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The Flow Artist - Part 2

Sharing a dorm with 20 other women doesn’t make for a very restful experience.

Having been amongst the last dregs of arrivals, I’ve landed a top bunk right by a door that is constantly opening and slamming shut, and right above someone whose snores shake the rustic rafters. (This IS a converted Swedish barnhouse after all).

I’m a light sleeper at the best of times, so what with the snores (my bunk-mate isn’t the only one) and alarming way the IKEA bed-frame creaks and wobbles every time she turns, it feels as if I’m half-awake all night.

Yet somehow, it doesn’t really matter.

Somehow, the queues for the loos, food and showers don’t really bother me either.

It’s sunny. The food is delicious and so worth waiting for. There is always a kindred spirit to connect with. And I feel held in a powerful field of love and presence.

In this environment, it is easy for me to be in flow. To take my time and orient myself to the day and my choices from a place of truth.

After an opening ceremony, we are divided up into buddy groups. And then the Festival proper kicks off.

I can’t recall now how it was each day or when I did what.

My memories are a patchwork of moments: some vivid, others like translucent ghosts, but all of them stir my body and heart with a flush of gratitude and deep delight.

Like the circle of women I sat with, as we spiralled our kundalini energy up and into our hearts: shaking, moaning, crying, laughing…expanding into bliss and love;

Like the Yoni Puja in which I morphed into a powerful Priestess and experienced the tangible grace and mystery of the Feminine Divine;

Like the sweet, tender and vulnerable sharings with my buddy group, to whom I gratefully bore my heart with such trust and affection in our daily meetings;

Like the day I got told off for breaking the rules and having energy sex (fully clothed, no touching) in the corner of a cuddle workshop with a tall, skinny, red-haired Swede more than half my age. (Oh, and the rule was about not engaging in any overtly sexual activity in case you’re curious).

Like embodying the role of predator and prey and experiencing the profoundly orgasmic nature of death (well, it is la petite mort after all);

Like the sunny lunch-time, when I sat on the lawn eye-gazing in yab-yum with a dear friend, deeply communing in body, heart and spirit.

Like the day, when I made a choice that wasn't honouring to my self and I felt sad and tearful.

Like the night, when Kareem Raihani DJ’d for a mother-fucker of an ecstatic dance-party in the big barn and I wore my red twirling skirt that I’d bought in Thailand and Spirit took me and I flew.

Dancing, dancing, turning, being moved, letting go, deeper, deeper, joy, light, pulse, flow…. sighing, sweating…becoming one with the music, becoming the dance itself.

And then there he was again. Peder. For that was his name. And my heart smiled wide and bright.

Drawn, both of us, right to the front, as well as to one another. The energy was electric here. Bodies rocking out. Wild. Playful. In synch.

Sometimes in a group, sometimes as a pair, sometimes alone: we danced. We communed. We flowed. Easy, harmonious, beauty-full My heart and spirit soared.

I loved the awareness and fluidity of Peder’s body and movement. I loved how his energy inspired my expression to more. I loved the way our dance of two so effortlessly blended into one. It was utterly exhilarating.

This was my idea of heaven: making total love on the dance floor.

To be continued....

Note: The Flow Artist is my tantric counter-narrative to the short story, Cat Person, that was recently published in the New Yorker.

As someone passionate about love, conscious relating and sacred sexuality, I was deeply saddened to read Cat Person. To me, it represents pretty much the opposite of everything I teach and live by, and so much about what is wrong with gender relations, dating and sexual expression today.

A big part of what I am passionate about in my work involves facilitating groups and holding space for individuals or couples to cultivate the necessary self-awareness, self-love and communication skills to be able to relate and make love in a way which engenders real connection and deeply fulfilling intimacy.

My online courses in Awakening Your Ecstatic Potential lay the foundations for this level of embodied sacred eroticism.

To enquire about my one-to-one sessions, simply drop me a line.

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