Health: The Human Energy Field, by Valerie V. Hunt, Ph.D.
The Human Energy Field: An Interview with Valerie V. Hunt, Ph.D. via The Human Energy Field: An Interview with Valerie V. Hunt, Ph.D.
When the pattern of the electromagnetism is disturbed in the body, you will get disease and malfunction. And this electromagnetic pattern can be disturbed in a number of ways: genetically, due to the nature of the tissue, although I don’t think that’s a major factor; experientially, due to lifestyle patterns; or emotionally, which I think is the primary factor. What happens is there is a disturbance that occurs in the electromagnetism of the tissue, which will eventually alter the chemistry. And actually this goes clear to the DNA. I predict we will learn before long that the DNA is reprogrammed by the emotional organization of the energy field. I am not saying this simply. I have had experiences here.
What you are saying, then, is that the primary cause of all disease occurs first and foremost in the field. Correct?
Absolutely. Many people are coming to that conclusion theoretically. I’m coming to it through my research.
Conversely, then, for healing to truly occur, it has to occur in the field, as well.
All healing that takes place in alternative medicine is electromagnetic. Whether it’s the laying on of hands, Tai Chi, meditation — everything that takes place, even the thought process, or the person’s intent or spiritual state, changes the electromagnetic field and changes it almost instantaneously. Now if it stays changed and improved, the body heals itself, and the chemistry reorganizes. This biochemical reorganization is the effect that medicine is working upon. Medicine has never, ever cured anything. The body cures itself. Sometimes, in emergency situations, we need the offset of biochemistry, but not as a cure of disease. It never has cured disease, and it never will cure disease. Only if the field changes will there be a true cure.
Read more: The Human Energy Field: An Interview with Valerie V. Hunt, Ph.D.
Mind, Body, Spirit: Breathing ~ the Importance of Being Inspired Repeatedly
I can think of no better place to begin discussing Mind, Body, and Spirit topics than with breathing. Considering that the act of breathing is something most of us take for granted, the role of breathwork and mindful breathing can be truly transformative to your mind, your body, and your spirit.
The process of breathing is a complex coordinated effort that involves the whole torso, not just the lungs. If you follow a yogic or body awareness path, then breathing can be a full-body sport. As a voice teacher, I start all my students on ujjayi breathing, the belly breathing technique from yoga, before we sing any scales or attempt any songs. The student must begin to incorporate ujjayi breathing into their everyday life and subsequently into their singing. Phonation (sound production) is based on airflow. While vocal science research has shown that the vocal folds are responsible for controlling airflow across the vocal folds when we speak or sing, breathing is a coordinated dance of the abdominal muscles, the thoracic and pelvic diaphragms, as well as the internal and external intercostal muscles of the ribcage (to say nothing of the bronchi and alveoli inside the lungs responsible for the gas exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide).
Deep, calm breathing has many relaxing and healthful benefits mentally and somatically.
Mind:
When we are under stress, nervous, or anxious, the body releases stress hormones such as adrenaline and cortisol. An adrenal response evolved from the human body’s early days, adrenaline is great if you’re chasing a mammoth or running from a saber-tooth tiger. It’s not so great if you’re about to go on stage to recite your lines or enter a restaurant on a first date. Adrenaline floods the brain, sort of shutting down the frontal lobes, which are responsible for things like language. (Another reason being nervous before an audition or a date can leave you stumbling for words like a blithering idiot.) With the frontal cortex on coffee break, the primal brain takes over and straddles the fence in fight-or-flight mode. Deep, slow breathing can counter all of this, calming the mind and allowing the stress to be manageable so you can deal with it like a rational human and not a caveman. Breathwork allows you to focus on the task at hand or ease your pesky thoughts away if you’re trying to meditate.
Try sitting alone, with all noisy electronic devices turned OFF, and just breath deeply for 10 or 15 minutes.
Body:
Breathing is the action by which we replenish that chemical that is pertinent to our existence: oxygen. Breathing high in the chest — upper chest breathing — is a style of breathing in early English and French singing, but it is not recommended for any singing, speaking, or breathwork, in my opinion, because upper chest breathing also triggers the release of adrenaline. Breathe low in the belly, breathing down into the pelvic diaphragm. In voice, this style of breathing is called appoggio, but it is basically ujjayi breathing. I’ve been known to have students lie on the floor or sit against the wall in chair pose to feel the expansion of the back while breathing and singing. While on the floor, I have them place their binder or sheet music on their stomach so they can see when the book rises and falls and learn to associate that feeling with proper, deep abdominal expansion and contraction. A mirror is crucial to see the ribs moving outward away from the torso.
When we focus on breathing, we tend to focus on our body and our alignment, taking an inventory of how we’re doing physically. Tantra and Kundalini paths use different breathing exercises like kapala bhati and bhastrika that really, really work the body — these are powerful breath practices that require guidance from a teacher, especially if you’re engaging the body by applying “locks” at certain chakras. And in case you’re wondering, oxygen feeds orgasms!
A basic Sun Salutation is a great way to combine deep breath and body work to get the blood and oxygen flowing.
Spirit:
The word spirit comes from the Latin spiritus meaning “soul, vigor, breath,” derived from the word spirare which means “to breathe,” the root of both of these being spir. When we are born, the first thing we do once the umbilical cord is cut is breathe — we take in breath, we are in-spir-ed, or inspired. The last thing we do before we shake off this mortal coil is to exhale our last breath — ex-spire, or expire. In between that first inspiration and our final expiration, we take in and release breath repeatedly, or as we call it re-spir-ation, the act of respiration.
It is no coincidence to me that the lungs are located right there at the heart chakra. Whenever we are touched emotionally — in a good way or unpleasant way, we tend to either gasp, inhale quickly, or exhale in sadness or disbelief. I feel our emotions and breath are connected. Mindful breathing helps us stay rooted, grounded to the earth, when circumstances leave our mind — or our heart — reeling. Deep breathing can also lower blood pressure and slow a racing pulse.
Breathwork is absolutely fundamental to being healthy. The art of being inspired repeatedly throughout our life is as simple as breathing. When we’re overwhelmed, overly excited, can’t focus, or can’t think, deep breathing can help keep us centered and better prepared to relax into our task at hand or meditation session.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,
trish
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Health & Nutrition: The Primal/Paleo Diet vs. Vegetarian/Vegan
So I have been investigating the vegetarian lifestyle, briefly looking in on the vegan ideals and deciding I will definitely not be vegan at this point in my life. Just because a person is vegetarian doesn’t mean he or she is healthy — some vegetarians are actually carb-atarians, overweight, with the same vascular and insulin problems as the rest of America.
I eat organic, free-range, grass-fed, no-homones, no-antiobitics, non-GMO food as much as I can. I’ve looked into the differences in protein sources, accessibility of vitamins and minerals, balances of Omega-3 and Omega-6 ratios, etc. Depending on what path you want to follow, you can find solid reasoning to go either animal or plant-based in your diet. But I’m not after a “diet,” I want nutrition — fuel and nutrients for my body to keep me healthy and kicking for at least another 45 years.
I have to say that I don’t enjoy eating food. Frankly, eating meals annoys me. I have other things to do with my time — mainly because I’m the preparer and the dishwasher around here. Forty minutes to cook and 20 minutes to clean up simply do not make the 5 to 10 minutes of eating worthwhile to me. Even mindful eating can get annoying… I’d rather be working.
While I can appreciate the ethical arguments against eating meat, I, personally, do not see a problem eating an animal that is humanely raised and butchered. After all, when I die, I will be placed in the ground, un-embalmed, with a tree planted on top of my rotting corpse — the tree is to provide shelter for animals, shade for anyone on a hot day, and of course oxygen for breathing.
To those who say there is a spiritual reason for not eating meat, other cultures offer equally justifiable reasons for eating meat, i.e., buffalo, salmon, deer, etc. However, I’ve also been told and have read that eating meat grounds a person, making astral travel, psychic dreams, clairvoyent/clairaudient experiences more difficult to near impossible.
For myself, as an Energist, I know that there is energy transference from the food we eat to our bodies. Animals inhumanely raised and slaughtered have a bad energy that affects our health — just look at Americans — we are not healthy people. But eating grass-fed, free-range animals like in the old days must have a different effect on our energy bodies, yes? Before livestock, dairy, and soybeans became the mega-money industries they are today, what was it like to truly live off the land? And not eat Franken-foods designed in a lab solely for profit?
I’ve studied The Body Ecology Diet by Donna Gates, and I really like her work. I’ve also delved into the Blood Type Diet, since I’m not a blood type O, and have found some interesting points in that as well. And of course, there’s the Orgasm Diet.
I’ve lost 82 pounds, but I need to kick-start this plateau. I’ve enjoyed this plateau because I knew my body needed a rest. And frankly, at this point, all this information is just confusing. For me, this is not about losing more weight — I want to feed my body the best-sourced nutrients — losing more weight will be an added bonus. All I want is a body that is healthy, fit, mobile, and primed for orgasms! 
The past couple of days then, I’ve been researching the Primal and Paleo diets with a bit more earnest. I did fat-free years ago — gained weight. Did Adkins — loathed eating that much meat. Essentially, I have had the undeniable realization that I simply MUST get off sugar and grains. I already don’t eat corn or corn syrups, don’t eat potato chips, popcorn, snacks, etc. I don’t eat anything store-bought in a box or bag other than single ingredients like rice, chocolate chips, romaine, etc. (except pot stickers, which I will have to give up as well… le sigh…).
I currently don’t eat red meat or pork. I still eat eggs, chicken, and turkey — recently calling myself a Turkey-tarian. I’ve started making my own butter and buttermilk and will be making my own yogurt, kefir, cheese, etc., soon.
So I’d like to know what all of you are doing to get healthy, be healthy, lose weight, get/stay strong and in shape. I’m not worried about a number on the scale, per se, but I do want to continue my journey to reclaiming my body. I’ve done a lot of work already to reclaim my body sexually and physically, but now, I am at another “fork” in the road here, and I’m having trouble deciding between going vegetarian or going primal.
Thoughts? Experiences? Ideas? Please leave a comment below!
Thank you!
trish
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Dream: Astral Travel – Going to the Other Side & Seeing the Source Energy
Copyright 2013 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
Some schools of thought say all dreams are a form of astral projection. If so, then I’m astral traveling 3 to 5 times every night. But what I consider astral projection — traveling across time/space to the Other Side — has only occurred once — that I remember.
I astral projected in a dream years ago, in 2002, or 2003, maybe 2004 — before Hurricane Katrina. This was either the only time I’ve ever experienced this or the only time I remember it this fully.
I was flying in my dream, which was great because I had not had a flying dream since I was a young teenager. As a kid, I’d have dreams in which I would float up out of my body (in the dream) and hang out at the ceiling, sometimes getting bored with whatever was going on in the room, like a classroom or sometimes a hospital/surgical type area, and I’d float out of the room, ducking to not hit my head on the door jamb, then fly/float down the hallway to something more interesting.
In most flying dreams, though, I would be outside where I could get a running start, spread my arms, take off, and fly — but never higher than just above the trees. These were always amazing. I progressed to the point where I didn’t have to take a running start — if I had the thought I wanted to fly, I spread my arms, bent my knees in a small plie’, and I was up in the air, soaring. The most interesting of these was one dream in which I was flying with Elton John. I have no idea why I dreamt that. I love Elton John, but to this day, that is a mystery.
So back to this particular dream… I was enthralled to be flying again, something I had missed for almost two decades. I was flying above the trees. I looked down as the canopy of treetops whizzed by. Suddenly, I realized I was not flying horizontally but vertically, like a helicopter going up instead of across. I thought, “How cool!”
I went up and up, still facing down, looking down towards the land. Further up and away from the trees. I went through the thin, low-lying clouds, higher and higher. Here’s where I started getting worried. I had no clue what was happening. Up and up. Still looking down, I saw I was high enough that I wasn’t just looking at the land or the water, I was now moving up through the clouds. Layers and layers of frothy white clouds. Then I was looking down at the clouds — up and up — looking down now at the entire earth, moving further from it at an increasing speed.
As the earth got smaller, I looked down toward what should have been my body but there was nothing there. I looked to my right at what should have been my arm, but my arm wasn’t there. I looked to my left, but my left arm wasn’t there. I thought, “Where’s my body?!” I looked around at myself, but I wasn’t there — only a fuzz of transparent light.
I felt my fuzz self cross a barrier, and I realized I had crossed the Veil (as pagans say). I was on the Other Side. I slowed down and took it all in, just floating. I had no body because I pure energy. Where I was was pure energy. It looked like an infinity of clouds in a golden light emanating from a huge golden light source off in the distance. In that instant I experienced what I’d never felt before or since — pure love. I knew it seemed crazy even at the time — this is what people who have near-death experiences say. They felt pure love. But it was true. I felt pure love. Pure connectedness to the supraconsciousness. I felt the infinity of the universe. I knew I was returning home — returning as light energy to rejoin the All light energy. No gods. No Jesus. No floating Buddha head. No made up human religious bullshit. The All was nameless, faceless, race-less, label-less energy.
Feeling that pure love was transformative. I knew what that pure love was as soon as I felt it and knew, with sadness, no one had ever extended that pure, unconditional love to me here on earth. I floated in the energy and felt my fuzzy light self being gently pulled toward the golden infinite energy All, and I loved it. I wanted it. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, so intensely right — to be a part of that energy from whence I came, to leave the crap and the struggle of life on the physical plane. Everything I had ever wanted was right there. All I had to do was drift in the pure love energy stream to rejoin the infinite Source Energy.
I suddenly remembered my young daughter, and I thought, “Oh well, this was nice, but I have to go back now.” I expected to drift back to the Veil and begin my descent toward earth. However, I kept drifting toward the golden light. I thought, “No, really, I can’t stay. I have to get back to my daughter.” Nothing changed, in fact, I started moving toward the golden energy faster. I shouted (as only a fuzz ball of energy can), “NO! I have to go back to my daughter! She needs me!!” I tried to resist the pull of the energy — it was so immensely strong, and truthfully, I really wanted to stay in that perfect love vibration. But I tried pushing against the pull — hard to do with no arms or legs. I pushed against it, tried to pull myself away, pushed and pulled, tried again and again. I yelled, “I HAVE to go back! My daughter needs me!!”
At that instant, I began plummeting downward, downward, downward, accelerating exponentially. I saw the earth getting closer and closer. I went through the earth’s cloud layers, and I went faster. I worried how I was going to catch myself since I didn’t have a physical body. Was I just going to land on the roof of my house — SPLAT?! The earth got closer, then North America, then the Gulf Coast, the water, the trees — boom!
I bolted upright in bed. I was panting, breathless as if I’d just run a marathon. I looked down. I had a body — had arms and legs — nothing seemed broken. I looked up — the ceiling was intact. I felt like I had slammed into a concrete wall. I had crash-landed into my bed. I had no idea what just happened. I sat there for a few minutes, thoroughly confused by this, the weirdest dream I’d ever had.
I got up out of bed, shaky on my feet (that I was glad to see had returned), and I checked on my daughter. She was sound asleep. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the house. I could not wrap my head around what had happened. Of course, I had heard of out-of-body experiences (OOBE, or OBE), but I had never really delved into the topic, or astral travel, or remote viewing. I liked my easy-going nature-based Irish pagan path. I liked my relationship with my perception of a Source Energy, and I left all the New Age woo-woo stuff for the confused woo-woo people (who probably smoked a lot of weed).
Because of this dream/astral dream experience, my perception of “god/gods,” heaven/nirvana, et al were confirmed for what feels right for me. Science says energy is the basis of the universe, and I saw that that is true. Spiritual sages say “we are all connected,” and I felt that to be true in my experience. The bullshit importance humans place on ethnicity, economic class, political party, religious affiliation are all that — bullshit — completely made up, human busy-work to keep the physical plane mired down in drama so the soul energy has something to do while it’s here to learn lessons during its incarnation in the carbon-based meat-suit.
At that moment, I became what I call an Energist. I believe in Energy. Gods, goddesses, etc., are anthropomorphized interpretations of particular energy vibrations to appease the inquisitive human-animal’s mind as the soul sorts out its karma this go ’round.
This is when I became a Humanist. We are all energy. We are all equal. We are all connected, regardless of skin color, spiritual path, or other divisive pigeon hole man-made society wants us to buy into to keep strife and war in perpetual motion, usually for the benefit of sociopathic lizard-brains who feed on misery to secure their own financial gain and to ensure their elite status and control.
This earthly existence offers glimpses into the love and connectedness that exist on the Other Side. They are possible here… if we lose our temporary selves long enough to find our true selves.
This is my experience. You don’t have to like it, agree with it, or believe it. It is mine. This is the experience as it happened to me, so I don’t feel the need to justify or rationalize any aspect of it. This was a truly integral and life-changing experience for me, and to this day, it greatly influences many of my tenets that I hold to be true for me and my path.
I hope to return to the All Source Energy again this lifetime to say Hi — as long as I can come back here once I’m done hanging out in the energy love fuzz.
trish
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Tantra: Out With the Old, In With the Older
Copyright 2013 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
Those of you who have followed my orgasm journal have read about my path to becoming a multi-orgasmic and spontaneously orgasmic woman. I’ve experienced all sorts of -gasms from multiple orgasms, heart-gasms, leg-gasms, nipple-gasms, urination-gasms, labia-gasms — you name it, my body has -gasmed there.
I embarked on this journey as a means of healing from sexual abuse as a child, rape as an adult, and a miserable marriage. I just wanted to be able to feel sensation in my clit again after doing damage from vibrators — and to be able to orgasm during sex, a seemingly impossible feat I never accomplished with a partner. Since starting this path via research, trial and error, and a few different “methods,” I have experienced orgasms, emotions, and awakenings physically and emotionally that I never dreamed were possible. Along the way, I’ve made mistakes and had revelations, and it has all been one big learning experience.
I had begun a practice about a year ago that is essentially breathing, sound, and touch — supposedly, a protocol “discovered” by accident. I now feel that this is inaccurate, since combining breathing, sound, and touch is an ancient practice to awaken the subtle body, to trigger the energy fields of the meridians, and to rewire the parasympathetic nervous system.
After all, orgasm is both a physical event and an energy event. Different systems are activated to bring about each kind of orgasm.
In documenting my journey, I was able to go back and see what I did, when, the circumstances of my emotions at the time, any physical factors, as well as my experiences with the protocol itself, and how it affected me. (THIS is why journaling is so important — not necessarily at the time of the experience, but it can be very important later.) Looking back, I noticed that I did everything exactly opposite of what was given in the “protocol,” and when I tried to do it correctly, I hurt my voice or didn’t experience as much as when I did it “wrong.” Mostly, though, when doing it “wrong,” I experienced huge leaps forward in my orgasmic journey, and I knew that I was doing a practice that was centuries old, a Tantric type of breathing meditation with sound that awakens the body, the mind, and even the spirit/consciousness self.
Incorporating sensual massage and my solo version of the OM clit technique took my orgasmic experiences to a new level. Learning to love my breasts and starting to accept my body as she is has been healing in many ways, not the least of which has been the change in how I make love to myself.
Over the past year, as I began to sink a little too deep into Yin energy personally while expending inordinate amounts of Yang energy during the push to the 2012 POTUS election (combating GOP repressive crap), I experienced the sexual downward cycles that follow every sexual upsurge high. I no longer craved manually stimulated orgasms or solo sex sessions. I could do barely-there nipple stim or gentle clit and labia stim and have those orgasms and be perfectly happy. I began to fear I was losing my sex drive. Now, as I am again experiencing changes in my orgasms (that I will write up soon), I have left that other protocol behind and have begun firmly on a Tantric path.
I have started working with a Tantric teacher in Miami, and I am so very happy to be on this path. The program takes a minimum of six years to complete, so it is definitely a commitment. At this time, it feels right, and I hope to be able to complete it. I can’t wait to see what I experience in six months, a year, five years from now by working with a real Tantric. I know that sounds like forever to some of you, but in the past couple of years I’ve learned that it takes time to process and integrate the new awakenings of the subtle body with the physical body and the emotional and psychological aspects of our selves.
Tantra is a beautiful journey of awareness, transformation, and expansiveness, not the sex orgy touted by “gurus” and media for tabloid fodder… though sex is certainly improved by Tantra consciousness being present.
As Georg Feuerstein says in Tantra, The Path of Ecstasy:
“It is no accident that true Tantric practitioners are called “heroes” (vira), because they must navigate in treacherous waters that demand constant vigilance and great inner strength…. There are no shortcuts, and the quest for quick fixes and weekend enlightement is merely one of the symptoms of the kali-yuga, governed by delusion and greed.”
I think I will be blogging my experiences here, so stay tuned.
trish
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AskTrish: Stop Ejaculating and Have Multiple Orgasms Already
A little something different from the usual AskTrish post…
While posting pics on my ArousedWoman Tumblr page, I came across a post on another Tumblr page in which a querent (I’m assuming male) asked: “when i masturbate and i hit orgasm once i cant have another one why not ? am i doing something wrong ?” The moderator responded: “no, not everyone is capable of multiple orgasms, that’s just the way it is…”
That is absolutely NOT TRUE — not even for men!
Ejaculating is a reflex, but it is a controllable reflex of the sympathetic nervous system. Semen is ejected due to contractions by the bulbospongiosus muscle. On a subtle body/spirit level, ejaculate is comprised of life force energy, and it takes an inordinate about of physical energy to produce and expel ejaculate from the body — hence the reason a guy is usually exhausted and needs a nap afterward. Ejac expends energy, causing fatigue for the man.
In women, stimulating the clit, which is synonymous to the penis, gives a localized burst of tension release at the clitoris, but any kind of vaginal orgasm (prostate/She Spot, cervical/uterine, AFE, PFE, even perineal sponge) creates full-body waves of bliss that flow and flow and flow, like waves that repeatedly crash against a shore. The clitoris is wired to the spinal cord via the pudendal nerve, but the vagina’s main nerve is the vagus nerve which bypasses the spinal cord and plugs directly into the brain.
Knowing how the body works physiologically helps in integrating the subtle energy body with the physical body, which leads to orgasms that literally blow your mind and everything you thought you knew about your body or orgasm. Conjuring orgasm via an energy-based practice with the help of a little anatomy know-how creates orgasm experiences that feel like Big Bang explosions in your core and your head — not localized to just the genitals.
Orgasm is a response of the parasympathetic nervous system. Orgasm increases energy. Many people use climaxing for muscle tension release before bed so they can get sleepy. However, orgasm in an energy practice gives and expands energy. From the Greek word, orgasmos, orgasm literally means “to swell.” Orgasm is NOT the end of a sexual experience but one amazing part of the journey. The end isn’t even “climax” but bliss, altered states of consciousness (no drugs needed!), awareness, and connection to self, your partner (if applicable), and the Universe.
ALL woman AND men are capable of multiple orgasms — FOR HOURS, days, weeks! Live your whole life in an orgasmic state of energy bliss… Why not?!
People need to STOP the myths and lies about what is possible in orgasm. ‘Cause I guaran-damn-tee MOST people have never experienced even an inkling of what orgasm can be. They grew up jerking off to skin mags and probably learned most of what they know about sex from watching the fakery of porn and memorizing the stupidity of magazine sex quizzes while standing in line at the store.
They should stop giving advice and read my fucking blog already!
trish
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Me, My Breasts, and I
Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey.
I always hated my breasts.
For most of my life that was all I was good for. Having breasts. And thick hair. Breasts and hair. That was me in a nutshell. Nevermind that I was intelligent, talented in the performing and literary arts, a Girl Scout, an honor student, an activist, a nice person. None of that mattered. I had thick, red hair and large, lust-inducing breasts.
I woke up one morning at the age of 10, and POOF! There they were. Size C practically overnight. I went from being the wallflower nerd in 5th grade to getting weird looks from the boys who glanced at me from lowered eyelids but no longer talked to me.
At age 11, my ballet teacher measured me for my recital costume and announced (in front of my class much to my horror) that my measurements were 37-26-37. She then had the nerve to tell me if I gained an inch in my waist, I’d have perfect measurements. I’d just started my period and was about to get braces. Having perfect measurements was nowhere on my radar. And neither were boyfriends.
I was 13, working backstage at an international ballet competition, when a German photographer wanted to take “pictures” of me. At age 15, I had my first experience with being mauled by a guy — a fellow castmember of a show, who was my ride home after a rehearsal. With no other way to get home, I felt like I had to let him do what he wanted so he wouldn’t leave me there at the deserted library at 10 o’clock at night. (This was well before cell phones were commonplace). Luckily my leotard didn’t have snaps at the crotch.
I graduated high school a D-cup and quickly moved into a DD.
While volunteering with a ballet company at age 18, the ballet master of a troupe visiting from Russia, cornered me in the Green Room after everyone had left. Before I knew what was happening, he’d maneuvered both of my arms behind me and held my wrists in one of his hands while the other went to my blouse, untucking it from my skirt. He grabbed my breasts and squeezed roughly. His knee was between my legs which were trapped in a pencil skirt. The more I fought, the stronger he became. My only recourse when he kissed me was to bite his tongue as hard as I could. He backed off immediately, blood pouring from his mouth. I tucked in my shirt and told him he was never to do that again. Even in this situation, my Southern upbringing would not allow me to be rude.
At 20, I traveled with a theatre company to South Korea for an international theatre competition. I was friendly with the troupe from Tblisi, in the Republic of Georgia. Just friends. Nothing happened. It was brought to my attention on the plane ride home that almost everyone in the competition — people from 16 countries — thought I’d fucked the entire acting company from Tblisi… and some of the Germans and a French guy.
Swell.
At 21, working the ballet competition again, I was more fully aware of my seeming powers over men, and I was ready to be slightly more proactive. An Adonis of a male dancer from Cuba lusted after me, but his partner didn’t make it to Round 2, so I couldn’t take that opportunity to the next step. A ballet master from Spain wanted me. One night while making out with him, he, of course, went for my breasts first. The intensity of the situation was too much, and while he wiped off his fogged up glasses, I made an excuse about needing to do something and left.
I didn’t understand what the big fuss was about. When I was 9, my molestor used to admire the beginnings of my breasts, and she was greatly thrilled when they came in at age 10. This coupled with all the other events made me leery of sex. I was still a virgin at 21 until I was raped. The guy repeatedly ran his fingernails up and down my breasts, commenting that he’d dreamt of the day he’d get his hands on them. I knew him and we were in my bedroom, and at the time, the concept of date-rape was still new and not considered “real” rape. I bled for four days, but I still felt his nails on my skin.
I was so embarrassed that I was still a virgin at 21, I did not report the rape for fear the policemen would laugh at me. Or worse. It was too much to fathom sitting in a courtroom having to explain why I had never had sex, when everyone around me thought I was a slut.
For years, everyone thought I was a “loose girl” because I had large breasts. Everyone just assumed I was a “certain way” because my Irish anatomy was genetically predisposed to being full-figured. Finally, I’d been penetrated. At least now, I wouldn’t have to pretend a reaction when people smirked in my direction. The look of shame was real.
My breasts were never pin-up fabulous — not high or perky or uber firm — but they were large. At theatre orgies, when I was 22 to 24, my breasts were all the rage. And I was proud of them — but only because I knew they gave me power over men. One guy wanted time with them, so I laid back on the bed, purring, until he said — out loud where everyone heard, “They went to the sides.” I responded, “Yes, that’s what they do.” He replied, “Nevermind. They’re just sacks of skin.” I was humiliated. He was used to breasts that didn’t move, defied gravity, and were perfect(ly fake). As large as mine were, my breasts didn’t measure up.
Aged 25 and working as a leasing consultant at an apartment property, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of being big-busted — never wear form-fitting sweaters. Sure enough, as I sat there, one of the paint contractors walks in — I’d never seen him before. He took one look at me, and exclaimed, “Damn, but don’t you put Dolly Parton to shame!”
Lovely. From a complete stranger, no less.
I hated my breasts, and I wanted them gone. I thoroughly researched breast reduction. I watched every nerd channel show on plastic surgery, scrutinizing the process and the results. I even worked for a plastic surgeon and felt I could practically do a breast redux consult and procedure myself by that point.
Frequently, I would have to ask my husband to massage my back to help release the knots. These massages were never spa- or romance-novel-worthy. They were painful. Horribly, hot, sharp, stabbing, searing pain, painful.
From the nape of my neck to my bottom ribs, from one shoulder across to the other, my back was one, huge knotted mass of contracted muscle and pinched nerves, for years. Constant back pain affected how I walked and how I slept — when I could sleep. Permanent red grooves still scar my shoulders from their weight.
External and environmental projections of cultural myths and stereotypes compelled self-loathing within me I never would have imagined possible. Having large breasts made my body acceptable for repeated sexual abuse, and society assumed I “wanted” it or “deserved” it just because of the way my body developed.
In 2004, I thought my marriage might work out after all. Things had looked up for a while, and I had surprised myself thinking that I might actually grow to love him again. I was in the kitchen, and remarked, quite off the cuff, that I’d decided to go ahead and have the breast reduction surgery. He shook his head, getting angry, and actually pouted.
After inquiring what was wrong, he said, “If you go through with it, I’ll never be able to make love to you again. I would take one look at those hideous purple scars and be too disgusted to be aroused.” That cut me to my soul. And it solidified for me that he’d never truly loved me. No man ever had or would. I was nothing but breasts and hair to men.
I’ve had a child, whom I breastfed. I purposely gained weight so my husband wouldn’t want me, which wrecked my thyroid. Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and the subsequent PTSD didn’t help. In 2010, I escaped my hellhole marriage and began a path of reclaiming my dreams and my identity.
Last fall, a friend suggested I try sensual massage as part of my orgasm awakening regimen. I thought it was hokey, but I tried it anyway. At the same time, I read Tantric Orgasm for Women
The sensual self-massage put me in touch with my body in a gentle, caressing way that I’d not thought possible. I realized then that I’d never been touched gently. Ever. By anyone. Tingles rippled up and down my body. Energy zinged up my spine, across my scalp, and tickled my face.
The breast meditation involved gently holding my breasts from the outside while mentally entering my breasts from the inside. From my center. From my heart. This was the first time I experienced my breasts in relationship to my body and how they come from me. Since I was 9, the attention my breasts received has been from the external world passing judgment, men (and females) groping, clawing, and lusting after them, while society applied the scarlet letter of shame.
My breasts had been the victim, not my enemy. For the first time, I experienced my breasts as a part of me, and I cried uncontrollably. Holding my breasts, I wanted to apologize for ever hating them and sending the negativity to them.
I’m now a single mom, 43 pounds lighter, and infinitely happier. I’m a few months away from turning 40.
While laying in bed one night, I noticed a woman on my laptop’s screen. I thought, “Wow, those breasts look good.” I then realized the screen was dark due to the screen saver, and the breasts I saw were mine. I looked good laying down — with my breasts to the sides as real breasts are wont to do.
It was at that moment that I knew without a doubt that I will never have breast reduction. After years of wanting them gone, I cannot imagine having them cut now. Knowing that the surgeon will cut every nerve around the nipple-areola complex which is wired directly to the clitoris and remove a huge triangle of nerve-rich skin from the underside of the breast, simply hurts my heart — not to mention what it might do to my orgasms. After making peace with my breasts and experiencing such wonderful sensations and orgasms directly because of them, I can’t fathom not having them exactly as they are.
My breasts will never grace a magazine’s centerfold, and they’d never withstand the scrutiny of men accustomed to ogling implants and the perfect breasts of 20-somethings in skin mags or porn. I’ll never look good bra-less, and swimsuits will always be my arch-nemesis. I can live with that. And however society chooses to judge my old, not-perfect breasts is society’s waste of time and energy. I have other things to do than worry about what other people think — which I can’t control anyway.
My breasts will never be perfect. But they will always be mine. And I love my breasts.
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 01-20-12: Waxing & Waning
January 20, 2012
(*In response to a query about my fluctuating orgasmic experiences which hit an incredible peak in November, but have waned since then.*)
Today was my first proper KSMO 20-minute protocol since the first week of December. With the holidays and my writing deadlines and my daughter being out of school, there was rarely a time I felt comfortable doing KSMO or any solo sex because I’m such a screamer nowadays.
I also understand the protocol a little better now, I think. I had thought that the feelings during the 20-minute session were supposed to be arousing (they’re not, per se) and lead to orgasm (nope), so it kind of left me wondering, “what the heck is the 20-minute session doing exactly?”
I was also confused by the inconsistent advice in the forum — some people need to do the protocol exactly, but others can do what they want. It’s called a “protocol” but then I’m told it’s “suggested guidelines” — sorry, but protocol and suggested guidelines are too very different animals. This coupled with my recent experiences with some asshole men on the forum is leaving me with some animosity toward the whole KSMO thing, which may be manifesting in a psychosomatic way and affecting my practice.
So having been told that I can pursue an orgasm after the 20-minute protocol session, I do sometimes. I don’t get anywhere near orgasm during KSMO, but the stimulation makes my body really ready for a trip down orgasm lane. Sometimes I don’t “go for it,” but rather, I just relax, a deep relaxation almost to the point of dozing off, which helps recharge my batteries (no vibrator pun intended!). But sometimes, yes, I “go for it” and enjoy the ensuing orgasms..
My main concern (during the holidays) is that since starting with the KSMO practice in August, I get so loud during sex that I knew I’d disturb the neighbors with my moaning and roaring. October through November, the KSMO practice had me buzzing, echoing, whatever you want to call it, 24/7. Back then, I was doing stimulation for the whole 20 minutes — oops! Here again, inconsistency in advice in the forum rears its ugly head — I was told it was okay to stim the whole time if I wanted to, while others said to do the caress on “protocol” — I find this to be very annoying. I had amazing early success using my intuition and incorporating my knowledge of other systems like Tantra touch and yogic breathing. And I’ve found that people with backgrounds in other energy / sound systems do indeed have quick success. But doing the “protocol” as stipulated actually seems to have set me back.
I even thought about that today. Since doing just the single caress, it doesn’t do for me what the constant stimulation did. But I will have to wait until tomorrow to see if my prostate kicks in. Back in October / November, I could do a key sound off the cuff, and BAM! There she was — my amazing prostate was totally ready for searing orgasm bliss — a fiery heat pulsing from within like she was going to expand right through my body and outside of me. Incredible and addictive!
At the time, I almost wanted a reprieve from that 24/7 wired to the universe, hands and feet buzzing with energy, chest wall vibrating, pelvis totally jazzed, constant scalp- and spine-tingling arousal. Well, darn it, I got it. Now I’m wanting to get that spark back!
With the single caress stimulation, my prostate (which is my focus for now) doesn’t start having sensations until the next day — that day in between — and they’re not nearly as strong as before. So, you think maybe I should go back to the other (constant) stimulation? Or wait and see if doing the protocol “properly” develops new sensations?
Today, I did my 20 minutes and had a few minutes before I had to get back to my duties, so I enjoyed the warmth and wetness, but did not go to the point of orgasm. During the session, after the first couple of breaths / key sounds, I felt wild heat and throbbing in the genitals. I don’t know what the KSMO term for that is. I really had to focus to keep my mind on the breathwork and the feelings — and keep my mind from re-playing the events with the assholes from earlier. That was really hard, but I did manage to have an enjoyable 20-minutes. I’ll have to wait and see what I feel tomorrow. I’ll also do another “proper” 20 minute session on Saturday and see what, if anything, I feel Sunday.
This delay or lag in my KSMO / orgasm experience could be a natural waxing and waning as some people report, or again, it could be psychosomatic with the peripheral bullshit and inconsistent advice. Then there are the annoying holidays, the neighbors, et al. I feel I lost that “train of thought” that I had just discovered, and now it’s dormant. I don’t know at this point, and unfortunately, the only way to find out is to keep trying and stay in this “wait and see” pattern.
Aroused and fluctuating,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 12-30-11: Yin-Yang & Deskgasm
December 30, 2011
I think I’m finally getting the hang of this let-the-body-do-its-thang process. It’s still a process — a yin process, no less. I have lots to learn and experience, but I am beginning to understand the ebb and flow a little better.
Giving in to my yin self is actually very difficult. I’m competitive by nature and by nurture, so letting go of some of the ingrained yang tendencies has proven to be a process in itself.
And for those who didn’t hear — I had my first deskgasm! YAY! Imagine my surprise while I’m working, minding my own business, and BAM! A spontaneous, deliciously powerful orgasm hits out of nowhere. I wasn’t even thinking anything sexual! It just hit me — a blended orgasm, complete with explosion and full body waves that I didn’t have to lift a finger to produce. Wowzers!
Also, I miss the heartgasms I was experiencing a few weeks ago. I finally had gotten used to that constant buzzing in my chest wall 24/7 for those 2 weeks — and the feeling like there was a part of me floating about a foot out in front of me — my aura? my chi? — and my heart constantly wanting to jump out of my ribcage and join whatever that energy field was in front of me. Now I miss that it’s not there except after orgasms. But I can’t wait for more!
Aroused and yinning,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: FUCKING CHEROKEE MEN (AND OTHER PEOPLE OF COLOR)
OpEd: THE FACE OF ORGASM: IS YOUR WOMAN FAKING ORGASMS OR NOT?
DailyOJ: ALLOWING AND RECEIVING
