Love Letters from Flora: THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE | 27
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Join my teacher, Layla Martin, for a FREE LIVE EXPERIENCE today at noon Pacific time. This woman taught me that pleasure is my birthright, that I am orgasmic in all states of my being and mf magic + fortified my coaching work + made me feel safe enough to write to you, like this, every single week.
Hey, I made a mistake. A few weeks ago, I stated I was halfway there. I do wonder if there is such a thing, there. Nevertheless, hear me out. The limiting believes I carried around being bad at maths played a game with me - 52 divided by 2 is 26, and not 23. In case you care. We are just past halfway of my original vow, of my commitment to birth a creation (actually, it's more like 2 7/8, see this piece of writing, which I publish in excerpts on my website also, as well as the ocular and auditory expression on YouTube, accompanied by many snippets of inspiration on the gram and the book - I once received a response from a reader who acknowledged the amount of work going into this. That felt real good.)... where was I? Right. Birthing a creation once a week. Creating, for creations sake. I might keep going by the end of week 52. We shall see. You know that publishing a book has been on my dream list every single year for about five years? It is so time. So overdue.
That leads, or not, to this weeks musings - who did I become to be loved? You might have read my reflections on identities, and armour, and some of those working hypothesis are perhaps applicable. What have you done so you wouldn't lose love? And I'm not talking about the images Hollywood and Disney put into our collective wishful thinking fantasies, but I'm also not excluding those: taking an international flight to meet someone whom you've met online. Or at Burning Man. Having endless phone calls every evening without any real plans to meet. Texting forever on your favourite dating app. Putting on this specific piece of clothing that makes you cringe but they love. Stop being athletic and turn into a netflix obsessed couch potato. Move to the mountains/a remote island/the city. Go down the road of becoming a highly skilled master or dominatrix. Watch every word that comes out your mouth. Start drinking or doing drugs. Writing long love letters to a person who's in a 15 year committed relationship. (You might recognize some of those from previous Love Letters from Flora, embarassingly, and also, as my beloved teacher Layla says, "Eating shame for breakfast." The list is infinite. And there is a fine line between exploring someones world and views with curiosity and completely losing yourself. Am I right?
THE STORY
I could find a million entry points into this one. There are infinite ways to begin. Where shall we, today? One of the most interesting, because current ones, might be.... yes. That's today's story. Once upon a time, a prince met a princess high up on a beautiful alpine plateau, far, far away, in the mountains of so called British Columbia, Canada, in the North West of the American continents. For sake of enjoyability I will shift the style of narrating, of tale telling. Unsure if this long story can be made short, and that is not the point. Potentially you find yourself, somewhere in it, all in it, partially in it. So read on, and feel what lands. As always, this is a transmission, my personal, lived experience. I am not giving you advice, I am not telling you what's right or wrong, or that the heroines and heroes of the story did right or wrong. Take what lands, and leave the rest. Feel free to replace with royal sovereign in case princess and prince are too gendered.
The princess was smitten (let me keep those roles, they feel playful and fun to write in this moment). She was also heartbroken from the experience with another prince, whom she thought would be her forever and always knight in shining armour. They had not met before, but were put in touch solemnly through the attentiveness and connection of friends on this wild place called the internet, or, to be more specific, social media. What a wild place that is. And it was a match of the princess and the prince. They embarked on this journey together, leading an entire group of stressed out city dwellers. The first part of the heroines journey: enter a flying, silver beast with rotor blades on an empty stomach that has been tickled by caffeine only, so early it was on this August day. You could say, I'm getting carried away here. They flew over mountain tops and valleys, glaciers, forests and lakes to land on said alpine plateau. They got to know each other while leading this group, both in their respective area of expertise. They worked well together, they collaborated fruitfully, and the group loved it, they loved them together. The prince was not shy, and knew what he wanted, and requested daily massage trades. The princess was delighted, and it did feel good to have this experience of daily, devoted, present touch and touching, particularly as she was experiencing some big breakup feelings (it wasn't even a breakup, but what do you call the aftermath of the awakening of a full on projection?!?!). In this week, the first snow fell. It was magical to be hiking in those alpine meadows, eating special little birds, observing Flora and Fauna, feeling bodies and inspiring the entire group to do the same. It really was a time of absolute delight. And once that week was complete, they embarked again into the belly of that winged beast to be carried over mountain tops, back into the lands of phone service and cars (writing this makes me want to go into remote nature so bad). And this could be the end. But it was just the beginning. The prince requested continuous audience with the princess, in that village, and then beyond. They had opened some magic together, and both wanted more. And they kept exploring and expanding.
In all of this, the princess held back. She wanted to be easy. She didn't want to be too much. She never asked for anything. But when offered, when invited, she always said yes. She did not allow herself to fully want. It was a wild tale of receiving a lot, but never asking, and never enough. In her own words, "I never needed anything from you, and all I got from you was a gift." Which is true, it still feels true. And at the same time, the princess never allowed herself to need anything.
You see, it might be deemed as noble, or resourceful, or whatever else, to be low maintenance, to get all your needs met outside this one particular relationship. But oooouuuuffffffffff. How terrifying might it be to show ourselves in our wants, in our desires, to simply say "I WANT!" There was some infinite goodness in this relationship. It happened slow, over time. It grew, it unfolded. It became deep, innocent and the same amount of powerful. It was the princess's first time ever, in her late thirties, to ask to wait with penetrative sex. For over a year after meeting. Those meetings might have happened only every two months or so in person. And the desire was burning hot in her pussy and her heart. And yet, she wanted time, and was granted it. So she did ask for that. And got it. Other than that, she asked for nothing. And got everything in return. You can make of this whatever you desire. But I know that the princess wanted more, more, more and so much more. She held back. She did not ask. She also did not chase. She pretended not to care. She received the little that was offered to her, she savoured the bread crumbs and they filled her empty heart. And in all fairness, perhaps that was all that she could receive at the time. And she was satiated, fulfilled, content. The amount of presence and love the prince could offer her in those dates, every two months or so, was unmet. When he was there, he was there fully. And she loved it and they went to places they have not been before. The power of their sexual alchemy and transcendence was beyond.
And then, one day, the prince requested a conversation, to gain clarity on who they were to each other. And since then, the princess felt permission to want more. And asked for it. And never got it. She made herself less in order to be more lovable.
The end. Kinda.
THE PATTERN
You see, we all learn that wanting too much is dangerous, because we never get it anyway. So the easy thing is to want less, to become less, weigh less, eat less, say less, receive less. And then, how can we ever be satiated, truly? And yes, I am a severe defender of loving yourself, truly and deeply and wholy and fully. And then there is also infinite power in ASKING FOR WHAT WE WANT. Have you ever shut up in order to be loved? Have you stayed quiet? Have you said less? Have you wanted less? Have you settled? Silenced yourself, your desires, your darkness? Yes, we all want love. Period. The real question might be: who do you make yourself in order to be lovable. How do you censor, castrate yourself (a piece on anger will follow in a few weeks)? Mange yourself, regulate yourself? Low maintenance, drama free, those are popular requests on dating apps (yes, I do my homework and research and development). Hello, drama is part of life!! Google says (I don't have a dictionary at hand, I apologize): 'The word drama comes from the ancient Greek verb dran, which means "to do," "to act," or "to perform". In Greek, drāma itself means "action" or "deed".' In my own words. It is part of live, of aliveness. Play wtit it! Stay present with it! Perform it if you must! But be YOU!!! All of you! Want what you want! Say it out loud what you want!
INVITATION
I am on this quest, inspired by a magnificent session today with Luzi Pods. I've been writing every morning, stream of consciousness, let it pour out, And as of today, I will write down I WANT. I am in love with my desires, and I get better and better at asking for what I want. But hey, you are allowed to want so much more! Will you join me on this quest? For 21 days, every morning, for 5 minutes (set a timer), I will write down what I WANT. I will check in with you in three weeks. And the thing is, you might have stopped to want. You stopped wanting love decades ago. It turned into something else. It turned into what you have already. What you built. How useful you are. How good you are. Or how bad you are. How little you need. How you don't care. Is that so?
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Join Love Letters from Flora every Thursday and read each conversation in full before it goes online.
PS: Doors open for ALIVE 8/29 - an online live experience with yours truly, 9/29, 9 AM PDT/noon EDT/18:00 CEST