Keep your expectations low, and you won’t be disappointed. I believed that for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure where I got it; it was always just there: aim low for what you’re sure you can have rather than for what you might want. A lot of my adult life has been unlearning that.
I joined the Navy out of high school. Part of that was that I wasn’t sure what to do with my life – and in the military, your day-to-day life is structured for you. I still shied away from anything that looked like responsibility. When I was in boot camp, one of the section leaders dropped out, and the NCOs in charge of the camp called me and this other guy into their office. They wanted to see if one of us had what it took to become a replacement section leader; they thought I might have it in me. They gave me and this other recruit a series of tests, and I failed them all on purpose. I knew what they were asking, and I was perfectly capable of doing the work of a section leader. I just was scared to be responsible for anyone else. I remember the NCO staring at me long and hard like he knew I was purposely throwing away this chance.
After the Navy, I moved to Texas, got married, and went through many jobs probably well beneath my potential. I worked as a line cook and mechanic in a bicycle store and then for Dell Computers. I also met a wonderful woman named Kirsten, and we got married. Kirsten was pursuing her Ph.D. at the University of Texas, and I thought about pursuing a graduate degree in mathematics. I realized I could do the work, which interested me, but again, I bailed out. I ended up working as a tech in a university lab instead, and for a change, I stayed in that job for nine years.
Not long after losing that job – the first one I’d liked – my marriage to Kirsten began to fall apart. In retrospect, what kept happening to me with work and what happened in my marriage were linked. I aimed low and set myself up to fail. Kirsten and I had never been able to talk about hard things or frightening things. I would always blame myself on the rare occasions when they did come up. I just defaulted to the assumption that something was wrong with me if there was a problem and I needed to fix it. I don’t know if I always believed I was to blame, but it didn’t matter. I kept declaring, “It’s my fault; please don’t be mad anymore.” You can’t sustain a relationship that way.
After these double losses of the lab job and the divorce, I was committed to working hard on myself. I began to get into yoga and study to become an instructor. A fellow student in that program mentioned Orgasmic Meditation (OM) to me one day and said it had shifted everything for her. The idea of stroking the clitoris intrigued me, but not in an overtly sexual way. I was still eager for internal shifts, and this seemed like an unusual way to make that happen. So, I took a class.
What struck me most about my first Orgasmic Meditation (OM) experience was the aura and energy of the woman who was facilitating. She had this incredible calm inner power that seemed to emanate from her. She was clear and strong, with this masculine and feminine power balance.
I found that reassuring, and just listening to her speak about Orgasmic Meditation (OM), I could stay present. I had my first Orgasmic Meditation (OM), and my old tape played loudly. I was sure I had done it wrong. I was convinced I hadn’t even found my partner’s clitoris. I left that first session hopeful but also uneasy.
Later, we debriefed the Orgasmic Meditation (OM) experience a bit, asking each other what it was like. And then she said something I’ve never forgotten. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Don’t underestimate your power as a stroker.” At first, I thought she was referring to the general role of any man as a stroker, but then it became clear she meant me, personally. She was talking about my inner power – which I’d never thought I’d had. This chat reframed everything for me; I went from thinking it had been a total disaster to accepting that I’d done something well. That was a revelation.
What that woman gave me that day is something OM has reinforced: I need to step up and be responsible. I have permission to step up and show up because I’m good at what I do. Sometimes, I repeat it in my head: John, you’re good at this. You can do this. Orgasmic Meditation takes that affirmation from my head and puts it in my body. I don’t just think I’m good at stroking; I feel it. When I aim my attention on my practice, I am attuned and resonate with my partner. After so many years of selling myself short in so many areas, this is an incredible shift.
I had always been terrified of rejection. Orgasmic Meditation has taught me how to cope with that. Sometimes, I’ll ask someone if they want to OM with me – and they’ll say no, for whatever reason. And I’ve become entirely okay with that. It’s not a reflection on me; it doesn’t require me to debase myself or ask annoying follow-up questions about what I lack. I don’t curl up in the fetal position when turned down. I feel I’ve learned almost as much from the women who’ve turned me down as I have from stroking itself; both are parts of the same learning process.
I’ve always been a rescuer and a blame-taker. I didn’t believe I had any power other than to do damage or to bail someone out. Orgasmic Meditation showed me that I am responsible and can trust someone else to be responsible for themselves. My energy doesn’t need to go towards saving them. I and they show up, and together, we connect. It sounds so simple, but it’s set me free.
