Part of my homework for my Authentic Tantra sex coaching certification is a weekly tantra healing session.
During this time (90 minutes to be exact) I do a breathing practice, a special meditation and then I go to town.
By going to town I mean masterbate. Yup. 90 minutes my friends.
But it’s most likely not what you’re thinking. In fact this practice is somatic healing.
It includes several mudras and various methods to explore my vulva and vagina. It’s about exploring and relaxing into sensation and pleasure. But also it’s about healing.
I’m starting to understand how much of the past we hold on to. How it gets neatly tucked away in the creases and muscles and cells of our bodies.
With what I’ve been learning through my studies I’m seeing how much trauma we hold. Especially in our genitals. And it’s not just that I’m learning this, I’m actually experiencing it.
Take last night for example…
During my session a memory from when I was 14 years old surfaced. This is a piece of my past I haven’t thought about in years.
It happened 26 years ago. And it wasn’t even something that ever felt like that big of a deal. At least not in my memory of it.
There was this girl that did not like me. At all. I actually carpooled with her and her sister in my freshman year. I could dance with all the reasons why she loathed me but that shit is inconsequential.
Regardless of the why, she started a rumor that she found me “in the bushes with 5 guys.” I remember sitting at the lunch table and finding the note with the rumor scribbled down and thinking well this is silly bullshit.
I actually wasn’t that worried about anyone believing it. I was more confused and concerned as to why another girl felt the need to be so shitty to me.
It should also be noted that I attended an all girls school. This matters. If my school was coed this shit would have been a lot harder to handle. I know this.
Truth be told I didn’t really care what a bunch of girls thought about me. The rumor dissipated in a few days. She wasn’t popular enough for it to take hold.
But still here I am 26 years later and up it comes. On the wave of an orgasm no less.
First I felt pleasure. Then I felt deep shame. Then the memory bubbled up. Then I cried and cried. Then I moved on.
Just like that. It’s wild and fascinating and pretty damn amazing. Even though my memory of that experience wasn’t that big of a deal, my subconscious and my body had a much different interpretation.
Shame can live in moments hidden behind “no big deal” and “I don’t care.” It can fester and corrode as we think everything is just fine. Our minds may rationalize it away but our bodies never forget.
I know there are so many more stories like that one that my body still holds. I marvel at the way healing is available to us. At the ways our bodies can release without our minds being involved.
This way of healing feels new and nuanced for me and I’m looking forward to getting to know it better.
And in this I’m reminded that there are so many ways to heal. To feel. To surrender. To thrive.
The invitation is there in our bodies, waiting for us to come home whenever we are ready. It’s beautiful when I think about it. Beautiful. Scary. And oh so humbling.