have deeply intimate sex

this just isn’t happening right now. maybe later???

I once made the joke to my husband that now that we’re married I’m allowed to go to the “dirty part” of the bookstore so for Valentine’s day, I got a book, Tantra between the sheets, and it’s probably one of the best sex books I’ve never come across.

For once, the photographs are artistically done. Quite a few of them are so high quality that I could easily envision them hanging on our walls. As for the book, if you haven’t read about Tantric Sex before…it embraces sexuality on all levels because it’s not just about doing it or trying a new position every day or getting creative with sex games.

As a Western culture, I think there is this believe that once sex between an existing couple gets old and boring, it’s time to move on. But while you can experience that “excited teenager feeling” with a new partner, the mistake is realizing what’s at stake, what you’re really losing. Because a real marriage isn’t just about sex…it’s so much more.

One of the cool quotes in the book about this topic states:

According to the Taoist, it takes seven years to know your partner’s body, seven years to know your partner’s mind, and seven years to know your partner’s spirit.

And I have to agree with those sentiments. While my husband and I have been together for a total of five and 1/2 year since meeting each other, we are still learning every day. We are still developing and deeping our relationship. But I will admit it’s not easy. It takes work. It takes faith. Just not everyone in the western world is willing to do this…thus, this would be why 50% of all marriages end up in divorce.

again and again. It gets better every time.

The Poet, wandering on, through Arabie,

And Persia, and the wild Carmanian waste,

And o’er the aërial mountains which pour down

Indus and Oxus from their icy caves,

In joy and exultation held his way;

Till in the vale of Cashmire, far within

Its loneliest dell, where odorous plants entwine

Beneath the hollow rocks a natural bower,

Beside a sparkling rivulet he stretched

His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep

There came, a dream of hopes that never yet

Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veilèd maid

Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones.

Her voice was like the voice of his own soul

H eard in the calm of thought; its music long,

Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held

His inmost sense suspended in its web

Of many-colored woof and shifting hues.

Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme,

And lofty hopes of divine liberty,

Thoughts the most dear to him, and poesy,

Herself a poet. Soon the solemn mood

Of her pure mind kindled through all her frame

A permeating fire; wild numbers then

She raised, with voice stifled in tremulous sobs

Subdued by its own pathos; her fair hands

Were bare alone, sweeping from some strange harp

Strange symphony, and in their branching veins

The eloquent blood told an ineffable tale.

The beating of her heart was heard to fill

The pauses of her music, and her breath

Tumultuously accorded with those fits

Of intermitted song. Sudden she rose,

As if her heart impatiently endured

Its bursting burden; at the sound he turned,

And saw by the warm light of their own life

Her glowing limbs beneath the sinuous veil

Of woven wind, her outspread arms now bare,

Her dark locks floating in the breath of night,

Her beamy bending eyes, her parted lips

Outstretched, and pale, and quivering eagerly.

His strong heart sunk and sickened with excess

Of love. He reared his shuddering limbs, and quelled

His gasping breath, and spread his arms to meet

Her panting bosom:—she drew back awhile,

Then, yielding to the irresistible joy,

With frantic gesture and short breathless cry

Folded his frame in her dissolving arms.

Now blackness veiled his dizzy eyes, and night

Involved and swallowed up the vision; sleep,

Like a dark flood suspended in its course,

Rolled back its impulse on his vacant brain.

From Alastor: Or, the Spirit of Solitude
Percy Bysshe Shelley 1815