Pleasure is messy, dirty, pungent. And the heart is complex, with layers upon layers of emotion, all of them necessary to bring us alive, fully.
Pleasure doesn’t always come in a pink box. It’s not a frivolous indulgence, like a luxury vacation or a promise of orgasms. It lives side by side with the realities of life. Pleasure can mean feeling that whole mind-boggling spectrum so acutely, that you actually discover ecstasy through it.
It’s a commitment to loving yourself and all your messiness, and to walk the path you were born to, however difficult it might be.
Pleasure can be a volcanic upheaval that threshes you naked. A devastation that robs you of all the ways you hide. A crisis that forces you to ask, or beg, God to walk beside you. It can mean crying so hard that a sort of euphoria befalls you and you soar into the stars – have you ever done that? I have.
You might dance because you have to. You might feel your breath more exquisitely because there is nothing left to hold on to. You might let a friend in, because they love you enough to insist (Anah).
Now more than ever I’m accessing a broader practice of pleasure – in yoga, dance, prayer, rest.
PLEASURE GIVES US THE COURAGE TO FALL APART.
When you’re in pain, what do you reach for?
“Even the ache in your heart is holy.” – THE RADIANCE SUTRAS, translated by Lorin Roche.
We’re in this together. I love you ❤