by Jill
I had quit dating because of the frustration of feeling unseen. These repeated disappointments made me into more and more of a withholder; I became the queen of withholding. Obviously, that’s not going to make the problem better.
I decided there had to be something better, and the only way to find that “better” was to go on a hiatus from dating for a few years. I got into yoga and then into meditation. Those two practices helped a great deal, but something was missing. I still wanted a relationship, and I felt like the entire sexual part of my identity was still shut down. So, I started doing some research. At one point, I got very practical about it and typed “sexuality,” “yoga,” and “meditation” into a search engine – and that’s what led me to Orgasmic Meditation (OM).
I had my first OM in June 2015. I thought I had known my body before. To be frank, I’ve masturbated since I was a young girl. I was a woman who knew how to give herself a perfectly good orgasm. Orgasmic Meditation (OM) was different. It was not sexual in the way I thought it would be. Being stroked is different from touching myself or being touched by a man in a sexual way. There was this connection between his finger and my body I’d never felt before, and it went way beyond my genitals and his hand. At one point, in that first OM, I gave him an adjustment – and it was like he heard me with more than his ears. He shifted exactly as I wanted him to. That’s what I remember the most – I asked, and it happened.
My first Orgasmic Meditation (OM) experience was in Philadelphia. A few days after my first experience, I was in a cab coming back from an OM. It was hot inside and out, and the cabbie was blasting some sports broadcast on his radio. Normally, I’d sit quietly and wait for it to be over. This time, I leaned forward and asked him to turn up the AC.
Even as I asked, I steeled myself for an angry response. “Sure, lady,” he said with a nod and turned on the cool air – and then, without my having to say it, turned down the baseball game. I repeated to myself what I had said in wonder after that first OM: I asked, and it happened! It happened!
I came to Orgasmic Meditation (OM) looking for a deeper understanding of sex. I found that and something that went way beyond that. I found that I could ask for things and have my “asks” heard and respected. I had spent so many years assuming that men either couldn’t give me what I wanted or didn’t want to give it to me. I had sold men and myself short. The experience of adjusting a stroker to touch me exactly as I want opens the door to asking for all the other things I couldn’t even name before. In the past, even if I did get something I wanted, I’d assume that the man gave it grudgingly; in Orgasmic Meditation, I learned how much men want to offer and be in resonance with women. It can be as simple as a smiling cabby turning up the air conditioning.
My practice has gone through many iterations, sometimes OMing daily and sometimes barely at all. I’m grateful that the changes OM brings are lasting, and I can rely on them. I still have the voice I found, whether I am OMing regularly or not.
I used to feel like living in a box, like a small clapboard house. Orgasmic Meditation turned me into Alice in Wonderland, outgrowing the house, then outgrowing the street on which the house sits, until I’ve grown so big that I can wrap my arms and legs around the globe. I keep growing, and I never want that to stop.
