With gratitude to Faddic for his painting entitled ‘Round World’
The 4 Octaves of Sexual Expression by Cyntha Gonzalez
David Deida, the author of The Way of the Superior Man, says that out of a man’s evolutionary base impulse to procreate, instinctively he desires variety. A woman may be bored with the same flavour month after month, whether or not she dares to admit it to herself and to her dear lover. The deeper nature of sexual desire is being driven by the allure of the mystery. But if sex is consistently predictable, there will be no delicious, enticing possibilities to be fervently beckoned into.
One can approach this from the position of fear or trust: “My lover will cheat on me because I just might not be enough!” Or rather, “This is an opportunity to grow and stretch myself into new sexual expressions that are not necessarily the most comfortable initially, but incredibly enhancing for both of us.”
Deida has dubbed the four octaves of sexual expression as Communion, Nurturance, Wild and Dangerous. Let’s go on a journey through these four kingdoms of discovery and meet the gods and goddess that rule each domain.
We can begin anywhere, there is no particular order to this exploration; we’re asked to trust moment to moment. It’s trusting when to lead, when to be taken, when to risk something previously unventured and when to go only so far – for at least tonight.
Let’s begin in the domain of Nurturance where you tenderly stroke me, hold me close, spoon me and caress me. This may come very naturally or I may be surprised to have to reassure you for a change. Perhaps you were a parentified child, asked to take care of an insecure or ill parent and you normally recoil from any perceived repeat of what was once a depleting scenario. Perhaps this zone is safe and replenishing for both of us. You may actually prefer to hang here – but sometimes too much for my liking. Or this time, being cared for by this Tantric parental god or goddess may be the welcome appetizer, setting the scene for a wild romp awaiting us.
The heat rises, the breath quickens and we dare to yelp. Fire, pulse and abandon rule. My head is tossed back, unabashed pleasure moans fiercely and you claim me. If shaming, taboo-laced admonishments told me such raw enjoyment is bad, I’ll shut down, avoid and not want to go there again. But because you pierce me with knowing eyes and firmly grab me in my curves that drive you wild, you call me back and I belt out a roar as your Unleashed Tantric Goddess.
Wet, wild and wanton, I hiss, I scratch, I scare. If you dare to let me go – if you dare to betray me – I’ll tear your eyes out. I’ll rip you to shreds. “Stay present! Don’t wince! Show me what you’re made of! Ride the dark edge with me!” If my classmates’ accusatory, “Slut!” rushes back, I count on you to retort, “Give me more! I luuuv it!” If trauma or abuse have corrupted your ability to trust this edge, I beg you, “Heal it!” so we can swim time to time in dark, provocative waters. The Tantric Goddess of Kali, the merciless Queen of Ego-Death destroys all that is not Love. She settles for nothing less.
After being stunned into annihilated, raw humility, we are opened and move seamlessly into a rarefied awe. We weep, we laugh, we merge into unforgettable union. Your face dissolves and radiance beams. The Atman is realized. We are surpassed by the greater, all-encompassing One.
We lay still, we embrace sweetly, we breathe in a lulled, slowed cadence. We return gently to the awareness of separate you and separate me, this time infused with a pervasive knowing that we really are more than this.
We glow in the rewards of our risk-taking. We touched the ineffable Divine. We played in a bigger and deeper lagoon that opened us both individually and together into satisfying, blissful bonding that now leaves us quivering with authenticity and alive zest. The next rendezvous promises a fresh weave of loving, untamed, sultry, transcendent energies, promising no less dare and growth.
For more information go to www.cynthagonzalez.com
