A Portrait of an Orgasm


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DLP said recently that we need to talk about orgasm more. Here, I will tell you about mine.

My orgasm is the fuel in my tank, the mediator between me and my lover’s quarrels, the inspiration for all of the work that I do, and the shuttle I take when I’m desiring to come home to myself.

She is shy and elusive, bold and fierce. She will not allow me to have much time away from her. And when I finally do beckon her call, Orgasm courses through my body with such strong, jolting waves as if to frankly remind me of my potential for pleasure.

My orgasm knows when I am not relaxing into the moment or the natural rhythms of my arousal. When I or my partner begin to try too hard to chase her, she vanishes from my field of vision, from the grasp of my body.

My orgasm does not like to be chased, and she cannot blossom under the pressure of being conquered. The moment I or my partner begin to see her as a conquest, as something that must happen, she disappears.

My orgasm has sometimes been the bane of my existence, and the simple lack of her has the ability to shift my moods, my perspectives of life and of my sexuality. Not having an orgasm can occasionally spur in me false ideas about my relationship, about men, about the fallibility of my body.

And yet, there are times when my orgasm does not come, where she chooses, it seems, to not show up in order to teach me a lesson of patience, of ease, of the importance of sex without her, of how, without her, I am still a sexual woman. In these moments, though flustered with sexual frustration, I am grateful for the deep wisdom she offers me.

My orgasm sends me home to the Divine. Through my orgasm, I have seen and felt God. Through my orgasm, I have experienced and witnessed the Goddess within myself.

The spirit of my orgasm does not leave me when the climax is through, but continues to buzz through my body and infiltrate every little thing that I do: pushing a shopping cart, walking my dog, talking to my mother, writing this very post.

I am never separated from my orgasm, though I admit that I sometimes fail to acknowledge her existence and incredible power in my life. I also tend to ignore the tuggings of my yoni to bring her into my present life. I am getting better at this.

My orgasm feels like weightlessness, like suspension of time and space, like enlightenment—all within a matter of minutes.

My orgasm helps remind me of my potency, of my propensity to desire, of my potential to reach and generate robust pleasure.

My orgasm asks of me to surrender, to trust my self and my body, to give all of myself to the present moment to feel intensely.

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