Vibrant beautiful little things, reminding us to slow down and notice them…

This week I’m immersed in a lot of things. The theme seems to be sensuality — a meditation on connecting with the body and surrounding environment at a visceral, emotional, and sensual level. It fits well with the oncoming season change. These Northern temperatures shift drastically throughout the day, followed by humidity, scattered weather, and emotional states… We are preparing for colder times. Times we want to wall off, but also time we would benefit from the heat of others and warmer environs. It is a good time to collaborate.

Speaking of collaboration, I am currently in tech week for a show I am Directing. The show is full of circus performers who are highly skilled but sometimes less actor/storyteller connected to their material within performance. Over and over again the direction I give boils down to breath, to being in the moment, to slowing down and using the apparatus they’re on like a scene partner, to have a sensual connection with their medium between “tricks” to support the piece’s story arc… Sensuality. That we are connected to our Mother Earth and environment at all times — not just when we’re doing an exciting winning move.

I’ve found this recently in a more sexual context too. I was with a partner who enjoys exhibitionism and we met someone who enjoys watching couples have sex, so invited them over for a show. It was a pretty fun time together, but it was also an interesting study in how people who don’t know one another and are not going to have sex, can still communicate sexually and sensually with one another quite openly. Our watcher had such a sweet face and was definitely interested in both me and my partner’s bodies (my partner was in their’s as well). As the scene was not about us interacting with this person sexually though, it became about a few other things instead.

It became about talking. It became about D/s negotiation. It became about sound, about the thickness of the air in the room. It became about orgasm control, about watching (and watching the watching), it became about selective touch and well placed flirtatious stimulation shy of graphic involvement… It became about playing at the edges of sex and firmly in the world of this intoxicant called sensuality.

On another adventure one day I met a sub who had refrained from orgasm at my request for four days before we met. They edged themselves 32 times over those day (a personal record for them), reporting to me each 5th time, writing to me about how they were feeling… By the time we were face to face all I had to do was touch their leg with my foot under the table to elicit a full body shudder and smile. Sensuality wins in my book.

The feeling of cool crisp air and full sun on my face as I walk the streets of this old, beautifully built city reminds me I am happy living this life. The slower movements of a stroll after a heavy meal, touching the bushes and fence railings along my path. The perfume of flowers I have  stopped to smell, crushing herb leaves in my fingers and offering my hands up to a friend’s nose. Walking closer to another’s body until reaching an arm around is the natural instinct followed, a head close enough to a shoulder that my hand reaches up to guide it there softly, feeling the letting go… Through our senses, we animals know this world intimately, and have an opportunity to dance more closely. We can read tension in our own or another’s body when we slow down enough to notice how the world around us feels, and how the world in us is doing.

I love feeling the world around me. It calms me. My anxieties loosen. My schedule seems manageable and I gut level know I will show up for the next moment successfully after I leave the one I am in. Sensual intelligence teaches me to simply “be”, which is stimulating and calming both. Healthy.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Journey to Dirt

In the beginning there was mucous, blood, grey and purple skin. There were cacophonous sounds and everything was light. Hands on your body, sensation of your own cry, coughing up the fluid from inside. Cold steel, warm blankets, pinpricks, trembling hands passing the new body around, the breath of your parents on your face, or not. It is romantic to think it was violent, that moment of your birth, it is arrogant to believe it was not.

Everything had changed.

Growth happened over the years. Plague and fear. Your unlimited curiosity stabbed by the million laws. Gratefulness is replaced with unrealistic needs. Things. A shopping spree of ballcaps, TVs, the latest brightener, soothe-goop, popstar jewels extracted unethically from third world thighs, and cattle crying in the fields for tenderer meat… Somewhere inside we must be trying to find the womb, swim against this tide, get back to our shuddering mucous covered muteness. Peace within ineptitude — now achievable through only our greatest sins. Sex by numbers is a game we placate our inner demons with, not seeing they grow wilder at the smell of our rancid unused groins… We need these demons, telling us who we are and what we’re meant to be. Lubricating oils spontaneously produce, made of scented atoms which open our chests to one another, engage the feral beasts underneath. The most natural thing is to growl as two and four-legged pheromones pass us. Sweat is the Goddess we were warned about.

Instead we play at it, repress, shame, shroud in silence, and ignore the harmonic dance of life.

We turn on the telly to remember how it goes: fuck when you see fuck, cry when you see cry, or sometimes rigidly sit in flaccid bewilderment while the clown fails to connect with you. These choreographies were meant for flesh met times. We aren’t learning an authentic dance.

The edge of a cliff looms. Stare down the slick walls of your erectness and the whole world seems opportunity to procreate. Unpracticed we fail and fail again, jizz impotent. Tissues, a hand. Silent. Waste without the divine intertwined.

You forget you are holy.

The most natural thing is touching yourself. Feel the hum of blood, rise and fall of sunshine in your chest. The most natural thing is wanting others, give and take, dark roots, bright moon.

Sip in the air, open up your chest. Oxygen works its way from center to the infinity above your head and depths down. Extend your range, aim to horizon and beyond, it’s what you are here for. Fill Universe with sound and light, your mucus filled lungs and mini images of you flying into the vastness. Again! Again! Thrive! Find delight! Seduce, ground, recognize this road lined in shining mica to the dirt.

Silence lies sold to you for comfort.  Bad exchange, believing yourself worthless, unwhole, made wrong, incomplete, or meant for less.

We are powerful and brilliant. Older siblings reaching hands to help the next. We are frustrated beetles covering the windowsills of this house, trying forever to stay warm and get the fuck out. We are hardy and hopeful, shaking the Earth, stepping on ground given us which someday will swallow all whole. Fall into soil. Risen from sex. Lived wary of love or discovery, no true release. How do we Gods master time before bugs carry corpus away? Smell of rain and soil is calling from your cunt. We learn to play.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature

Please support my work on Patreon. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist 
~Thank you.

Love Letter

A necklace I made of my favorite symbol: the Sun, gold, and ever expanding knowledge.

You are the point in the center of a circle. Everything inside the circle is what you know.

The circle itself, the line drawn, is what you know you don’t know.

Everything outside of the circle is what you don’t know you don’t know…

As you grow the circle gets bigger. You know more, there’s more you’re aware of which you don’t understand, and still, the space outside that ever-growing circle of knowing is vast and infinite. And it’s still very much connected to you.

A circle with a point at it’s center. The symbol for gold and the Sun. This is my favorite symbol, I draw it on the wall in pretty much every home I live in and have for a long time. I like thinking about the space outside of my circle, that space which spreads across the plane of the wall to the ceiling and floor, into the next room, around and over the house, through my neighborhood, onward and outward into infinity… All these things I don’t know I don’t know. I take comfort in it, this understanding that I can be connected to everything yet still understand so little of what everything truly is. Looking at life this way, I can approach the world knowing that I’ll make mistakes. I might not know something important about how to interact with another person or situation, but that is to be expected at some level: I am allowed learning.

I am allowed learning. What a beautiful and important permission. One of the major reasons I’m committed to my exploration of sexuality and sensuality is that at one point in my childhood my ability to discover those things on my own terms and in my own time was taken away from me. I feel those wounds still. I know I react to the worlds of sexuality and sensuality with knee jerks at times, and those reactions were put in place long ago to protect me, but I don’t need all of them anymore. I know that there is more out there I want to be open to. There are things inside me I cannot begin to understand yet because I haven’t opened myself up to exploring them. Yet.

This is the most profound reason I love my friends so incredibly dearly. All of my open, caring, queer, curious, brave, struggling, articulate friends have given me pieces of what I didn’t know, and even what I didn’t know I didn’t know. They connect me to them, and in so also connect me more deeply to myself.

This is a love letter to the people in my life who have seen me and applauded my struggles and findings. This is a letter to those people who I see once in a blue moon, yet fall into their arms deeply and joyfully every time. This is a love letter to all of those people in my life who reflect back to me what I have helped them know. This is a love letter to people who laugh when I find out something new about myself, and who say they already knew it (there are many of you out there). This is a love letter to those people who keep asking me to try new things, who invite me to play, who don’t fault me for not being in the mood, who slow down when I get overwhelmed, who read books and watch instructional videos to learn the mechanics of acts we’re interested in, who share fantasies with me, who ask questions and get super nerdy with me about the answers, who research what happens when… This is a love letter to all those people who think that what makes us tick is worth exploring.

Thank you for existing. I need you on this journey, and like you maybe needing me, we’ll find things we didn’t know we didn’t know. We’ll face them connected, autonomously, and together.

Play On My Friends,
~ Creature (Crea)

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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