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Sex

Sex

Let’s talk about sex, bay-bee.
 
Wait, what?
 
No no that can’t be right.
 
We don’t talk a whole lot about sex in spiritual circles.
 
We’re all about the light, the upward, the transcendence.
 
If sex is discussed at all, it’s about tantra and vast expansion and moving upward through the chakras. Or something.
 
It's not about the dark. Dark is bad. Dark is wrong.
 
Don’t be talking about down and dirty naughty filthy sex.
 
This is taboo territory.
 
So many judgments, so many evaluations- right wrong, good bad, naughty nice, normal perverted, should shouldn’t.
 
So much we’re not allowed to do.
 
So much hidden and kept to ourselves.
 
So many secrets.
 
Ever wonder why?
 
What are we so afraid of, that sex has to be restricted, monitored, hidden and driven underground?
 
We might start by noticing the existence of all the monitoring, the self evaluations, the “How’m I doing” and “Do I like this” and “Do they like this” and “I’m such a stud” and “Can I do this” going on.
 
And we might notice that we’re supposed to perform well, to be good at it, to last a long time, to take care of ourselves and the other (if we’re lucky enough to not be playing alone).
 
And don’t forget we have to look good doing it. “Do I look fat in this position? Does s/he think I’m hot? Look how big I am!”
 
And normal-we have to appear normal, not too weird.

Or we have to appear wild and crazy and not anywhere near normal.
 
But we have to appear as something.
 
Yikes.
 
That’s a lot of requirements, isn’t it?
 
A lot of self-monitoring and self-evaluation and self-identifying happening.
 
It’s a miracle we get it on at all, with so much mental activity.
 
Most of which we hide. We’re not sharing almost any of this with others.
 
Because it’s the ultimate in personal.
 
It’s person-al.
 
There’s identity-making happening.
 
There’s person-making happening.
 
“I am loved, sexy, wild, wanted, free spirited, daring, uncontrolled. I am a stud, a conqueror, a bad boy, a good girl, a victim, a weak-willied failure, a hot tamale.”
 
Whatever the particulars, I am-ing is happening.
 
We see ourselves based on image making with our partners.
 
We see ourselves.
 
Although as a person-making process, does it work?

Does thinking “I am a hot babe” actually make one a hot babe?
 
Does it make one… anything at all?
 
Are we any more real just because we think I AM?
 
Does the existence of thoughts that say “I am...” prove the existence of Self?
 
Nah. That’s like saying “See this idea of a fork? You can eat with this.”
 
It’s a description of a fork.
 
It’s a description of a self.
 
That’s not the self.
 
They’re not the same thing.
 
So with sex here’s this very physical act that would seem to be the ultimate way to prove the very obvious "Duh" existence of Me- the Self.
 
But it doesn't work.

So it could be that all the hiding, acting-out and fantasies are just designed to serve in our Self-story-creation.
 
To enable a sense of person.
 
Even though they fail to create an actual person.
 
Which is perhaps exactly what we’re hiding; what we’re so deeply ashamed of.
 
Perhaps this is the big secret we keep hidden in the dark, and the reason so much about sex is taboo.
 
So that we can make sure that that failure, that non-proof of a Self despite our very best physical efforts, doesn’t get seen.
 
Because is a non-existent-self sexy or a stud or hot?
 
How could it be? What would want sex?
 
No, we don’t want to go there.
 
And if it’s taboo we don’t have to.
 
“Shhhh. There’s nobody here. But let’s pretend we’re something and have naughty sex!”
 
Which is kind of a shame when you think about it.
 
And ironic really.
 
Because sex might be a hell of a lot more fun if it didn’t have to carry the burden of our entire personhood on its back.
 
And it could be that by setting aside all that I-am-ing for a bit, sex might even turn out to be quite a potent portal, a doorway, into seeing through the illusion of self.
 
Enlightenment via orgasm.
 
Now that’s hot.
 
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