We find everything waiting there…

You will remember that leaping stream
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.

You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.

You’ll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.

That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there.

Pablo Neruda
(translated by Stephen Tapscott)


hoarfrost on tree limbs with a dark background



Mirrors. Seeing. (3)




This is my edge.


All the clothes on.
All the doors closed.

I do no see my sensual self here.
Despite what others tell me.

But I

Something wiser in me weeps.

‘See yourself as sensual,’ she whispers. ‘Everywhere.’

Don’t blind yourself
to that feeling
that beauty
that truth.

From her great Fire of Feminine Truth
She grabs ash;
the ash of my no-longer-useful perspective
(it has burned without my knowing it).
The Magical Mom Spit that cures all
She purses her lips and pushes it into her palm.

Applying the salve to my eyes.
It dries.
I push.
I push.
I push against it.
Open those eyes.

This is the edge.
I want to see myself as sensual- at all levels, in all ways.

My eyes, like caterpillars,
are dissolved, and reborn.

Wet-winged butterflies they are.

Today, this picture, I finally saw myself as sensual with clothes on.

I hold the tender wings of that gaze, that feeling – that 3 seconds –
and let it settle into my skin, a soul-salve.

With time
this flying will become natural.


– – – – – – – – – – – –

Sensuality is different for each person.
So is where and how we feel sensual.

For me, it is much easier to feel and be sensual when my clothes are off.
(Naked, as it were. Ahem.)

It is much more difficult for me to believe I am sensual when I am doing my everyday stuff.
But I am learning.

This is my edge of sensuality.
And I want to push past it.

Because I know now, just in these few days with this picture,
with these fragile moments of feeling both sensual and ‘daily,’
that I can be.

That I am sensual.
No matter what.




Mirrors. Seeing. (2)




This is not my edge.


The skin still shows.

I can imagine naked, be naked, instantaneously
from here.

I can still smell
and   feel, feel, feel desire.

I can still see my sensual self here.
Still be her.
Still walk in each room, wear each fashion of her.

Still see
open my sensual self.

There is still a door open, here.


No, this is not my edge.




Mirrors. Seeing. (1)

[Sensuality is not the same as eroticism. Here’s what I’m learning.]


sensual picture of a woman covering her breasts, shot from below


This is not my edge.

I love this body.
Love it. Accept it. All.
Head to toe.
Heart to pussy.

Love + respect + play + joy with this body.
Dark + sad + fear with this body.
Of this body.

When I am naked the sexy beast is easy to find.

Rooms of dark, light,
softness and hard edges,
gilt, and sacristies,
dirty lofts, and kitchen tables.

Naked, the Sensual She rolls forth, in all seasons, in all moods.

Clothes off: senses on.

Tap my fingers on the eggshell of your desire
Open it with my mouth on your earlobe
See your woozy breathing
Hear the seeds of sighs; growing: ascending
Smell your musky, sweaty (please god, now) sexiness

Hold my naked hips; I’ll ride you everywhere.


But, this is not my edge.


::: ::: ::: :::

What happens next? Check

Mirrors. Seeing. (2)

Mirrors. Seeing. (3)



Define ‘sensual.’

What is sensual?

My sensuality coach posed this question to me a couple of weeks ago.

There were a lot of things buzzing in my brain when she asked that. I could see images and think of experiences and ideas I’d had, but…   I could see that defining ‘sensual’ for myself would probably be helpful.

I made a list.

It started out like this:

woman's neck taken in black and white with perspective that makes it difficult to place; sensual

color picture of a man showering with a heavy cascade of water falling on his head; sensual


picture of a woman from the waist down, crossed legs and bare except for thigh-high tights


Body stuff. Sexy stuff.
(That man picture is an ad for a shower head. I’d buy it.)

Certainly I feel sexy and sensual when I’m in my body and thinking about sexy and sensual stuff.

But then I started to let my mind get creative.  I need to get beyond traditional borders, here.


That means all the senses.

The ideas started to flow.
What turns me on to hear?
What turns me on to smell?
What turns me on to feel?
What turns me on to see?
What turns me on when I taste it?


a journal list of sensual experiences


Suddenly, my sensual world opened up.

It was glorious.

I felt so light and happy and excited: my whole world is sensual.
I can experience it anywhere.

I was so excited, I clapped.


What I also learned is that sensuality is whatever you define it to be.

For some, the sensual will only be found in the sexual.
For others it will remain confined by other definitions (such as, ‘what my marriage allows’ <– although I’m sometimes in this boat, too.)

But there are as many definitions of sensual as there are people.
There as many ways to be sensual as there are people.
(Infinitely more, actually. Each person can be sensual in countless ways.)

These days I want more creativity.
I’d sit you down, look into your gorgeous eyes, just to ask:
what’s sensual for you?