I lost my grandfather just before I learned about Orgasmic Meditation. He was the only person who had my back as I was growing up. I reacted to his death explosively and angrily. Right after he died, I had to fly to Los Angeles to complete a personal development course. While there, I met a woman who told me about OM and her experience, which I found intriguing.
At that time in my life, when I’d experience an extreme event, I’d react aggressively, explosively, uncontrollably, and then shut down. I didn’t talk to people or engage with them about the experience. I became very robotic.
I had done a lot of personal development workshops and I’d often heard, ‘Get into communication and things will be fine.’ Yet, this never seemed to address the real issue—the thing that stopped me from effectively handling extreme events in my life and being able to talk to people about them. It wasn’t until I started my OM practice that I even started to see where this behavior was showing up.
The day of my first OM, I called my instructor and told her how nervous I was and how I felt I was about to get fiery and crazy and wanted to leave. She said, “Great. What does that feel like?” Never had anyone responded to me in such a way. I was expecting her to say, “Oh, don’t be nervous. It will be fine.”
For the first time, I realized that what I had called nervousness actually felt really electric and exciting. Even though I had felt a lot of energy from those nervous sensations, this was a completely different way of experiencing it. Rather than getting fiery or shutting down, I was able to play with it.
OM is the one place I can create muscle memory around the experience of being vulnerable. My legs are in a butterfly position with someone I’ve asked to OM—or I’ve agreed to OM with—seeing me in a way I’ve never allowed anyone to see me before. There is no goal when doing this practice, aside from each of us feeling the sensations in our bodies while we OM. Through OM, I’ve taught myself what it means to be vulnerable—as a muscular response—so my body can tell when I’m not. This is the purest form of vulnerability I know, and I do it for 15 minutes every day.
I had an OM experience once where I felt like there was something I was scared of; I knew it was going to be too much for me and I felt I needed to be vulnerable. My stroker asked me if I would like a downstroke to help ground my body, and I said yes. The moment he switched to a downstroke, an electric shock shot from my chest into every part of my limbs like an explosion. Afterwards, when we shared frames of that experience, the stroker said he felt an “insane shock” come up his arm the moment he started the downstroke. I realized in that moment there was a lot of sensation in my body and, because I did not shut down from a scary sensation, he felt it too. I had allowed myself to go through the full range of that experience in connection with another person. We experienced that moment together.
This happened in my life outside of OM, too, when my mother was hurt by my cousin, a recovering addict. Instead of exploding or shutting down, I was able to stay connected with my mother when she told me what was going on with her. Even though every part of me vibrated with anger, I was able to tune in to what was happening in my body and allow my mother to express what she needed to say.
OM is the only practice I’ve found where I’m training my body to be able to feel a lot of sensation and stay conscious while I am experiencing it. Every OM has new sensations I haven’t felt before, and that teaches me to expand my range of feeling. OM taught me I’m not going to like everything I do or feel good all the time, but I can still stay conscious and connected. If I feel like I can’t, I can always tell someone about it. Even if my world feels chaotic, I can let myself feel everything there is to feel and take care of myself by returning to my OM practice.
See Stefania tell her story here!
Stefania Brandner is a 25-year-old life coach living in Vancouver, Canada.