The Woody

There probably isn’t anything more fascinating than a stiff cock. Not everyone’s of course, there are certain people, maybe even some obnoxious world leaders, whose members flaccid or tumescent I have absolutely no desire of seeing. But generally speaking, beholding and touching a guy’s manhood in all its glory is a pretty sweet deal.

Access to a woody is not so simple, it can stir up desire and fear in equal proportions. At the center of these contradictions stands the erect cock proud of itself while smirking at our weaknesses. It is bursting with energy, wants to be petted, even beckons for attention from across a room, and longs to be touched, to connect with someone else. It is one powerful little package, and because of this cultures have built up all kinds of restrictions and punishments for those who dare to transgress. I have known straight identifying guys who have wanted to see and touch another guy’s woody. With desire as universal as this, no wonder the fear mongers have worked overtime to cast every slur in the books against our cocks, and they have done a pretty good job of enslaving a lot of people to their beliefs.

It seems a little silly to me that male nudity in paintings is often accepted, yet it is still not a common sight in other more immediate cultural mediums such as films, TV, and the stage. Even in these mediums, an erection is taboo, it seems to be the point at which art becomes porn. When you consider the amount of time that is taken up with people viewing porn on the internet, it shows just how powerful a force erotic energy is, and how weak the controls against it are.

In more ways than one, the woody is a lightening rod!! As we get closer to breaking its protective taboos, anxiety levels rise. Even in my Sacred Intimacy practice, it has not been uncommon to see this kind of anxiety play itself out as guys in a first session caution me that they might get an erection. Although such anxiety surfaces, it usually does not last long. Once we get into touch space, all such fears melt away. There is such a depth of wisdom in the simple act of touch that can do much to heal us.

I don’t know how new myths come about, but if they could be created in an instant, I would advocate for one that recognizes the connective and healing power that radiates out from cocks in full glory, and that intimate touch with them needs to be open and free of guilt regardless of gender or sexual orientation. Though I am not a utopian by nature, I like to think we are moving in this kind of direction, smashing old taboos, and erasing the guilt and pain that afflict so many people for what is a completely natural desire.

The One-Eyed Monster

There is no question in my mind that we have a bloody cool tool between our legs, and packing much more power than you would expect from a single piston engine. When it is throbbing at full force, it could slay a dragon! So it is not surprising that our little soldiers have earned such titles as the one-eyed monster.

First, a confession, yes I have enjoyed many a good joke about the monsters lurking in our BVDs. Yet when I think about my guy, I don’t see him as a monster. Although he is a horny little bugger, I see him more in the sense of a warrior than a monster. A warrior? Sure, but one fighting the good cause of bringing sensual joy into the world, one of spreading pleasure as we spread our legs.

I would go so far as to say we have a one-eyed genius at work down there warming our loins. Instead of a battering ram laying siege to an entire city, a cock can be the source of great healing power, a kind of shamanic warrior. Like all great warriors, our guys are gentle when stroked but fierce when provoked. Fierce, that is, in being single minded in the pursuit of stimulating pleasure, of bringing a healing force into our lives, and of casting aside the hate mongers who spread wicked rumors about our cocks being the root of all shame.

It could be that from time immemorial fig leafs of shame have been tossed at our cocks, yet the energy of those little guys has continually found ways through which to let loose, express themselves, and ultimately to push back the Goliaths of shame. Not bad for a single piston engine, it shows what strength and healing power there really is lurking between our thighs. And if you doubt there is healing power in eros, just think of the warm glow that pulsates through your body after an orgasm. No pharma product can match that!

Instead of a one-eyed monster, I’d like to think of our cocks as one-eyed shamans. There is a wealth of wisdom tucked into that third eye. We can learn much from it by giving it the honor, respect, and freedom it deserves.


Penis Power

Outside of a few warm and sunny days, spring this year in Berlin has been chilly and cloudy. On an impulse a little while ago, I got off the S-Bahn at the Botanical Garden on my way home. I’ve passed it on my bike or the train probably thousands of times and have never gone in.

In spite of the late spring, I was happy to see signs of life sprouting up here and there, and not surprisingly in the warm and sunny spots. Just looking at the flowers in the sun conjured up erotic images. Heat is energy and energy is a life source, without it we are dead. Think of how our bodies warm up when we begin touching another person. Whatever coolness we have at the start quickly gives way to a radiating warmth as our bodies come into an ever deeper and more intimate contact.

As I ponder on energy, life, and touch, an image comes to mind of DaVinci’s drawing Vitruvian Man. At the center is the penis. Lying at the center of the body, it is the axis around which everything turns. I think of times when I just sit and allow myself to feel the energy radiate from my cock up through my pelvis and out into my torso.

It only gets better when I am with another guy – together, the sensations are increased a thousand fold. The more erect our cocks get, the more heat and energy they give off, and the more we want to receive it as our bodies open themselves up. At a cellular level, we know where the life giving energy source is – we feel it in every level of our bodies. It is only natural that we turn to it the way a flower tilts towards the sunlight.

As it is with flowers, we too have an innate need to spread our seed. So why, I wonder, is there this idea of an orgasm as being a petit mort, a little death? For me, it is really a little birth – something that gives me energy. Post orgasm, I revel in the subtle radiating energy that fills us with the warmth and joy that lingers and nourishes us. It is nature’s gift, and one that fills me with a feeling of wellbeing. Lying together with a partner, letting our wetness moisten our bodies, tasting each other’s essence, going in and out of an erotic trance…ahhh, springtime.

Edge of Wetness

Images of moisture have been surrounding me. Over the weekend, I was strolling the streets of misty Vienna, taking a short break from rainy and misty Berlin. In my wanderings, I visited the Hundertwasser Museum, water water everywhere. While listening to a recording of him describing his experiences in painting, images of my journeys in Sacred Intimacy and touch came to mind. Painting took him out of this world, beyond its judgments and limitations and into a dream world in which imagination flourished.

As voyagers in Sacred Intimacy, we too journey into a dream space, into a realm beyond time and things separating us, beyond society’s judgmental and restrictive eye, into a place where we are free to be creative and wet in the most profound of ways.

Wetness is one of Eros’s trail markers, it shows us the way in. At first touch, our bodies are dry, our kisses maybe only damp. Progressing deeper into touch space, our building energy leaves more traces of wetness, trickles of pre-cum ebb and flow, and our excitement builds as we ride the edge of wetness prolonging its final eruption for as long as possible. All the while, we are in a kind of forgetfulness freeing us from time and space. It is an erotic dream space, a realm in which we feel the full powers of rejuvenation culminating with our cocks exploding in wet celebration.

Like Hundertwasser’s experience of forgetfulness in the dream space that was the wellspring for his paintings, I feel much the same with journeys into touch space. It is like drinking from the waters of the River Lethe in Greek mythology. Only by drinking of the waters of forgetfulness, of oblivion, are we cleansed to be reborn.

I think the Greeks were onto something here. The world places more than enough obstacles in the various pathways of erotic life, and especially for those of us who vibrate to homoerotic pulses. It is all the more important for us to wash away this negativity, to enter oblivion, and to feel the nourishment of rebirth. It all begins with the simple act of stripping and touching, from there the wetness trickles into a flood from which we emerge newly energized, and thus newly whole.

For Hundertwasser, a painting was a record of his journey into forgetfulness. For me, it is the glowing traces left in my moisture laden body from the experience.

Erotic Zen

For the past few days, I have been reading about Zen, something I know very little about. It struck me that there are similarities between the sense of oneness and healing that are experienced in Zen meditation and my practice of Sacred Intimacy. No doubt there are those far more enlightened in Zen who would frown on such a notion. Nevertheless, this fool will rush in where the enlightened angels fear to tread.

Being present, at one with oneself and the cosmos, feeling a sense of harmony, of stillness, and of wholeness are ideas common to many spiritual practices. Various traditions have evolved methods for attaining these states such as prayer, meditation, sitting, mindful walking, and so on. All seem to have the goal of calming our chatty minds so that we can step outside our egos to experience something beyond description.

Admittedly, Zen is a solo practice even when done in the midst of others, whereas Sacred Intimacy is about two people entering into an erotic journey together. During my own travels into the erotic, I like to take my time by beginning with us fully clothed and moving gradually into our naked selves. Connection starts with touching each other’s hearts, looking into each other’s eyes, syncing our breaths. What follows is guided by intuition as our minds grow calm and our egos slip away. Already notions that define us become irrelevant, our identities become unimportant. These journeys are about opening ourselves up to our partners by entering a non-verbal world where touch takes over from seeing. Erotic space guides our bodies and shows us into the magic realm. It knows were to go, all we need do is to open our hearts and follow it.

Perhaps the feelings of oneness and healing that are in the afterglow following orgasm are similar to those the Zen masters have written about. I suspect they are because through an erotic journey we have stepped outside of things thad divide us, set us apart from each other, and perhaps that even set us apart from our selves. Basking in the trancelike state that follows orgasm, my mind is usually at its most perceptive and peaceful. Not only have I benefitted from the build up and release of energy in my own orgasm but in that of my co-journeyer as well. With our bodies deeply connected, there is no more powerful experience than feeling the surge of each others orgasms. Equally as powerful is the sensation of our energies nourishing each other as we lie together in our post orgasmic trance.

Maybe this is not what Zen masters would think of as having reached an enlightened state, a Zen state, but when I read their descriptions about being in a state of wholeness and healing these are the experiences from my life that come to the surface and beckon me to practice, practice, practice…


Wet Dream – For Two

What a great gift nature bestows on men, wild erotic dreams culminating in an eruption of man milk covering you and your sheets in a gooey glow. Life is good! I was thinking about how much like a dream state, and a wet one at that, the erotic journeys I write about in these posts are.

My journeys begin with my fellow explorer and me stripping each other as we move into touch space. Just recently, I was thinking about this transition and how similar it is to sleep and the ways in which our bodies descend through various stages into the magic of a dream world. In the world of touch space, we also enter into a kind of magical dreamlike world, one that takes us beyond the limitations of clothing and the judgmental eye – beyond the world of taboos to a space where we can revel in the joys of eros.

In erotic touch space, we discover worlds that seem to lie dormant in our psyches waiting for us to enter. At the right moment, somehow we know where to go and how to get there. Another type of dream space comes to mind, the kind brought to life through the song lines of the aboriginal peoples of Australia. As they wander the outback, they hardly have need for maps as we think of them. As they sing a certain sequence of songs, their geography unfolds before them. Their maps tell stories, and through them they relive the truths of their existence.

Journeying in the touch world is not all that different. In touch space, we enter a world that has its own geography, to which we each have a map and our own unique stories. All are outside the  rational guideposts and boundaries of our conscious world.

In my experience with various co-journeyers, our explorations unfold mutually with little to no verbal communication. Every journey is unique regardless of the number of times I have travelled with a particular partner. Just as no two dreams are the same, so too with erotic journeys. In our co-venture through the geography of eros, our fantasies are different but we share touch at the deepest levels. Our wet dream world is a space where we intimately connect with someone, share a deeply erotic experience, and give each other the gift of wetness. When I am basking in the afterglow of orgasm with a co-journeyer, the feeling I have is of the deepest connection with this person and of a profound gratefulness for having shared a journey that not only brought us together but of doing so in a way that sets us free.



Intimacy…Practice, Practice, Practice

Intimacy can refer to everything from a casual sexual encounter to a long lasting marriage. There are probably as many shades of intimacy as there are people, but a common thread is the sense of opening ourselves up to another.

For me, intimacy is also a practice, and one that is touch centered. In much the same way as playing the piano, or writing, or going to a fitness center, it’s an activity for which I set aside a space and time. There are people with whom I share the practice, and we structure this by setting aside a time and space with the intention of sharing an intimate and erotic journey.

At the beginning of each session, we consciously transition from the familiar world dominated by talk to the world of touch. As we shed ourselves of clothing, the silent ways of skin on skin communication take over. Touch has a knowledge that goes deeper than rationality, and one that can open profound vistas if we can but let it happen.

Invariably in the course of each journey, there is some sensation, some area of our bodies that opens itself up to us, and that somehow seems new and unexplored. In some magical way, this happens not only with more recent partners but with ones I have had an intimate practice of many years with. This points up a benefit of a long-term practice,  that it is possible to break through inhibitions so that you and your partner can have the freedom to flow  with each other’s energy and to discover new areas. It is very much like the insights I often have when interpreting a piece of music that has been a part of my life for many years – new voices appear, inner rhythms I had not seen, new dimensions. It has everything to do with being able to look into the other, regardless of how familiar, and to open up our senses so that we can explore with new eyes, fingers, and whatever else comes into play.

Sometimes the things in life that appear to be the most effortless require the greatest amount of work. The great musicians, artists, sports players, to highlight only a few, give the impression that their craft simply falls to them with ease. For the most part, this is anything but true, they work at it. So too with the practice of intimacy. Every time we cast off a veil that blocks something in us or in those we practice with, the horizon changes, and we reach new levels. The energy we feel in our bodies is more alive. When it flows freely, we discover new and invigorating ways to express ourselves. Yes, practice does make for perfection, and fortunately for us there is always something needing work.