Embodiment of Beauty

A friend of mine complained that she wasn’t beautiful enough. So I said, who told you that? She said, “nobody…I know it because men only look at my body.” So I said, men do that because women have very special bodies; their behavior is not meant to suggest that she herself isn’t also beautiful. She looked at me and said “Tell me about my beauty, Doug. Tell me why you think I’m beautiful.” Upon hearing my reply, she asks: Who told you that? I said, you did. I see what I am being shown. If all I can see is a body, then that’s what’s in front of me, which is not to say that it is all that’s there. But when a person wants to be seen as a more substantive being, there is a way to achieve this. Beauty, much like a body, or anything else about a person, is a communication. And whatever it is communicating is what will be known, and understood by others. To know something is to taste it. If a choice is made to be invisible, it cannot be criticized when others are unable to see you. If it is not possible to be seen, it is not possible to be known. And if you cannot be known, you cannot be loved. So it is not a question of how beautiful one is, but rather a matter of how willing one is to allow others to see, and experience how special your beauty is.  dwp

Sex, Music, Dance, and a Punjabi

Music is as sexy as sex itself, that’s why sexy people listen to sexy music when they’re making love; it’s also why a person’s sexiness can often be observed in how their body moves, or dances. I remember a Punjabi Osho sannyasin who I danced with at an after hours party in Pune, India…who’s energy was so hot, it was like we were on fire together. I think I fell in love with her that one very special night. She was one of the most sexually free women I have ever encountered. It wasn’t even necessary to have sex with her, that’s how extraordinary her energy was. It was an intensely sexual thing just being in her company. Feeling deeply overwhelmed by her beauty, her being, and her irresistible freedom, I eventually went up and asked if I could join her on the totally empty dance floor where she was gracefully flowing about to the joy of the onlookers; this was where we began making love. Her long curly brunette hair moved freely through my fingers, as she welcomed my dancing body, as well as my the touch of my hands, and the moisture of my lips, and cheeks; we sweated, played slowly with each others energy dancing, neither she nor I with a care; her loosely fitting dress, and the very uninhibited nature of her body awaited the inevitable exploration, to feel her. This event was unfolding to the most sensual, incredibly beautiful Indian lounge music imaginable. What an angel she was, and what a gift she gave to me! Never have I known, or even dreamt of, a woman so unbelievably liberated and sexually free, as she.  dwp