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*This article contains naughty language!

From an early age, I took an interest in exploring and knowing my own body intimately.

I used to think something was wrong with me. Or that I was just too much—too needy, too vigorous, too attached, too weird. I felt different and completely estranged because it wasn’t deemed “normal,” and it certainly wasn’t something any of my friends were talking about. I wanted to know how my body worked, what every piece of me was properly called, and what it was all meant for. But more than anything, I was curious about the possibilities of what it all could do.

I remember the impeding feelings about being a “virgin” and “saving myself” for the right person. I can recall the taboos around exploring my body and how this resulted in my unknowing because it was not made for my navigation. I also remember the feeling that this was something dirty to even think about. It was normal to think that “losing my virginity” would be more important, like some holy trine that I handed off to some random man. Because it was made for him, and he was worthy of it, or some crap like that.

More than anything, I had this deep inner knowing that none of that shit mattered.

Maybe for the sake of spiritual hygiene and energetic energy exchanges, it matters. Taking into consideration the person we explore our sexuality with is important because we do not want to entangle ourselves with any unwanted energies. We want to be mindful with whom we share ourselves, intimately, sexually, sensually, and physically.

But I have never felt that my body was primarily a sanctuary for somebody else’s pleasure, reverence, or honor.

I never felt that my body would be deemed holy, precious, or righteous once it was penetrated by a man. I never even believed in the idea of losing my virginity. What was it that was so sacred and wild that would be lost when—and only when—it was penetrated by a man? Why should a man have that kind of power? The answer just never landed well with me.

I was more curious in knowing: “What can I explore and know about this body of mine, that will be mine in sickness and in health, for the rest of my life?”

And even more than that, I think I was just so connected to my primal promptings that no fear-mongering advice or chalked-up ideology from society or the world around me even penetrated my being and inherent wisdom. Ever. It immediately felt false right down to its knees.

“So, I explored, and—oh, my god—that small nudge to go against the grain and follow my inner compass drastically stuck with me. It became a well of nourishment for me from that day on.”

Today, as a grown woman, seasoned and grounded in many areas of my life, I wholeheartedly embrace my own self-pleasure. So damn unapologetically. And quite frankly, I love and embody it so much that I implore everyone to get to that level of intimacy within themselves to the degree that I openly and publicly talk playfully about the power of pleasure, sensuality, and orgasms with those around me.

Haven’t I any shame? No, absolutely not.

In fact, getting familiar and comfortable with my own body has completely dispelled any internal shame I previously held. I knew that any prior guilt I felt was everything that was passed onto me subconsciously from the women before me who also absorbed it from false, rigid expectations and limitations from society. Bless their hearts.

Exploring my body on my own terms has reaped immense benefits: it has inherently dismantled the demonization that much of society and religion has falsely projected upon those of us who are unapologetically sexual beings, and it has brought me closer to my inner sanctuary, introducing me to the space within myself that allows me to know my innate needs, desires, longings, and ecstasy. It also teaches me exactly what I like, where I like it, and how I want it. It teaches me what it feels like to be touched and loved safely, respectfully, wildly, and beautifully. It primes me to know exactly what it will feel like when I meet the right person who touches me with the same energy and movement as I do with myself.

When I take the time to know my body’s unique rhythms, I create the space to dismantle any old, toxic programming and fill myself up with something much healthier and more harmonious. Even so, being with my pleasure has brought me closer to my capacity to be with and move through my pain.

I began to wake up and move through previous body traumas just from self-penetration alone.

How? Because being with my body is safe. My body and her responses know that it is absolutely natural and necessary to process everything she had experienced before. And in my hands, she is wildly and organically safe to do so.

And it is so damn liberating to know that I am, after all, granted the rights and responsibilities to this body. I am granted the holy matrimony to make love to myself and hold the torch for what happens here, at this altar. It is so damn liberating to demystify, debunk, and decolonize all of the old, stale, shameful structures and finally know, honor, revere, love, and fucking redeem my body in every way.

I wish for all women:

>> to break down the barriers and get comfortable with themselves in this empowering way
>> to question why we have been taught to shame our bodies and deny the sexual desires and hungers
>> to accept sexualization

It is especially my wish for all modest women who are taught to be quiet and small, who have endured deep sexual and physical abuse. It is my wish for those whose primal rights have been stripped from them and put into the hands of somebody else. I wish for them to say, “Fuck these restrictions,” and finally know their bodies.

With that being said, I know that exploring and expressing one’s sexual signature is not for everyone. I know that some women live equally holy and beautiful lives (just in different ways). In some cultures, women enjoy covering their bodies and never going there with their bodies. That is an honorable liberation, in its own way, too.

But for me, whose life dharma feels parallel toward going against the grain, and as someone who has survived sexual and domestic abuse, it feels crucial to reclaim and redeem all parts of myself, as well as my sexual and creative life force energy. This means traversing these paths on my own, going toward the grassy fields, and leaving my footprint. In this path of least resistance toward myself and my body, I have traversed even further along the path of “breaking the mold” by relaxing enough to receive my pleasure wholly and fully. To even allow myself to go there, I feel validated as I receive an invitation into realms of immense possibilities beyond measure.

In this magical space, I am closer to myself—the big self.

I wake up every single day and make time for my pleasure. Sometimes that looks exactly how you think it would—finding my sweet spot and reaching climax for that euphoric, serotonin bomb of the bliss-like meeting-with-God feeling. Other times, it’s as simple as laying my hands on my belly, my breasts, my legs, my heart, and feeling for its sensations. It’s as simple as playing with my hair, tickling my nails against my neck and collar bone, breathing fully and deeply into my chest, belly, yoni. Sometimes it is just hearing the song of my being. My self-intimacy is not always sexual, and that’s okay too.

Intimacy is not synonymous with sexuality. Self-intimacy is simply being with what is taking place inside of me. Sexuality is what I do to stimulate, arouse, and shake up all parts of me; it allows me to meet myself with my absolute richest sensuality. I am a firm believer that how I meet myself is exactly how I show up for those around me and in my everyday reality. The way that we rev up, move with, and ride out our sexual energy is the same way we harness, work with, and embody our creative energy. It’s much more holy and sacred and absolutely fucking cosmic than just “rubbing one out.”

Rubbing one out feels so basic and devoid of intention. It’s more about moving through all of the awkward feelings around shame, guilt, and discomfort that arise and literally loving my way through it. It also gets me out of the overwhelming linear and logical thinking and into a more fluid-like receptive state of creative expression. Ultimately, it’s more about connecting to that primal and cosmic life force energy within ourselves and playing with how we navigate and direct it out onto the world around us.

Being with my self-pleasure has shown me what I truly desire and enjoy. It has been the prompting to my voluptuous and juicy “Yesses!” and it has been the catalyst toward finding my hard and holy “Nos!” It has taught me about flow, receptivity, body language, the wisdom of our bodies, and honestly just being authentically true with myself.

It also just reminds me of who I am. It takes me directly to my God-like self and reminds me to take my pleasure seriously.

So, go for it. Demystify and decolonize your sacred body. If you feel called. If that is your purpose. Reach every cavernous depths of corridors you are fear mongered into avoiding. Explore those spaces and go deeper. Take your pleasure seriously, the same way you approach your work, your tasks, and your mundane reality. Embrace your pleasure until it becomes an intimate and necessary priority in your everyday reality. Because it kind of is. It is the origins of everything we see and know here, in our world, already.