How healing is leading me to pleasure
I’ve never thought I was perfect, but I always knew that I was art. They say a radical act of vulnerability; I shrug my shoulders and suggest, “I’m in the process, and this is a part of the journey, I guess.” Not just believing that I am art, but actually becoming it is a miracle and pretty dope as fuck. See, I’ve always wanted to be an artist, and I’ve seen the meme plenty of times that quotes, “you are your greatest project.” And that is true, but I must add that you are your most divine and marvelous creation, and you have unlimited iterations to create- so become the art and the artist.
I’ve been in a constant conversation with this temple. I’ve expressed my journey with my body in many of my writings. The most recent was Wellness Beyond Exercise. From being the fat girl to bulimia to attempting to bind my breast and considering hormone therapy to help me rid of the “jiggle” but not transform my composition completely.
I was about to name my body something else – something objectified, something detached and without life. However, speak-writing from an awareness below my vibrations to make a point is also no longer a go-to for me– just as much as not revering my body as a holy temple it is. So here I am in the thick of my latest creative project, Daisa’s Diary- an immersive experience, and as I am bringing this vivacious energy to life, I, too, become a part of the process of getting naked and showing what lies beneath.
I mean really, how did I get here? How did I get to me walking around with my naked body on my sweatshirt or canvas displays in a virtual art exhibit– how did I finally see my body as a holy temple, a work of divine art? How did I finally pull my head out of a toilet every time I felt like I overate? How did I arrive at standing in the mirror without hurling a shotgun size bullet of murderous words at the sight of what I considered deeply flawed?
Where did the acceptance for the curves in my waist, arch in my back, and the plump melons sitting almost symmetrically on my chest, come from? These high and chubby chick bones with facial hair, probably PCOS, but I ain’t here to say my hormone imbalance is a “problem”– it is what it is. With all the adornment, my estrogen fills out my masculine present– and I love it all— just like it is.
How did I get here to love my body in the process and also care enough not to victimize its stride in wellness?
Have you ever visited a Hindu or Buddhist temple? I have been in only a few, and my mention of these two doesn’t mean other forms of collective spiritual practices do not possess them. Still, I can only tell you what has struck my attention from the moment you walk onto the property or into the worship sanctuary of a carefully crafted worship place—the finely chiseled marble to the elaborate displays of gods. I am reminded of the welcoming silence, the selfishness of rituals, and the awe that overtakes your entire being when you witness devotion in every crevice of existence. And as I (re)member my own temple, I can’t help but think of the love it took and continues to take for this holy place to remain dwell-able
To dwell in the body as a temple– a sacred space.
But here I am– being and getting free, and it’s deep too. Because my relationship with my body gently laid my temple in a bed of pleasure. An embrace ready to brushstroke my entire canvas and explore the delights of my internals. I need touch, but not knowing how to translate it from being felt-on is causing all kinds of abstract interpretations. Afraid of this feeling of not knowing how to allow myself to be pleased in every capable way is troubling. So, I trek forward as I have done many times on my healing and life journey to engage intimacy beyond the performative boxes because I’ve always silently prayed for a deep worship experience. Yes, more profound than the deep I’ve explored. And though all wonderful and sincerely appreciated, I know we both deserve to rise together. To leap, fly and dive within and among the stars. To see their smile in the structure of the cosmos, and feel the nothingness of them rebirthing oneself repeatedly through the voids from which all life emerges.
So, how did I get to this point? Hmmm… I decided to dedicate my life to healing my heart, and though this journey will never be as seamless as I so desire, it’s beautiful, and the love that pours from loving without absolutely no conditions unclothed me. I want to rub my fingertips over the artistic expressions of the divine and welcome them into my holy of holies. With every step on this process of Daisa’s Diary– allow pleasure to bring you closer and closer back home– into your divine dwelling of unconditional love and share it unapologetically with whoever summons god out of you.