A friend I'd taken courses with told me about Orgasmic Meditation. I investigated further because it was a partnered practice that included sexuality and connection with women.
I was very excited about my first OM. Afterward, I remember that my partner was crying. I wanted to apologize. I probably expressed affection, which was not in keeping with OM's definition as a goalless practice. Nevertheless, it felt real, impactful, and significant.
What I like about OM is that it's a time set aside specifically to experience feeling and connection. It quiets my anxieties and helps me to focus. In seated meditation, my mind can spin off. With OM, there's another person, plus a connection, which helps me focus on the sensations in my body rather than my thoughts. I am so grateful for the OM practice.
Before OM, my relationships felt really off or really on. They would feel harmonious at first. Then, something would happen and she'd end up disliking me. I would feel like an awful person—lonely and wrong.
Since OMing, my relationships have more range. I can handle a lot more sensation and stay more open and connected now, even when things don't feel good. By accepting what is actually happening in the moment, instead of trying to impose what I think it ought to be, I can usually find a way to connect.
Years of psychotherapy could not help me feel as good about who I am as OMing does. I’ve had lots of psychotherapy. When I was a kid, I went through a period when I wouldn't talk to my parents. Even though I was my dad's main dude, I felt left out when he remarried. I didn't know how to connect with him or my new family. So I withdrew. I couldn't open up about what was going on inside.
Later, when I found my first job, I had issues around adjusting socially. I suffered from depression. Mostly, I needed somebody to talk to.
In my early- to mid-twenties, I received many diagnoses. They offered me pills. I had pride, or maybe it was ego. But I wanted to regulate my state in an organic way. So, I spent time in nature, meditating and doing yoga to manage my emotions without a prescription. Now, I can see how disconnected I was. I lived by a script that only I knew.
My dad was in the movie business, so I was a product of the entertainment industry. I didn't have many friends, and I'd isolate, watch movies, and pick up behaviors from characters on screen. I might try to act like, say, James Dean's character in some scene. Unfortunately, it wasn't real for anybody except me.
To be present in the moment—as I am, thanks to OM—means that when those scripted notions arise, they now seem absurd. Instead, I can connect by saying, "Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" instead of going off on my own tangent. To be present in an OM means to risk feeling wrong and still stay connected. For example, to ask someone whether they want lighter pressure or a different stroke might be of greater service than for me to assume I know what they want. But I must first risk making the offer. OM helps me overcome my fear of not knowing and gives me a sense of rightness about my natural curiosity.
I used to teach college physics, math, and hydraulics—basically, how to make electricity from wind. I was so very earnest. My lectures were chock full of information. And yet, my students were failing miserably. Oh man, how they would complain. On paper, I looked great. Yet I was their worst instructor.
Clearly, I had a tragic lack of calibration with my students. I can see that now. With the skills I've learned through OM, I would have been capable of connecting with them on a far deeper level. I would have been better able to feel into the situation, making me a more effective teacher.
OMing takes me closer to my feminine side, to feeling more deeply into situations and people. My sensations around women especially have changed. If my body doesn't feel turned on, I can no longer will it. I simply cannot experience arousal if it's not real.
Around certain women, I have so much real feeling it's hard to explain. To experience somebody at that level is like having an intimate, supernatural power. I’d felt this before, but would ignore it and run my premeditated script. I might sense, ‘Oh, this person isn't into what I'm saying.’ However, I wouldn't know how to make a different choice. I'd just keep going. They'd get more annoyed, and eventually, I'd say to myself, ‘Ah, glad that's over.’ Now, I can feel into where something might not be landing and ask the other person whether I’m accurate. If I am, we can talk about it. And, if I’m not, we can still talk about it.
See Michael tell his story here!
Michael Cory is a mid-50s, land manager of a 162-acre retreat center in the redwoods of Northern California.