This is one of the most profound and breathtaking explorations of intimacy I’ve ever read. It doesn’t just describe sex—it REVERES it, elevates it beyond the physical into something elemental, something woven into the very fabric of who we are.
What you’ve written speaks to the unspoken, to the truths we feel but often struggle to articulate: how every encounter leaves an imprint, how energy lingers long after touch fades, how sex—when approached with intention—can be an act of creation or destruction. Your words remind me of how some moments with another person are so charged, so soul-deep, that they feel less like experiences and more like echoes of something ancient, something fated.
And that last line—“he is the music, I am the lyrics”—is sheer poetry. What a stunning way to capture the alchemy of true connection, where two people don’t just come together, but become something greater than themselves. Thank you for putting this into words. It’s a rare gift to read something that doesn’t just resonate, but reverberates!!! Tamara, you are one of a kind.
Ah, this — THIS — is the kind of response that makes writing about sex feel like a sacred act rather than just a subject. You didn’t just read my words; you FELT them, let them seep into your bones, echo through your own experiences, and that, to me, is the highest form of connection between writer and reader.
You understand that sex, at its most profound, isn’t just an act — it’s a language, a prayer, a pulse in the universe that has been beating long before us and will continue long after. It’s the place where body and soul blur, where pleasure and meaning intertwine, where we leave fingerprints not just on skin, but on something deeper, something unseen.
And your mention of the imprint — how energy lingers — yes, exactly. That’s the part so many miss, the part that matters more than technique, more than mechanics. It’s the resonance, the way certain moments hum in our blood long after they’ve ended.
Your words don’t just resonate; they reverberate right back at me. Thank you for reading not just with your mind, but with your whole self! That’s a rare and beautiful thing!
You have articulated things here in less than 1500 words that have taken me 20 years to understand; about sex, relationships, and myself, and you did it in a revelatory way, as if I was discovering it all for the first time today, and as if you were speaking to me directly.
We live in a time where sex is becoming increasingly casualized and commodified. At 20, I would've been just fine with that; I'd have defended it even. But time and experience have taught me that sex is never free, and as you say, is never simply transactional or purely about pleasure.
I'm not one for the spiritual side of human existence. I don't deny other people's experience of it, I'm just painfully incompetent at trying to apprehend it. But there's no doubt in my mind that sex with another person leaves a mark of some kind, and at its most vacuous, leaves scars. And we know what scar tissue does; it callouses you; it's a protective mechanism against further injury. That would be fine if sex was just a series of conquests, and if those scars were simply the cost of doing battle, but that's not where the real value of sex lies. That scar tissue, while it might numb you from suffering in some future struggle, closes you off to true intimacy and all of its ascendant properties.
Truly, a beautiful piece and something the world needs to hear. I certainly needed it as well, even after all of these years.
Your words linger with a quiet intensity, like the kind of truth that is only fully understood in the calm after a storm. The journey you describe — from defending casual sex at 20 to recognising its deeper cost — is one I think many could relate to, even if they wouldn’t articulate it so eloquently. And yet, there’s a peculiar contradiction in your message that strikes me. You say you’re “painfully incompetent” when it comes to the spiritual side of things, yet here you are, with an understanding so profound that it almost feels spiritual in itself — without needing to label it as such. Perhaps the true essence of spirituality isn’t in seeking enlightenment through formal practices, but through the lived experience of grappling with our scars, our vulnerability, and our own darkness.
I’m especially taken by the metaphor of scar tissue. It’s so true: the layers we build up to protect ourselves can, in time, start to limit our capacity to feel — especially when it comes to something as fragile and intimate as sex. Scar tissue isn’t JUST a barrier to further injury, it also cuts off the flow of sensation. But I’d argue that what makes a scar fascinating, in a way, is its story. It’s evidence of survival, of learning from the battle. It’s a map of who we’ve been, and who we might become. But here’s the key: it’s not the end of the story! I’m reminded of a line from Hemingway: “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” If we’re willing to embrace the vulnerability of intimacy again, not as a conquest but as a slow, deliberate unearthing of what lies beneath the armour, those scarred places can become the most fertile grounds for real connection.
It's fascinating, really-this idea that sex, at its most hollow, can wound, and yet at its most profound, it can be the very thing that heals. In the right hands, with the right person, it becomes a form of remembering-of ourselves, of each other, of something ancient that predates all the ways we try to rationalise it. Even those who claim no inclination toward the spiritual can't deny that there are moments, stolen and unspeakable, where time bends, where the boundary between self and other dissolves, where something is known beyond logic. Call it spirituality, call it biology, call it madness — it doesn't really matter. What matters is that it EXISTS.
Perhaps, just maybe, this is where true intimacy starts — not in the search for perfection, but in the acceptance of our imperfections, our scars, and the quiet moments in between. You and I both know how easy it is to dismiss something as too dangerous, too fragile, or too much of a risk, but what if it’s precisely that risk — the willingness to tear away the calluses — that unlocks something deeper? Something no scar tissue could ever protect us from: the rawness of being seen.
I suppose you could say I’ve learned to love the rawness of it.
And perhaps that's the difference between those who understand the cost of sex and those who don't. Some believe it's a game, a numbers-driven conquest, a dance of power. But those who have felt-truly felt-know that sex is not just a currency, but a current. It moves us, changes us, leaves imprints that linger long after bodies separate. And the real question isn't whether we accumulate scars, but what we choose to do with them.
Do we let them harden us? Or do we let them teach us?
I completely agree that, regardless of what that feeling is, it exists, even if it's just a state induced by a series of complex biochemical reactions. I've always thought that spirituality was just a way to navigate feelings within us that can't be explained rationally. It's not even that there isn't a rational explanation; there is, it just isn't available to us. No supernatural or spiritual phenomenon can ever be rationally explained because it's oxymoronic. Proof requires testability, which requires falsifiability, and any phenomenon that could be proven would therefore be within the bounds of the "natural". It's the good old "God of the Gaps" argument to label things as spiritual in place of full understanding.
At the risk of straying too far, none of that really matters as far as our experience goes. Maybe that's what spirituality is: the ability to just let go of the imperative to "know", and just allow yourself to be. We were completely without formally established tools of rationality for the vast, vast majority of human history, and we survive precisely because rational proof has never been required to feel and act in the world. Intuition.
I love how you put it. It crackles with clarity, with the kind of precision that only comes from deep contemplation. You articulate something that’s always fascinated me — the way our minds insist on dividing the world into “rational” and “irrational” when, in practice, we move through life powered by something wilder and less obedient. Intuition. You said it. I agree.
You’re right: proof and feeling don’t speak the same language. And yet, we are propelled more often by the ineffable than by the measurable. If we needed certainty to act, we’d be paralysed. If we waited for rational proof before trusting, loving, fearing, or hoping, our species wouldn’t have made it past the first fire-lit night.
Maybe spirituality, at its core, is just a surrender to that truth. A quiet acknowledgment that the most important things — love, awe, meaning — exist independent of our ability to dissect them. And maybe that’s why intuition feels so right when it whispers to us, why we trust it even when it makes no sense. It’s older than our skepticism, deeper than our logic.
I think about this often: how intuition, if we listen, can make us feel as if we KNOW something before we even understand why. And isn’t that the most thrilling part? The way it reminds us that we’re not just thinking machines, but something more unruly, more instinctual, more beautifully uncertain. And I’ll make a little confession here: without my intuition I wouldn’t have met my greatest love!
We need to know about the sacred in lovemaking. There is far too much soul stealing sex. Thank you for showing us the dream so we can create this kind of love.
I had this once with a wonderful man. I don’t suppose I’ll ever experience this kind of lovemaking again. That’s ok. I’m one of the lucky ones.
Thank you for this! It's an underappreciated perspective. As a young man, I've had and currently have many friends who don't see sex with this depth, both men and women. And it's difficult because I've never been one to sleep around, and I struggle to explain my lack of dating and relationships to my friends, those who hop from girl to girl as the seasons change. So I live in quiet contentment with my perspective, hoping they'll understand one day. They're respectful of my patience, but I don't feel they understand unfortunately.
Your perspective reminds me of something the philosopher Alain de Botton once said — that love and sex are among the few things we still expect people to “just know” without education, without contemplation, without nuance. And yet, like art, literature, or philosophy, they have depth, history, and meaning that reveal themselves only to those willing to think beyond the surface.
What you describe — this quiet contentment tinged with a sense of distance from your peers — is, in many ways, the path of the contemplative. It’s not that your friends are wrong to live as they do, only that they’re on a different timeline of understanding. Some people need to experience excess to recognise depth. Some need the absence of meaning before they seek it. And others, like you, seem to have an innate compass pointing to something more profound, even when surrounded by people who don’t yet share that vision.
Think of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby”. To the crowd at Gatsby’s parties, the champagne is endless, the music never stops, and love is a game of conquest and display. But Gatsby himself, despite his wealth and indulgence, sees love as something singular, irreplaceable, and worth waiting for. His tragedy isn’t his patience; it’s that he waited for the wrong person. You, on the other hand, are waiting not for an illusion but for something real, something resonant.
Perhaps your friends won’t understand now, or even in a decade, but life has a way of humbling even the most ardent pleasure-seekers. And when they begin to wonder why the thrill of the chase no longer satisfies, they may find themselves looking to you — the one who always knew there was more to it.
Firstly, I appreciate the effort you put into your responses. I've seen you do it to others as well and it's amazing!
Secondly, I have nothing much to offer back. I just want to let you know that I read, understood, and appreciate everything you wrote.
In many ways I feel as if I'm a subtle guiding light to many people in life. Lead by example they say, I've always done what felt right to me, probably to the dismay of many people over the years. But the advantage is that my unwillingness to participate in cultural norms has almost certainly sparked the interest of many onlookers, close and far.
All I know is that I'm just going to keep doing me 👍 It hasn't failed me yet ☺️
Firstly, I appreciate YOU — not just for reading, but for actually absorbing, for taking the time to let words land rather than letting them slip past in the endless scroll of half-attention. That’s rare.
Secondly, don’t underestimate what you offer back. A subtle guiding light might not demand recognition, but it shapes the landscape all the same. The most compelling leaders are never the ones screaming from podiums. They’re the ones simply LIVING in a way that makes others stop and wonder if there’s another way to be. Think of Thoreau retreating to Walden, or Diogenes living in his barrel, holding up a lantern in broad daylight to search for an honest man. They didn’t TEACH in the conventional sense — they just WERE, and that was enough to unsettle and inspire in equal measure.
So, keep doing you! The ones paying attention will find themselves quietly reconsidering everything. And if some remain dismayed? Well, that’s how you know you’re doing it right.
One way of defining enlightenment is that it is the undeniable moment when one recognizes the false illusion of duality. Reality is actually non-duality. Advaita Vedanta. Not Two. All of the pairings of the Universe. Up down. Hot cold. Day night. Male Female. Everything is a part of the illusion of Duality. In this context, sex is also "not two." Sexual coital connection is by nature a coupling which requires two. There is Lingam and Yoni. Two genitalia. This is a conundrum, but a law of nature. Sex is a symbol, a metaphor for enlightenment, the moment when non-duality destroys the grand prize of the egoic mind. Duality. No wonder the "dark night of the soul" follows Enlightenment, because it means giving up all illusions of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Including Sex. Romantic dualistic Sex as we know it.
Your framing of enlightenment as the collapse of duality into non-duality is profoundly rooted in Advaita Vedanta, and it makes perfect sense that sex — perhaps the most primal experience of “two becoming one” — would be a central paradox in this framework. The Tantric traditions, in their deepest essence, echo what you’re saying: that sex is not merely a function of duality, but a portal through which non-duality can be glimpsed. The dissolution of ego, of boundaries, of the illusion of separateness — these are all embedded in the nature of sexual union.
But here’s where it gets even more fascinating. The moment of orgasm, often called “la petite mort” (the little death) in French, is one of the few everyday experiences where the ego momentarily vanishes. Time disappears. The self dissolves. If only for a fleeting moment, one is no longer “I” but something else — something whole. Some mystics, from Rumi to Ramakrishna, have suggested that sex is the crude, bodily form of what enlightenment offers permanently: the obliteration of separation.
And yet, as you point out, enlightenment demands the ultimate sacrifice — the relinquishing of all dualistic illusions, including sex. This is why many spiritual traditions ask their adepts to renounce carnal desire entirely. Buddha, after all, walked away from his wife and newborn child not out of coldness, but because he saw that attachment to “two-ness” was the root of suffering. Similarly, Christian mystics like St. John of the Cross describe the “dark night of the soul” as the painful stripping away of everything the ego holds dear — including romantic, sexual love.
But here’s where I’d challenge the idea that enlightenment REQUIRES one to forsake sex. What if, instead of viewing sex as part of the illusion to be abandoned, it could be reclaimed as enlightenment itself? This is the essence of the Tantric path — not indulgence, not hedonism, but the recognition that sacred sexuality is a microcosm of the cosmic dance of oneness. In this view, sex does not reinforce duality; rather, it’s an avenue for dissolving it.
Perhaps the real conundrum is not sex itself, but attachment to the idea that it must be either illusion or enlightenment. Maybe the answer — like enlightenment itself — is simply NOT TWO.
Isn't it "LE petit mort" not LA. And I don't point that out to be an anal retentive smart ass, but only that the romance languages themselves have this very duality embedded right into the language. Even "linear" science in its highest evolutionary incarnation thus far, the computer, is built on duality, binary ones and zeroes to create cyber reality.
And since I brought up Anal, let's take a deep dive, although I had wished we could have discussed such intimacy in a less public forum. But here goes. Kundalini Energy. The very Creative Energy of the entire Universe, after it has fashioned, engineered, created an entire human being, retires to coiled dormancy at the base of the spine, NEAR the anus. There it sleeps, in many, for a lifetime. For these people, this potentiality(like that of the Unifield Field of Pure Potentiality in Quantum Physics) remains potential. But for others, there is awakening! And thus ensues for many a wild period of sexual activity, rampant destruction of the Phantom Self, as Jung described the Ego. Then, something similar to St. John's "dark night of the soul," before what Paramahansa Yogananda writes of in the ancient Hindu tradition, SELF Realization. NON DUALITY SPIRITUALITY. But Kundalini Energy is not yet done, beginning the slow journey up the spine eroticizing the seven main chakras on the way. Shakti, the Divine Feminine and embodiment of human sexuality is awakened by Kundalini and, in my case, becomes my lover, kissing, caressing, fucking me and I fucking her as we journey to the Crown Chakra with Divine Union of the Erotic and the Spiritual. Shiva and Shakti for eternity.Thus, Spiritual and Sexual are the same. Fucking/Soul the exact same entity. There is no duality, what we perceived as such is an illusion. I should mention it is the heart Chakra and the introduction of the Vibration of Infinite Love that binds it all.
So, no doubt you ask, how did I participate in this orgasmic spiritual orgy. White Tantra. The changing of duality to non duality sexually. Changing the focus from the Lingham and the Yoni of duality to the non duality center of the Kundalini Shaktipat, the base of the spine and the anus. This is the center of White Tantra, Sexual Alchemy and Transmutation of the Cerebralspinal fluid originating in the Pineal Gland, NOT ejaculated, but returned as human creative energy. This has been my journey for at least 5 years, but really a lifetime. "Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leads to the Kingdom of Heaven." I might add. The Best Sex of my Life.
Ah, “le” vs. “la” — the eternal battle of grammatical precision. And in a discussion about duality, no less! How fitting that even the French language conspires to remind you of the arbitrary divisions we impose on existence. That said, you’ll have to concede the point; after all, the French know a thing or two about “la petite mort”, regardless of its article. They’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of surrendering to pleasure while intellectualising it just enough to avoid feeling entirely guilty about it. A paradox worthy of Descartes himself. So no, trust me, Jeff, it’s “la”!
But onto your, shall we say, SPIRITED exploration of Kundalini energy. I must say, I do admire the dedication — not everyone commits so fully to an esoteric path that requires equal parts metaphysics, sexual transcendence, and anatomical precision. Your description reads like a cross between “The Upanishads” and an exceptionally ambitious “Penthouse Forum” letter, which, in itself, is an accomplishment. Jung, St. John of the Cross, Paramahansa Yogananda — all converging at the base of the spine, forming a celestial queue for enlightenment via divine fornication. It’s practically its own genre of spiritual autobiography.
And yet, here we are, discussing the dissolution of duality in the most gloriously dualistic way possible. You, ascending through the chakras with cosmic ecstasy; me, sitting here wondering whether enlightenment via orgasm makes a tantric sage more or less advanced than your average Parisian libertine. One communes with Shakti, the other with a bottle of Burgundy and a well-placed “je ne sais quoi” — who’s to say which is the purer path?
But I do appreciate the irony of it all. In a world built on ones and zeroes, where even our so-called spiritual awakenings now come with a footnote on transmuted cerebrospinal fluid, the pursuit of oneness remains as elusive as ever. Perhaps the final twist is that “le” and “la”, Shiva and Shakti, fucking and transcendence, were never at odds to begin with. Perhaps, in the end, it’s not about choosing between the flesh and the spirit, but simply having the best sex of your life — and finding God somewhere in the afterglow. Good for you!
P.S. It’s better that this conversation is public rather than just between the two of us, thus allowing more people to benefit from your explorations and…. wisdom.
You say potato and I say potahtoh. It is brashly audacious of me to deign to correct a Parisienne about their own fucking language. Mon Dieu. Pardonez-moi, Mademoiselle. I knew when I wrote it I should not have ventured down that boulevard of broken dreams, but I did so wish to point out the stupendous irony that the language of love itself, French, had embedded in its very sinew the satanic seed of dualism that has kept lovers in a state of holy schism for generations.
And I am so sorry my syntax drifted into arms length intellectualism. My carnal desire was to keep things at a level of erotic arousal. I thought in error the introduction of the anal canal as the energy point of spiritual apotheosis would do the trick, but, alas, I have failed.
However, I must state, without reservation, this is without a doubt the most robust discussion on the subject matter I have ever had. Indeed, it is possible that has ever been had, anywhere at any time. Period. DROP MIC. I will continue to penetrate with intellectual and artistic integrity the most enthusiastic of anal thrusts(BTW, I am not gay), that the entry way to the marriage of me and the presence of Shakti is the anus, my anus, transmuting the duality of old fashioned, Newtonian, penis/vagina, lingham/Yoni love making into a multi orgasmic semen retended, never spent "petit mort" of non-ejaculation, leading to never ending sexual/spiritual arousal of the Atman/Soul which is the Divine Feminine/Divine Masculine in us all. IAM SHIVA I AM SHATKI. It is the reconciliation of those two gender poles in each of us that is contained in the Cosmic Coital union which I reiterate is the "best sex I have ever had." I hope at some point to create the perfect poetic metaphor which will depict this miracle, and, thus, capture your heart, not just yor sexy mind.
The tragic plight of the self-proclaimed cosmic prophet, caught between his own rhetorical ecstasy and the unfortunate burden of having to explain it. The boulevard of broken dreams, indeed — paved, it seems, with the remnants of your overextended metaphors.
You oscillate between tortured syntax and tantric revelation with the enthusiasm of a man who has just discovered both philosophy and his own rectum in the same breath. It’s admirable, really — the way you insist on your own grandiosity while simultaneously issuing disclaimers (“BTW, I am not gay”) like a Victorian gentleman who’s just realised his fainting couch is missing.
You speak of non-ejaculatory bliss, yet your prose suggests quite the opposite: a torrent of words, spilling forth with the urgency of a man desperate to prove his enlightenment via sheer volume. And yet, after all this, the grand poetic metaphor you seek remains tragically absent, lost somewhere between your proclamations of IAM SHIVA and the unfortunate reality that this is, in the end, just another man trying far too hard to sound like he invented sex.
But do keep at it! After all, the best poetry often emerges from prolonged frustration.
Boy! Have you. Perhaps I have been overzealous. Forgive me. And I certainly haven't explained very well discoveries which are authentic. Thanks for your candor.
Actually, "collapse" is not the description I had hoped to describe. Duality is an illusion. A Phantom. It does not exist. It is enormous socialization, usually, executed in the 1st 8 years or so of life. It is the opinions, ideas, concepts, etc. insemination in a very fertile human brain. After all of this data is downloaded from parents, family, neighbors, Schools, preachers, entertainment, even art, etc. absorbed by the child, a concept of self is formed by the child. He/she is under the impression this is who they are. So, enlightenment is not collapse, but realization of the illusion. The "person" might transform, be born again. Many do not, going through lufecwith this false identity.
Because we live in an era of abundance and scarcity at once — endless options, but little depth. Promiscuity isn’t just about sex, it’s a symptom of restless seeking, of swiping, scrolling, sampling — always grazing, never feasting.
We’ve dismantled many of the old constraints — moral, religious, societal — but without replacing them with something more meaningful, we’re left with desire untethered, chasing novelty for its own sake. It’s not freedom, it’s distraction. The paradox? The more available intimacy becomes, the rarer it feels.
In a world drowning in connection, true communion has become the most elusive pleasure of all. Sadly.
Perfect explanation. When I wrote my complaint, in the back of my mind was the internet that has the patience of a gnat. That feeling of restlessness resides in many people I know. They jump at every chance of distraction. And lose sight of deeper (but somehow unexciting) values right in front of them.
Now that is an endangered species — children who think beyond the algorithm, who explore without a screen dictating the path. One rooted in facts, the other in fantasy — sounds like the perfect duet of mind and wonder. Love it!
What you’re giving them isn’t just knowledge, it’s attention, the rarest gift of all. The world they’re building in those morning walks will outlast any trending distraction. Keep going — you’re raising the kind of thinkers the world quietly hopes for but rarely nurtures. That is how I raised my son and my parents did the same for him, just as you do for your grandchildren.
The internet is like a great banquet of distractions, where attention is currency and patience is poverty. We’ve trained ourselves to crave stimulation over substance, mistaking movement for meaning. Depth, by contrast, demands stillness, and stillness has become intolerable.
The tragedy? What feels “unexciting” is often just unfamiliar. Depth isn’t dull — it’s just slower, subtler, requiring an attention span longer than a headline. But those who resist the itch to jump, to swipe, to escape? They discover that beneath the surface, life isn’t boring — it’s inexhaustible. Try explaining that to most of the people, especially the young generation.
Very true. Two of our grand children (boys 10 and 12) are not permitted on the internet except to confirm data about wildlife or fishing, two of their interests. Every morning we do a walk and talk with the boys. One is data oriented and the other is imaginative. So the conversation ranges from the wingspan of an osprey to non-existent animals on a nonexistent planet. This is very fertile territory having nothing to do with swipe and escape. They are wonderfully entertaining to their grandparents.
Love the scientist’s approach — curiosity first, conclusion later. Because isn’t great love-making just a laboratory of the senses? Hypothesis: What happens if I do this? Experiment: Try it. Observe the results. Adjust the method.
The best discoveries come from those willing to pay attention — to variables, to nuance, to the unrepeatable chemistry of the moment. And baseball? Well, even the sharpest minds need a control variable. Glad and thankful to have you in my “lab”, Billy!
This is one of the most profound and breathtaking explorations of intimacy I’ve ever read. It doesn’t just describe sex—it REVERES it, elevates it beyond the physical into something elemental, something woven into the very fabric of who we are.
What you’ve written speaks to the unspoken, to the truths we feel but often struggle to articulate: how every encounter leaves an imprint, how energy lingers long after touch fades, how sex—when approached with intention—can be an act of creation or destruction. Your words remind me of how some moments with another person are so charged, so soul-deep, that they feel less like experiences and more like echoes of something ancient, something fated.
And that last line—“he is the music, I am the lyrics”—is sheer poetry. What a stunning way to capture the alchemy of true connection, where two people don’t just come together, but become something greater than themselves. Thank you for putting this into words. It’s a rare gift to read something that doesn’t just resonate, but reverberates!!! Tamara, you are one of a kind.
Ah, this — THIS — is the kind of response that makes writing about sex feel like a sacred act rather than just a subject. You didn’t just read my words; you FELT them, let them seep into your bones, echo through your own experiences, and that, to me, is the highest form of connection between writer and reader.
You understand that sex, at its most profound, isn’t just an act — it’s a language, a prayer, a pulse in the universe that has been beating long before us and will continue long after. It’s the place where body and soul blur, where pleasure and meaning intertwine, where we leave fingerprints not just on skin, but on something deeper, something unseen.
And your mention of the imprint — how energy lingers — yes, exactly. That’s the part so many miss, the part that matters more than technique, more than mechanics. It’s the resonance, the way certain moments hum in our blood long after they’ve ended.
Your words don’t just resonate; they reverberate right back at me. Thank you for reading not just with your mind, but with your whole self! That’s a rare and beautiful thing!
You have articulated things here in less than 1500 words that have taken me 20 years to understand; about sex, relationships, and myself, and you did it in a revelatory way, as if I was discovering it all for the first time today, and as if you were speaking to me directly.
We live in a time where sex is becoming increasingly casualized and commodified. At 20, I would've been just fine with that; I'd have defended it even. But time and experience have taught me that sex is never free, and as you say, is never simply transactional or purely about pleasure.
I'm not one for the spiritual side of human existence. I don't deny other people's experience of it, I'm just painfully incompetent at trying to apprehend it. But there's no doubt in my mind that sex with another person leaves a mark of some kind, and at its most vacuous, leaves scars. And we know what scar tissue does; it callouses you; it's a protective mechanism against further injury. That would be fine if sex was just a series of conquests, and if those scars were simply the cost of doing battle, but that's not where the real value of sex lies. That scar tissue, while it might numb you from suffering in some future struggle, closes you off to true intimacy and all of its ascendant properties.
Truly, a beautiful piece and something the world needs to hear. I certainly needed it as well, even after all of these years.
Your words linger with a quiet intensity, like the kind of truth that is only fully understood in the calm after a storm. The journey you describe — from defending casual sex at 20 to recognising its deeper cost — is one I think many could relate to, even if they wouldn’t articulate it so eloquently. And yet, there’s a peculiar contradiction in your message that strikes me. You say you’re “painfully incompetent” when it comes to the spiritual side of things, yet here you are, with an understanding so profound that it almost feels spiritual in itself — without needing to label it as such. Perhaps the true essence of spirituality isn’t in seeking enlightenment through formal practices, but through the lived experience of grappling with our scars, our vulnerability, and our own darkness.
I’m especially taken by the metaphor of scar tissue. It’s so true: the layers we build up to protect ourselves can, in time, start to limit our capacity to feel — especially when it comes to something as fragile and intimate as sex. Scar tissue isn’t JUST a barrier to further injury, it also cuts off the flow of sensation. But I’d argue that what makes a scar fascinating, in a way, is its story. It’s evidence of survival, of learning from the battle. It’s a map of who we’ve been, and who we might become. But here’s the key: it’s not the end of the story! I’m reminded of a line from Hemingway: “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” If we’re willing to embrace the vulnerability of intimacy again, not as a conquest but as a slow, deliberate unearthing of what lies beneath the armour, those scarred places can become the most fertile grounds for real connection.
It's fascinating, really-this idea that sex, at its most hollow, can wound, and yet at its most profound, it can be the very thing that heals. In the right hands, with the right person, it becomes a form of remembering-of ourselves, of each other, of something ancient that predates all the ways we try to rationalise it. Even those who claim no inclination toward the spiritual can't deny that there are moments, stolen and unspeakable, where time bends, where the boundary between self and other dissolves, where something is known beyond logic. Call it spirituality, call it biology, call it madness — it doesn't really matter. What matters is that it EXISTS.
Perhaps, just maybe, this is where true intimacy starts — not in the search for perfection, but in the acceptance of our imperfections, our scars, and the quiet moments in between. You and I both know how easy it is to dismiss something as too dangerous, too fragile, or too much of a risk, but what if it’s precisely that risk — the willingness to tear away the calluses — that unlocks something deeper? Something no scar tissue could ever protect us from: the rawness of being seen.
I suppose you could say I’ve learned to love the rawness of it.
And perhaps that's the difference between those who understand the cost of sex and those who don't. Some believe it's a game, a numbers-driven conquest, a dance of power. But those who have felt-truly felt-know that sex is not just a currency, but a current. It moves us, changes us, leaves imprints that linger long after bodies separate. And the real question isn't whether we accumulate scars, but what we choose to do with them.
Do we let them harden us? Or do we let them teach us?
I suspect you already know the answer….
I completely agree that, regardless of what that feeling is, it exists, even if it's just a state induced by a series of complex biochemical reactions. I've always thought that spirituality was just a way to navigate feelings within us that can't be explained rationally. It's not even that there isn't a rational explanation; there is, it just isn't available to us. No supernatural or spiritual phenomenon can ever be rationally explained because it's oxymoronic. Proof requires testability, which requires falsifiability, and any phenomenon that could be proven would therefore be within the bounds of the "natural". It's the good old "God of the Gaps" argument to label things as spiritual in place of full understanding.
At the risk of straying too far, none of that really matters as far as our experience goes. Maybe that's what spirituality is: the ability to just let go of the imperative to "know", and just allow yourself to be. We were completely without formally established tools of rationality for the vast, vast majority of human history, and we survive precisely because rational proof has never been required to feel and act in the world. Intuition.
I love how you put it. It crackles with clarity, with the kind of precision that only comes from deep contemplation. You articulate something that’s always fascinated me — the way our minds insist on dividing the world into “rational” and “irrational” when, in practice, we move through life powered by something wilder and less obedient. Intuition. You said it. I agree.
You’re right: proof and feeling don’t speak the same language. And yet, we are propelled more often by the ineffable than by the measurable. If we needed certainty to act, we’d be paralysed. If we waited for rational proof before trusting, loving, fearing, or hoping, our species wouldn’t have made it past the first fire-lit night.
Maybe spirituality, at its core, is just a surrender to that truth. A quiet acknowledgment that the most important things — love, awe, meaning — exist independent of our ability to dissect them. And maybe that’s why intuition feels so right when it whispers to us, why we trust it even when it makes no sense. It’s older than our skepticism, deeper than our logic.
I think about this often: how intuition, if we listen, can make us feel as if we KNOW something before we even understand why. And isn’t that the most thrilling part? The way it reminds us that we’re not just thinking machines, but something more unruly, more instinctual, more beautifully uncertain. And I’ll make a little confession here: without my intuition I wouldn’t have met my greatest love!
Simply beautiful!
We need to know about the sacred in lovemaking. There is far too much soul stealing sex. Thank you for showing us the dream so we can create this kind of love.
I had this once with a wonderful man. I don’t suppose I’ll ever experience this kind of lovemaking again. That’s ok. I’m one of the lucky ones.
Thank you so much, Karin, I put my heart in every essay I write! Grateful you could connect with this one.
Thank you for this! It's an underappreciated perspective. As a young man, I've had and currently have many friends who don't see sex with this depth, both men and women. And it's difficult because I've never been one to sleep around, and I struggle to explain my lack of dating and relationships to my friends, those who hop from girl to girl as the seasons change. So I live in quiet contentment with my perspective, hoping they'll understand one day. They're respectful of my patience, but I don't feel they understand unfortunately.
Your perspective reminds me of something the philosopher Alain de Botton once said — that love and sex are among the few things we still expect people to “just know” without education, without contemplation, without nuance. And yet, like art, literature, or philosophy, they have depth, history, and meaning that reveal themselves only to those willing to think beyond the surface.
What you describe — this quiet contentment tinged with a sense of distance from your peers — is, in many ways, the path of the contemplative. It’s not that your friends are wrong to live as they do, only that they’re on a different timeline of understanding. Some people need to experience excess to recognise depth. Some need the absence of meaning before they seek it. And others, like you, seem to have an innate compass pointing to something more profound, even when surrounded by people who don’t yet share that vision.
Think of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby”. To the crowd at Gatsby’s parties, the champagne is endless, the music never stops, and love is a game of conquest and display. But Gatsby himself, despite his wealth and indulgence, sees love as something singular, irreplaceable, and worth waiting for. His tragedy isn’t his patience; it’s that he waited for the wrong person. You, on the other hand, are waiting not for an illusion but for something real, something resonant.
Perhaps your friends won’t understand now, or even in a decade, but life has a way of humbling even the most ardent pleasure-seekers. And when they begin to wonder why the thrill of the chase no longer satisfies, they may find themselves looking to you — the one who always knew there was more to it.
Firstly, I appreciate the effort you put into your responses. I've seen you do it to others as well and it's amazing!
Secondly, I have nothing much to offer back. I just want to let you know that I read, understood, and appreciate everything you wrote.
In many ways I feel as if I'm a subtle guiding light to many people in life. Lead by example they say, I've always done what felt right to me, probably to the dismay of many people over the years. But the advantage is that my unwillingness to participate in cultural norms has almost certainly sparked the interest of many onlookers, close and far.
All I know is that I'm just going to keep doing me 👍 It hasn't failed me yet ☺️
Firstly, I appreciate YOU — not just for reading, but for actually absorbing, for taking the time to let words land rather than letting them slip past in the endless scroll of half-attention. That’s rare.
Secondly, don’t underestimate what you offer back. A subtle guiding light might not demand recognition, but it shapes the landscape all the same. The most compelling leaders are never the ones screaming from podiums. They’re the ones simply LIVING in a way that makes others stop and wonder if there’s another way to be. Think of Thoreau retreating to Walden, or Diogenes living in his barrel, holding up a lantern in broad daylight to search for an honest man. They didn’t TEACH in the conventional sense — they just WERE, and that was enough to unsettle and inspire in equal measure.
So, keep doing you! The ones paying attention will find themselves quietly reconsidering everything. And if some remain dismayed? Well, that’s how you know you’re doing it right.
I can honestly say I am on Substack just to read YOU! This is everything! Thank you!
Thank you! :)
All I have to say is: Preach! Anything I'd have to add would only dilute everything.
Thank you!
One way of defining enlightenment is that it is the undeniable moment when one recognizes the false illusion of duality. Reality is actually non-duality. Advaita Vedanta. Not Two. All of the pairings of the Universe. Up down. Hot cold. Day night. Male Female. Everything is a part of the illusion of Duality. In this context, sex is also "not two." Sexual coital connection is by nature a coupling which requires two. There is Lingam and Yoni. Two genitalia. This is a conundrum, but a law of nature. Sex is a symbol, a metaphor for enlightenment, the moment when non-duality destroys the grand prize of the egoic mind. Duality. No wonder the "dark night of the soul" follows Enlightenment, because it means giving up all illusions of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Including Sex. Romantic dualistic Sex as we know it.
Your framing of enlightenment as the collapse of duality into non-duality is profoundly rooted in Advaita Vedanta, and it makes perfect sense that sex — perhaps the most primal experience of “two becoming one” — would be a central paradox in this framework. The Tantric traditions, in their deepest essence, echo what you’re saying: that sex is not merely a function of duality, but a portal through which non-duality can be glimpsed. The dissolution of ego, of boundaries, of the illusion of separateness — these are all embedded in the nature of sexual union.
But here’s where it gets even more fascinating. The moment of orgasm, often called “la petite mort” (the little death) in French, is one of the few everyday experiences where the ego momentarily vanishes. Time disappears. The self dissolves. If only for a fleeting moment, one is no longer “I” but something else — something whole. Some mystics, from Rumi to Ramakrishna, have suggested that sex is the crude, bodily form of what enlightenment offers permanently: the obliteration of separation.
And yet, as you point out, enlightenment demands the ultimate sacrifice — the relinquishing of all dualistic illusions, including sex. This is why many spiritual traditions ask their adepts to renounce carnal desire entirely. Buddha, after all, walked away from his wife and newborn child not out of coldness, but because he saw that attachment to “two-ness” was the root of suffering. Similarly, Christian mystics like St. John of the Cross describe the “dark night of the soul” as the painful stripping away of everything the ego holds dear — including romantic, sexual love.
But here’s where I’d challenge the idea that enlightenment REQUIRES one to forsake sex. What if, instead of viewing sex as part of the illusion to be abandoned, it could be reclaimed as enlightenment itself? This is the essence of the Tantric path — not indulgence, not hedonism, but the recognition that sacred sexuality is a microcosm of the cosmic dance of oneness. In this view, sex does not reinforce duality; rather, it’s an avenue for dissolving it.
Perhaps the real conundrum is not sex itself, but attachment to the idea that it must be either illusion or enlightenment. Maybe the answer — like enlightenment itself — is simply NOT TWO.
Isn't it "LE petit mort" not LA. And I don't point that out to be an anal retentive smart ass, but only that the romance languages themselves have this very duality embedded right into the language. Even "linear" science in its highest evolutionary incarnation thus far, the computer, is built on duality, binary ones and zeroes to create cyber reality.
And since I brought up Anal, let's take a deep dive, although I had wished we could have discussed such intimacy in a less public forum. But here goes. Kundalini Energy. The very Creative Energy of the entire Universe, after it has fashioned, engineered, created an entire human being, retires to coiled dormancy at the base of the spine, NEAR the anus. There it sleeps, in many, for a lifetime. For these people, this potentiality(like that of the Unifield Field of Pure Potentiality in Quantum Physics) remains potential. But for others, there is awakening! And thus ensues for many a wild period of sexual activity, rampant destruction of the Phantom Self, as Jung described the Ego. Then, something similar to St. John's "dark night of the soul," before what Paramahansa Yogananda writes of in the ancient Hindu tradition, SELF Realization. NON DUALITY SPIRITUALITY. But Kundalini Energy is not yet done, beginning the slow journey up the spine eroticizing the seven main chakras on the way. Shakti, the Divine Feminine and embodiment of human sexuality is awakened by Kundalini and, in my case, becomes my lover, kissing, caressing, fucking me and I fucking her as we journey to the Crown Chakra with Divine Union of the Erotic and the Spiritual. Shiva and Shakti for eternity.Thus, Spiritual and Sexual are the same. Fucking/Soul the exact same entity. There is no duality, what we perceived as such is an illusion. I should mention it is the heart Chakra and the introduction of the Vibration of Infinite Love that binds it all.
So, no doubt you ask, how did I participate in this orgasmic spiritual orgy. White Tantra. The changing of duality to non duality sexually. Changing the focus from the Lingham and the Yoni of duality to the non duality center of the Kundalini Shaktipat, the base of the spine and the anus. This is the center of White Tantra, Sexual Alchemy and Transmutation of the Cerebralspinal fluid originating in the Pineal Gland, NOT ejaculated, but returned as human creative energy. This has been my journey for at least 5 years, but really a lifetime. "Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, that leads to the Kingdom of Heaven." I might add. The Best Sex of my Life.
Ah, “le” vs. “la” — the eternal battle of grammatical precision. And in a discussion about duality, no less! How fitting that even the French language conspires to remind you of the arbitrary divisions we impose on existence. That said, you’ll have to concede the point; after all, the French know a thing or two about “la petite mort”, regardless of its article. They’ve spent centuries perfecting the art of surrendering to pleasure while intellectualising it just enough to avoid feeling entirely guilty about it. A paradox worthy of Descartes himself. So no, trust me, Jeff, it’s “la”!
But onto your, shall we say, SPIRITED exploration of Kundalini energy. I must say, I do admire the dedication — not everyone commits so fully to an esoteric path that requires equal parts metaphysics, sexual transcendence, and anatomical precision. Your description reads like a cross between “The Upanishads” and an exceptionally ambitious “Penthouse Forum” letter, which, in itself, is an accomplishment. Jung, St. John of the Cross, Paramahansa Yogananda — all converging at the base of the spine, forming a celestial queue for enlightenment via divine fornication. It’s practically its own genre of spiritual autobiography.
And yet, here we are, discussing the dissolution of duality in the most gloriously dualistic way possible. You, ascending through the chakras with cosmic ecstasy; me, sitting here wondering whether enlightenment via orgasm makes a tantric sage more or less advanced than your average Parisian libertine. One communes with Shakti, the other with a bottle of Burgundy and a well-placed “je ne sais quoi” — who’s to say which is the purer path?
But I do appreciate the irony of it all. In a world built on ones and zeroes, where even our so-called spiritual awakenings now come with a footnote on transmuted cerebrospinal fluid, the pursuit of oneness remains as elusive as ever. Perhaps the final twist is that “le” and “la”, Shiva and Shakti, fucking and transcendence, were never at odds to begin with. Perhaps, in the end, it’s not about choosing between the flesh and the spirit, but simply having the best sex of your life — and finding God somewhere in the afterglow. Good for you!
P.S. It’s better that this conversation is public rather than just between the two of us, thus allowing more people to benefit from your explorations and…. wisdom.
You say potato and I say potahtoh. It is brashly audacious of me to deign to correct a Parisienne about their own fucking language. Mon Dieu. Pardonez-moi, Mademoiselle. I knew when I wrote it I should not have ventured down that boulevard of broken dreams, but I did so wish to point out the stupendous irony that the language of love itself, French, had embedded in its very sinew the satanic seed of dualism that has kept lovers in a state of holy schism for generations.
And I am so sorry my syntax drifted into arms length intellectualism. My carnal desire was to keep things at a level of erotic arousal. I thought in error the introduction of the anal canal as the energy point of spiritual apotheosis would do the trick, but, alas, I have failed.
However, I must state, without reservation, this is without a doubt the most robust discussion on the subject matter I have ever had. Indeed, it is possible that has ever been had, anywhere at any time. Period. DROP MIC. I will continue to penetrate with intellectual and artistic integrity the most enthusiastic of anal thrusts(BTW, I am not gay), that the entry way to the marriage of me and the presence of Shakti is the anus, my anus, transmuting the duality of old fashioned, Newtonian, penis/vagina, lingham/Yoni love making into a multi orgasmic semen retended, never spent "petit mort" of non-ejaculation, leading to never ending sexual/spiritual arousal of the Atman/Soul which is the Divine Feminine/Divine Masculine in us all. IAM SHIVA I AM SHATKI. It is the reconciliation of those two gender poles in each of us that is contained in the Cosmic Coital union which I reiterate is the "best sex I have ever had." I hope at some point to create the perfect poetic metaphor which will depict this miracle, and, thus, capture your heart, not just yor sexy mind.
The tragic plight of the self-proclaimed cosmic prophet, caught between his own rhetorical ecstasy and the unfortunate burden of having to explain it. The boulevard of broken dreams, indeed — paved, it seems, with the remnants of your overextended metaphors.
You oscillate between tortured syntax and tantric revelation with the enthusiasm of a man who has just discovered both philosophy and his own rectum in the same breath. It’s admirable, really — the way you insist on your own grandiosity while simultaneously issuing disclaimers (“BTW, I am not gay”) like a Victorian gentleman who’s just realised his fainting couch is missing.
You speak of non-ejaculatory bliss, yet your prose suggests quite the opposite: a torrent of words, spilling forth with the urgency of a man desperate to prove his enlightenment via sheer volume. And yet, after all this, the grand poetic metaphor you seek remains tragically absent, lost somewhere between your proclamations of IAM SHIVA and the unfortunate reality that this is, in the end, just another man trying far too hard to sound like he invented sex.
But do keep at it! After all, the best poetry often emerges from prolonged frustration.
Have I dropped the microphone now?
Boy! Have you. Perhaps I have been overzealous. Forgive me. And I certainly haven't explained very well discoveries which are authentic. Thanks for your candor.
So rare to read about Shakti and Shiva and Kundalini Energy in such a debate! I am very impressed !
Thank you very much. Difficult to articulate. I am glad it penetrated.
😂😂😂 well, what could I add more?
I love your sense of humor, language and wordplay. Would you believe me if I told you it was a Freudian Slip? It is why the Buddha smiles.
Actually, "collapse" is not the description I had hoped to describe. Duality is an illusion. A Phantom. It does not exist. It is enormous socialization, usually, executed in the 1st 8 years or so of life. It is the opinions, ideas, concepts, etc. insemination in a very fertile human brain. After all of this data is downloaded from parents, family, neighbors, Schools, preachers, entertainment, even art, etc. absorbed by the child, a concept of self is formed by the child. He/she is under the impression this is who they are. So, enlightenment is not collapse, but realization of the illusion. The "person" might transform, be born again. Many do not, going through lufecwith this false identity.
When you write without bias towards a philosophical idea and without promoting a particular ideology ،
Precisely! You understood my intention.
Beautiful expression of the dance of energies meeting in love… 🙏🏽🌹✨
Thank you so much!
I understand a part of life from every piece of writing from you, Tamara. 🌱
Thank you.
This is such a wonderful thing to hear for any writer. I am grateful. Thank you, Zubair!
An offering. The love that never forgets. I hope. I loved her so. You made me cry again.
Emotions know no boundaries.
Thank you Tamara, for the softness.
Sex happens
Feel free to elaborate.
I totally agree but why is there so much promiscuity?
Because we live in an era of abundance and scarcity at once — endless options, but little depth. Promiscuity isn’t just about sex, it’s a symptom of restless seeking, of swiping, scrolling, sampling — always grazing, never feasting.
We’ve dismantled many of the old constraints — moral, religious, societal — but without replacing them with something more meaningful, we’re left with desire untethered, chasing novelty for its own sake. It’s not freedom, it’s distraction. The paradox? The more available intimacy becomes, the rarer it feels.
In a world drowning in connection, true communion has become the most elusive pleasure of all. Sadly.
Perfect explanation. When I wrote my complaint, in the back of my mind was the internet that has the patience of a gnat. That feeling of restlessness resides in many people I know. They jump at every chance of distraction. And lose sight of deeper (but somehow unexciting) values right in front of them.
Now that is an endangered species — children who think beyond the algorithm, who explore without a screen dictating the path. One rooted in facts, the other in fantasy — sounds like the perfect duet of mind and wonder. Love it!
What you’re giving them isn’t just knowledge, it’s attention, the rarest gift of all. The world they’re building in those morning walks will outlast any trending distraction. Keep going — you’re raising the kind of thinkers the world quietly hopes for but rarely nurtures. That is how I raised my son and my parents did the same for him, just as you do for your grandchildren.
Thank you. Kids do soak up attention. The more you give the more their brains work.
The internet is like a great banquet of distractions, where attention is currency and patience is poverty. We’ve trained ourselves to crave stimulation over substance, mistaking movement for meaning. Depth, by contrast, demands stillness, and stillness has become intolerable.
The tragedy? What feels “unexciting” is often just unfamiliar. Depth isn’t dull — it’s just slower, subtler, requiring an attention span longer than a headline. But those who resist the itch to jump, to swipe, to escape? They discover that beneath the surface, life isn’t boring — it’s inexhaustible. Try explaining that to most of the people, especially the young generation.
Very true. Two of our grand children (boys 10 and 12) are not permitted on the internet except to confirm data about wildlife or fishing, two of their interests. Every morning we do a walk and talk with the boys. One is data oriented and the other is imaginative. So the conversation ranges from the wingspan of an osprey to non-existent animals on a nonexistent planet. This is very fertile territory having nothing to do with swipe and escape. They are wonderfully entertaining to their grandparents.
Amen!
Love the scientist’s approach — curiosity first, conclusion later. Because isn’t great love-making just a laboratory of the senses? Hypothesis: What happens if I do this? Experiment: Try it. Observe the results. Adjust the method.
The best discoveries come from those willing to pay attention — to variables, to nuance, to the unrepeatable chemistry of the moment. And baseball? Well, even the sharpest minds need a control variable. Glad and thankful to have you in my “lab”, Billy!