I’m sitting cross-legged in the cozy hall of a mountain retreat, deep in meditation. There are twenty or so others around me and together we form a circle around the perimeter of the fire-lit room. This is my first time ever on a silent meditation retreat and I’m two days in. Our teacher’s voice is gently guiding us through a body scan to help us relax from the crown of the head down.
“Feel your temples melting. Relax the jaw, feeling the softness behind your ear lobes. Let your shoulders drop. Feel it all throughout the arms. The hands. The fingers.”
It feels like syrup is slowly pulling me downwards and the release is bliss.
“Take a deep breath and as you let it out, feel your back soften. The upper back. The middle back. The lower back…. On the next in breath focus your attention on the front of your torso. Feel the muscles between your ribs relax. Soften the belly.”
I release my tight core. My sitting bones settle into the cushion. I feel held. Suddenly the whole basin of my pelvis feels alive with focus, and out of nowhere a surge of energy flows into my pussy and my clit throbs to attention. Something about the wide spread of my crossed legs and the gentle strength of my posture makes it feel like one of the biggest hard-ons of my life. I keep my focus on the pulsing energy and remember something I once read about how one of your chakras is right in the centre of your pelvis. Clearing away the noise and clutter of life has obviously opened up my body, and erotic thoughts start slipping in and out of the wide empty space of my mind – delicious daydreams about soft tongues, massage oil, and wet fingers.
“Try not to follow the stories your mind wants to create.”
The enticing bubble pops. I gently bring my attention back to my breath and let the images go, but as soon as I break my meditation the raw thoughts flood my mind – while sipping my tea, while eating my lunch in silence, while walking through the mountains. The dreams don’t feel intrusive – not like the restless worrying and anxious what-ifs that usually fill my head. They feel connected. They feel alive
The third morning of the retreat dawns and our teacher is giving the first talk of the day.
“There is a desperate kind of desire that comes from reaching, grasping, convincing ourselves that if we could just get that one thing then everything would be ok. Desire based on fear is a torturous thing.”
I know that desire. I know that anxious reaching towards the other that only leads to them turning away.
“But there is a wholesome desire based on the trust of possibility rather than on the fear of a lack of possibility, and that desire is an engaging with life.”
My sitting bones settle into the cushion. I feel held, and I know with absolute certainty that I want to lead life from a place of trust in possibility, because in the space created by trust, my fire burns bright.
Photo: Ahmed Saffu