The idea of having a song sung to me, better yet, about me, is my idea of romantic ecstasy. Or how about listening to a poem read slowly, with intention, and passion? My knees quiver just thinking about it. Today a friend explained a theory in Chinese Medicine using dots and lines, he transformed it into something both beautiful and clear, the seduction of sacred mathematics is so delicious. This is love, shared experience, passion and wonder. Lovemaking the traditional way is certainly lovely, believe me I am very pro sexuality. Lovemaking though happens all the time, in an infinite number of ways. A well placed hand during Tango, a rescued melon in the midst of a shopping cart catastrophe, a smile from a passer-by which lasts long enough to say “I see you”, these are all acts of making love. My fondest hope is that you can understand and feel in your body what I am talking about, if not, this is the scepticism of which I speak.
Today I stroked a hand, and made love. Today I drew a picture, shared it with a friend, in this act we made love. I let go into myself in the bath last night, while listening to the ecstatic chanting of the Ghost Brothers, I felt, from the inside, every inch of my being, I felt ecstatic bliss, this was me making love with myself. Skepticism of love often shows up as sarcasm or harsh sexual humour. If reading about my making love with myself translates for any readers into masturbation, then you are misunderstanding. I am talking about love as a connection with the Divine, felt through the body as ecstatic bliss.
Scepticism puts an obstacle in the way of being able to trust, to believe. An unconditional belief in love is what creates unconditional love, and in turn ecstatic bliss.
I am no skeptic, I believe in love.
“Do you believe in love?” is the question in 12 days journal #215
