Of all the ways that Orgasmic Meditation (OM) has opened me up—unleashing blocked creativity, overcoming money scarcity and a feeling of deprivation, going from living a small life to living larger and more confidently—perhaps the biggest shift has been letting go of my suspicion and high vigilance around men.
I’m a coach and a bodyworker in my mid-20s, and I discovered Orgasmic Meditation when I was in college before I’d had many experiences with the opposite sex. I had recently gone through a period where I felt asexual, having lost my period for a year and sensing my desire wane. So, when I heard about OM from a friend—an adventurous person who often dove into unusual experiences—I knew intuitively that it would be relevant to me. I knew I had stuff to uncover there.
My friend described Orgasmic Meditation as a playground for super-spiritual discoveries, which intrigued me because I knew it was a practice of clitoral stroking. It wasn’t until I met more women who OMed that I decided to try the practice myself. These people were all different, but what they had in common was a heart-centered expressiveness and a sense of being in their full power. They magnetized me.
My first OM was in my apartment with a man who was an experienced stroker. On a few occasions, we’d had a chance to talk and get to know each other beforehand. So, even though I was nervous, this helped me feel more at ease. We started to OM, and partway through, I had a strange experience: my genitals went numb. I panicked because I couldn’t feel anything at all, and I even asked him to stop stroking and hold still so I could try to get my feelings back. I’d never had that experience of numbness before, and I never had it again after. But perhaps it was a signal that I had work to do around holding sensation in my body.
After OMing, I planned to attend a spiritual gathering. I often had a hard time connecting to the community there and feeling included and at home. But this time was different. I felt brighter, lit up. I started OMing once a week. Even though I trusted my partner and felt safe, in those early days of practicing, I had a strange feeling of anger. When I would notice sensations, a part of my brain would say, How dare they cause what I’m feeling in my body! As I continued OMing, that went away because I realized and accepted that the sensation in my body was mine.
This sounds like a subtle epiphany, but the effect it had on my life was big. Before, I used to internally contract around men, particularly if I didn’t know them. When I was out walking in my city neighborhood, I had a high sense of vigilance around men who looked at me or said typical things aimed at young women, like “You’re beautiful,” “Bless you,” or even just “Hello.” I would avert my gaze, curl into myself, and feel a need to tighten my muscles. I hid my body with my clothes. I’d dread the energy that was coming my way, thinking, How dare they!
Realizing that the sensations in my body were mine gave me a sense of freedom. I came to understand that if I felt tense in my body, that was due to my own patterns and conditioning. Slowly, as I expanded my capacity to hold sensation through OMing, I grew more relaxed in situations around unknown men. Eventually, I didn’t care anymore when I crossed paths with them. I realized that I could play and even flirt during such interactions. One day, with my earphones on, I even danced in a sports field with people walking in sight—something I would have been too inhibited to do before.
This newfound awareness of sensation and ownership of my body has also transformed how I work as a coach and bodyworker. People often come to me with very charged topics, such as violence or depressive thoughts, and I can sit with them instead of going into fight-or-flight mode. I have the confidence and the presence to handle whatever comes to me.
Once, a new client that I had just met said something critical about my intake process. In the past, such a comment might have shaken my confidence or triggered negative thinking. But since I’d been OMing, I knew how to sit with it. I could hold space for that client, stay non-reactive, and offer empathy. I was even grateful for their comment because it gave me useful information about their mindset. We went on to have an amazing session and continued working together for a long time afterwards.
Orgasmic Meditation (OM) has helped me develop the capacity to experience intensity in my body without going into thinking—and that’s a tool I use every day. It helps me doubt myself less so I can be more effective at what I do. In the face of that, the usual worries, judgments, and self-criticisms begin to pale and fade away. Then, I can be aware of what’s happening and feel my reality. I can be myself—only more so.
