Wow!

So yesterday my wife had a day off.  It’s getting hard to tell when she does and doesn’t have off as she’s a manager in retail and this would be the retail season.  I know most people think it really starts the day after Thanksgiving, but that’s for shoppers.  The stores have to have everything ordered, delivered, and decoratively placed out for the customers by then.  So for them it starts a lot earlier.

Anywho, so we had a day off together.  And instead of just spending it in “lay on couch” snuggle mode where we try to recharge her batteries, I pressed for us to get something done.  We worked more on the healing room.

The healing room is a simple enough project.  We rearranged some of the basement so that we could create, basically, an area just large enough for a massage table and room to (barely) walk around it.  Surrounding that are all of the bookshelves … and a nice old top-piece of a hutch that is now basically a display case.  The idea will be to string up some purple Christmas tree lights on the ceiling and hang material across the ceiling and down to create “walls”.  And thus turn it into a room.  A room for doing healing energy work, Reiki, massage, and such.  That’s the idea.

Unfortunately it got a bit derailed.  It’s a small basement.  There’s really not much room.  That makes it tough.  But also the idea was to put a lot of my wife’s pretty black glass collection in the display case and such, to create a nice pretty atmosphere.

Only, well, the storage room is where that’s all at.  The storage room that holds two people’s lifetimes crammed together when we moved in together.  And we came to realize that her glass is separated into two areas, both of which are at least three layers deep in stuff.  We’d basically have to reorganize the entire storage room to get her black glass out.  Hmm…

We fought it.  It really wasn’t quite worth it.

So instead, yesterday we chose to skip the black glass, and work on digging up some of my old altar stuff.  It’d been in a box forever.  Some of it I kind of missed.  But, honestly, the energy around this city is so disconnected that I just haven’t gotten that much back into my magick.  And the house so small that there’d just never been a place to put up an altar anyway.  So I’d just skipped it.  Until now.  So that’s what we did.

It was fun just bringing all of it out again.  Of what I had from my primary altar, it isn’t nearly enough to fill the shelves.  But at least it’s one less box of stuff sitting around now.  Now it’s functional again.  And it was a step in the right direction that the wife and I took together.  We did something positive.

Inspired by that positive step, I decided that I really wanted to do something for my wife.  I wanted to give her an oil massage with healing-charged oil.  And maybe see if we could take anything from there.  It took her a little convincing, but not too much in the end.  Soon we were set up in the bedroom.  We put on a spare sheet to collect any oil spills.  I put together and charged a hemp oil base with a touch of orange and clove oils and a few grains of some sage-smoked sea salt that I’d made earlier for doing major cleansings.  I got some Native American instrumental music going.  We had candles and incense and even an oil warmer also filled with the same orange and clove oil.  It was a nice relaxing atmosphere.

I asked my guides to help with the healing, did some energy work to prepare, and then began.

And so, slowly, I rubbed the warmed oil into her skin.  Bit by bit.  First down one arm, then down the other.  Over her face, and then down her neck.  Down her chest and around her breasts.  Down her stomach, her hips, her mound.  Down one leg, ending in a short foot massage.  Then down the other to do the same.  Eventually all of her front, every inch of skin, I had worked healing cleansing oil into.

Then I placed myself between her legs so that I could run my hands from her feet up to her chest and back down, channeling energy as I did so repeatedly, back and forth and back and forth, trying to clear her energy pathways, open her chakras, and reawaken her kundalini.

And then I had her roll over so that I could do the same for her back.

I didn’t use too much oil.  Just enough.  She uses hemp oil as a moisturizer so at the very least I was doing her skin some good.  But I was hoping that the oil was doing more than that, as was my continued Reiki as I applied it.

And of course I was driving myself crazy.  She was naked, of course.  And I was constantly touching her.  And beause of the amount of oil involved, I was naked too, since I didn’t want oil all over any of my clothes.  So … yeah … I was certainly stimulating myself in the process.

So when I had finished the actual healing, I decided to press my luck and hope.  I slowly slid my oil-covered hand down along her labia.  Mmmm.  She was hot.  There’s nothing like a nice hot box to let you know you’re on the right track.

Unfortunately the real problem to that was the antidepressants that she’s been on lately.  The body may respond, but the antidepressants seem to turn off the switch at the brain.  So you can play all you like and get the simple bodily responses, but no matter how much you try, the actual climax never comes.  You can rub raw before the brain gets the message.

Still, nothing ventured…

So after a brief consult, we decided to give it a try.  She rolled back over, and I slid my oil slick fingers inside of her, teasing her softly, then harder, then harder.  It was the first time that I’d ever gotten three fingers in.  That was kind of fun, but I accidentally hurt her a couple of times when she’d rock and the next thing I knew I’d hit the pubic bone the wrong way.  Oops.  Still, it was working.  As was playing with her clit while I did this.  Not that she ever has a clitoral orgasm before a vaginal one.  She’s a very vaginal-driven woman.  But it’s still fun to play.

Well, it was fun playing, but I could tell it wasn’t going to get her there.  Not with my fingers.  So there was one last thing to try, which was the real thing.  Unfortunately I’d been holding off on that a bit because it’d definitely put me over the edge, and it’s an edge that’s really disappointing to jump over all by yourself.  At least to me.

So I moved up and slid myself inside her, and instantly she started to really respond.  She loves a good fuck.  I think her idea of foreplay before I came along and started teaching her to slow down was just to fuck slowly.  Her idea of sex is generally just a lot of hard deep thrusting.  Sometimes I’m never sure which of us is more the woman and which of us is more the man.  Still, at least she’s easy to please.  And I’ve learned a few ways to move to pound her that does wonders for her without making me cum instantly.  So I gave her her ballad, and she sang for me.  And sang.  And sang.  Holy shit!

I mean on any normal day, she’s multi-orgasmic.  I always envy that.  Sometimes I’m not sure if she has multiple orgasms, or just some very prolonged climaxes that keep going higher and higher.  Probably a bit of both.  So any normal day I’d expect it.  But, again, the antidepressants have been making the sex, well, depressing.  She’s lucky if she even gets one orgasm while on them.

So to have her in her normal throws, was just fucking awesome!

And maybe it was the over stimulation earlier, or maybe it was the grace of god, but damned I managed to hold off on my own climax for a good while, as I gave her more and more.

Unfortunately nothing lasts forever.  Especially not me when I’m not getting a fairly regular amount of sex.  (Not getting sex often makes me climax a lot quicker I’ve found, which is also a bit disappointing, since I’m not like my wife.  I can’t just keep cumming repeatedly.  Well, at least not normally.)  So I finally felt myself getting there.

Usually I’m so lost in giving her orgasm after orgasm that I just plum forget to keep a thread of attention on myself, so I just cum with her in a so-so climax.  Her idea of a lot of hard and deep thrusts is okay.  Don’t get me wrong.  But it’s not exactly savoring the buildup to the edge.  It’s more like running flat out over it.  Extreme, but short-lived.  Not my ideal way to plunge, but certainly not a bad way to go.

But this time I was so sluggish to respond that I could feel it starting to build, and I’d given her so much that I felt I was well deserved in taking a little time for me.  So I slowed the grind and at the right time brought it to a stop.  I don’t know if all men are like this, or just me, or what, but there’s a certain point where you can get excited enough to feel it coming.  You could pull out and maybe it might stop.  If you just stopped everything, maybe you won’t cum just yet.  But if you go any bit too far, you definitely will, no matter what.  And I was getting right up to that very edge, savoring the slowness of it.  I just stayed inside of her and let her tease my nipples a bit, and felt that molasses slow build, pushed just by the energy and emotional rush of our love.  And let the tidal wave crash over me.

Ye gods it was good!

And then as the spasming started triggering her, I began pumping again to give her another orgasm.

Then I rested lightly upon her (well, lightly for her … my arms were taking the brunt of my weight) and we kissed and smiled and kissed again.  And just enjoyed that afterglow together.  And I laughed with her at how well that went.  And when I teased her by sliding slowly in and out again (because usually I stay hard for an awfully long time after climaxing) she shuddered in the start of another orgasm.  So I pleased her once more.

And as we rested after that one, I teased her again.  And I’ll be damned if she didn’t respond yet again.  So I brought her to climax yet again.  Only this time I could feel myself growing soft, and at one point almost darn near slipped out because of it.  So, unfortunately, it was the one last orgasm my penis would give her.

But we weren’t over yet.

Having so thoroughly ravaged her, it’d caused a build up.  Back before me, when she rarely if ever squirted, she didn’t know what that was.  It was just an uncomfortableness that she’d sometimes carry for days.  But because we’d explored so much together, now she knew what it was and how to relieve that.  So she grabbed our favorite squirting toy (a glass curved line with a small ball on one end and a large ball on the other) and slid the large end in.  I scooted back to watch, and with my face almost close enough to lick her, I played with her while she toyed.  And it wasn’t long before the flood gates opened and her female ejaculation gushed out while she climaxed.  Mmmm.  There’s not much sexier in my opinion.

But now she had another need.  She’d had all sorts of vaginal and g-spot orgasms, but no clitoral orgasm yet.  So we got out her favorite clit teaser vibe and I rubbed the shaft of her clit while she teased the head.  And sure enough, she came screaming.  She came so hard that she clenched up into a sort of fetal position (except she was laying on her back) with her legs clenched together.  I’m too vicious to just let her go at that.  I kept my fingers on the shaft of her clit.  Not rubbing or moving in any way, because I know it’d be too much to her at that point and she’d push my hand away in defense from the assault to her nerves.  No.  I’m an energy worker.  I have sneakier ways.  So I just kept my fingers there, and sent her energy through them.  I have to admit, maybe it’s when I’m with her, or maybe it’s just me (I don’t really know which because I haven’t done energy work with many people to compare) but I can have a really sexually charged energy some times.  And so I just channeled that through her clit and kept her just on that very edge for an almost torturous amount of time.  After all, who knows when the antidepressants are going to let her have this much fun again?  I couldn’t not make the most of it.

It was … awesome.  I couldn’t have imagined a better love making.  Even before the antidepressants this one would have been up there in the top 20.  It was an amazing gift from the universe, at a time when we really needed something.

I’m a firm believer that good sex is a healing force.  There’s a build up of energy as two people please one another, especially in love.  Not that it has to be the romantic love of songs, but at least some love of one another.  I’m sure that a wiser witch than I could use that raw energy to cast magick.  I’m sure because I’ve read about it a bit.  But I’m too … natural … for that.  There was a time once, when I was at the top of my game, when I channeled Quan Yin.  Well, channeled might not quite be the word for it.  More she just came to me in a meditation, gracing me with her presence.  There was a lot learned there, in that brief time together.  But one of the hardest lessons I had to learn then (long story that I don’t want to go into now) was that sex can be used for healing.  And goddess knows, yesterday, my wife and I were both touched by that healing as we came together.  It was more than I ever could have asked for.

I don’t know how long the effects will last.  Unfortunately, so often, healing energy work doesn’t last forever.  You have to keep working at it, or it fades away.  And in this place, with such a lost connection to the universe around me, I just haven’t been the healer I was.  But I hope this gift somehow lasts.

Then we ordered Chinese for dinner.  I don’t know why, but there’s something special about Chinese food.  Maybe it’s that the spices have medicinal properties.  Maybe it’s just the right combination of vegetables, starches, and proteins.  Maybe it’s that so many places are family affairs, filled with togetherness and love.  I don’t know.  But in my opinion, there’s nothing better for a day of healing than Chinese food.  She had a vegetable egg roll and pork lo mein.  I had a vegetable egg roll, bbq pork ribs, and beef lo mein.  And we each had a fortune cookie.  The cookies were good … albeit with rather unimpressive fortunes.

It was a good day.

I know one thing.  It made so much of an impression that today my wife is calling in sick.  I call them “mental health days”.  Because really, mind and spirit can be sick just like the body can.  You have to take care of all of you, or the other parts will grow ill too.  My wife works herself so hard sometimes that it’s been a real challenge teaching her that she has to also take care of herself.  And with her health in a slump, it’s even more important now to make time for herself instead of burning the candle at both ends … and the middle.  She’s got to learn to at least reserve one end of that candle for her own well being.  I keep telling her, “You can’t save the world if you put yourself into a hospital.”  There’s really only so much one person can do.  I think she’s finally learning that!

And it’s funny.  I woke up at 9 because I’d snuggled so much through the night that my shoulder was sore from being on one side so much.  But my wife, she’s still sleeping.  It’s just shy of noon and she’s still sleeping.  She’s sleeping the sleep of healing.  She’s recharging.  She’s healing.  If I didn’t know better I’d have woken her.  But I do know better, so I’m not concerned.  It’s a good sign.  It means that she really has pushed out some of the negative energy.  She really is refilling that gap with something good.

And probably, she’s going to spend today “cleansing”.  Which is what I call it when the spirit heals and the body pushes out so much bad, every way it can, but usually through the usual places where disgusting dirty things come out.  It’s a nasty process, but the spirit cannot elate while the body is swamped in negativity.  And we humans with our readily available junk for food are so good at filling ourselves with things that hold us down.  There’s a balance that needs to be upheld in order to keep on the path of healing.  She’s going to need to drink a lot of water today.  And need more good food.  Time to put a scented candle in the bathroom…

I hope everyone had a lovely Halloween!

I know that most of the time I talk about my gender and sexuality.  (Is there such a word as genderality?)  But I also meant to talk about other things as well, like my spirituality.  Sometimes  I just get lost in the struggle for who I am, so I don’t sweat the what I already know.  Or something like that…

But so, I had this dream.  Only I’m not even 100% sure that it was a dream.  It was so … real.  Just ordinary every day life.  But there was so much background to everything.  The dream came with a full set of memories.  And it was so … mundane.  Just … life.

In it, I was talking to my wife.  We were both puttering around the kitchen.  (A kitchen that in this life I’ve never seen, but a perfectly ordinary kitchen.)  I was cooking a roast in the stove.  She was making sandwiches in a convection oven.  And I was angry about my former employer.  Apparently, I had been fired from my last job.  (And so took that opportunity to move to marry my wife.)  And they were so angry with me that any time a perspective new employer called them, well, I’d lose that employment opportunity.  And I had no references because they were all former co-workers.  So I was basically screwed.  It’d been almost two years and I hadn’t been able to find a single job.  So I was mad.  Very mad.

(As a point of reference, in my actual life, my former employer liked me so much and respected my work ethic that even after I quit my job to marry my wife – not because I wanted to leave my employment – when I told my boss that I was probably going to go back to being an independent contractor for a while, the company instantly started working with me to sign me up for a contract, that lasted over a year as it kept getting extended so that I could do more work for them.)

So in the “dream” I recognized my anger, and intentionally started calming myself down.  And when I was back down to normal, I said to myself a little spell, like a prayer.  I don’t remember the exact wording of the spell, unfortunately.  (It’s almost driving me nuts that I can’t remember the words verbatim.)  But it went something like this:

I welcome the Silver to show me the light.

I welcome the Light to show me the light.

I welcome the Silver and the Light to show me the light.

The intent of the spell was that a path be revealed to me, to show me the way.  I really wish I could remember the exact words.  But it was something like that.

Well not a second passes as the words left my lips when whoosh.  I’m going to try to explain.  Okay, so I’m a Reiki master.  Before that I was a self-taught energy worker.  Some people see energy.  I feel energy.  Not just “spells”.  Spells are just a formalized intent to working energy.  There are plenty of informal ways to work energy.  And so on.  I don’t want to get as cheesy as resorting to explaining it as “The Force”.  But in a lot of ways that’s kind of like what it is.  Everything has an energy, thing about it that makes it what it is.  It’s what makes a rock a rock and not sand, or a tree.  It’s a personality.  It’s emotions.  It’s thoughts.  It’s a pattern.  It’s everything.  And everything has its own energy.  And we can share that energy.  We can reach out with our energy.  Almost like talking, like sound traveling from one thing to another, or just … out of us.  We can send our energy.  We can take in, listen, or even absorb.  It’s just like a great underlying level to all of existence.

So the way that I work with energy is to feel it.  Feel it as emotion.  Sometimes feel is as physical.  Sometimes feel it as thought.  But feel.  And on rare occasion I can hear energy moving, like wind in my ears.

The normal sensation of feeling for me would be about like licking a battery is to electricity.  You can feel it, but it’s not going to knock me off my butt or cause me a great difficulty in doing everyday things.

On very rare occasion I’ve been caught by stronger energies.  Like the equivalent of grabbing a live wire.  They were so strong that I was for all practical purposes rendered physically unable to do anything.  That’s been like so rare in my life that I could count the number of times on one hand.

But after saying that one simple spell, beseeching the universe for some guidance on what to do with my life, WHOOSH!

It seriously was like, compared to the scale I’ve given of electricity, that this energy was like me running naked through a rainstorm to leap onto and grab the contacts at a nuclear power plant.  It was like an instantly vaporizing level of energy.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t even think.

I wasn’t even sure I was alive anymore.

And I remember looking at my wife, and strangely thinking that at least if this were the end, I was happy to have loved her.

The rush of energy just tore through me, screaming in my ears to deafen me.  And after a moment, I realized I still was there.  I wasn’t so much as dead just yet.

I tried to reach out to her, but I couldn’t move.

I tried to call to her, but I couldn’t speak.

And then my wife woke me up.  In real life.  (If you can call it that.)  Because I’d been calling to her, or at least trying to.  And I remember looking at her in bed.  I was freaked.  The me from the dream was having problems coping with the me from my life.  It was like two sets of memories clashing.  Mostly they were the same memories, up to a point of a couple of years ago where they began to diverge.  But the one thing that was such a great relief to me, that made it all alright, was that my wife was still my wife.  She was the point of commonality that reassured me that things were okay.

And as I “woke up” I knew I was me.  But I was also spooked.  Partly because of that energy.  And partly because as the two mes converged into one, even though, say, I knew my wife’s clothes were all behind the closet door, a part of me wasn’t sure it was really true.  To that part of me, I was in a stranger’s house, in a stranger’s bed.  Only me and my wife were the same.

Honestly, I really don’t know what that dream was all about.

It reminded me though, of something my ex talked about.  My ex believed that we weren’t simple one soul in one body.  Life was more complicated than that.  We were here to learn.  We were more like pieces of one soul, split into many bodies, each body separately in something like a parallel universe.  And each piece connected to an “oversoul”.

The best description I could give I guess would be like our true souls were each like an incarnation of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  And each noodly appendage reaches out through time and space into different alternate dimensions, each ending in a part of that magnificence that resides our bodies.  That one little tip is what we call our spirit, our soul.  Each of those many parts of us all live different lives, learning different lessons, experiencing different things.  And as each part of us dies, it comes back to us, bringing that experience with it.

Kind of like the movie The One.  With the oversoul being the metaphysical mechanics to explain how each alternate us is connected into one being.

And somehow, for some reason, in the moment of that “dream”, two of my alternate existences became one.

For what purpose?  I don’t know.  Did it really happen?  I don’t know.  Was it just a weird dream?  I don’t know.  Is it having any lasting effect on my life since then?  So far, I haven’t seen any.  But then it’s only been a couple of days.

It’s funny.  Until that “dream”, I’d never really believed that we were a soul divided.  I’d believed in alternate universes.  I even believed that somehow we could meet ourselves, if we could only travel between them.  I don’t just “believe”.  I have a whole model of it from my understanding that could possibly advance the world of physics and explain things like entropy for example, if only I were a world-renowned PhD so that people would take me seriously instead of say, “Yeah, sure.”  I don’t pretend to fully grasp the mathematics and how it ties in to M-Theory (String Theory), but I know that it does, because it helps define some of the working dimensions of the universe.  But so I’d believed in that much, but never believed in the concept of an “oversoul” or anything so spiritual.  …Until now.

You see, I may be a fanciful creative soul, but I’m also a practical soul.  I tend to lean upon what I can be drawn from experience.  I take a reasonably scientific approach.  And ultimately I believe that science will one day prove that magic and energy are real.  Just as science once proved that matter wasn’t just there, but made of atoms, and that atoms were made of protons, neutrons, and electrons.  Because there’s an energy there, that holds those all together.  We try to break the sub-subatomic down into things like quarks.  But what makes those up?  What holds them together?  At some point, all matter is actually energy.  Even quantum physics has examples of the observer affecting the observed outcome of an experiment.  Is it such a difficult thing to believe that a trained observer can affect more than science wants to admit?  That some can reach the very fundamental energy that makes matter and affect a desired outcome?  I think that scientifically, a potential is there.  We just don’t yet have the instruments to measure it.  Or, for that matter, the will to.

Because if an observer can affect an outcome, then how do you think skeptics observing the experiments will affect the experiments?  Will affect the ability to create instruments to measure?  There’s a whole world humming of disbelief of the supernatural.  How do you imagine all of those very many observers are constantly affecting the observed?  It’s possible that magic simply doesn’t exist because science says that it doesn’t, and we teach all of our children around the world this science.

Anyway, there’s a lot to talk about there, but it’s getting off the track.  The point is, I had a strange dream, if it was even a dream.  And it’s done … something.  Only I don’t know what … other than to cause me to re-examine one part of my view of how our universe works.

But whether or not it changes anything in the end, one thing is for certain:  It was interesting.  And so I thought it worth sharing.  If that’s not hinky enough for Hinky Corners, I don’t know what is!