And broken could then maybe just feel…a little more un-broken.
It was Jim Morrison who said, “I found an island in your arms, country in your eyes” and The Moody Blues who sang of “Nights in White Satin, never reaching the end, letters I’ve written, never meaning to send.”
Alongside the still reverberation of communal silence, the kind that has that same nostalgic ring to all of us who have ever let our hearts get intertwined with our sex lives, there lies within our souls, the lifelong yearning for sex, love and spiritual connection.
Within the Taoist tradition, it is said that the psoas is the “seat” or “muscle of the soul” surrounding the lower dan tien—a center of qi and life force energy. It’s also a physical and energetic center of balance and gravity.
In her work on the Psoas and Core Awareness, Liz Koch defines the psoas as “the tenderloin of the human body, juicy, supple and dynamic.”
Koch also writes that “the psoas, by conducting energy, grounds us to the earth…freed and grounded, the spine can awaken…as gravitational flows transfer weight through bones, tissue, and muscle, into the earth, the earth rebounds, flowing back up the legs and spine, energizing, coordinating and animating posture, movement and expression. It is an uninterrupted conversation between self, earth and cosmos.”
The energetic exchange is both tender and elegant, fluid and fixed, succinct and delicate, all the while soul and psoas awakening into the magnificently robust.
Meanwhile grounded within the inter-communal connection of dynamic world-wide spiritual flow.
Where time knows no climax, but lingers on the edge of the moment before and the next to come.
A place we have the potential to soften into-even in the midst of strained psoas, temporary soul confusion and post-coital heartbreak.
The places of broken-open that refract and reflect new light into spaces within ourselves, grooves that become strongholds as we pass through new doors and navigate the waters of our own moody blues.
Alongside the strength to look into our own eyes, those windows to the soul and the suppleness to embrace our own fear of abandon.
The psoas embodies the elements of strength and stability and flexibility, just like our spiritual souls. Muscles that not only help to stabilize our overall structural balance, but also ‘embody our deepest urge for survival, and our elemental desire to flourish.’
One could argue that the desire to flourish is an innate and delicately beautiful need, both one that lives and breathes within our souls and within our desire to physically flourish within the containers of intimate connection.
“Maybe it lies in knowing our own bodies, selves and souls on a more deeply energetic, spiritual, and sensual level that gives way to the chord of self-compassion that lies within, the self-acceptance for what we consider our own wobbly bits and hairy parts, our breasts that are too small, our stomachs that are too big. The kind of ‘take me as I am’ spiritual surrender, where we offer up our perfectly imperfect selves into union with another.”
Where our own acquiescence becomes the necessary element in allowing ourselves to step into direct moment-to-moment experience where sex deepens into love making, and emotional intimacy is born, both within and without that familiar and perhaps tear-stained space of embodied memory.
Perhaps the navigation lies in recognizing the delicate dance between power and vulnerability that exists within us all. It is among and between us and our intimate partners, the embodiment of fluidity, and the way strength and surrender become functionally star-crossed lovers, one rolling softly into the next.
Two innate pieces of the very same continuum, opening up into the space of freedom where we love and make love with wild, passionate and reckless abandon.
Perhaps it’s the strength of knowing who we are when lying naked between our own cotton sheets that then allows us to surrender into the anticipation, the longing, the buildup, the beauty, the moment-to-moment rhythm and desire that finally morphs into the ecstasy of spiritually sexual climax within the white satin ones.
Maybe self-esteem, self-worth and even self-growth can be born out of this aroused stance, this place where we can look back on past lovers, and past selves, with a tenderness, remembering the country in our lovers’ eyes and the island in their arms.
And still feel grounded within the balanced seat of our own spinal comfort, and the innate scaffold support of our own “as-is” “so-as” soul.
Maybe it’s in loving the joy, and the pain, that allows us to continue on and re-engage those spiritual and physically flexible muscles, once again, in the emotionally intimate.
This time, from a place of less conditional self-love, heightened inner wisdom and humbly soft self-awareness.
What would it feel like to forgive ourselves, even when we knew we messed up? Or at least if we could accept that we hadn’t always been perfect lovers ourselves.
Nostalgia then could perhaps exist within the structurally visceral not as the painfully poignant, but as the poetically profound.
And broken could then maybe just feel…a little more, un-broken.
Perhaps, from here, spiritual sexuality has the potential to make the world reverberate as an even deeper place.
A place where we can continue to spend nights in white satin and re-awaken to find islands in arms, and countries in eyes.
Never reaching the end.
Editor: Sarah Winner
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