Squish
Getting love right in messages is an art form. Please don’t send me long squishy hugs or smoochy kisses, I’ll recoil. Extra declarations of love confuse me; I don’t know what to do with them. While the ‘hugs if you want them’ can initially feel contrived, on balance, I find there’s more space around the latter. I generally use Hugs xx. I wonder who I’m underwhelming or giving the ick to?
Getting love right in messages is an art form. Please don’t send me long squishy hugs or smoochy kisses, I’ll recoil. Extra declarations of love confuse me; I don’t know what to do with them. While the ‘hugs if you want them’ can initially feel contrived, on balance, I find there’s more space around the latter. I generally use Hugs xx. I wonder who I’m underwhelming or giving the ick to?
Breasts
In the days when I was more often in rooms naked, I was surprised when one of the Shaktis said, “You have magnificent breasts, Alison”. I hadn’t realised. They’re like comforting pillows and preferred better touch than twiddling-nipple radio operators. Long, slow palm strokes up from my sides to under my breasts have a sensuality of solid dreaminess.
In the days when I was more often in rooms naked, I was surprised when one of the Shaktis said, “You have magnificent breasts, Alison”. I hadn’t realised. They’re like comforting pillows and preferred better touch than twiddling-nipple radio operators. Long, slow palm strokes up from my sides to under my breasts have a sensuality of solid dreaminess.
Prodigal
Impossible mothers beget impossible daughters, eggshells scattered instead of confetti. Being the prodigal daughter has and hasn’t been easy, exiling myself, and returning later to heal and make peace. Perhaps there’s a greater appreciation of finally finding the long-missing feeling of mother and daughter in mutual support. Yet loss, of what might have been and wasn’t, surfaces amid the relief and gratitude. Wondering what difference more years of belief and friendliness might have offered; perhaps fewer years of hoping for favour or acceptance on both sides. Realising the depth of impact, while finding compassion for someone else’s shoes, is the love it becomes.
Impossible mothers beget impossible daughters, eggshells scattered instead of confetti. Being the prodigal daughter has and hasn’t been easy, exiling myself, and returning later to heal and make peace. Perhaps there’s a greater appreciation of finally finding the long-missing feeling of mother and daughter in mutual support. Yet loss, of what might have been and wasn’t, surfaces amid the relief and gratitude. Wondering what difference more years of belief and friendliness might have offered; perhaps fewer years of hoping for favour or acceptance on both sides. Realising the depth of impact, while finding compassion for someone else’s shoes, is the love it becomes.
Neediness
I’d have rather stuck pins in my eyes than express vulnerability. It felt like neediness and I struggled with that in my preferred self-reliance. Neediness scares me. It’s been a great lesson. I danced neediness once, it was a massive relief to express the desperation, tears and clinging openly. Being seen, being understood, being witnessed are great gifts. In the mutuality I’m less alone, the generosity of spirit of friends holding space when I’ve been wobbly, of someone saying “that sucks” when my heart had yet another little fracture line, melted my harder edges.
I’d have rather stuck pins in my eyes than express vulnerability. It felt like neediness and I struggled with that in my preferred self-reliance. Neediness scares me. It’s been a great lesson. I danced neediness once, it was a massive relief to express the desperation, tears and clinging openly. Being seen, being understood, being witnessed are great gifts. In the mutuality I’m less alone, the generosity of spirit of friends holding space when I’ve been wobbly, of someone saying “that sucks” when my heart had yet another little fracture line, melted my harder edges.
Grey
Fixations are calling for something beyond the compulsion. Jack Morin identifies some steps to getting out of old patterns that become troublesome turn ons - the erotic drivers that bring diminishing returns. They may be exciting yet over time ultimately unsatisfying; habit, dick-driven leading to disappointment, rejection and emptiness. The steps that lead to erotic change include clarifying your intentions, cultivating self-affirmation, stopping old patterns & being in the grey zone. Mourn your losses, learn & feel sensations of embodied pleasure, then risk the unfamiliar and integrate your discoveries. Change takes desire, courage and practical action. It doesn't mean wholly letting go of your core erotic theme or your fantasies, but having more wisdom and space around these so that you can be more aware and enjoy other pleasures as well.
Fixations are calling for something beyond the compulsion. Jack Morin identifies some steps to getting out of old patterns that become troublesome turn ons - the erotic drivers that bring diminishing returns. They may be exciting yet over time ultimately unsatisfying; habit, dick-driven leading to disappointment, rejection and emptiness. The steps that lead to erotic change include clarifying your intentions, cultivating self-affirmation, stopping old patterns & being in the grey zone. Mourn your losses, learn & feel sensations of embodied pleasure, then risk the unfamiliar and integrate your discoveries. Change takes desire, courage and practical action. It doesn't mean wholly letting go of your core erotic theme or your fantasies, but having more wisdom and space around these so that you can be more aware and enjoy other pleasures as well.
Get
Giving to get is horrible. Please just stop it. It’s easy to see through it, the desperation is a give away. Ask for what you want instead, it is okay for you to have needs. Someone may be happy to help you. Or if it’s the search for validation or affirmation, it’s time to believe it in yourself. While giving to get is tough to recognise, it is liberating to stop. Having boundaries while respecting the limits of others stops the intrusion, control and guilt tripping.
Giving to get is horrible. Please just stop it. It’s easy to see through it, the desperation is a give away. Ask for what you want instead, it is okay for you to have needs. Someone may be happy to help you. Or if it’s the search for validation or affirmation, it’s time to believe it in yourself. While giving to get is tough to recognise, it is liberating to stop. Having boundaries while respecting the limits of others stops the intrusion, control and guilt tripping.
Grass
Kicking things into the long grass becomes a forte. Everything gets done, or not, over time, organised into the to do list and the should have done list. The gap between what I intend to do and what I actually do is widening. I don’t know whether to worry or rejoice?
Kicking things into the long grass becomes a forte. Everything gets done, or not, over time, organised into the to do list and the should have done list. The gap between what I intend to do and what I actually do is widening. I don’t know whether to worry or rejoice?
Tedium
It’s a tedious thing to feel responsible for a man’s arousal. Or a woman’s elusive turn on. You’re not. One of the early freeing things we learned in tantra was that you’re responsible for your arousal and I’m responsible for mine. When an ejaculation becomes an expectation, it’s a prison with a teeny escape hatch for everyone involved. What if release is not the end point, but raising, using and enjoying the life force energy of arousal is?
It’s a tedious thing to feel responsible for a man’s arousal. Or a woman’s elusive turn on. You’re not. One of the early freeing things we learned in tantra was that you’re responsible for your arousal and I’m responsible for mine. When an ejaculation becomes an expectation, it’s a prison with a teeny escape hatch for everyone involved. What if release is not the end point, but raising, using and enjoying the life force energy of arousal is?
Arrangements
What if there are no rules in a relationship? What would you create that was freeing and loving? Meeting another and consciously creating a new way of relating, ignoring convention - unless you choose it. You may live together - or not. Share money - or not. Meet children and family - or not. Open relationship - or not. What if everything started from a new base of bringing who you are, rather than jumping onto the relationship escalator of societal expectation? Ageing brings new possibilities for creating different kinds of arrangements. I don’t know if I want someone in my bed every night, though languorous afternoons would be welcome. I doubt anyone would want to share my finances or responsibility for my business; I’m not looking to be a step-parent or grandparent any time soon. Wouldn’t that freedom from assumptions be a dream?
What if there are no rules in a relationship? What would you create that was freeing and loving? Meeting another and consciously creating a new way of relating, ignoring convention - unless you choose it. You may live together - or not. Share money - or not. Meet children and family - or not. Open relationship - or not. What if everything started from a new base of bringing who you are, rather than jumping onto the relationship escalator of societal expectation? Ageing brings new possibilities for creating different kinds of arrangements. I don’t know if I want someone in my bed every night, though languorous afternoons would be welcome. I doubt anyone would want to share my finances or responsibility for my business; I’m not looking to be a step-parent or grandparent any time soon. Wouldn’t that freedom from assumptions be a dream?
Mistake
I get worried when I’m challenged. Whether I have screwed up or not, I feel the fear of making mistakes or of being accused. It’s an impending dread that I’m just getting away with it. Not good enough, not right enough, too much, too little, the inner critic is a tedious little fucker with a put-down on every move.
I get worried when I’m challenged. Whether I have screwed up or not, I feel the fear of making mistakes or of being accused. It’s an impending dread that I’m just getting away with it. Not good enough, not right enough, too much, too little, the inner critic is a tedious little fucker with a put-down on every move.
Gold
A decade ago, I met a man on a packed train leaving Hebden Bridge, twinkly eyes, nattily dressed in a gold scarf. He was on his way to Spain, we swapped numbers. Arranging to meet weeks later in a tearoom in the village, I walked to our meeting, wondering if I could tell him what I’d done and not done at my first mixed tantra weekend, and if he’d still like me. For the first time, I realised I didn’t have to care. It was just a coffee, and whether he approved or disapproved of my weekend, liked me or didn’t like me, it simply didn’t matter. Still wearing the gold scarf, putting down a book as I arrived, he ordered us a coffee, and we settled, talking about Spain and his quiet joy walking the Camino. “And what have you been up to, Ali?” Deep breath, “I was at a Tantra course”. A flicker of interest lit up in his eyes, and he asked me to share. “I learned about Yes, No and Maybe.” We’re still friends.
A decade ago, I met a man on a packed train leaving Hebden Bridge, twinkly eyes, nattily dressed in a gold scarf. He was on his way to Spain, we swapped numbers. Arranging to meet weeks later in a tearoom in the village, I walked to our meeting, wondering if I could tell him what I’d done and not done at my first mixed tantra weekend, and if he’d still like me. For the first time, I realised I didn’t have to care. It was just a coffee, and whether he approved or disapproved of my weekend, liked me or didn’t like me, it simply didn’t matter. Still wearing the gold scarf, putting down a book as I arrived, he ordered us a coffee, and we settled, talking about Spain and his quiet joy walking the Camino. “And what have you been up to, Ali?” Deep breath, “I was at a Tantra course”. A flicker of interest lit up in his eyes, and he asked me to share. “I learned about Yes, No and Maybe.” We’re still friends.
Doormat
The Wheel of Consent changed my life. When I first learned it, finding myself outside the Allowing quadrant as a doormat jolted my whole being. Since then, coming back into trust in myself, and expressing limits and desires has been a gradual growth in courage and honesty.
The Wheel of Consent changed my life. When I first learned it, finding myself outside the Allowing quadrant as a doormat jolted my whole being. Since then, coming back into trust in myself, and expressing limits and desires has been a gradual growth in courage and honesty.
Competition
I sat in occasional women's womb circles and heard women talking about bleeding, and the moon phases of menstrual cycles, sharing female wisdom I’ve never been privy to, nor much interested in. If asked where I was in my cycle, I made a best guess, maintaining a fraction of interest, eyes on the exit. These days, when people mention luteal phases, menstrual cycles or holding women-only circles at my place, I rarely feel a flicker of interest. Yet I know they’re undoubtedly useful spaces and I’ve valued many other aspects of sisterhood. Do I need to get over my prejudice or disinterest? I’ve wondered if it’s internalised misogyny or a reflection of androgyny? More likely, simply not as relevant as the other issues on my path to walk. I’m still just not that interested.
I sat in occasional women's womb circles and heard women talking about bleeding, and the moon phases of menstrual cycles, sharing female wisdom I’ve never been privy to, nor much interested in. If asked where I was in my cycle, I made a best guess, maintaining a fraction of interest, eyes on the exit. These days, when people mention luteal phases, menstrual cycles or holding women-only circles at my place, I rarely feel a flicker of interest. Yet I know they’re undoubtedly useful spaces and I’ve valued many other aspects of sisterhood. Do I need to get over my prejudice or disinterest? I’ve wondered if it’s internalised misogyny or a reflection of androgyny? More likely, simply not as relevant as the other issues on my path to walk. I’m still just not that interested.
Ripple
When I was a tantric masseuse, I worked on naked bodies, mostly male. Covering them in a warmed silk sarong to begin. Slowly rippling the cover off before beginning slow circuits around the body, starting from the left toes, up the body to the top of the head and back down again to the right toes. Slowly, lovingly touching the surface of skin with fingertips, hot and cold breath, fur, silk, hair, skin, allowing their energy to rise to meet the touch. The clients asked only to follow sensation, nothing focused on, nothing left out. With zero friction, pressure to please, to have an orgasm or respond to me, thoughts could gently slow, a smiling bliss emerging. The first time I’d experienced the power, space and softness of this for myself, I’d cried.
When I was a tantric masseuse, I worked on naked bodies, mostly male. Covering them in a warmed silk sarong to begin. Slowly rippling the cover off before beginning slow circuits around the body, starting from the left toes, up the body to the top of the head and back down again to the right toes. Slowly, lovingly touching the surface of skin with fingertips, hot and cold breath, fur, silk, hair, skin, allowing their energy to rise to meet the touch. The clients asked only to follow sensation, nothing focused on, nothing left out. With zero friction, pressure to please, to have an orgasm or respond to me, thoughts could gently slow, a smiling bliss emerging. The first time I’d experienced the power, space and softness of this for myself, I’d cried.
Ovary
30 years ago, I had a fallopian tube and an ovary removed after an ectopic pregnancy, and the cumulative effects of oestrogen depletion must have crept up slowly, and now feel like an assault.
30 years ago, I had a fallopian tube and an ovary removed after an ectopic pregnancy, and the cumulative effects of oestrogen depletion must have crept up slowly, and now feel like an assault.
Departure
Things fall away. First it was brushing my hair, then owning a television, designer clothes, then expensive cosmetics, the proper job, washing my hair, then milk and dairy, the ten-year relationship, the lovers that left me, the tax bracket income, the pension contributions, Tantra, savings, my UK home, the willingness to be in challenging relationships or to be a well-behaved citizen. Not all of the departures were difficult; often, the desires left me. I spent the money on flights and freedom from the corporate machine. I’m not sure life became simpler or more ethical. I’m still holding on to coffee and lip salve, the lasting vices.
Things fall away. First it was brushing my hair, then owning a television, designer clothes, then expensive cosmetics, the proper job, washing my hair, then milk and dairy, the ten-year relationship, the lovers that left me, the tax bracket income, the pension contributions, Tantra, savings, my UK home, the willingness to be in challenging relationships or to be a well-behaved citizen. Not all of the departures were difficult; often, the desires left me. I spent the money on flights and freedom from the corporate machine. I’m not sure life became simpler or more ethical. I’m still holding on to coffee and lip salve, the lasting vices.
Rescue
I know no one is coming to rescue me, though some days I heartily wish someone might. Rescue me from what? Myself. My choices. Impulsiveness. Sorrow. Can I trust myself to be the one I’ve been waiting for? Why yes. Trusting in me, in others, in circumstances and the universe. Though, as we were reminded in Dharma class, “Abandon any hope of fruition”.
I know no one is coming to rescue me, though some days I heartily wish someone might. Rescue me from what? Myself. My choices. Impulsiveness. Sorrow. Can I trust myself to be the one I’ve been waiting for? Why yes. Trusting in me, in others, in circumstances and the universe. Though, as we were reminded in Dharma class, “Abandon any hope of fruition”.
Ice
The thought of an ice bath and wild swimming repels me. I want to keep warm, not shiver my way through menopause. I had rare hot flushes, though cutting out red wine, milk, or a second coffee helped stop the cardi off and on dance. Though I missed the meno memo of cold hands and feet and the genito-urinary symptoms of menopause. So I can’t ignore the changes in my body and my genitals despite my best efforts.
The thought of an ice bath and wild swimming repels me. I want to keep warm, not shiver my way through menopause. I had rare hot flushes, though cutting out red wine, milk, or a second coffee helped stop the cardi off and on dance. Though I missed the meno memo of cold hands and feet and the genito-urinary symptoms of menopause. So I can’t ignore the changes in my body and my genitals despite my best efforts.
Subterfuge
With a history of secrecy, a little subterfuge doesn’t push too many buttons. It takes a bit of nerve, some entitlement, and a willingness to live with the amplified feelings of getting away with it: guilty, wrong, and the threat of getting caught. Illicit activity holds us to our own accountability, whatever the dodgy dealing or in-flagrante blaze. If we want something enough, we live with it till we can’t. Or get caught in the act. What makes the subterfuge worth it, and how do we find that thrill or quality in our lives more honestly?
With a history of secrecy, a little subterfuge doesn’t push too many buttons. It takes a bit of nerve, some entitlement, and a willingness to live with the amplified feelings of getting away with it: guilty, wrong, and the threat of getting caught. Illicit activity holds us to our own accountability, whatever the dodgy dealing or in-flagrante blaze. If we want something enough, we live with it till we can’t. Or get caught in the act. What makes the subterfuge worth it, and how do we find that thrill or quality in our lives more honestly?