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| Subject: Buzzing all the Time | |
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Author: Judy |
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Date Posted: 20:07:59 03/27/05 Sun Nicole is on the couch and I’m sitting at her feet like a faithful, protective servant, describing a new heightened energy that I feel. It’s concentrated in my hands, especially my fingertips, I tell her. It’s running through my thighs and pulsating intensely in my lips. Her hand is resting on my thigh. I gently touch my fingertips above her knuckles. “Can you feel it,” I ask, posing a question that is usually trademark Nicole. It started only two days ago. My OM session with Robert that morning was particularly pleasurable. Usually, during sex or OMs, I run up against a blocked wall of energy. It’s especially uncomfortable when my partner takes me up; the stimulation is almost painful. It’s like I’m fighting myself, pushing as hard as I might while hiking the last part of a long and strenuous hike. The block is emblematic of blocks I’ve had my whole life. No matter the activity, I bump up against barriers that hold me back. Once I run into them, I tend to spend much of my time frustrated and self-conscious, loathing myself and my blocks as I fight to overcome them. But on this particular date, the wall of energy has greatly dissipated. My skin melts beneath Robert's touch. The ups, as well as the downs are smooth and fun. We ride them, as if body surfers catching ocean waves to the shore, then swimming back out for more, over and over, until the 15-minute session is done. I’m sitting on BART, on my way to work after the OM, when I notice the train’s vibrations reverberating throughout my body. It’s different than the normal rattling. Internally, I feel the frequency of my body align with that of the train. As I tune into the sensation, I notice this zinging I sometimes have during OMs, where cells come alive and pulsate as one unit. Who needs OM sessions? I shall just get on BART! These things I’m feeling are so bizarre. I go back and forth between believing in them and thinking that my mind is playing tricks. I am not some hippy-dippy earth momma with crystals. I have traveled the rational, science-based, socially liberal, but conservative life-style road until now. That evening, Suzanne comes over to help me bake a cake for Robert’s birthday. We talk about how we’ve both been a little crazy from this sensuality exploration. And how we both seem to have popped through and settled into a new and better place. Except that, in talking about the craziness and relating so well to one another, we are hyper. As we’re following the complicated recipe for chocolate mousse cake, whipping up eggs, watching them triple in size and slowly melting the chocolate over hot water, we’re talking excitedly and laughing, climbing higher and higher into an ultra excited state. Lying in bed that night while Suzanne sleeps on the living room couch, I feel this swoosh of energy sweeping and up and down my chest. I have this thought that the swoosh is Suzanne’s orgasm inside of me and I’m pissed because I’m tired of being so high and would like to come down and stay there for awhile. The next day I’m at work, struggling at my computer with a feature story I wish I’d never started and cannot seem to finish, when I notice a well of energy in my fingertips. My lips are sensitized as well. And a river of energy is streaming down my thighs. It is distracting, to say the least. I’m not sure what to think about it. Is this what happens when you’re high and sleep-deprived? Have I accumulated so much energy there’s nowhere for it to go? That night, I’m at Robert’s party and dancing with a freedom that I cannot ever remember. My inhibitions gone, I am following the desires of my body in responding to the music and the people around me. I am goofy with G., playful with Nicole H and sensual with S. I grind with Meredith and flirt with Nicole. All of these roles feel natural, like I am expressing many parts of myself through dance. My body finds one movement after another, exploring what feels good. I know that people are staring, perhaps amazed that they’re watching the shy woman who came to an In-Group a little more than a year ago. What they don’t know is that I’ve loved dance and movement nearly my whole life, starting with a gymnastics class I took at age 4. But though I’ve immersed myself in dance for years at a time, I have always felt blocked, unable to completely express myself. In ballet and modern classes, I constantly worried about technique. Even a simple plie caused extreme stress. I cursed my hips that refused to turn out at the proper angle and the curve in my back that forced me to suck my stomach in extra hard. During pirouettes, I would hold my breath as I spotted, praying I could turn two or three times without toppling over yet another time. But it wasn’t all dye ti technique. During jazz classes, I would stress because I was too shy to get funky. A few steps felt natural, like the big jumps across the floor. And with a certain kind of lyrical choreography I could let myself go, fully enjoying and appreciating that which I loved. These were glorious moments where I felt as if I were flying. Still, they made up far too little of my overall experience. I quit taking classes six years ago, and focused instead on athletics. But my love of dance has re-emerged over the past 6 months. At parties, I’ve gradually loosened up. I no longer have technique holding me back. But there is more to this new found freedom. It’s like I have become unblocked. I am no longer worrying. I am just doing, letting my body guide me without allowing my brain to get in the way. At the party, late in the evening when most of the dancing has stopped, I sit at Nicole’s feet, asking her about this new buzzing energy I feel. As we talk, electricity is draining out my feet. “You’re turned on,” she tells me. How long will it last, I want to know. It’s only going to get worse as you go forward, she says. And if you try to suppress it, you’ll go crazy. I’m not all that happy with this news. This constant buzzing is a little annoying. “It’s a gift,” Nicole says. “It’s a life force. It’s what everyone in this room wants.” [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
| Subject | Author | Date |
| Careful of the going crazy part | Kristen | 21:53:02 03/27/05 Sun |