Erotic Intimacy and Tantra

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Ironically, I learned about this concept without a partner. In my single years, I executed a crazy experiment where consciously, I decided not to have an orgasm for a year.

No touching or canoodling—nada.

Suspecting the spiritual nature and sexuality were connected, I wanted to test abstinence’s effect on my spiritual self-actualization. Walking around like a monkish pleasures-of-the-flesh-abstinence adept, I hoped to transmute the latent sex energy into something awesome. My body would become a living alchemy of crazy sex energy, bursting with power.

Ultimately, this method would provide me with a river of rapid flowing energy discharged for quick manifestations.

In tandem, I yoga’d out and built a meditation practice om’ing three times a day to cope without my usual orgasmic release, which even without a partner, was (ahem) considerable.

At the time, the experiment yielded some fascinating results.

I wrote a book in six months, found an incredible loving partner and saw a major increase in my spiritual expansion. But recently, I was feeling my partner’s absence as something more unsettling. After spending over a week in the Costa Rican rainforest, the lack of my partner’s touches had me feeling the pang of truth from the old adage.

Like the times before without the release, I felt my head was going to pop off.

While lamenting to my best girlfriend about my recent ‘urges’ percolating, she mentioned Tantra as a sexual practice. She’d been to a couples workshop in Colorado led by tantric veteran Caroline Muir. She encouraged me to let the current of bubbly sex energy build, ride the wave and read Caroline’s work to my husband after I got home.

Partner Pleasures

Granted, we already had a pretty rockin’ sex life, even after eight years, but my being away for this stint awakened a strong desire to be more creative in the sack. We’d never broached the subject of Tantra, but if Sting was into it, how bad could it be? I wanted to carry that heart pounding absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder thing back to Alaska and knock his woolly socks off like a Lioness.

I had images of my hair wild, singing Carol King’s, “I feel the earth move under my feet” writhing over top of him like a nature Goddess, riding our wave of ecstasy.

I like to follow the philosophy of the Tao and watch what is present. So when I searched for Caroline Muir and couldn’t find her book online I purchased Urban Tantra by Barbara Carrellas instead—I wasn’t disappointed.

Carrellas goes into vivid detail and great depths on using the tantric way for mutual stimulation and arousal. She teaches how to literally breathe more life into sex through more traditional tantric techniques like yoni and lingham massage, to more alternative methods like S & M and fetishes; she covers a wide swath.

Thankful for Barbara’s visual aids and along with her compelling voice and stories, I was ready to trust the Tantra.

How to Approach Mind, Body, Sex for Women

“Tantra refers to this step [of re-directing sexual energy through relaxation instead of tension] as placing a foot on the first step of the ladder of growth.” Richardson

Why does it usually seem that our spiritual practices are so separate from our sexual behavior? In the interest of body-mind integration, BoBuReview checks out a non-Buddhist book on sexual tantra, or tantra yoga, to see if and/or where there are any lines of convergence between our upper and lower charkas.

TantraIf we follow Buddhism’s middle way, we know the wisdom of avoiding extremes. Over-indulgence in sex will not help us on the path to realization. But neither will pretending we don’t have bodies, or trying to repress/deny/ignore our sexuality. We need to work intelligently with our vital energy – thigles, in Tibetan – otherwise practice can become dry, dull, or overly intellectual. And to be frank, most of us could use some sexual healing.

For practitioners especially, the more we understand our sexuality, the more likely we are to channel it into spiritually-productive pathways. As author Diana Richardson says, “As prevalent as sex is, it is a rare person who has discovered a way to derive full satisfaction or a loving heart from its practice.” Ms. Richardson is rather like a tantric goddess who has come to give us some much-needed sexual instruction, but from a spiritual perspective.

Diana Richardson is dynamically unembarrassed about sex, as well as learned in healthy ways of using it to open our hearts and enhance awareness. She describes the ascending and descending phases of sexual energy; the spiritual path emphasizes the former, while the biological emphasizes the latter.

“Tantra refers to this step [of re-directing sexual energy through relaxation instead of tension] as placing a foot on the first step of the ladder of growth.” Richardson claims that our tendency of “goal-orientation,” making sex into another item on our already-full To Do list, results in haste, which “effectively and seriously” represses our sexual energy. In this regard, Richardson’s book is a stand-in for a sex therapist who would first remind us to reclaim our sexuality before we can use tantra to transform it. “We only know how to ‘do’ in love, and not how to ‘be’ in love.”

Richardson gives many specific practices to counteract our cultural uncomfortability with sex. “In the Western world . . . we keep busy to avoid facing the insecurities or anxieties we may feel about love and intimacy.” Even more relevant may be her insight that sexual tension “lives on as frustrated desire [lung, in Tibetan], that accumulates with time and is continually seeking release.” (And, needless to say, ends up being a destructive force in our lives if left unhealed.)

Yet, when we “validate sexuality by incorporating consciousness . . . we discover sex to be a [natural] healing spiritual force.” Contrary to ordinary sexual attraction, which tends to decrease over time, Richardson states that with tantra, “attraction increases [as] the sexual experience gets finer and finer.”

One of the more surprising statements she makes, based on years of study, practice, and counseling her own clients, is that Tantra’s “positive poles of love” are the male organ and the female breasts. “These two polarities must be drawn into love-making in order to avoid great dissatisfaction in sex.”

Diana Richardson claims that real female kundalini energy “lies not at the spinal base . . . but in the breasts.” She elaborates on her findings in a thought-provoking section on generating sexual energy through polarity. “Making love in this way, utilizing polarity, begins the process of establishing a powerful energy field between and within two bodies. Bio-electricity flowing within the magnetic field follows a spiral path . . . the kundalini energy, located at the base of the male spine.”

“The Heart of Tantric Sex” makes it clear that when the breasts (and thus the heart) of a woman “are fully resonant, this snake [of kundalini energy] will implode, gracefully unwinding and giving way within.” Which might result in what many people are looking for with coitus, i.e., the best sex ever.

Improved gender relations involve a return to true masculine-feminine polarity, not as dominant-submissive, but as attractive opposite forces that complement each other. “Falling into balance through this intrinsic polarity creates harmony, understanding, respect, and mutual appreciation.”

For those on the path who are in loving relationships, the art of sexual tantra (as opposed to deity practice) is the “union of sex and meditation . . . awareness transforms sex into love.” While I’m not sure there is such a thing as easy sex magic, Richardson writes like a tantric dakini who wants us to share in the joys of sacred sex.

“Tantra roots the consciousness in the body and uses it as a constant reference point, enabling us to stay increasingly in the present moment . . . Indeed [since] the body is the only thing that exists in the present moment, learning to live through the body increases our chances of overall happiness.”

Even though everyone presumably enjoys orgasm, if not multiple orgasms, obviously tantric love-making isn’t for everyone. It requires that we take the time to be still and drop our agendas and allow our emotions, tears as well as laughter, to come to the surface. All of which can be very unsettling for the ego – and precisely why it can be good for spiritual practice.

As an expert in tantra techniques, Richardson is an unapologetic crusader for a return to “a sense of uncontrived aliveness in the body, which is as essential to the act of meditation as it is to making love.”

She outlines a series of exercises, including tantric massage, to enhance this aliveness, from using our breathing as a bridge between mind/thinking and body/feeling, to deep, open-eyed gazing between partners to increase emotional connection, to communicating how we’re feeling in the present moment, including during the act of sex.

“The more the mask of the personality is challenged and dissolved, the deeper the experience of Tantric union.”

If we can question our sexual conditioning and reframe sex as a support for our spiritual practice, incorporating some of Richardson’s tantric lovemaking ideas, we may be able to transform ordinary desire into a rare and delightful fuel on the path to awakening for the benefit of all sentient beings.

Curated by Erbe
Original Article