Sex, Love and God.
Isn’t it funny how three of the purest words in the English language could have the most dirt on them? When essentially, their definition is all the same.
Sex, love, God... and yoga. I finally understood. Having sex again after a stint of celibacy really does open up a whole new ballpark of perspectives and understandings. I almost couldn’t even talk. I was in such a state of shock and awe of how the teachings of yoga could be experienced through making love. “The world is missing out! Oh my God they need to know this! How does one teach this..?” I started going off on some tangent as he was laughing at me—probably from amusement. I would’ve been amused if I were him too. He was witnessing me going through a whole fury of wonderment and realizations as lights were sparking within the dome of my brain. This is what the yoga is trying to teach. This! This feeling. This purity. This union. This merging. This ONE.
Damn, too bad Osho was and is so widely misunderstood. Kinda like Yoko Ono—most people just assume she was the main reason why The Beatles broke up. False. Most people don’t investigate—they just look at the most surface level of reality and come up with some whack conclusion based on what they see. The Buddhists have got it down. Ehi Passiko. Try it. Now if the non investigating kind of folk really looked, if they made a decision based on their own true experience and excavations, they would see that there was actually something much more deeper. Perhaps, maybe it could even be natural for a band that started in the 1950’s as teens towards their early twenties to then perhaps, maybe even evolve into totally different people and perhaps, maybe even be that they were now, fully, becoming in their own and creating what they were supposed to create as individuals. Why do people get so hung up on stories and the past? Things change and life moves on—upwards and onwards. Nothing stays stagnant—not even stone. Everything is always growing into something bigger and better (hopefully) to be a higher and of a more evolved state (hopefully) from the news of today vs. the history of yesterday.
Sex has the capacity to be something so… there’s not even a word for it, but I suppose “amazing” will suffice. Sex has the capacity to be an act of such upliftment and nourishment. Of pure giving and receiving. Of fuel and delight. Of fullness and divinity. This is Love. This is God. God is Love and Love is God. How has something so perfect, so pristine, so pure and so beautiful become such a target for manipulation, degradation, abuse and pollution?
He was playing with my hair and stroking my back. His touch felt so soft on my body. “You’re so sweet,” I said, “all you do is give, give, give.” And his reply, “I’m happy to be of service.”
He meant it too. He was being authentic. Authenticity is something felt in the heart space. You can’t fake it. Maybe you could for a little while, but you’d soon blow your cover. I guess you could try to fake the funk, but why would you want to anyways? It’s so much easier to just be yourself.
What if all of our relationships in life could be this way? What if we could fully show up for ourselves and each other to give one another exactly what we need? What if we gave completely, without agenda or expectation? What if we just gave for the pure enjoyment, satisfaction and contentment of giving? What if we were able to simply be, and dwell next to and aside one other? Regardless of the dynamics and/or roles of the relationship, what if we could honor and respect one another as individuals without trying to “take” anything and instead, simply have the pure intention to love and to embrace, to share and to enhance, to give and to receive.
Like the Beatles say, “The love you take is equal to the love you make.”
Like Ram Dass says, “Be. Love. Now.”
Like Yoko says, “Make love not war.”
And like Chloe says, “Love MORE.”