In the absence of a secure and self-valuing identity, women often find themselves inhabited by three archetypal “ghosts”: the Martyr, the Victim, and the Mad Woman.

“The idea is that Orgasmic Meditation uses arousal to access latent creativity and a mystical state; she believes practitioners can use this “erotic force” to connect with others and decrease suffering.”

From the profound to the profane, the invitation of Eros is to incarnate into our own lives.

We have our own key; we have the grappling hook of our own power and our own sentinel. As women, we meet must meet ourselves in the depths, in the mystical, the soul realms.

A genius never before imagined in the blue ocean of woman far beyond the read shark infested waters of man. We do not need to avoid the water altogether. We need to swim out further. And do for woman and reality what Cirque de Soleil did for the circus. This is our gift, the added dimension of art, elegance, taste, quality, mysticism to the pre-existing. 

Eros does not pretend to know what is right or wrong in every situation for every person. It does not offer wholesale directives. Instead, it suggests that power lies in wisdom, and true wisdom only happens when we listen.

We cannot wake up alone because we cannot take ourselves out of control. We cannot press our own buttons and we do not know who we are within the finite limitations of control.

We believe we enter relationships to experience the highs of romance and love. However, it’s clear that all love ultimately leads to heartbreak.

The sexual energies we could ride to our liberation on,
We turn into lassos to grab for the boyfriend, the husband,
The small pittance of love or approval.
That gift, invaluable,
We ration like misers, proudly starving ourselves and the world.

We’ve been told, over and over again, that a woman’s sexuality is dangerous. Dangerous to her. Dangerous to others. That it needs to be managed, contained, and—when it strays too far from the acceptable—condemned. But the danger isn’t in sex. It’s in the chains we’ve placed around it.

Tear out the weeds, the conventions, the well-laid plans.
Tear out every last direction you were given
For this, your one precious garden.