Out from the depths
To build on Heather’s comments from last time, I’m thinking life force has a number of flavors–sub-categories, if one dares attach a hierarchical word to it. Like maybe one person has a strong spiritual life force, and another has a strong force of innocence or purity, and another has a remarkable well of anger or grief that is the force behind the things that they do. Maybe some have a commanding presence that begs to be heard, no matter how quietly or gently or infrequently they speak–like Galadriel in the Tolkein books. Maybe some have all of these forces at once. Or more. Maybe all of us have the potential for them but only ever realize one, or a few. Or none.
I’m interested these days in the force that’s connected with sexuality. I’m just coming out of a two-year season of pregnancy and nursing and the intensity of care required for an infant and new toddler, and a couple of months ago I finally realized, consciously, that I felt back to myself. The pre-pregnancy me, with all of her curiosity and love of learning and eagerness to create (music! painting! writing! dance!). And, as you might guess, a sexual life force.
I think sexuality is far more than “having to do with sex”. I haven’t talked or read a lot about this, so I hardly have words for what I mean (those who have, please be free to share your thoughts!). But I think those with a strong sexual force don’t always fit the stereotype of someone looking to get laid. I think they can be people that turn heads, for sure, but not necessarily because their bodies fit the images of beauty pumped out by our entertainment and clothing and cosmetics industries, or because they’re dressed scantily or have cleavage flashing fancy neon lights. I think they can be fat or too thin. I think they can be dressed as monks or nuns. I think they can be clean or truly odorous. They can be wearing clothes from distant pasts.
In other words, I think their sexual life forces can have little to do with externalities, unless by that one means only the way that what’s inside of them interplays with the bodies their life forces inhabit (or the clothing, etc). These are people you can’t help yourself but watch. They’re embodied. Radiantly. Their weight, pound for pound, weighs more than the rest of ours, if that makes sense, as though they’re more real. They laugh and smile a lot, genuinely. They miss very few jokes. If you could paint them with color alone–no lines for legs or arms or faces or waistlines–their colors would be deep, vibrant, rich, bold. Connected with the earth somehow. They’re a lot like my character’s mermaid.
Is there language I don’t know about for exactly what I’m speaking of here??
Of all of the kinds of life force, this, to me, is the one that makes life so worth living. It’s the one that makes falling in love and being in love so euphoric, and what spills into so much else about life, whether you’re in love or not. I think it might even be part of loving the earth, and the deep, tear-producing wonder that comes from watching sunsets or thunderstorms or thousands upon thousands of birds in a cloud of flight. It’s the force that makes you want to make love, or holler on a hilltop, or create some kind of masterpiece. Or burst completely wide open.
Can you tell I’m feeling it right now??
There are seasons in life, maybe lives in their entirety even, when a person cannot help but go under–under the surface above which there is all of this Life, this sexual force, to be lived and played and danced with. But oh, the glory of rising like a whale from the deep, twisting into the wind and sun and air! Taking the feel of all of it in–the scent, the sound, the sight, the sparkle–to carry one through the depths (to which surely one will again return) more gladly. That much more Alive.
February 15th, 2007 at 4:23 pm
On a prosaic level, I think this is related to getting enough sleep.
On an academic level, I recently learned that there are three Hebrew words for love in the Song of Songs. Raya, which is a friendly, companionate kind of love. Ahava, which is a commitment, force of will kind of love. And dod; which could be translated as to carouse, to rock, or to fondle; the physical, sexual element of love. I learned this in the short film Flame, from www.nooma.com, not really an academic source. But I think it’s no surprise that the imagery in the film was a really big fire.
I think this element of our humanity is connected to our spiritual nature as well. Another strand twisted together in our wholeness.
February 15th, 2007 at 8:09 pm
Ha! I love the sleep comment, Robin. Totally true.
I’ll have to check out that film, too. I’d love to understand these distinctions more.
Can you say a few more words about this connection between spirituality and sexuality? I’m very interested.
February 16th, 2007 at 6:18 am
I’m rather impressed that you got back to that life force so soon after having a child. I’ve had three, and my youngest is four, and I just feel like NOW I’m finally getting back there. But then again, my first two are only 16 months apart, so I was in a constant state of fog for quite awhile there, and then we lost a child, so it took me longer than most.
I’m curious… have you read “The Mermaid Chair” by Sue Monk Kidd? Some of what you’re talking about is similar to that book. Her other book “Dance of the Dissident Daughter” is also quite fascinating, if you haven’t already read it.
February 16th, 2007 at 8:34 am
I am thoroughly enjoying this line of thought and question, Kristin. Especially this last piece about sexual life force. Your description is rich and deep. The clothing, the body size, the smell are hardly the issue. There’s something there, something about the sexual life force that words don’t describe, but that the senses, the nerve-endings receive and find irresistible. I sometimes wonder if we don’t all have it in all the richness that you depicted, but we’ve been so confused and disillusioned and decieved by so many other forces in the world - not the good ones - that we lose touch with our own life and love force. We are sometimes so busy trying to measure ourselves by external and wrong standards, that we forget to let our own lights shine.
Kathleen Norris, in her book The Cloister Walk, wrote a chapter about celibate passion. It tells of the love she has for a priest she has known for years. I too have a dear friend who is a Jesuit priest and have loved for nearly 20 years. The spiritual/sexual/relational life force between us is palpable, but it is is not sexual at all. At least not in the “getting laid” sense. Do all male-female friendships have a sexual energy in that getting laid sense? Some people seem to think they do.
Another question/thought that I have pondered as I’ve read these last two posts is this: Does this life force you are talking about explain why we have the friends we have, the husbands we have, the relationships we foster in our lives? Are they a reflection of the force that flows from us and surrounds us and draws others to us? I often wonder why people choose me as friends, especially the people I greatly admire and look up to. There are also folks that I feel I need to separate from as our friendship/relationship develops because their life force begins to repulse me. Perhaps there is something in me, some force that draws them all. A force that I need to more carefully control in some cases - if indeed it is controllable.
So much to think about. Thanks for moving me to think about this, Kristin. In reference to the mention of the Nooma film, all of the Nooma videos are worth a viewing. Rob Bell is a man who thinks about life and faith in an entirely new way.
May the Force be with you, Gail
February 16th, 2007 at 10:11 am
And Rob Bell has a new book coming out called Sex God.
I don’t know much about him beyond the bios on the nooma.com website. But the films have been great. We’ll probably be showing more of them at the SF Quaker Meetinghouse on the first Saturday evening in April. Maybe you could get a babysitter, make it a date?
I’m still thinking about whether I have more that I could say about how our sexuality and spirituality are connected.
February 16th, 2007 at 12:28 pm
Robin–looks like your comment and my response to the email just crossed. Yes, think away, and if ever you have anything you feel like saying, I’m all ears. And it could be I do join you in April. I’ll be in touch if it’ll work out!
Gail, so many wonderful angles in your note! I’d love to talk with you hours on each one. I am fascinated and mystified by sexual tension. I think Jung had some enlightening insights on the subject in his discussions of anima and animus (these evolved in his thought over time, and if I remember correctly, I found his later ideas on them to resonate more with what seems to me to be the way we work). Maybe you’ve heard all about these before, but if not, they have to do with an inner persona inside each person that gets projected onto other people–for males, it’s an inner feminine persona (anima) and for females, an inner masculine persona (animus). (I have no idea how this relates to GLBT attractions, and would be interested if anyone can point me to resources on the topic) Those on whom we’ve projected our anima/animus have a kind of numenous quality in our eyes. We’re magnetically drawn to them–often sexually, though not always in the sense of actually wanting to have sex with them. We can obsess about these people sometimes, beyond what our rational brains would think appropriate or necessary or desirable. It’s this drive for union and communion with this part of ourselves that we pursue by externalizing it, and then seeking/desiring relationship with those on whom we’ve projected it.
I think this relates a lot to the kinds of friendships you’re describing–your own, and the one that Norris writes about. I wonder whether the people in our lives with whom we have the best chemistry have at least glimmers of our anima/animus shining out from them (or being shone *onto* them, is probably a a better way to say it). Maybe the most intense chemistry happens when two people see each other’s anima/animus in each other. Being together, in such a relationship, feels *wonderful*. Truly, a coming home.
As to another of your points, I’m not sure that sexual chemistry can ever be absent from relationships, though surely experience says it’s stronger in some than in others. What do you think? Like you say, I don’t think sexual chemistry has to mean a drive to jump into bed with someone. I think sexual chemistry can be an enlivening force that makes life and conversations more exciting and wonder-ful. It leads to all sorts of harmful things, too, but I think when kept at least nominally reigned in, can, in addition to so much else (sparking creative energy, nourishing joy, etc.) actually make the relationships in one’s life where sex IS an appropriate sexual expression all the more lovely and alive. As though the sexual energy sparked in one place can actually be expressed in another. Does that make sense?
Anyone else with thoughts on any of this, be free to jump in!
February 16th, 2007 at 12:35 pm
Heather, I have read both books, and particularly liked Dance of the Dissidant Daughter. Mermaid Chair definitely touched on this sexual force theme…though I have to say that I wasn’t able to get into that book like I was with Secret Life of Bees or DDD. Something about the characters and interactions didn’t ring true for me. I was distracted by that. But how did you like Mermaid Chair?
February 17th, 2007 at 9:03 pm
ok, this is interesting. i am stalling on working on a presentation i plan to give next week to a group of mothers of teens out in the colonia where i do my volunteer medical work. actually, i asked to speak to the teenage girls about sexuality, sti’s, boundaries; and decided it would be more respectful to talk to the moms first–and emphasize the importance of opening up the communication with their girls. all of this in spanish. i really should get to work. but thank you for getting my mind reeling…this is so difficult to explain in any language. but , in a way, i think the language barrier might be less than i realize, considering how universal these sexual feelings are. i think what i am feeling strongly about is conveying to them the positive aspect of sex. so much of what i want to do is keep them safe , from so many damaging aspects of sex, misused. and so much abuse in this culture.
February 18th, 2007 at 12:50 am
In Kunadlini yoga, the second chakra supposedly has to do with creativity and sexuality, so both those things come from the same place in the body. I know for me that my blocks about writing and about my sexuality feel exactly the same, and you’re right, it’s not just about getting laid - although I’d be in favor of that right about now. I think it has something to do with being comfortable taking up space and being seen and being naked - creativity and sex both require a certain amount of self-revelation, and in a lot of ways it’s the same sort of energy. In our closest relationships, I think there is a certain amount of that energy - it’s okay for us to take up space and be who we are, and I think something about that creates a kind of spark not all that different from sexual tension.
Hmm…very interesting train of thought.
February 18th, 2007 at 6:22 am
imagine if kids could carry on conversations like this about their physical, emotional desires, about knowing who they are. i imagine that instead of reaching for a condom, they’d reach for more dialogue, more intimacy in other ways, and the physical portion of sex would be either less appealing or more serious to them such that they would want to wait to do it right, within the realm of protection of a committed partner. maybe my expectations are too high. i know that when a person gets a genital wart, they really loste site of the goodness of sexual intimacy.
February 18th, 2007 at 11:58 am
Christy–okay, I have to learn more about chakras. The creativity/sexuality connection makes so much sense–the ways blocks in one affect the other, and then the ways freedom in one can grow freedom in the other. I want to think more about all of what you said.
Atticus, it really would be great to have places for conversations about this as adolescents and young adults. I’m not sure whether it would lessen the desire for sex, but surely sex would be pursued with greater self awareness. I want to post more on these things soon. I have more questions I’d love to explore with you and anyone else interested.
February 18th, 2007 at 2:03 pm
Let me begin by saying: This conversation is thrilling to me, literally and figuratively. Not only do I wish there were places where adolescents and young adults could talk about this stuff, but I also wish there were places where adults could talk openly about these topics. Thanks, Kristin, for welcoming us to this space.
I like the suggestion that young people may/perhaps would choose alternatives to sex if such alternatives were presented to them regularly and by people they trusted and who trusted them. Ideally, their parents could be those people. Fortunately I have been able to have some of this kind of conversation with my 13-year-old daughter. Good stuff. I have also had those types of conversations with teenage girls from my church and in the schools where I taught in the past. Sometimes I wonder if they felt free talking to me about those sensitive topics because I am growing more and more comfortable in my own skin, in my own sexuality, and in talking about topics that are SO much a part of life, but so often considered taboo topics. (Again, adults would benefit greatly for intimacy that included keeping their/our clothing on our bodies!)
I resonated deeply with your description of how we sometimes obsess with other people and the anima/animus that draws us to them. I agree with the idea that we are seeing them something of ourselves and want to connect to that part of them that is also in us. I have found that the “obsession” part can be sweet and rich, rather than compulsive and repulsive. Does that make any sense?
There is something magical about seeing “it” in someone else. One friend once said to me, “We saw each other for the first time and recognized each other.” He was so right. There is a knowing, a recognition that is sacred, that is beautiful, that is powerful, that is unforgettable and undeniable.
Earlier today I was thinking back on relationshops and relations I have had with people in my past. As I thought of each person, I remembered, honored, and gave thanks for the part of them that I longed to touch and connect with. Those parts were not always sexual either. Sadly, the physical connection often became confused with and overshadowed the emotional and spiritual. But in every case, my life was enriched by having known them and connected with them. Their animus connected with my own. The life/sexual force in them has made me stronger; I hope the same is true for them. I believe it is.
I’ll have to check out the Dance of the Dissident Daughter… Yet another volume on my long list of books I hope to read.
February 18th, 2007 at 10:43 pm
wow! i look forward to more of these posts, k. good thoughts. i feel safe here, too.
February 19th, 2007 at 7:17 am
Thank you to all of you for your comments and for feeling safe in a place that is so public. Because it is public - because I read your intimate thoughts and I do not know you - I felt I should say thank you for being intimate. I have felt a bit confused by these thoughts personally. Perhaps I am like one of these young adults atticus is in touch with (even though I am a married adult woman). I feel really unfamiliar with the ideas and relations expressed here, or at least the way they are being expressed. I tend to think of sexuality as a small part of me and not a significant part of my interactions with the world or individuals who are not my husband. How do you define sexuality? I find my own ‘life source’ to be much more a spiritual/psychic and intimate/vulnerable thing than something I would relate to sexuality.
February 19th, 2007 at 12:18 pm
I’m so glad for all of your companionship and insight in this! So thank you, too! I only wish there were more time to talk.
Julianne, a more clear way of defining sexuality in this conversation really seems in order. Thanks for raising the issue. Defined one way, I could say, like you, sexuality is a small part of me, related mainly to a) having or wanting sex with my husband, b) having my sexual desire awaken when watching others’ expressions of physical connection (in movies, plays, public spaces, etc.), or c) noticing that I’m sexually attracted to someone, whether this be my husband or not. Altogether, these don’t comprise even close to a majority of my waking thought life or feeling life.
Defined a different way - and I think some of the other comments, like Christy’s and Gail’s, get at this - I think sexuality can be much deeper and broader than “having to do with sexual desire”. This is where words feel gangly and inadequate to get at what I mean. There’s a kind of force, it seems to me, that is stronger in some people than others, which is like sexual tension, but not completely defined by that (if you’ve ever had a crush on someone, you know what I mean by sexual tension), and that doesn’t necessarily get directed at people, but can just be something they walk around with. It’s a force that, in my mind at least, relates with creativity, like Christy mentioned, and with passion, with the noticeable capacity for abandonment. It relates with enjoyment of being seen, whether this be physically, intellectually, or spiritually.
Defined this way, I’d say sexuality is part of a big percentage of human experience–maybe an enormous percentage of it. Sometimes the big percentage of experience that it gets related to is actually attempts at trying to repress and control it, because it scares a lot of us to death. Anything that pulls for abandonment - to feelings, to sexual passion, to creative energy, to being fully seen in whatever physical or spiritual or intellectual way - is VERY scary if control is what we need (or feel we need). Or if shame is messing at all with our insides. Expending energy to control or repress our sexual force is still expending sexual energy, though.
All this being said, I wonder whether the initial comment in this post about life force having many flavors is still true, then, if sexuality is defined this broadly.
How would you (or anyone else) define sexuality? Would you have a different word for what I’ve just described?
Gail, I will have to get back to your comments soon! I wish life had a pause button when I’m wanting to converse longer!
February 19th, 2007 at 12:44 pm
Wow - great conversation. I think too often we divide up our experience into categories and say “This part here is my sexuality. This part here is my spirituality. This part here is my body. This part here is my brain.”, and I don’t think it works that way. I think our sexuality is something that infuses all parts of us, and you can’t just confine it to one part of your life, and even if you’re not sexually active, you are still a sexual person and affected by your sexuality.
I think I’m particularly aware of this since I’ve been doing so much hard personal work the past couple of years around my history of years of sexual abuse. That, combined with a pretty fundy religious upbringing, effectively shut down my sexuality, but it wasn’t like that just affected my romantic relationships - or lack thereof. As that part of me has come back to life, it has radically tranformed my spirituality, my friendships, and my creativity. It’s all interconnected and goes back to healing this deep, wounded part of me that just wants to avoid being seen at all costs…
So I think I would define sexuality as part of this “willingness to be seen and take up space” energy.
February 19th, 2007 at 3:02 pm
I think your definition is quite helpful, Kristin. You asked if there is another word that describes what you wrote; I’m not sure.
I think one of the main issues with the word “sexuality” is found in the first three letters: sex. That’s where most people stop. There is a repulsion and repression and fear that is often attached to any discussion related to that word that halts many a conversation or stream of thought because we often go to that place where people are naked and “doing it.” It’s tough to move beyond those three letters and the skewed ways in which so many of us are socialized - or not socialized - with regard to sex and sexuality. Even the word “sensuality” brings up steamy images of adultery and other forms of illicit sex. My mind goes back to an earlier part of this discussion in which we acknowledged the lack of freedom we often feel to discuss the parts of ourselves that are not easily defined or controlled. It is difficult indeed to define these things, but let’s keep trying.
I am playing with a few questions related to this word “sexuality” and adding “sensuality” to the mix. What is the body - with its eyes, ears, nose, mouth, fingers, and billions of nerve cells responding to billions of forms of stimuli daily - if it is not sexual and sensual? What is the energy and desire that moves us to reach out to others, to be touched (as friends or as lovers), to be noticed and appreciated if it is not sexual and sensual? It does not mean that every person I touch as we talk or every person who touches me has the sex act in his or her mind. I think many of our life exchanges and interactions are sexual and sensual nonetheless.
Christy’s comment reminds me of my upbringing. As a young teenager, I asked my mother about sex. I was told to open the BIble to a verse about “fornication” and was asked if I “had a problem with that.” Not a forum for open conversation or inquiry. Mercy!
February 19th, 2007 at 8:21 pm
[…] Last time Christy said the second chakra in Kunadlini yoga has to do with sexuality and creativity. Both. She said, “I think it [sexual/creative energy] has something to do with being comfortable taking up space and being seen and being naked - creativity and sex both require a certain amount of self-revelation, and in a lot of ways it’s the same sort of energy.” […]
February 20th, 2007 at 2:24 pm
I have only moments here, but wanted to quickly return to a couple things. Gail, I think you’re so right - there really is something magical about seeing “it” (your anima/animus) in someone else - something palpable and powerful and wonderful. I don’t even think this “seeing-of-it” has to be in someone we personally know, either. I think it can happen when we see a character in a movie, or in a photograph, or in a chat with a stranger we know we won’t see again. When we see “it”, we are enriched. Life is made more beautiful. And all the more so, surely, when it happens with someone we actually get to be in relationship with.
I don’t know what to think of the obsession aspect of the magic, though. It really can be sweet and rich. But can’t it also pull you away from recognizing, because of your preoccupation with the person in whom you’re seeing your anima or animus, the other kinds of magic that are happening in your other relationships, including the one you might be in with your partner or spouse? Long-term partnership, even with a soulmate, seems to diminish the magical feelings of connection that are part of the early stages of love. Getting to experience this magic again, in a variety of ways, seems wonderful and healthy to me, and is part of this whole “seeing it in someone” experience, I think. But I’m unclear on when this “seeing it” and getting caught up in its magic, is actually harming of the long-term partnership one might be wanting to nourish and maintain. What has been your experience with this? How have your magical relationships affected your marriage relationship?
I love the addition of the word “sensual” to the conversation, and how you’ve described so much of life as sensual. Maybe much of what we’ve been describing as sexual would be more accurately described as sensual - without the need for the word sexual at all.
Christy, I love your definition of sexual energy, too. These things have all been interconnected for me, too.
February 21st, 2007 at 4:46 am
Such interesting questions in your last comment, Kristin. Obsession can become destructively obsessive at times, but in its best incarnation, obsession is a matter of going deeper, sticking with one or two good relationships and bringing gems to the surfac, gems that might be missed if I left things just in that “one glance and walk on” phase. For example, to know someone whose love of art resonates with your own, to recognize a similar passion in someone else and develop it more, adds to my marriage. Because even if my husband doesn’t love art in the same way, I can bring the newfound passion for a specific artist or the energy from a conversation about art into my marriage.
It certainly has the possibility of distracting from my marriage, and sometimes it has. But I am learning to rein in the excessiveness of obsession and focus on what is making me stronger and richer as a person. I have had to change levels in certain friendships, but I haven’t abandoned many completely. If the magic is there, I want to nourish it. If it is a real connection, I don’t want to lose it.
I think it is possible to remain aware of other places where magic is happening in my life. Sometimes I think that each connection builds on the last one. So to have two or three magical friendships makes me more alert to the magic in my life because as I see reminders of them, I see new things as well. The wonder multiplies rather than divides. Is it possible to have too much passion, to long for too much wonder in life?
I believe that the more passionate and loving and magical my own life is, the more I have to bring into my marriage. Like you said earlier, I am able to transfer the thrill into my family and my marriage.
February 21st, 2007 at 1:02 pm
Gail, I like what you’ve said here so much. “Reining in the excessiveness of obsession” is a really nice phrase. “Changing levels in certain friendships” also speaks to a more nuanced way of seeing things - that magical relationships don’t need to fall into black/white, good/bad categories, but rather can be places where fine tuning comes in, where life-givingness and life-takingness can be ongoing things to watch for.
February 28th, 2007 at 10:56 pm
Welcome back to “feeling it right now!” What a thrill it is to be in a moment, and receive it with one’s entire being! Thank you for this generous and gorgeous celebration!
April 24th, 2007 at 3:46 pm
[…] Do any of you remember this post? - the one in which I practically danced off the screen and kissed you all? I have to chuckle at how true the last part of it is - how all that (broadly-defined) sexual energy just can’t sustain itself forever. How it seems to come in seasons. […]