Upcoming Spring Retreat Dates!!

I’m super excited to announce my Spring Bodysex dates in Saskatchewan and Quebec!

When I attended my first Bodysex workshop 5 years ago, I saw my sexuality as separate from who I was — not really sure what I liked or didn’t because it was so far from being a true part of me. Sex was something I offered when I wanted closeness in my relationship, and with held when I didn’t. Masturbation was in a box of it’s own, brought out at rare times when I needed some kind of relief —always accompanied with shame for taking it. When my sexuality excited me I felt a need to contain it — as if I was possessed by some foreign body and wasn’t quite sure I could trust it. When it disappointed me I added it to the list of disappointing parts of myself and pushed it away further. 

Through the process of taking off my clothes, sharing my stories and consciously practicing self pleasure and orgasm, I now understand that my sexuality isn’t a thing, an act, or a behaviour.  It’s who I am. It’s in the way I move, eat, breathe, dance, make love, work, play, touch others and touch myself. It’s in my curiosity, my vulnerability and my way of experiencing life. My history of offering or denying it negated myself in it. Today, I choose to live it.  And in living it I’ve learned to trust it because it isn’t an it at all. It’s me. 

 

 

It’s Not About Feeling Better, It’s About Feeling More

She’s a woman in her 50’s,
lying naked on my bed masturbating.
Never having orgasmed before she’s come asking for help.
Sitting beside her I watch her body move as she touches herself,
clearly enjoying the pleasure.
The skin on her chest starts to flush
telling me she’s close to orgasm.
I wish I could capture this moment so she could see how beautiful she looks,
but I stay still, not wanting to disturb her.
As the flush on her chest begins to climb to her neck I notice her crease her brow.
Leaning forward I softly touch her face, guiding her to soften too.
I’m scared” she says. “I don’t know what it’s going to feel like.”
“I’m here with you” I say. “Your pleasure looks so beautiful on you.
She starts to cry and continues to masturbate,
the flush on her neck now covering the lower half of her face.
The sounds of her orgasm fill my room, followed by the sounds of her sobbing.
Smiling through my tears I think “this is what half a century of release looks like” and I’m grateful for the honour of being there with her. 

It’s not about feeling better, it’s about feeling more.

Sometimes I’m afraid to look
because I don’t want to see the
pain she holds tightly behind her eyes.
I fuss around her, caring for her in other ways
not quite trusting my own ability to cope with it.
Knowing that this isn’t right and that I can’t avoid it any longer,
I look — really look — feel her sadness, and begin to cry.
At the sight of my tears,
she turns away — not wanting to see my pain.
We can do this. I know we can” I say to myself,
and I continue to look at her until she turns back to look at me.
Holding each other, we cry.
We are doing this. 

It’s not about feeling better, it’s about feeling more.

She’s sitting across from me in the circle
beginning to tell the story of her past trauma and pain.
As the words fall out of her mouth,
her chest heaves then collapses while her eyes plead with me to rescue her.
The woman beside her looks at me as well
motioning with her own eyes for me to do something.
My eyes lock with the woman sharing and
I reassure her — without words —that I’m here,
she’s a survivor and she doesn’t need rescuing.
We’re holding space for her.
Taking a deep breath in, and then out,
I watch her body slowly land on her exhale.
Her chest lifts and she continues her story. 

It’s not about feeling better, it’s about feeling more. 

I’m on my back lying under him,
our bodies moving and breathing together,
like a circle, in and out, around and around.
His eyes don’t leave mine and I wonder, for a second, if he ever blinks.
What does he see when he looks at me in my pleasure?
Is it okay? Am I okay?
I feel heat and energy rising from my vulva to my chest
and I breathe into it,
feeling full — over filled.
I’m going to cry” I say embarrassed, “but it’s not bad.
And I do. I cry through my pleasure while he holds me,
breathing in the air that I breathe out. 

It’s not about feeling better, it’s about feeling more. 

The Wisdom of Our Self

I received an email the other day from a woman who had questions about her body, orgasms and pleasure response. I love answering these questions and am always happy to do it, yet our exchange reminded me of how much can’t be taught.

I think it’s easy to imagine that others have the wisdom we need and that if we attend certain workshops or sessions, read specific books, or listen to the right podcasts, we’ll find the answers. It’s true that there are many facilitators and teachers who have much to offer and that through listening, reading and asking questions we can learn and bring awareness to aspects of ourselves that we hadn’t recognized before. I’ve learned from many teachers over the past several years and yet what always stands out, and what I’m continually relearning, is that the answers are with in me, not with out

Pleasure, orgasm and intimacy are about connecting to and feeling from our innermost selves, and the greatest teacher we have is literally at our fingertips, in our breath, tastebuds, sight and hearing. It’s simply a matter of opening and listening to what can be felt.  This takes time, commitment, willingness and presence. It isn’t easy nor does it happen in a clearly defined five step process.

When we touch our body with the curiosity and wonder we would have if we touched a treasured lover, we will discover pleasure.

If we imagine our breath as a vehicle carrying pleasure through our body and that we can speed it up, slow it down, make it stop and start, go round in circles or drive any way we want, we will discover pleasure.

If we practice opening our legs, our mouths, our hearts and our vulvas while we touch, we will discover pleasure.

If we relax our vocal chords and let out whatever noises want to come out – from deep gutteral sounds to high pitched squeals – we will discover pleasure.

If we slow down our eating, taking small bites of our food, letting it roll around our mouth so that we can not only taste, but also feel the food, we will discover pleasure. 

If we listen to music with our eyes closed and allow the vibrations to play through our body, we will feel pleasure. 

If you are on a path to discover and explore your sexuality, I think it’s absolutely worthwhile to seek out and explore the knowledge and wisdom of sexually empowered teachers. I also believe that the greatest guides and teachers will continually lead you back in the direction of the greatest wisdom of all – yourself. 

**I write this in thanks to Betty Dodson, the first teacher on my path to discovering my sexuality, that pointed me back to my self. 

my insecurities make me selfish

*based on conversations I’ve witnessed between clients and in my own life. 

my insecurities make me selfish………..

i turn off the lights before sex so that you don’t see the parts of my body that disgust even me. 

I thought maybe you wanted the lights off because I’ve gained weight this year and my abs aren’t defined.

i don’t give you head because I don’t think I’m good at it and I don’t want to disappoint you. 

I thought you didn’t like my dick because it’s too small. 

i don’t let you go down on me because I think my pussy is gross and you can’t possibly want to lick it. 

I thought you just don’t like the way I lick you. 

when I orgasm I put my face against a pillow because I don’t want you to see how weird I look. 

It hurts me that in our most intimate moments you won’t look at me. 

my favourite sex position is doggy style but I never want to do it because you might see the cellulite on my ass. 

I thought you didn’t want to do it because my belly is too big. 

i fake orgasms because I’m embarrassed by how long it takes me to actually have one.

I thought you faked because I’m no good at pleasuring you. 

when you gave me the gift for my birthday and I complained about it being too expensive instead of thanking you, it was because I didn’t think I deserved something so special. 

I thought “I’ve screwed up again.”

i stopped initiating sex because of that time when I lost my erection and I felt like I’d failed you. 

I thought you stopped initiating because I’m no longer attractive to you. 

i don’t talk to you at work because I think you’re way smarter than me and I don’t want to look stupid. 

I thought you didn’t want to know me. 

i didn’t ask you out on a date because I couldn’t face the rejection if you said no. 

I thought you just didn’t like me. 

i’ve never invited you into my home because I’m embarrassed of it. 

I thought you don’t care about me. 

i didn’t tell you that you look nice the other day — even though I thought you did — because I was scared you’d say it back to be polite and I know that I didn’t look nice. 

I would have loved hearing you say that. 

i never ask you to do anything with me, or say yes when you ask me, because I think I’m boring and no fun to be around -unlike you who’s so interesting!

I thought you must think I’m no fun to be around. 

i wanted to bring you a meal when your mom died but I was scared I’d say the wrong thing so I avoided you. 

I felt unsupported and unloved. 

my insecurities make me selfish………….

When I’m 80 Years Old…….

I came upon these 3 questions in a book I was reading on a flight to Montreal last weekend. Without thinking of my answers I quickly scribbled them down in my book. Afterwards when I read them over, I felt very emotional, and have come back to reread them many times. At the end of the day – or of my life – this is what matters to me. <3

When I’m 80 years old, how will I answer these questions? How will you? Before you read my answers, I encourage you to answer the questions for yourself.

What was my life about? What did I care about? What do I want others to know that I did with my life? 

What was my life about? My life was about love and connection — both inwards and outwards.  With myself, my children, intimate partners, friends, circle sisters, clients and strangers. It was about everything that I could feel and know without seeing. Connection with myself for connection with the people around me. Connecting my inner layers with your inner layers. Seeking to under stand you as if you are me. Our circles converging. 

What did I care about? I cared about connections with others. Expressing my love through touch, words and actions. Getting to know the people I love enough that I can love them in a way that feels loving to them. Understanding, knowing and accepting myself so that I could understand, know and accept others. 

What do I want others to know that I did with my life? I want others to know that I did hard, painful work to know myself enough that I had something to offer me – and you – in my love. That it came from the deepest, innermost parts of me. To love in this way I had to be vulnerable and brave and honest with myself enough to know ME. This knowing became my lifes’ work. The more I was able to see me…. the more I was able to see you. To do this wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. To know me. To know you. To feel me. To feel you. And to love us. 

having cancer is THE best thing that has ever happened to me

Last year at this time I was recovering from surgery to remove an inch long cancerous tumor that was growing on the right half of my thyroid. I was still in shock and very much feeling shame about what I must have done, or not done, to get it.

I’d be lying if I said that I don’t still carry some of that shame, or that it isn’t incredibly difficult for me to tell anyone that I’ve had cancer and have to see the look on their face in response. That by saying it out loud or having to put it on forms at the dentist’s office, I feel like a walking reminder of our mortality that no one wants to be reminded of. That I don’t dread having to share the story with a new lover or partner and wonder if they’ll still love me. That I don’t question what awful thing I did to deserve this, or wonder if I’m a complete fraud for talking about self love when I’m obviously failing at it or this wouldn’t have happened to me.

All of these stories are a part of the current layers of shame that I’m ever so gently peeling off these days, and yet what woke me at 4:30am this morning wasn’t shame, but rather gratitude.

Having cancer is THE best thing that has ever happened to me. I know it sounds cheesy but it’s like I’ve been shown the value of my life and now I get to really LIVE it.

I can live enthusiastically and wholeheartedly in all things that I do. 

I can choose to care about what matters to me and not give a shit about what doesn’t.

I can walk naked in slow motion across a nude beach with a bunch of other naked people (at least 10 years older than me) laughing hysterically at the way our bodies jiggle when laughing hysterically. 

I can expand my work to include men who also struggle with physical and sexual shame. 

I can be the me that I am when I’m having sex alone – with a partner. Growling, laughing, crying, breathing like I’m giving birth. 

I can go to Mexico on a week long date. 

I can take my kids to visit Raffi. 

I can facilitate Bodysex retreats in other places. 

I can have the most difficult conversations of my life and come out feeling like I climbed Mt. Everest. 

I can take most of the summer off so that my children get to experience living enthusiastically with me in the least expensive ways possible. 

I can choose to be grateful for each day that I wake up knowing that I have the ability to chose my desires over my fears.

I can, I can, I can. 

And I do. <3