One of my dance brothers is passionate about the words of radical provacateur, David Deida. Deida writes and speaks about sacred sexuality - basically, he puts Tantra into layman's terms. Over the course of the past few years, my experiences within our dance community has allowed for me to experience a sinking back in to what I can only describe as my 'true Self.' And, I must admit that this true Self feels divinely feminine and that she seeks nothing more than love, love, love.
What caught my attention about the maps that Deida provides is that this is exactly how he describes the divine feminine essence. Since the art of loving is a motivating impetus of mine, I sought my brother out and we have since started teaching dance classes that attempt to embody some of these millennium-old, spirituality-for-the-everyday practices. Suffice it to type, I have spent much time in conversation, of late, discussing the masculine divine essence - as to how it is expansive and piercing, supportive and encompassing, passionately purposeful and consciousness itself. The analogy that I like best is how the divine masculine is like the river bank - it holds and contains the flow and, yet, it is simultaneously carved by the creative nature of the river itself (and guess who is the river, ladies? Boo yah!) Fucking beautiful.
So, with women friends, I've spent time talking about the men we love. And, I've been witnessing some of my sisters reduce the glow of their brilliance so as not to trigger the insecurities of men who are not yet in their own power. "He has to be right, and he has to lead the way. Otherwise, it simply creates tension," my friend Stacey says. "Where are the strong, virile men whose spines are supple as well as erect, whose hearts are vulnerable and whose hips are open?" we wondered. (By the way, many of my dance brothers do embody these qualities. You can meet them on our dance floors, any time. But, damn, they're my brothers.. not my lovers.)
So, last month, when that ripe and pregnant Harvest moon rose above the spiritual retreat center where I found myself, 4,000 miles up a southern Californian desert, synchronicity again knocked at my door. There I was, preparing food and chatting with Stacey in the kitchen about this exact subject, only to be introduced, less than an hour later, to a group of three people who had been hanging out and playing music for the night. One of them was a barrel-chested man, of medium height with a burly, red beard. He looked at me with soft, inquisitive eyes. He was open, and strong. Soon, we found ourselves parked in a meadow, bums growing cold on the desert floor, talking about "life." (What else is there to do?)
He was the wisest twenty-one year old that I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Without my prompting, he spoke of the feminine divine - of loving this planet as well as his mother. He spoke of having nearly been blown to bits while stationed in Iraq and how he had lost part of his hearing as a result. He shared that he had been released from duty and came directly here on July 3rd. He bent down, deep into a gorilla stance, and flayed his arms like a QiGong master. He shared tales of could-have-been bar room brawls, but he and his military brothers always took the high road out. He was the divine masculine embodied in the living flesh, right then and there.
So, do you want to know if I took advantage of the moment and had sex with him?
Here's the thing: Tantra isn't about the act of sexual intercourse. It's about energy and how we wield it to experience more grace and ease in our lives now. At the end of our conversation, I went back to the main practice room where a four-foot gong sits and I slept on the hardwood floor in the same room where another friend of Stacey's was suffering through symptoms of the flu. I awoke as I usually do, at 6:30am, and wandered outside to experience magic - I spent an hour watching the Harvest moon set over a western horizon along with a pouncing mountain lion that was playing in an adjacent meadow.
On my way out of the retreat center and down the mountain for a Friday afternoon business meeting back in the city, I stopped by the horse corral to say goodbye to my new friend. He was a different person - cold, detached and farther removed. Then, I remembered - he had been drinking. I don't discount the experience because of it. I am simply grateful it was what it was...
