Articles
on sexuality, empowerment, and self-growth
The daddy thing shows up like this: when I'm really turned on by a man fully in his masculine (like when he's fixing something, taking care of me, or working on something he's passionate about), I think the word "daddy," sometimes over and over, and get fully weak in the knees (who knew that was a thing that literally happened?). This happens during sex too, of course, or we wouldn't be here.
Originally published December 2017.
Vulva mapping, or vaginal mapping, is an opportunity to have your genitals touched with total compassion, and with no agenda. It's a space where you can explore the history of your pelvis (from gynecological exams, to sex, to birth), and to share the stories that are being held there. It's a space of incredible slowness, rich with opportunity to negotiate consent, and practice your own boundaries. It's a space where your yoni can be honored, normalized, and freed from old stories, pain, and shame.
"A wild, sensual creature?" you might be asking yourself doubtfully. "Sure, maybe I was a wild, sensual creature in a past life, or for a blink of an eye that one summer during college. But these days, I have no idea where that person is. Is she lost forever?"
I'm here to tell you: No. She is not lost. You can always touch back in with that wild, soft, playful part of you, the one who knows the deep pleasure of standing in warm rain, or feeling an amazing fabric against her skin. You can even grow your capacity to be in touch with her, at all times.
In fact, the first time I used my yoni egg, I found myself wondering if I’d been slipped MDMA.I felt tingling from my head to my toes. Each little sensation bloomed and escalated. Even my vision became different: hazy, diffused. I felt the edges of my body dissolve, and I was part of a watercolor painting. Even though I didn’t have a traditional climax (that 3-10 second “genital sneeze” we all strive for), that didn’t matter. There was no need for that. I was elevated, infused with bliss. I felt like I was making love with an invisible god. I felt like a goddess.
So here we are. Freshly (hopefully) healed from our infections and injuries. We undress each other: the room is soft music and candlelight. We’re on your bed, facing one another, sitting up, my legs over yours. I’m so aware of your skin, running my fingers over your arms, your legs, your back. Staying with your eyes, more so than I’ve ever been able to with anyone. We are both so totally here, and I’m amazed at how here I can stay with you.
Now that I have my own businesses (as a copywriter, online business manager, and coach), I am finally beginning to understand why business partnerships are all nuzzled up and entwined with personal relationships in the seventh house of astrology. Why? It's because business partnerships dredge up just as much deep wounding, just as many boundary issues, and just as many passive-aggressive texts as personal relationships.
The things we've suffered, to be touched.
Those of us who wanted it. Those of us with a natural bend toward lust, those of us who knew somewhere deep inside that sex could be more. Those of us who kept seeking sex, even in this world where overly-male sexuality is the norm and the standard. Even in this world where male sexuality covertly silences female sexuality.
Most women can't ask for what we want because we can't begin to communicate it. We've been conditioned to be good girls, and good girls don't ask for things. Take me: I've been self-pleasuring since I was five years old (once you accidentally discover orgasm by rubbing against the corner of a coffee table, you don't go back). You would think that I spent my twenties taking the driver's seat and telling men exactly what I wanted during sex. Yet I couldn't figure out how.
I have been so focused on money and scarcity for the past nine months.How to heal the money story I've inherited from the culture and my ancestors, how to move from scarcity into a space of thriving. I have felt so stuck in my patterns. So stuck in the worry about money, so stuck in the obsession and the frustration that there isn't more flow.
And now, it has finally settled. Finally clicked. The scarcity is within.
Originally published July 2017.
Those of us who have struggled with body dysmorphia or body hatred know that there's no easy way to describe the journey to body-acceptance. Still, I desperately want to be able to relate it to other women, because there is nothing more healing and powerful than being able to relax into who you are.
Imagine spending all the time you spend hating yourself and your body ... on something else. On hiking, or meditating. On getting a PhD, because it takes that kind of time and energy to keep up with the constant self-berating and shame.
Originally published July 15, 2017.
