), looking at two sides of this coin called “Clueless.” Fascinating how they arrive together, bouncing me from one extreme to the other.

And voila, here it is: another opportunity for “weaving,” which is one definition of Tantra. So I take a big breath and call on my super powers of curiosity and surrender. The more I do that, the more I begin to feel the warm embrace of humility, spaciousness and softening. Then the ideas and insights begin to flow.

It’s been a powerful experience asking Pleasure to be my guru. (I encourage you to try it.) Like the recent full “Blood Moon” and eclipse, She’s coming in closer and bigger than ever. And She’s showing me her shadow, “Now you see me, now you don’t.” She’s asking me, “What’s obscuring the light; what happens in the darkness when you think I’ve disappeared?”

For example, Pleasure stands right outside the door as I spend too many hours peering into this screen without moving my body, forehead all bunched up trying to figure it all out. Meanwhile, She’s beckoning with Her naked sunshine, effulgent green, warm breezy sighs, calling me to Her breast and the nectar of Her nature. She waits patiently, just a few steps away, asking me to come make love to Her. I hear myself saying, “Not now; leave me alone; I’m working; this is important; you are frivolous, seductive and irresponsible.” I dismiss Her in countless ways.

But She loves unconditionally, forever returning, and faithful. She’s still there waiting, even if dismissed and ignored a million times. Such devotion.

I can also see what a tyrant I am with Her, demanding that She show up and make me feel better because I’m frustrated, stressed, anxious, sad or something else equally unpleasant. She always obliges, arriving with cherries on top, willing to offer me any number of options for intoxication, distraction, or avoidance. An endless, all you can eat banquet and Mom’s not watching! As I fumble around clumsily again, She shows me the inevitable consequences of abusing and misusing Her gifts.

She shakes her head with compassion, loving me still. Teaching me, through all my grasping, rejecting, indulging, and repressing, that She cannot be contained. She cannot be controlled, possessed or made to stay.

But She is there, everywhere, when I pay attention, inviting me to weave Her into my life and listen, breath by breath. Always ready to love me and seduce me back to my senses.

 

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