Changing the Story

Perhaps this entry will be a bit earthy at first…

Some of my readers know that I have a history of sexual abuse. I’m pretty open about it; I don’t see a particular reason to hide it, nor a particular reason to bring it out in the open unnecessarily. But I struggle with my sexual fantasies; they tend to be formed by past experience, and most of what happens in them is nothing I would want to happen in real life.

So, as is habitual, I get the notion that I might masturbate before going to bed. I like orgasms; they’re nice, soothing, and a good way to get ready to sleep. But much as I like them, I find myself this evening kinda not wanting to go through what I usually do to achieve them; I don’t want to watch porn this evening. It seems like such a hassle, looking for something that works. And I know I can get off without it, but it takes longer, and anyway the fantasies I habitually use are no more self-affirming than the porn.

So I start thinking: instead of what turns me on, what (or rather “who”) do I want to be turned on by? And that leads me to a fantasy about a rugged woman knight, a knight templar, only Buddhist. She looks like the knight lady in Game of Thrones, but she’s dressed more practically in a dark woolen kilt and simple breastplate, arm guards, shin guards, boiled leather helmet. She’s dressed for battle. But she’s a warrior of peace, a general who listens to the wise women; she parlays before striking. She’s a student of the writings of Sun Tzu, and a meditator.

Then I bring her into the modern era: she is a practitioner, and a warrior, a soldier. I see her wearing the banner of my family. Away from the field, she meets me dressed in dark slacks and a turquoise shirt. So I know already that she manifests Vajra (precise) and Karma (active) energy. She is a scholar and a soldier. She has dark short hair, and brown eyes. She searches my eyes, and we gaze at one another closely for a moment, and then I realize that this is just fantasy. She isn’t here yet.

But I know she’s out there, and I make a place in my heart for her. And I shed a few tears; poignant joy for who she is, and for the opening of my own heart. And then I let her go.

Suddenly I feel a deep loneliness. My heart aches. For a partner? I’m not sure it’s really about that. I think it’s just the momentary awareness of the vacuum that exists within me. I know that nobody can fill this empty place, not even a soulmate, if such a person exists. But feeling this sorrow, even sobbing a few times, I find I also have a sense of joy in that moment. My heart is open.

My heart is open.

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