Often during a series of powerful orgasms I will feel a powerful heart opening. The vibrations will continue to rock my body, and the sounds will continue to ride my breath. But the wailing will shift into crying. I find it profound the somatic similarity of orgasm and grief.
The beauty was that my body and my partner remained equally present and open during this transition. It was remarkably easier during sex not to constrict the grieving with questions or figuring because the energy had been releasing through my system for several hours by this point.
I touched it. I touched the depth of my fear that I could not have the life I wanted. I had known it was in here somewhere. I could even explain the moment it got planted. I had talked about it with healers and in my Landmark Forum. But here it was, my body was touching it. I stayed in contact and let the release continue, trusting that it had found the perfect moment to tap this source of possibility-defining fear.
Some of the sounds moving through me became hints of laughter, some closer to wailing. My eyes were wet, his chest was wet, we were sweaty and sticky with love juices. There could not have been a more lubricated exit for this fear.
“Will you hold me?” He wrapped his muscular arms around me. I could feel the father in him, the guard. In that moment a larger wave of grieve released. My body was being bound to her core by his embrace. In here is the lush privacy of cocoons and wombs and bondage that gives way to a new expansion.