Last week I blogged about Esalen and surrendering fully to the sensuality of a place. That wasn’t the first time I’ve done that.
In think Esalen and Breighton Bush are two of the most sensuous places in the States. They have amazing old-growth forests and meditation rooms that are so exquisite that even my restless thoughts want to stay.
But I think what launches the sensuality factor off the charts is that they both have outdoor hot springs where bathing suits are optional.
Everyone tends to opt out which has the fascinating effect of de-sexualizing nudity.
I LOVE this.
I love how it encourages me to steep deeply in the awareness that my body is a gift to be cherished and how the cultural norm of comparing it to unachievable standards starts to melt away.
I love the relaxation and confidence that results and how comfortable I feel in my own skin.
I love the openness it brings to these communities, the trust it fosters, so when we are all dressed and gathered to dine, there’s this sacred intimacy that allows us to share deeply over our organic greens and quinoa.
And that, to me, is ultimately sexy.
Sexy Prod: Tell me about your clothing optional experiences.
The seduction started before I even set foot on her soil, when I heard her voice ~deep, husky and unmistakably female~ resonating in the sound of the surf. As I stepped from the shuttle van, she traced a finger down the length of my spine and I shivered not from the coolness of a Big Sur summer evening, but from the realization that I had five days to flirt back.
And boy did I ever.
That first night I opened every window and door in my room, welcoming her into my sleeping chambers. (I had the coolest roommate ever who totally indulged me but I'm pretty sure he was under her spell as well.)
That sexy voice of hers rousted me before dawn every morning and lured me through the misty woods to the hot spring baths that I shared with the setting full moon. While the Pacific Ocean roiled below, I floated, naked, in the warmth of her amniotic embrace until the sun rose and other guests drifted in.
Those are the baths tucked into the cliffs.
Photo: Jeff Rynders
As if I hadn't melted enough, one morning after soaking I attended a Yin Yoga class taught by a Brazilian beauty who lead me so deeply into my pelvis and second chakra that I didn’t find my way out until lunch (not that I tried very hard). Even now if I close my eyes, I can hear the resonance of her sultry accent. Strangely, from all the beautiful and profound directives she gave us, the only word I remember is encompass. So I’ve been letting the sensory memory of that class encompass my pelvis which tends to relax every part of it but my clitoris.
The creek that giggled through the woods enchanted me out of my hike and into nymph mode. I found myself naked, laughing and splashing in her cool pools during my workshop’s mid-day break.
And the cypress trees (if you’ve been reading this blog you already know about me and trees) they were old and wise. Their branches beckoned me… ground yourself child…as I pressed first my hands, then my lips and then the entire front side of my body into the contours of their weathered gray trunks.
The outdoor swimming pool tugged playfully on my ponytail as I was heading to bed one evening. I think she was lonely since everyone else was at the hot baths. Never one to pass up a chance to skinny dip, I shed my clothes and dove in. The surf harmonized perfectly with the music of a lone guitar player on the other side of the hedge and their duet pulled me out of my breast stroke into a whirling dervish splash dance.
Last week had such a blissful, otherworldly quality, like that kind of dream that I don’t want to awaken from and someday won’t.
Heavenly? you might ask. Divine? Yes, I’d say. Absolutely.
And sexy as hell.
Like any accomplished flirt, Esalen makes you work for it. You have to prove your mettle by being patient on hold for phone reservations, coordinating shuttle buses and laying down a chunk of cash for accommodations. But she’s worth every penny and will return your effort in spades…
...by cracking your heart wide open.
Photo: Danielle Price
Been to any sexy places this summer? Tell me about it in the comments.
What's your sexiest season?I’m winter sexy.
I get off on skiing waist deep powder;soaking in hot springs; doing yoga in the early morning dark; and wrapping myself around a steaming mug of lemon ginger tea.
Summer sexy, with my allergies and freckled, sun-sensitive skin, takes a little more effort.
So in the heat of the day, I strip off my sweaty clothes, turn on the fan, curl up with my bad boy and take a sexy siesta.
This is particularly helpful if I’ve experienced sexy insomnia the night before.
It’s a round about way of getting enough sleep and according to a recent New York Times article, this isn’t a bad approach. In his article entitled “Rethinking Sleep” writer David K. Randal writes:
“Rather than helping us get more rest, the tyranny of the eight-hour block reinforces a narrow conception of sleep and how we should approach it.”
He continues, further supporting my sexy siesta/sexy insomnia strategy:
“It seemed that, given a chance to be free of modern life, the body would naturally settle into a split sleep schedule. Subjects grew to like experiencing nighttime in a new way. Once they broke their conception of what form sleep should come in, they looked forward to the time in the middle of the night as a chance for deep thinking of all kinds, whether in the form of self-reflection, getting a jump on the next day or amorous activity.”
Amorous activity. I love that.
I know my man never minds waking in the middle of the night to my torso- descending kisses. It just means we may need to crawl into the loft mid-day and take a nap.See how this works?
Are you winter sexy or summer sexy? Spring or fall?
Do you have a sexy relationship with sleep these days? Tell me about it. If not, be sure and read Randal's article.
P.S. I'm going to a workshop at a super sensuous place next week. No internet or cell coverage. See you in August.
One of the purposes of this blog is to blow the lid off the definition of sexy.
This post is the first of a new series to do just that.
Defining Sexy #1:
Sexy: (adj.) used to describe someone who has mastered a skill which you aspire to be good at but are hopelessly not.
For me, today, that skill would be: splitting firewood.
I find it is so incredibly hot the way my man swings an ax and slices through a huge pine log like it was a stick of butter. When I try, all I get is a few dents in the top of the log.
But I went out to the chopping block this morning more determined than ever because:
- I like to think of myself as a sexy mountain woman who can split her own firewood.
- I’ve been having lots of meltdowns and my woodpile is almost down to dirt. If I want to keep soaking, I really need to figure this out.
I put on a sexy lumberjack ensemble: Daisy Dukes that are too worn and short to be worn anywhere but the cabin; a lace-trimmed tank top; hiking boots and leather gloves. I threw everything I had into that ax and all I got was a ‘thunk’. I even closed my eyes and meditated on it, imagining the energy of my entire body transferring through the ax into the wood.
I decided it must be a leverage thing, given that my man is about six feet tall and I’m only five.
So I went inside the cabin in search of my new boots, a gift from my friend Katherine who encourages my erotica writing yet calls me Little Peanut which is only fair since I call her Bugs. I think she determined that I needed new pair of Come-Fuck-Me boots after reading this post.
I’ve never worn the boots outside the cabin since they are designed for seducing not hiking, but I was eager to test my leverage theory.
End result: After about ten thunks I finally hacked one round in two. I didn’t get much wood split but I laughed a lot.
Which brings me to Defining Sexy #2:
Sexy- (adj.) used to describe someone who is willing to look ridiculous in order to get better at something they find sexy.
Sexy Prod: What skill do you find so sexy that you are willing to look ridiculous trying to master it? Tell me about it in the comments. If you don't have one, find something. Dropping the ego and learning something new is super sexy.
I have a guest blogger this week. In this post, Herman gets off on a cup of coffee...
Recently I found myself in Roseburg, Oregon while away on work. With its streets lined with chain stores and more than a few seedy characters, I found Roseburg to be an uninspiring, somewhat sketchy town. That is, until I stopped at one of the hundreds of coffee stands there. Expecting to drive up and order my normal americano, imagine my surprise when this beauty greeted me at the window:
Judging by the smile on her face, I think she enjoyed my surprise and inability to make a coherent sentence. I've been away from home almost two months now, so admittedly it doesn't take much to arouse my desires. After the few minutes it took to get my coffee, the longing to reunite with my wife was heightened exponentially.
I was curious about the coffee shop, so when I got back to my room, the first thing I did (OK maybe not the first thing) was look up Bouncin’ Betty’s Coffee Company. I found a YouTube video from a local news segment that revealed a controversy about these bikini baristas.
Some people thought it was fun, while other’s comments ranged from:
"I find it extremely disgusting, and I'm sure I'm not the only wife and mother that feel this way,"
"I mean, it has it's place, but not in a coffee shop."
I wonder what she meant by 'it'. Bikini baristas have their place? Beautiful women have their place?
Personally, I think a coffee stand is a great place for a beautiful bikini barista. True, the coffee shop is making more money now that they hired bikini baristas, but does that mean they’re exploiting women? Is it a bad thing to get sexually aroused while buying coffee? There’s an old saying that I think could apply here:
“It doesn’t matter where you get your appetite, as long as you go home to eat.”
What do you think? Is this just another capitalistic exploitation of women, or a fun sexy way to get your cup of joe?
How about some sexy poetry this week? This one, by Kaylin Haught, is kind of sassy:
God Says Yes to MeI asked God if it was okay to be melodramaticand she said yes I asked her if it was okay to be shortand she said it sure isI asked her if I could wear nail polishor not wear nail polishand she said honeyshe calls me that sometimesshe said you can do just exactlywhat you want toThanks God I saidAnd is it even okay if I don't paragraphmy lettersSweetcakes God saidwho knows where she picked that upwhat I'm telling you isYes Yes YesSo Sweetcakes, what are you saying Yes Yes Yes to this week? Sexy Link: Click here for a series of three erotic poems at B.L. Ronan's sensuous blog.
Want hot sex with your partner?
Take separate vacations.
The word on the streets is that Eros needs a little space.
I shared a link in a recent post to a New York Times article by Daniel Bergner about female sexual desire and the search for a drug to stimulate it.
In that article, Esther Perel, a couples therapist and author of “Mating in Captivity,” writes:
“Many couples confuse love with merging. This mix-up is a bad omen for sex. To sustain élan toward the other, there must be a synapse to cross. Eroticism requires distance.”
Daniel Bergner popped up again in Salon Magazine where he was interviewed about his recently published book, “What Do Women Want? Adventure in the Science of Female Desire.” (You have got to love a man who dedicates his research to women’s sexuality.)
In the interview Bergner is asked if there are any lessons in his research for couples attempting long-term monogamous partnerships. He states:
“I think there’s real wisdom in what I discuss in the book, which is finding ways to, not only acknowledge, but reinstall the kind of distance in relationships. Our culture has somehow absorbed, or idealized, the merging, the “you complete me” line from “Jerry Maguire.” The idea of unconditional love within couples. And I think we’ve probably way overdone that.”
“I do think that candor and caring are important and then signing up to welcome distance back into relationships might well be the root to maintaining passion.”
So true! This winter my man and I were consumed with building two businesses. We completed each other’s chores.
But now I haven’t seen or touched him since April 30. And I have nine days (five hours, thirteen minutes) until I do.
I'm fascinated by how our time apart weaves us more passionately together.
I feel like the clock has been turned back to when this whole erotic memoir journey started, to the first spring of our marriage when he left me for six weeks for his annual pilgrimage to Northern California to teach whitewater kayaking. I started writing erotic essays to channel all my sexual energy and longing.
And last week, eight years later, I wrote a new one.
Sexy Tip: If you are in a relationship, plan a sexy solo adventure.
Sexy Link: Daniel Bergner’s book.
Me. Alone. At the cabin.
It’s become a spring ritual.
Last year I had a spring run off. This year I’m having a spring meltdown.
I’m not having one of those emotional meltdowns where I feel like I’m losing it and desperately dialing sisters and girlfriends for insight. (I got that out of the way this winter.)
Quite the contrary.
This spring I’m melting myself down like the white gold of my first wedding ring.(One man for the rest of my life? No problem. One ring? No way.)
I’m heating myself up here …
…and as I sit in our wood-fired hot tub and watch the snowy peaks morph into rivers, I too am softening and tapping into flow.
I’m ready, like molten gold, for a new design.
Watch for it.
Share your wedding/commitment ring stories. I have a few of them so I'll go first. I sold an engagement ring that never worked and that same afternoon used the money to buy my sage-green lingerie wedding dress. Great redesign.
Any redesign going on in your life? Home, career, relationship? Do share.
My sister forwarded me an article from the New York Times Magazine. (Keep those sexy forwards coming to email@example.com.)
The article is about the quest for a drug that will stoke sexual desire in women. A "female Viagra". Drug companies are currently running trials on these drugs, one of which is called Lybrido.
In the article they refer to a lack of lust in women with an appropriately unsexy name: hypo-active sexual desire disorder or H.S.D.D. for short.
It’s an eight-page article stuffed with great information. These three paragraphs grabbed my attention:
“For a sizable segment of the undesiring, the most common antidepressants, the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (S.S.R.I's) , can be the culprit. Millions of American women are on S.S.R.I.'s, and many of them would have good use for a pill to revive the libido that has been chemically dulled as a side effect of the pill they take to buoy their mood.”
“But for many women, the cause of their sexual malaise appears to be monogamy itself. It is women much more than men who have H.S.D.D., who don’t feel heat for their steady partners.”
“Lesbian couples seem to fare no better, and maybe worse, in keeping their sexual ardor for each other. The term “lesbian bed death,” coined by the University of Washington sociologist Pepper Schwartz in the ‘80s, has been critiqued as overstatement but not quite as fiction.”
I guess researchers have been hot on the trail of a female desire drug since the 80’s when Viagra showed just how much money can be made from sexy pharmaceuticals.
Have they never heard of tequila? But seriously, this is an important topic and one that deserves much greater inspection than I can cover in a single blog post. We can't keep throwing pills at something as sacred as female sexuality. I plan to take a deeper look at topics like erotic empowerment and sustainable sensuality in future posts.But until then...margaritas, Zumba, Nia, yoga, hot springs, meditation and of course, reading and writing erotica keep my sexy fires burning.
How about you? What stokes your sexual desire?
Sexy link: Click here for the full New York Times article
I’m back from my third rafting trip through the Grand Canyon.
Unlike my first trip that resulted in three erotic essays and my second trip trip where I did erotic photo shoots, this voyage down wasn't so sexy for me.I'll admit this was more than a little disturbing since one of the many ways I describe my erotic memoir is river erotica (click here and here for a little tease). Normally the river seduces my man and consequently me, into this highly aroused, spiritually-awakened ecstatic state.
Not this time. And as you can imagine, I’ve been trying to figure out why.
Rationalization #1: Maybe the river is just done with me. Or perhaps I’m done with her. She always has scared me shitless.
But, no. No way.
Rationalization #2: I was on vacation, so my sexy muses decided to take one too. Quite possible.
Rationalization #3: This year’s launch date was a month earlier than my other two trips so the weather was cooler. Plunging naked into water that was so cold it burned didn't cultivate a sultry vibe.
But I did it anyway.
Rationalization #4: I wasn’t Blogging Me Sexy. I wasn't consciously manifesting sexiness every week and writing it down for you.
That must be it.
Good thing I’m getting back at it.
Sexy prod: Inspire me. Share one of your sensuous spring moments in the comments.