Why the Sexual Woman is Going to Save the World
Friday, December 9th, 2011
I was wearing my leopard-print jacket for the first time. I had been lusting for one for over a year and had finally found the perfect one, and tonight, was its debut. Its faux fur was so soft and comforting, and made me way too hot in a delicious way as I waited, in the packed theater, for the show to begin.
All along the front and second rows were our friends and acquaintances. Of course we all, also the ones who dressed up in an especially fitting way for the occasion, would want to be front row at the world-famous burlesque performance that had come to town. Mixed into the rest of the crowd were people of all ages and many backgrounds it seemed. I was so excited to see how everyone would react.
As it turned out, I have never, ever, heard so much screaming from such a relatively small crowd, in…my…life… Though the screaming was exquisite, (as was the woman who threw her bra up on the stage) it wasn’t my favorite part. My favorite part was the enchantment. The air was thick with it. At any moment nymphs, satyrs, and unicorns could have skipped through the room and I think everyone would have found it perfectly fitting.
Though each performer that the fabulous and incomparable Miss Indigo Blue introduced (an incredible artist herself!) was a gem of self-loving exuberance and overflowing beauty, one really illustrates my premise today. Her name is Lily Verlaine, and she entered the stage, a vision, nude but for her panties made of flowers and a huge bunch of multicolored roses held up to her chest with an arm whose hand reached around to cup her other, naked breast. She wafted across the stage and then around the room like a fragrance, and indeed she left the strong and sweet aroma of flowers in her wake, trailing along behind her as she moved.
She approached an older couple, taking one of the roses from her bouquet and brushing it along his face, and then giving it to the woman beside him. She offered a rose petal to my husband with her mouth, while I happily watched. She sat in a friend’s lap for a moment and then, as she stood above another man, he rose toward her as if he were levitating in her direction without even meaning to…like a cartoon character lifted along by the scent of a nearby fresh-baked pie. She was that magnetic.
I thought, as I watched her, back up on the stage pulling one rose at a time from her bunch and throwing them, littering their petals everywhere and then filling her mouth with them and blowing them out like a sprinkling, sparkling rain from heaven, that she looked just like the goddess. Not because she had a beautiful body, but because she radiated abundance, fruitfulness, and gracious giving of her beauty. She exuded it, she beamed it…she let it pour off of her in waves. She didn’t hide her delicious secrets. She gave them generously without reservation to all who were in her presence, just by being and allowing it.
We have been taught, through terrible methods and with traumatizing results, not to radiate this beauty. All genders are taught this, but especially women and those who identify as women or have a strong feminine side. We have, by every institution and individual who wished to gain power over us by supplanting our own, been taught not to get in touch with the most powerful force of creation…the pleasure of our bodies.
Nothing can ever truly win over that power, unless we never access it. This is what those who wished for false power realized. They picked a long-term plan to rob women, the greatest keepers and leaders of this bodily pleasure, of their self-esteem and self-confidence, and shame them out of feeling pleasure and joy. They took actions that made women feel unsafe and caused them to equate pleasure with danger and pain.
I know very well that creating a feeling of safety again is what will allow women to blossom in the way that will cause the earth to rumble with the kind of change that will set everything right, the way that nothing else is powerful enough to fully do. So my advice is not that every woman out there start running through dark alleys in their panties throwing roses (a little laugh is always good. : )
You see, we have a revolution to embody and to bring to the world. And it is the revolution of the sexual woman. She is coming back, and she will be better than ever before (even in the wild and wonderful goddess-worshiping days of old.) She will access the answers…deep inside her. And she will know just how to lead us into the new world with them. She won’t doubt herself anymore, or hide her vibrant sunrise-beauty anymore. She will glow, and beam, and heal and make whole. She will be the return of the goddess. The return of the divine feminine. She will bring it back for all of us, and the world will be restored, and reborn.
So…here is the brave edge beautiful women…here are the raw beginnings. Look for the cracks…we don’t hide from or fear them. We lean in toward them and push them wider open and make things that are no longer of service crumble and fall apart. We have always done this. Then we can help better things grow.
Yes, we start by finding the cracks that are the little places where light comes through. These cracks are the moments when we feel safe enough to radiate our beauty and let ourselves feel pleasure. Even if they are only when we are alone for now. We make these spaces grow and then we let ourselves be fully aware of them, enter into them, and get our glow back on. Only you know what makes you glow, what opens up the cracks for you where the light comes in and you can see freedom…and it may have been a long time since you felt it…but do whatever it takes to seek and find it. It will be more valuable than gold, and give you blessings and beauty for the rest of your life.
Once you have found what makes you glow, find more and more spaces where you are comfortable revealing it. I know it is scary. It has taken me so long to fully allow myself to do it, even though I have been pretty darned good at it my whole life, and I still find further ways to radiate and open even now, finding new safety and space to blossom more every day.
For as soon as you make the room, you will blossom into it. That is how nature works. And while an actual flower also wilts and drops its petals and eventually dies, we are ever-living and ever-blooming flowers. We only get more beautiful as we grow. That is also why there is a youth-crazed disassociation with the beauty of the older-aged in our world, to dissuade us from finding the unparalleled beauty and power there. We only get better with age…if we know pleasure.
We may think pleasure is out of our reach…that there has been too much pain for too long. But there is always room for pleasure when we invite it back in, even one little drop at a time at first. Really it is a vast ocean and all we have to do is take our finger out of the dam. We just need to find those cracks and help them crack open a bit more, and pleasure will flood the safe spaces we have made for it to fill. It starts with attempting to open and relax into safety when we feel pleasure. Later we begin to blossom at even the tiniest prompting, and every level of pleasure, so long as we feel truly right and good about it, feels completely safe and freeing, and wildly wonderful.
This is a whole new language we are talking about. Even though it is ancient. It may seem so foreign at first that we would rather run back to what we know. But we have the goddess living inside of us. All of us. And we women have a special way to let her shine, to let ourselves shine, and to ignite the world. With that light we illuminate every dark space that ever was, every hidden corner and forgotten knowing.
We have the return of magic right within our reach. It’s in your hands right now, and deep in the pulsing tissues of your heart. You access it when you trust your knowing and spend time finding out what that really is again. You access it when you love yourself, and believe in yourself no matter what anything outside of you says or does in response. You access it when you say yes to your body, and pleasure, and no to what denies your very being.
My name is Jennifer Posada, and I am a sexual woman. I am a sexy, juicy creature and I am letting my light shine. I am a beacon on a mountaintop calling out to you because I know you can hear me. Stand with me, even if only when you are alone and you stand naked in front of your mirror and decide to love what you see. Stand with me when you decide to take the afternoon off, just for you, and have your secret happiness all to yourself. Stand with me when you take the risk of blooming, when you feel safe and it feels natural, and to let others see your beauty and your sass and your gorgeous, rippling, radiant light…
Find that armful of multicolored roses and play with them, touch them, feel them…love what you are. And share that only when and if you want to, because it would increase your pleasure and your joy. Go out on a limb. Let yourself be more alive, perhaps, than anyone around you and apologize to no one for it. Let go of the ropes and the ties that are holding you back, and soar. We are the ones who will change this world by loving ourselves and modeling it. We are the ones who will find bliss in a field full of flowers, giggling like a child, just when the rest of the world is falling apart. And we’ll be okay with it when we need to fall apart ourselves. We will be able to cry when we need to, and even feel desperate, because we won’t be afraid to feel. And that is what will save us. We are the only ones who know that great ocean, and deep within, are not afraid of it.
Make contact. Make contact again with the part of you that feels. Not the part of you that feels what everybody else feels. That will just fragment you if you go there first. Go to only what you feel, and indulge in it the way you would the most divine latte with the perfect foam. Even if the feelings hurt, if you give yourself over to feeling them fully and completely that will change. Just do it over and over again, until you become an artist of feeling.
If you can’t find what you feel anymore, turn off everything else. Step away from your obligations, relationships and commitments for even an hour at a time. Find the place where you can hear your own heart beat again. Use that time to do something that feels good, whether it is taking a walk or watching a funny movie. There is no right or wrong choice. There is only what feels good to you.
I will say that again, because it applies to life: There is no right or wrong choice. There is only what feels good or right to you.
That is the mantra of the sexual woman. For there is no right or wrong way for you to be sexual either. You can be sexual for only the rarest moment, alone on the sofa once in a while, or sexual with the wind and the trees, or very actively sexual with partners. Sex doesn’t make you a sexual woman. The goddess made you a sexual woman, and you are the goddess, so you did that. You could be celibate for the rest of your life and still be a sexual woman. You are not just sexual when you are doing or thinking about something you think is sexual…you are sexual when you look at the moon, when you do the dishes, when you cry, when you drive your car or read a book. You are sexual because you are alive and the creative divine. The entire universe was born of this creative “sexual” energy and it is what fuels everything in your life, whether you know it or not.
Being turned on is being truly alive. How can we function properly if our power switch is turned “off”? We need to be turned on!
So just imagine, now that you really know it, what can happen next. You could become unleashed. You could get your energy back and become empowered as never before. You could have everything you wish for, and more. You could leap tall buildings in a single bound (so to speak…or maybe literally…who knows!) You could overcome whatever is holding you back. And then you could do it again and again.
When we all spilled back out into the lobby for intermission that night at the performance, everyone looked flushed and full of life. Movements expanded and voices and gestures were wider and louder. You could feel the life force pulsing through the room. There was more laughter. In the long line for the ladies room, woman of all ages chatted like happy birds, full of life and eagerness. You could feel the buzz moving through everyone. A few women danced their way out of the bathroom stalls in front of the big mirror playfully, while others in the line cheered them on. This is how the life was brought out in people…the life, and the play, and the joy.
This is how the sexual woman heals. This is how the sexual woman brings light, and vibrancy, and ecstasy back to the world. And just like Lily Verlaine didn’t do it alone, we won’t either. We will be surrounded by a supportive cast of other luminaries, each of us like a rose in that multi-colored bouquet…unique, and celebrated, and collaborative. There will be other sexual women alongside us, as well as the beautiful and awakened men who are ready and cannot wait to stand by the sexual woman, and those of other gender identities who have come to bless the world with gifts we have yet to even fully imagine. If you are looking around and wondering where your beautiful cast of fellow radiant revelers is, just wait…they are coming. We are rejoining more and more every day.
I can’t tell you everything here. It is too much. But I have told you everything that I can right now that matters most, and I will spend the rest of my life telling you more. I stand as a sexual woman. I will not fear my light. I will love myself radically and unconditionally and take care of myself like a fiercely protective and loving mother, and make sure I feel safe so I can glow. I feel you now. I feel the light growing ever-stronger as we speak…for you and I are speaking right now. I know you stand with me. I know, together, we will light up the world again.
Love,
Jennifer
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Still an Animal
Sunday, November 27th, 2011
I change shapes just to hide in this place,
But I’m still, I’m still an animal…
Nobody knows it but me when I slip, yeah I slip,
I’m still an animal…
Miike Snow
It was one of those mornings when I woke up in pain. They still come, those mornings, just left often now and less extremely. But I know what to do now. I get in the shower and I follow my animal body for the rest of the day. In fact, I always follow it now. I was pretty good at it before. It was my life. But I am excellent at it now.
It was a day I planned to work, but instead I put a coat on over my pajamas and went to a beach that I love, and hadn’t visited in a while. It’s near the road I lived down when I was ten years old. It’s where I went with friends when I was a teenager, and still go with friends sometimes now. It is old and new. Living on the island where I grew up, everything has layers of memories like the layers of paint in an old house. If you scratch the surface, you’ll find all these other colors underneath. All these old feelings there and so much richness. They both sting and revive me, I rise and fall with them like waves. I live among my history and write it at the same time. I feel this way so completely because, remembering so much of my entire soul journey and past lives, everything in the universe is like this for me. I live in these layers, and I fear them not. They are only intense feeling. Most people flee from feelings, but I have learned to sit in the white-hot center of them and have watched them bless my life beyond all description.
I would not trade my life as an animal for anything.
Many of you have heard me say that I am not interested in enlightenment. I have been there before and go there often. I am interested in becoming better at being human. Since humans are animals, I am saying that I am interested in becoming better at being an animal.
I’ll admit when the sun had already gone down at my beach, I chased it across the island at rather high speeds, just to drive fast. And I did find its last rays turning clouds the colors of golden peaches and lining them with fire. I listened to music loud. I do that a lot. I also write until my hand hurts, often…for hours sometimes. I sing, hard sometimes too, songs that would make me want to cry if I weren’t so deep in the singing that I felt too whole to do so. I dance. Sometimes I dance all night long. I have lots of orgasms, and lots of kisses. These are the kinds of things it can take to let yourself be an animal, to bear the immense and immeasurable waves of really feeling your own being…of really feeling.
Of course, what it takes for each person will be different. You have to find out your own way, if you choose, to follow Mary Oliver’s advice, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” To be what Eve Ensler calls an “Emotional Creature.” Because it isn’t easy, but it is better and more wonderful than anything else I have ever known.
Immediately, when the vision began, I was on the edge of the ocean with Magdalen. (Yes, Mary Magdalen, she is a good girlfriend of mine. We have a lot in common, and share many of the same views.) I was teaching my annual advanced course in vision (Persephone’s Pomegranate: The Visionary Oracles Course) and we were all on a journey together to view a past life.
Magdalen and I both stood on a rocky shoreline, right at the point where the water met the land. My feet were bare and my toes wrapped around a rock that was lined in seaweed. We were looking out over the sea and the islands. It was just before sunset, with the crisp light of autumn. She was holding my hand.
She told me that it was time for me to finally bring the whole of myself into this world. That I could finally, truly have it all. Many would say that I have it all now, and even I feel that I do. But when she told me that I could feel what she meant in my bones. It was time to let my even fuller glory be known and felt and shared, as I haven’t been able to completely do on this earth for a long time, and when this happens I will be even more gifted, and gift-ed.
Then she took me into a past life. One I have visited before in Egypt. I was an Oracle, and many came to the temple to speak with me, or experience my energy in some way. It was beautiful, and sometimes taxing in those times, because the demands on me and the expectations were immense. But I had all of that to give and more. So I did.
But the memory was of a specific day. One in which a surgery was performed (the ancient Egyptians were far more advanced medically than we realize now) on me to remove a small part of my heart. It was going to be used to add to salves and medicines, and to create relics with bits of the powder that could be taken to other locations for people far away to receive its healing. Silly idea really. There are so many other ways to do it. But for some reason I agreed.
What I knew, returning back to Magdalen at the shore, was that I would never have to give up a piece of my heart that way again. My animal, emotional heart. It is the great secret, for all of us. It is far more powerful than any outside deity, any incantation, spell or ritual. It is all we have ever sought and more, and it is right inside of us. And while we may also find it in a book, or mantra, if it speaks to us somehow, we are more likely, I believe, to find it in a howl. In a laugh, a tear, a hunger. In our bodies. That is where all the mysteries await most profoundly.
On halloween this year I was experiencing some heartache. There had been some recent let downs, but it was more than that. I was in one of those realms you sometimes enter when you are open to the worlds of deep feeling within your vast, ancient soul. I had gone with my sweetheart and friend to the big dance in town and had great fun and laughs, and then afterward some of us piled into my friend’s big, modified school bus and went to his place. He and my husband drummed while a friend and I danced, and I went into one of my deep trance states.
I went into a vision, a specific memory of being in a special kind of temple of women. I remembered the fabrics, and the vibrant yet soft colors. The way the warm air smelled. But most of all I remembered the women. I remembered the exquisite softness of their skin and their eyes. I remembered their deep knowing, and the way they could walk through the world with the full oceans within them. I remembered the way we all touched, almost all the time. Arms intertwined with arms, heads resting on chests. I remembered the way we felt in and about our bodies and their pure sensual power. I remembered how at ease we were, with that, and with each other.
I remembered how it felt to be enfolded this way when one was grieving. How there was no feeling too intense to be acceptable. It was the full embrace. For I have remembered so many temples before, but these were the ones where the women gathered to be together and to heal. And somewhere, deep in our bodies, I know we all, of all genders, know how to do this. We are just remembering. And nothing will remind us more than the animal of our bodies.
I was Alice in Wonderland that night for halloween. At some point my friend asked me, “So…you’ve been down the rabbit hole?”
“Oh,” I laughed. “So many times…”
So many people are afraid of letting the animal within guide them. They are afraid it will take over. Being “animalistic” isn’t exactly considered to be a good thing. Funny thing is, animals usually do a lot better than humans at living well, sustainably, and healthily. What I can’t figure out is how people can suffer through repressing their animal selves. It’s the repression that causes the terrible things we associate with getting animalistic, not the full embrace of one’s instinct, feeling and animal self. I wonder how people haven’t fully seen the cost yet of that holding back.
After all, most of the time we walk through the world by “changing shapes just to hide in this place,” as Miike Snow sings. We keep a poker face, or the presentable face, no matter what we feel. We cram ourselves into all kinds of awkward positions to get through interactions, work, and environments that often don’t fit us. And so rarely does someone actually cry out at the wildness that is being constantly held at bay.
The animal within isn’t insatiable. In fact satiating it over and over again is one of the most rewarding ways to live life. And it doesn’t just want food and sex and sleep and survival. It wants soft touches, warm breezes, wild oceans, bare feet in the grass, laughter so hard it makes your stomach hurt in the best way, it wants to cry and sing and run free. It wants long talks, long looks, bright blazing mornings and dark, sparkling nights. It might want a shiny red pair of shoes, or to give away everything and move to Bali. It wants to ache with joy. It wants to love until there is nothing else, and then love some more. It might want parties, or deep forests. It might want movies, or bubble gum, or to run through crisp autumn leaves. It wants to be hot, and held, and free.
Being the animal that you are doesn’t mean that you have to find out all of this at once and run off to Bali. It just starts with listening to your body, and the yearnings of your heart, and then answering them…as often as possible. It could be as simple as what I did the last time I woke up feeling like I did this morning. Too much an animal to go about my human business in life. I just decided my work would get done later, climbed into the car and went to a place where I could cheat on my currently-strict diet and drink coffee and eat bread, and wrote in my journal, finding all of my redemption in ink. You’ve got to reach deep into your well to feed the thirst of your animal. You’ve got to get the water from your inner earth. And when you’ve found it, you will know. It will be like a warm rain, washing everything away but the very deepest truth of you.
To that deepest truth I write tonight. To that deepest truth of you I drink tonight, a toast of imaginary pomegranate wine. I drink a toast to knowing that we will all survive the flood…the one we face every day. The flooding that rises up inside of us. And I toast to the animal I know we will set free, that will swim in it, that will drink it, that will shake itself off, and get ready to wander the earth again…
Love You,
Jennifer
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