I’m a pretty modest gal. Just ask The Little Woman. I’m a prude. I don’t sleep naked. I don’t wander the house in my all togethers. I close the door when I am doing anything in the bathroom. I don’t even like her to watch me . . . oh, never mind. I can’t even write that. Suffice it to say, I think the details of sex, however loud or kinky it may get, should stay between the people involved. No sharing. No PDA. No bragging, for god’s sake.
However, back when I signed up for this A to Z blog challenge, I wrote that I was going to devote the letter O to this phenomenon, Orgasmic Meditation, that was sweeping the Intertubes—or had at least had made an appearance on some of the Interweb news sites I subscribe to. I don’t have anything in particular to say about Orgasms (that I want to share), except that I think it’s pretty Odd to have One in such a dispassionate manner. In front of Other people, no less. This whole practice violates my modest sensibilities.
Orgasmic Meditation, or OM, according to the Salon.com article accompanying the, er, revealing video, says that the practice releases a, uhm, flood of Oxytocin, the hormone that leads to Orgasm. But, the proponents of OM, insist that the big O isn’t the point of OM. The point, they say, is the journey, not the destination. The point is the experiences along the way, the experiences the woman (and it is only women) has while her meditation partner strokes her clitoris in a non-sexual manner (italics mine).
I dunno about you, but having my parts stroked screams sexual, though I suppose the fact that the whole affair Occurs in a room full of Other people might put a damper on my libido. As I read the article and the reviews from satisfied customers I really tried to keep an Open mind. After all, the founder of OneTaste, the company Offering OM classes, appeared on a TED Talk and the practice was featured on Deepak Chopra’s YouTube channel, so how crazy could it be?
Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be forking over $15K anytime soon for a Mastery OM class. Read the article. Watch the video, if you dare. Call me a prude. I don’t care.