It’s 10am on a sleepy Saturday morning and my lover and I are lounging in bed together, caressing one another’s skin and mumbling the faint recollections from last night’s dreams. I drag the back of my hand up the inside of his thigh and brush it against his groin and then over his belly. He sighs with pleasure. Then I turn my hand over and do the same move again, this time with the palm of my hand rather than the back. His body shudders a little with delight. Then, he inhales quickly and sits up. A light bulb just went on. “Why are hands and mouths and nipples more policed than elbows and backs?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, you just brushed me with the back of your hand and it felt good. Then you touched me with the front of your hand and it felt great.”
“So, say I were to accidentally brush up against a woman’s breasts with my back as I passed by her. This would be no big deal. Or say the back of my hand grazed her body as we passed, incidental contact. She probably wouldn’t think much of it, nor would anyone else. But if the front of my hand touched her body, especially her breasts or her butt, I’d be considered a total creep. Why is that?”
I laughed. It may seem like an obvious question. And there are all kinds of reasons, of course….it could be seen as invasion of her personal space, an act that is trying to take rather from her rather than give, it could even be seen as a perpetration. It isn’t socially acceptable to make palm-to-breast contact with a stranger……handshakes are ok, but not boobshakes. We all know this is how things are….but why?
Think about your so-called private parts for a moment.
Pliable Lips. Wet Tongues. Erectable Nipples. Moist, dark, mysterious places, pulsing with electricity and life.
All those nerve endings. All that chance for bodily communication, one synapse chatting away to another, spilling all the secrets of our seeming separation. Inside this communion, the illusion that I am separate and alone in this huge universe dissolves.
Now, simply, I am.
Why are our so-called “private parts” private? Because they hold within them one of the greatest pathways for human beings to experience union with the interconnectedness with life. When we are connected–to source and to each other–we are powerful. And I dare say our power scares us.
I could go on and on about how the organized State and the political power of the Church have tried to keep commoners from their power through instilling sexual shame and fear. About how, for countless generations, we have been sold the increasingly subtle message that earthly life is either profane or a waiting period until we get to the “real” home (Heaven), that sex should be avoided in favor of an ascension toward God or a divine power who dwells beyond this earthly realm.
Communion is no longer something we experience with our tender, innocent flesh, but as symbolized play-act with wafers and grape juice. But that anonymous “they”–the Church, the State…..who are they?
If I really pay attention, with clear eye and honest heart, I see that I’m the one duping myself. I’m the one who holds me back from tapping in to our massive collective power. I’m the one afraid of connecting all those synapses into a big, networked “WE.” But as dear Freud used to say, “Fear is a wish.”
I laugh out loud with my face pressed into the pillow. My lover and I hold each other. I love this path.