This Goodbye is Different (A Story of Love)

river-2681380_960_720.jpg

Part One:

 

It’s the middle of the night. My brain is a warzone. In just two short days, my Beloved will be on a plane yet again, heading back through the clouds to his home country—more than three thousand miles away from me. I groan, turning over in bed. Right now I wish so many things. I wish I could go back to sleep. I wish artificial and archaic things like borders didn’t exist. I wish we had more money. I wish we had conventional careers—like the ones that look good on immigration paperwork. I peek out from under my sleep mask to see if there’s daylight. No. I bring my hand to my chest and notice a slight wheeze. My asthma is flaring up again.

 

Since our instant connection four years ago, the intensity and razor-sharp lightning of our love has left us both confused. What to do with this these giant feelings? How to withstand the mirror of our love? Sometimes, we have buckled under the pressure and ran away. (The revelations too heavy.) Other times we’ve sworn undying devotion and spent last dollars on a plane ticket. Sometimes five hours will go by, speaking on Skype, and it will seem like five minutes. Sometimes we haven’t spoken for months.

 

The silver engagement ring I feel on my finger now does nothing to cheer me, as I toss and turn in bed this morning. I am pissed. What a relentless, heart-harrowing situation! Other couples don’t know how good they have it. To just live in the same city—let alone the same country—is a privilege we’ve never had. What terrible luck.

 

My back feels both cold and sweaty. My pale pink sheets twist around my limbs, as I struggle to find a comfortable position. My heart feels exhausted.

 

A few minutes before my alarm goes off, I suddenly hear a very clear message. The words seems to be my own voice, yet they’re not. It’s something else. There’s a tinge of the angelic to it, a certain flash of light. Wings. Shimmer.

 

Open your heart.

 

By the time my alarm goes off, I’m already doing much better, having breathed deeply into my heart. I feel less shaky now. As my eyes adjust to the soft morning light, I embrace the coming day. I smile and think of all the things I’m grateful for. I’m teaching yoga to a group of wonderful students today; I’ve got a refrigerator full of healthy, nourishing food; I have a circle of loving, supportive friends. So many things to be grateful for.

 

Open your heart, Anya, Open your heart…I shower and prepare my morning tea…Open your heart Anya, Open your heart.

 

Part Two

 

I climb into my pale gold, two-door Honda Civic. My yoga class just went beautifully. There was a distinct eye-shine for a few of them, as they rolled up their mat. What joy; what blessed work. I pull out onto the road and sigh. Just a half-hour drive and then I’ll be back in my Beloved’s arms again. I look forward to telling him about the class. Maybe later we’ll jog out in nature together, or maybe we’ll just spend the afternoon snuggling in bed. I’m both grateful and impatient to get home to him.

 

Normally, I turn left out of the studio parking lot. But today, for some odd reason, I’m curious about the other direction. There’s a highway not too far away…maybe there’s a different route? I love variety in my drives. I turn right and flip on my GPS, allowing the computer to guide me into unknown territory.

 

My plan seems to backfire, though. The monotone voice doesn’t lead me toward the highway but rather down some random-seeming side streets, into a quiet residential area. This is clearly not an expedient route! I notice some tightness in my shoulders now. Damn. Only mere hours left before the dreadful flight and I’m wasting it by driving around in circles. I feel a bit of my morning anxiety return.

 

Within a few minutes, though, I’m back out onto a main road. Oh, good. My body relaxes somewhat. I look up at the bright blue autumn sky. A few wispy white clouds here and there. Lovely. The autumn trees, boasting their red leaves. I’m driving on narrow, two-lane road. Barely any traffic. I settle back into my seat. I’m coming home to you, I’m coming home to you. I feel both grateful and impatient. If I could snap my fingers and be back there in his arms, I would.

 

I’m driving westbound, and a black car coming eastbound suddenly veers directly in front of my car. There’s no time to think—I slam on my brakes and scream. As our cars collide, a thought flashes through my mind: I’m about to die. After an unidentified space of time, I open my eyes. There are almonds scattered around my feet. Items that were in the back seat are now in my front seat: a purple folder, a bag of candles. Everything’s blurry. There’s a woman standing next to my car in a hooded sweatshirt. I roll down my window, fumbling with the buttons like a clumsy infant. “I’m so sorry” she says. “I swear, I didn’t even see your car.” I slowly unbuckle my safety belt and stand up, asphalt like jello under my feet. “My name is Michelle,” she says. I offer her a hug and hold her in my arms. There’s blood on her forehead and I am suddenly aware of pain in my neck and back.

 

Maybe three lifetimes pass before the police arrive. First one car, and then another. There seems to be confusion because our accident happened on the border between two cities: whose jurisdiction? I call my Beloved on the phone and he reminds me to exhale. Michelle’s friend (who must live nearby?) suddenly arrives. She holds Michelle’s hand and buys me some filtered water from a nearby shop. I slip off my socks and stand on a patch of green, praying to Gaia for help and trying to shake off the trauma like I’ve seen the birds do. I gaze at the damage to my car in total awe. Somehow, only my right headlight is busted and the hood’s a bit bent. How? I look up at the sky. I remember to exhale. Michelle comes to my side. “It’s just one bad thing after another,” she cries, anger in her voice. Her eyes stare at the ground. “My husband was shot and killed six weeks ago. It was all over the news. September fifth. I’ll never see him again.” Her hands are trembling as she smokes a cigarette. I gaze at her, heart-pounding. There’s an audible click. Something is happening here. Something important.

 

 

Part Three

 

Two days later, my Beloved Ben and I sit by the river, our favorite bench. A loving willow tree to our left, its dangling branches curl over our heads like a protective mother. A heron waits for her breakfast: she’s so still that she’s become the water. We notice that the leaves are falling down in the gentle wind: red, yellow, bursts of bright orange amidst the lingering green. “I love feeling the seasons with you,” he says, and my eyes blur with tears. Last moments before the plane…so precious, so precious.

 

I look inside my heart. I search. Where is the typical, pre-airplane panic? Where is the doom I felt two mornings ago, as I tossed and turned in bed? I search, but can find only a soft melancholy. It’s almost sweet. This moment is happening in slow motion and I am savoring all of it. The white in his beard. The creak of the swing under our bodies. The still-warm wind, dipping under my scarf and reminding me of love. His body will be gone soon, yes—but we still have prayer. We still have meditation and phone and Skype and song. What luck; what beauty. Michelle will never see her husband again. His face will never hover over the bed; his hands will never offer her steaming coffee.

 

I will see Ben again, in three months. Snow will be on the ground. Our story is not over, not even close. In fact, the miracle is this: at middle age, we have just found each other, have just begun our journey together. Some people call this a Soulmate or Twin Flame relationship. Others might call us Tantric Consorts or Abler Souls. There are many, many names for what we are. And yet, in this particular moment, all possible names dissolve. I know what we are and words aren’t needed.

 

I search my heart again, breathing deeply. In a little over an hour, his feet shall carry him from my body and toward an airplane. But…this time…it doesn’t feel like a tragedy. This goodbye is different. Something has been healed.

 

As we work together, deepening and strengthening our sacred bond, Ben and I prepare ourselves for the ultimate departure. The day when we release these faces…the way things have been…these blessed hands that have touched…these yearning, ecstatic lips that have kissed. We will move into the wild unknown. Who can say what it is, but death comes to us all. What good practice we are getting.

 

We kiss and kiss, smiling and tears. “See you soon! Have a safe flight!” My hands touch his cheeks and the skin is infinite.

This life is not the only life

venice-730467_960_720

o
The air was July, thick with campfire smoke and dandelion. He came to my apartment. It was mid-afternoon.

His soft, long brown hair…these are now stormy waves upon my neck, face, chest. A pillow holds my thrashing head.

His lips find every…single…place. Gently yet commandingly he lowers his body, full, against mine. His form is heavy and solid. Masculine. His lips. Oh his sweet lips. Slowly, he raises his head. His face is parallel to mine, hovering.

The bedroom blinds are drawn. There’s just enough light to see the expression in his wide eyes.

I know it’s time to say something…something…because I feel a restless bubbling…a heart that is growing hotter, somehow, a flame that is rising to some strange end. Without knowing what the words mean and in one breathless exhale I say I’ve known you before! My voice sounds strange—deep and husky; it doesn’t sound like mine. His eyes melt a bit. His smile is tender. He pulls his torso upward, hips now straddling my hips. He inhales deeply and speaks. At least, this time, you don’t have to watch me die.

Everything goes black.

I have no choice at this moment but to allow his words. There is a stabbing sensation in my chest. I bring hands to my heart, twisting my torso to the side in a silent request for him to move. He does, and I curl like a fetus. There is nothing now but a black, swirling, empty hole—empty yet not empty, windy but not windy.

I am nothing.

I am a tree, blown over by the storm.

I begin to howl violently. I shake and cry, a heaping mess. A small insane child. He rests on his side, front facing my front, embracing. Thankfully, he has a thousand arms.

We hide in bed for hours. Tears, mouths, kisses. We whisper of the past, remembering details from that particular death, and others. I start to write poetry without paper. We unravel the knots by speaking them. Horseback, swords, rain. I begin to understand.

The Lover

dawn-3358468_960_720

Part One.

I fell in love
because I could not see him;
I fell in love
because I could not touch him.

I fell in love.
p
In the beginning,
The Lover appeared—
once,
twice,
three times.
He seemed like a man,
a very lovely man…
lovely eyes
the shape of the moon
on clear summer nights.
Hands like lightning,
striking a nearby tree.

In the beginning, it was three times.

We met
Three Times.

—And then,
and then,
he
(the seeming man),
was gone.
He returned to his country,
and his hands were no more.
p
The weeping was beyond weeping.
The winter was death.

So I began to sing.
Beg.
Offer gifts of poem and proclamation,
endless walks with water and tree.

I prayed,

I prayed,

I prayed.

The earth and the cruel, voluptuous sky:
my only companions.

They never answered.

So I prayed more.

I could not see him anymore.
I could not touch him anymore.
There was nothing,
anymore.
The way his empty hand
never fit into mine;
The way his faraway heart
never near
to whisper or soothe.

This continued.

And then…I simply gave up.

I said no.

This was too much: this terrible “missing.”

This terrible thing from the poetry books and romance films.

No, not for me.

I gave up.

 

Part Two.

Giving up was the moment I found you.

You, the real You.

The real Beloved.

You!

It was Eyes, looking
back
into itself.
It was the Girl, the girl from the convex mirror.
It was the Boy, the boy who smiled
when they said the mirror was cracked.
It was memories,
past lives
now clean:
two sisters,
swearing to sing forever…
All gone now. All clean.

All the brothers and mothers and children
finally
finally
at peace.

It was love.
It was lightning
striking the tree
from the window
we cannot see.

It was Love, in truest form.

It was Me.

 

 

My Interview with the “Mother of Polyamory”: Deborah Taj Anapol

newDear friends,
p

I’d like to share something very special with you.
p

 

A few months before her (unexpected) death, I had the great honor and privilege of interviewing Deborah Taj Anapol (1951-2015). This beloved teacher, known to many as the mother of the polyamory movement, was a clinical psychologist, author, and radical teacher. Co-founder of the Loving More magazine, Anapol birthed such keystone books as Polyamory: The New Love Without Limits, The Seven Natural Laws of Love, and Polyamory in the 21st Century.
p
p
It’s been three years since the interview. In my life lately, I’ve been diving even more deeply into profound questions about sexuality, intimacy, consciousness, and human connection. More and more friends are seeking me out, asking whether polyamory and open relationships have a place in their spiritual journey. Anapol’s work seems ever-relevant, ever-poignant.

p
Her teachings are simple. If we open our hearts, we lead a more joyful life. If we move past fear and jealousy, we feel more connected to Source. If we can look within, what we see on the outside—in our relationships—will be rich, fulfilling, and abundant.

p
Anapol reminds us that sexuality is a mirror for how we perceive ourselves. If we view sexuality (ourselves) as sinful or wrong, then that is exactly what it will be for us. If, on the other hand, we view it (ourselves) as sacred, as a beautiful gift, then that is exactly what it will be.
p
p
Here is the interview. (It was originally published on my previous blog.) I hope you find it every bit as relevant and awe-inspiring as I continue to do.

p
Lots of love,
p
Anya

 

♥ ♥

 

Anya:   What is love, and how do we recognize it?
p

Deborah:   Love is a vibration, a state of consciousness, an unconditional acceptance of what is along with the awareness that All is One. Love may or may not speak out or take action in response to injustice, but love does not take a position. It’s beyond duality. We can recognize love by its energetic signature, by how we feel in the presence of love.
p

new2

Anya:   Once we recognize love and feel its presence, how can we get out of love’s way and allow it to lead? Any practical strategies?

p
Deborah:   Essentially, allowing love to lead means that the Ego or Personality stops trying to control and manipulate according to its mission to save us from perceived danger. Instead, we learn to listen, to be receptive and move along the path illuminated by love. We take actions that expand love or increase the vibration of love. We surrender to love’s guidance and stop listening to the voices that lead to fear and contraction and judgment.
p

The mind can be tricky and masquerade as the voice of love telling us what we “should” do and making us wrong for asserting ourselves. So the first step, practically, is self-observation. Noticing what you are thinking and feeling and doing and why and what the results are. Many people will need some guidance in learning how to do this and the reflections of others who are more self-aware to point out when you’ve gotten off track.
p

Anya:   Let’s talk about self-reflection. I am endlessly fascinated by observing how I change over time, by looking back at various projects over the years, and comparing my philosophies then to my philosophies now. How have your views on polyamory changed since you published your first book on polyamory in 1992?
P

Deborah:   My views on polyamory itself really have not changed much at all in that time. What has changed is that I no longer see polyamory as a way to radically change the culture or as a radical solution to the many problems of modern life. Instead it seems that what’s happening is that polyamory is being used to prop up the status quo.
p

Anya:   In what ways do you see poly being used to prop up the status quo?
p

Deborah:   Atlantic Magazine has joined the ranks of mainstream publications running favorable articles about polyamory. Recently, the emphasis seems to be on how jealousy is manageable, or even non-existent. This makes total sense if you are trying to promote polyamory because once people get over their moral/religious objections, one of the main stumbling blocks is jealousy. The other main stumbling block is time and the cure for that is to work less, but no one seems to be mentioning that yet. If we ever decide that the 40 hour (or for many the 80 hour) work week needs to be cut in half (while increasing income for low and middle income people) and people can be enticed to work less if they can have more intimacy in their lives, then we’ll be getting somewhere.
p

Over the last 30 years I’ve witnessed a huge change in how the print media relate to polyamory. It’s gone from an unofficial black out to advocacy. I’d like to think that it’s just that the mainstream has seen the light and is getting more tolerant of diversity, but I don’t see similar articles about how fabulous it is to be gay, for example.
p

Judging by the kinds of questions coming from journalists who’ve interviewed me, social policy experts have realized that the nuclear family is an endangered species, just as I predicted in the 80’s. So the question becomes, how can we keep couples together so that we don’t have to shift our whole concept of relationship? How can we lower the divorce rate? Without families, there is a greater burden on government funded social services.
p

Since we prefer to spend our tax dollars on the military and bailing out financial institutions, something needs to be done to save the family and preserve the kind of thinking and behavior that says, “these people are my family and I will share my resources with them and take care of them.” That’s all well and good but I’d like to see this attitude extending to all life—all people, animals, plants, oceans—our whole global social and environmental ecological web.
p

new3

Anya:   My work, too, is about the connections between spirituality and relationships. It’s what I write about in my book Opening LoveOur partners and intimate friends are like mirrors for us, helping us along on our path, showing us where we need to grow. In your book Polyamory in the 21stCentury, you write: “The blessing and the curse of polyamory is that love that includes more than one tends to illuminate those dark shadows that many would prefer to ignore.”

Dr. Anapol, if you had not become poly, how do you think you would be different person today, on a spiritual level? 

P

Deborah:   First of all, I did not “become poly” so much as notice that I was not monogamous and never had been. Once I let go of the identity of monogamy, I attracted a series of lovers who reflected different parts of myself. This allowed me to experience and integrate all of me for the first time. If there had been one person who could be my perfect mirror, I don’t think this would have been necessary, but that’s not what life brought me. And I don’t think it’s what life brings most people, honestly. There is truth in the old saying, “All roads lead to Rome.” I think the journey would ultimately lead to the same place, but it would take longer to get there. Polyamory accelerated my process and that wasn’t always pleasant.
p

Without polyamory I might still believe that my happiness was dependent on another person, and I might still think that if only I could find the perfect partner I would be happy. I would have missed the sense of freedom that came when I realized at 23 that jealousy was a choice that I didn’t have to make.
p

Anya:   Who have been your most important relationship teachers?
p

Deborah:   Without a doubt my lovers and partners have taught me more than anyone, and especially the ones who were leading edge innovators and teachers in this area. Dane Rudyar, in his wonderful little book, Directives for New Life, says that without a high level of intimacy and interpenetration, nothing much happens in the way of transformation.
p

Anya:   What do you believe is the biggest impediment to transformation on a global level? What is humanity’s greatest resource for conscious relating?
p

Deborah:   This may sound silly, but it’s true. The biggest obstacle to conscious relating is lack of consciousness. People like to talk about conscious relating and feel superior about thinking they are doing it, but when you get down to it, you have to do the personal work of evolving your consciousness. No one can do it for you.
p

This evolution is going to look a bit different in different environments, but it’s all evolution wherever you are starting from. In some places, the environment, the culture, is more supportive of change, in some places less, but I think the inner work is more significant and is truly our greatest resource. Having good role models helps of course, but if you haven’t got the awareness to recognize them, what good are they?
p

Anya:   What else would you like to share?
p

Deborah:   It was important for me at a certain point to let go of the monogamous identity and it seemed useful at the time to replace that with a “polyamorous” identity so that I could see what I was up to. It sounds strange, but I hadn’t really noticed that I was involved in multiple relationships and loved more than one person until I expanded my map of what relationships were possible.
p

But after a while, the polyamorous identity can become just another limiting belief, another imaginary category to be mistaken for “who I really am.” Many people, including myself, who’ve been on this journey for a while, don’t want to empower a label to define them. Labels can facilitate communication with other people, at least if the label means the same thing to them that it does to you. Ultimately though, labels become a distraction from realizing that we are much more than any concept can encompass.

Dragonflies and Flesh

dragonfly-3501115_960_720

p
The sun is the
moon
tonight.
Daughter of all stars.

A blue clearing pervades the sky,
taking names
(persuading even
the bottom of these clear blue lakes)

We’re covered with mist, my dear.
We’ve covered in kisses.
This is the moment—
this is the moment
the door swings open.

We can finally finally sing.

P

Co-Evolution

pair-2914879_960_720

p
In the Vajrayana Buddhist tradition, there is the philosophy and practice of the tantric consort relationship. Rarely, remarkably, in a flash of miraculous lightning, a person appears in our lives who is so perfectly suited to us that all others pale in comparison. When we meet this partner, this dear sacred consort, we must recognize all that this relationship asks of us. We must bow before it, surrender.
p

The practice of tantric consort is a lifelong practice. It is blissful, sublime, yet incredibly challenging. It is nothing less than a path to enlightenment. If we are blessed to have met such a person and if we have the courage to surrender to the transformative power of this relationship—to all that it can teach us and to all that it can change within us—then there is the possibility for a real merging of souls to occur. There is now not two people, but one. In this sacred togetherness, the notion of a separate self, or a separate ego, drops away. In its place is pure unity and love.
p

In the following poem, Alistair J. Kraft dives into the waters of such an all-encompassing, unifying love. Kraft asks us, as readers, to drop our defenses, recognizing that some bonds are more powerful than our individual will to resist … some bonds thrust us into pure being. Some bonds, some paths, we have no choice but to follow.
p

I hope you enjoy this beautiful poem.
p

–Anya Light
p

♥♥

 

CO-EVOLUTION

 

There is a pathway into

my heart that only you

are shaped to follow, forged

by the sum total of our lives,

experiences, bringing us inexorably

inevitably

fatefully to each other’s arms we co-

evolved to fit together with a

blinding perfection, heart to

heart, soul to

soul and from that we both

find a place to call home, someone

to touch those places no one else

is shaped to reach in our depths.

Of all the possible lovers in a life

this is your home in my soul, only I

am this home in yours.

 

new

 

Alistair J. Kraft is a poet, author, professor, part-time pagan, and animal lover based in Cincinnati, Ohio. He spends his spare time contemplating social justice, comedy, and how cute his rescue animals are. He can be found on Facebook at Alistair J. Kraft, or on Instagram and Twitter @poetofcats

Our First Hug

people-2575914_960_720

 

He is my friend’s lover.

p
Over coffee dates and over phone calls, she praises him as if he were a god. With a squeal and a radiant, teenage grin, she says to me, over and over again: He is the most fascinating, sexy, amazing man I’ve ever known!
p

My dear friend is happy. And I am happy that she is happy.

p

She says, I hope you’ll love him, too. 
o


p

She tells me he is a quiet man. A man who selects friends and lovers carefully, with no great rush.
p

And she always talks about his hugs. His amazing, mind-blowing hugs. She playfully warns me that, were I ever to have the pleasure of his embrace, all time would stop. I would pull back from his arms only to discover that five hours had passed and I had missed my bus. 
p

p
The season is spring.

p
He is wearing a dusty jean jacket from some long-ago decade. Simple wire, round glasses adorn his bearded face. To me, in this moment, he looks exactly like John Lennon. This is comforting.
p

It is early in the evening, around seven o’clock. We are at a sacred sexuality workshop. All our friends are deliciously naked, mingling around the snack table, nibbling on chocolates and carrots. Giggling and flirting and silliness everywhere.
op

My friend’s lover and I have been standing by the coffeepot: serene silence shared between sips. As he takes a step towards me, unfurling his arms in the universal gesture of let’s-hug-now, something inside me trembles. Time already seems strange. I make some sort of stupid joke, stalling. My heart is pounding. It feels like my words are some defense—but for what? I suddenly feel young, like a child.
p

I’ve heard about your hugs, I say. Should I be nervous?
p

No, he replies. A kind smile. Gentle, merry eyes.
p

We embrace.
p

I sigh. I melt. Something new is now here.

p
We stand here … minutes or hours, I’m not sure … the din and chaos of happy friends all around us. We are floating. We are floating in a sea of love and touch: no boat, no anchor, no map or plan. There is just this.

p
Only this.
p

Always.
p

p

SaveSave

How to Transcend Polarity with Gender Fluidity

 


FullSizeRender-2

 

 

Susie Beiler is a Certified Holistic Health Practitioner with Spectrum Health Consulting LLC. Susie is a channel for the Divine. She assists her clients to discover and live their soul mission so that they can enjoy a deeply fulfilling life. 

After healing herself from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (adrenal burnout), she reprogrammed and rewired herself to live her own soul mission as a channel for the Divine. Susie is the founder and lead facilitator in The Creation Temple®, an online venue for supporting Lightworkers in their ascension process. She lives in Sedona, AZ and enjoys nature, authenticity, and high vibrational food. Please visit her at: www.susiebeiler.com and www.creationtemple.com

Zen and a Love Story

scotland-2358950_960_720

By Anya Light

 

This is how we meet.

You are seated for Zazen. You wear a dark sweater and scarf.

We begin to bow. A handful of us. I don’t yet know this ritual, and so I find my eyes drawn to you, as you make the movements. You’re standing to my right, always two seconds ahead. You’re helping me see what to do.

I dip my head reverently. The wooden floor represents the Earth. I rise my palms. The little Buddha statue smiles.

Yes, I’m happy here now, in this quiet meditation hall. It’s evening in England. I don’t feel far from home.

 

A few days later, I have a terrible headache. I don’t want to read my book in the front of the crowd. I don’t want to face them.

Just ten minutes in the Zendo, I tell myself. Just ten minutes of meditation: that’s all I need. So, I rise from the bed, shuffle downstairs, and push open the wide wooden door.

It is you! You are there! You are already seated, on the old wooden floor. My heart is made of firecrackers. My heart is made of chocolate. I burn and I melt.

We smile and agree to sit together. At the end of ten minutes, you ring the bell. We start talking. It seems we’ve always talked.

A few minutes pass, and suddenly we remember that other people and clocks exist. We say we are reluctant to join them, but we do.

I read my book, and you sit in the corner, to my right. A black blanket wrapped around your shoulders. I feel you.

I’m supposed to be signing these books and making small talk. But I don’t want to.

So I find you.

Would you like to take a walk with me?

Suddenly, our coats. We are out in the open air.

Ten minutes later: May I kiss you?

Your mouth is dry and you laughingly complain. We look around. There’s so much, and suddenly. The moon is big and the river is near. It’s August, the end of summer. We stand in the market town of Hebden Bridge. I don’t live here, but you do. You show the way.

We walk. When we reach the bridge, we hold hands. I remember resting my head in your lap. Your hands upon my head… so gently, so gently.

I tell you I’m a healer, a shaman, that I walk between worlds. I tell you everything. No secrets are between us, already. We talk of magic.

We are walking back to the house only because we are both so thirsty. Our mouths and lips are shriveled. There are so many words; they keep coming, flowing, like the river. I have always loved your voice. At some point, you say something so profound and so resonant that I literally fall to the ground, cobblestones under my bottom. The world that I knew has ended. Done.

Back at the drafty old house, later, you kneel to write your number on a scrap of paper. Time has long ago stopped. You look up at me. I’m in the chair, close to you, legs crossed. You shake your head. You’re a confused, giddy child.

You say: I don’t know you, but I love you.

The next afternoon I’m on an airplane.

I realize that you can still hear me, so I call out your name, quietly, in my mind. I can hear you answer me.

I realize that this is a love story; we’re at the beginning.

There are letters, packages, emails. There are six-hour Skype calls.

There are times when the money is there and we can see each other in the flesh. There is orgasm, dance. Great joy. There’s forest, tea, campfire smoke. Whales leaping from water on islands. Times we can never write about.

It’s four years later, my darling, and we’re still writing our story. Remembering, polishing, yearning.

What comes next?

I can see you so clearly in my mind. Bowing. Back at the beginning. That wooden floor; that Buddha statue.

And my mind stops. It is only the heart that is left.

 

 

The Exquisite Combination of Lucid Dreaming and Sacred Sexual Healing

colorful-1868353_960_720

 

In my practice as a Sacred Sexual Healer and Transformational Guide, part of my role is to serve as a sexual shaman. The heart of this shamanic role involves widening my fields of perception, as well as helping others achieve this. I work to open the doors of seeing.

This work manifests in a number of ways, including working in spirit realms and dream space.

In a lucid dream, we can make conscious choices that influence the course of the dream.

Lucid dreaming enables us to interact, with intention, with aspects of our deeper selves. 

When I began this work, I had been reading a wonderful book I’d received from my mentor, Lucid Dreaming: Gateway to the Inner Self. This book introduced me to the concept of using lucid dreaming to heal yourself or others. This involves making a conscious choice while dreaming to offer healing.  (Of course, when offering healing to others you must always ask permission, just as you would if you were offering healing in waking life.)

There was a fascinating synchronicity in the fact that I was reading this book at a time when I was feeling sick. I had a brutal sore throat and my voice had become quite wonky.  One night it reached a point at which I was experiencing knife-like pain in my throat, and I was coughing and congested and generally felt pretty miserable.

I wanted to do something to ease the pain in my throat, and I decided it wouldn’t hurt to try a little lucid dreaming. I decided to hold the intention to enter into lucid dream and heal my throat, with all of my shamanic awareness. I admit: As I began, I was very skeptical, but ultimately, I was so blown away and grateful for what opened up.

There are a number of techniques one can use to enter into a journey of lucid dreaming.  I will describe the methods that I used.

The journey began with focusing my attention very strongly on my hands. I brought my awareness to my hands and held the intention that I would be able to use my hands as a way to remember that I was in control of the dream.

One of the methods I use to hold an intention during this or other shamanic work is to literally write it out on paper. I believe there is something quite powerful about bringing intention into physical reality by physically writing it down.

So, that night, I wrote my intention in my journal, and the words went something like this:

Tonight, while I am dreaming I will see my hands, and I will realize that I am dreaming. Once I realize I am dreaming, I will heal my throat.

I wrote those words down, and keeping my attention on my hands, recited them like a mantra. I had considered setting the intention of healing my whole body, as I did have other symptoms. But, I decided to keep the practice very simple, specific, and focused on my throat.

Part of the process I used to solidify my intention and enter into lucid dreaming involved working with my sexual energy.

 

Sex Magic: Working with sexual energy to manifest intention

Our sexual energy is the powerful, creative energy that is our life force. This is the energy that brought us into being. We can tap into this energy with a little intention and awareness, and of course with consent, integrity, and respect for our own bodies and for others.  I hold this to be very sacred.

There are many ways to work with sexual energy for healing. I will tell you about the steps I used.

  1. During self-pleasure, feel your sexual energy flowing through you.
  2. Begin to channel that energy towards your intention. (In my case, it was my mantra: My intention of seeing my hands in a dream, becoming aware, and healing my throat.)
  3. In particular, try to focus your sexual energy on an intention right at the moment of orgasm.
  4. Allow that yummy, spacious “WOW!” energy that we experience during orgasm to infuse your intention.

Indeed, I had an exquisite self-pleasure experience that night, despite the pain in my throat. It felt lovely and as I drifted off to sleep while still holding that mantra in my mind, I was smiling and felt like I was floating in a sort of blissful cocoon.

When I began to dream, I immediately saw my hands in the dream.  I was so surprised!  I was dreaming, and I knew it. In the dream, I was sitting in my yard. I was out in nature, which was even more cool! I became so excited that the dream dissolved and I woke up.

I was ecstatic that I had accomplished this, and I immediately wrote the experience down in my dream journal. However, I eventually realized that I hadn’t followed through with the rest of the intention. I had not done any work to heal my throat. I realized that I would have to go back. So, I focused again on my hands and recited my mantra and I gradually drifted again to sleep.

Similar to before, I was dreaming of being in my yard space, and I became aware that I was dreaming. I also became aware of a man who was to my right. I was tempted to engage with him, but I remembered to stay focused on my intention to heal my throat.

Looking at my hands in the dream, I saw that I was now holding a day lily bud. I knew it to be a day lily even though it looked somewhat different from those I was familiar with from waking life. I had been working recently with day lilies as an edible wild plant in my backyard. I had just learned that you can harvest the buds and sauté and eat them like green beans. They are just lovely.

I saw the day lily bud in my dream and I knew that I was supposed to eat it. So, I took a bite. And even though in waking life there is nothing inside the bud, when I tasted the dream lily it filled my mouth and throat with a cooling liquid that felt amazing. I received the liquid. I drew it in and knew I was supposed to eat the whole flower.

I had a moment in which I experienced a strange sense of anxiety about eating the flower; I wondered if it was safe. I had dreamed in the past of eating or drinking, but I had never before felt the physical sensation of consuming something, feeling its presence and texture in my mouth and body. I wondered if I should be doing this. After a bit of reflection, I decided that yes, this was the healing I had asked for, and I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and joy as I finished the lily bud.

I spent a little more time in my dream, some of it talking to the person who was sitting there to my right. The dream concluded after my interactions with him and I woke up. I wondered if I should try to go back to the dream, but I said no. I decided to just let things be and try not to notice anything right now about how I felt or anything that might have changed.

I recorded the dream in my journal and went back to sleep. During the night, I had a few other dreams that were semi-lucid and also centered on healing my throat. I had a dream in which I drank an herbal infusion, and another in which I ate a piece of chocolate.

The next morning when I woke, I nervously swallowed and checked in with my throat. To my astonishment, I perceived vast improvement. The previous night I would have ranked my pain as an “8” on a 1-to-10 severity scale.  This morning I rated it a “2” or a “3.” My voice was not quite returned to normal, but the sharp knife-like pain I had been experiencing was completely gone. I felt filled with gratitude to Spirit.

 

Trusting in the Possibilities of Spirit

I have continued to explore healing and lucid dreaming, as well as using sexual energy to help facilitate those transitions.

It can be so difficult at times to trust that there are other possibilities, and that by working with and through Spirit, we can have a significant impact on what we see as rock-solid consensus reality. We are vastly infinite energetic beings who for a time exist in a finite form. But we can still tap into that infinitude if we trust it.

This doesn’t mean we have to shed all of our skepticism. A good dose of skepticism can be healthy. But, if we can crack open the door just a little bit, and be willing to try and see what happens, then we can open ourselves to new worlds of possibility.

Part of this also involves trusting ourselves as creative human beings with the ability to impact our world as we continue to expand our awareness. At each step in our journey, we encounter moments when we recognize that new possibilities have opened to us. These are the moments when we need to slow down. Bring our awareness to our body, our minds, and shedding the layer that no longer serves us. We let go a little bit and let these things drop away. We slow down in these moments out of love and respect.

These are the basic tenets of opening our awareness and connecting with possibility. These are the basic tenets of trust

 

red headshot high res option2

Leslie Blackburn, MS, RCST® is a Sacred Sexual Healer & Transformational Guide—a leading educator and coach of sacred sexuality and tantra in the US. A former mechanical engineer specializing in quantum physics, and Ironman triathlete before her spiritual awakening, she has conducted thousands of individual client sessions, leads workshops regularly, and has reached thousands with her inspirational presentations ranging from intimate groups to large speaking engagements. Her monthly radio program is one of the most listened-to on Body Mind Spirit Radio. She bridges the gap between sexuality and spirituality, covering tantra, consciousness, sexual anatomy and energetics, yoga, meditation, sacred geometry, and more. Leslie’s personal path and work has been the integration of the ever-unfolding feminine in body and psyche with masculine direction and purpose—Love in Action! Find out more about her work at www.LeslieBlackburn.com