The Wicked Might of Eros

One thing I’ve come to learn in my three decades is that anyone is capable of anything. 

We as people and divinities often contend with labels and boxes that are created for us by others who would dare to presume our space. We are fluid and dynamic and controversial in what appeals to our souls and our bodies. In order for others to perceive something that lies beyond their understanding, or willingness to understand, they start by giving it a name, even if they never end up understanding it regardless. Especially when it comes to the vague lines within the realm of sex and sensuality. 

As I was coming into my own sexuality as a teenager, I was capable of a lot of shit, including making myself wholly vulnerable with someone that didn’t love me, just as a way to guarantee they had at least half a reason to stick around. Which, naturally, did not work. I’ve also been oh-so-loved, and my body painted in ways that defy gravity and comprehension. We learn more and more about our desires as we explore them further, and I was always one to constrain my ability to explore to a particular kind of person. Even though at the end of the day, we all live in a mild degree of sexual ambiguity, and that’s where it’s the most fun. 

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Shame is the demon of sexuality, and we do not condone such in our House. Shame is the hot, toxic breath of veneered school counselors that elected to project their kink-repressed rage onto students living in a time that celebrated the very thing they were trained to repress. Shame is living an inauthentic life that pleases everyone but you. 

The most important questions to ask are whether you feel safe, turned on and empowered, just as you are. Is your divine feminine being honored and nourished, just as She is nourishment? Does your body sing at the tender touches? Is your mind free of doubt and fear in this space? Is the door to your heart able to fling itself wide open? I so love sweet, warm breath and wet lavishing of a tongue against my ear as the arm about my waist squeezes just enough that I can barely move, and never would I want to in the first place. I love to be bathed in firelight and sweat and seawater and happy tears and streaks of pure, raw connection. 

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Any body can be touched and stimulated for a response, but it’s truly a marvel when your heart’s door is thrown open wide at that same time. Even, and most especially, with yourself. If you seek to bond with someone under a night sky that inspires art itself, you may have it. Simply empower yourself every day, and embody that sexiness in the same way that you seek to feel with others. By right of this *circle*, it is yours. 

Love like a hippie, fuck like a queen. 


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