Preface to Dr. J’s New Book, “Sex and Awakening”

Please note that this book is still in editing and negotiating publishing options. Your feedback is welcome and I would love a collaborative effort to move this creative project to completion. Any comments on characters, locations, food, drinks or activities are welcome. Think of it as a “design your new life” creative project and let’s see what happens together.

Preface

A man came to me when I was at a crossroads in life. He offered his love, which felt like the flowers he sent for our first anniversary and our first Valentine’s Day. We went on many adventures, to Europe and Asia and islands in between, and decided we would start a business together. But it did not work out as well as I had planned. Well, the love part. Years later, I traveled to Montreal and saw him again. We learned that it wasn’t meant to be. Our love had faded with time, kindling not fed by our desire for each other but burned out by a lack of meaning in life. A lack of passion in a strange world we didn't know how to navigate and clueless on how to fix. We went our own ways but never forgot each other.

I am a woman deeply or used to be deeply connected to my sensuality and inner desires. Our culture somehow refers to this as “feminine presence.” I never understood what exactly anyone was actually talking about until I learned to dance. After that relationship ended, I couldn't feel my heart. I couldn't feel my body. My soul needed intimacy. I started to learn to dance but my soul felt lost and I didn't know what to do.

It was only after multiple dance failures that my esteemed teachers sent me to yoga to learn to meditate. I was angry at first but they turned out to be right. I couldn't relax enough to allow anyone to touch my body without my muscles tensing up or reacting to a partner. I blamed them every step of the way without knowing I was the one with work to do.

Yet, no amount of yoga would have prepared me for the trials of the dance floor. The sweeping arches of my feet were unable to hold me up, no matter how hard I tried to control every muscle in my legs and hips. My hips wouldn't sway and the pain held inside spoke to emotions I was too scared to face. My posture was terrible and my arms flailed around like an awkward bird trying to take flight from its perch at the edge of the nest. And even though I had my fitness routine with my private pilates instructor and was going to yoga, it wasn’t until I stepped on the dance floor that I realized how broken my body was.

My mind and body were not one and I became determined to fix it all.

I remember when I saw him the first time on the dance floor at a gala event: His smooth shoulders tapering down into his hips, his perfect cheekbones accented by blazing green eyes, his glowingly tan skin glistening with just the right amount of sweat in the nightclub lights, and all my soul wanted to do was touch him: Feel his heartbeat against mine when we danced together as one. Yet, fear kept whispering that there was no way I could ever dance with him. I was clueless; my movements were awkward and seemed more like those of a pigeon than anything else. So I watched while the stirring in my heart ached with desire to move my body and know her true limits. I watched while the jealousy and frustration rose up my spine and taunted me with my own self-imposed fear.

"You can't do it," the fear whispered. "The fuck she can't," the soul finally started to speak.

On the night of a full moon a short time later, I stepped into the grand dance hall again. My eyes were drawn to a young man who exuded sensuality in every movement. He felt familiar to me. The way his body flowed with the music spoke of years of training and dedication. He was here, in Paris, teaching a class on the art of touch. Looking around the room, I saw a mix of eager students and industry leaders alike all watching him intently, desperate to learn his ways. But as he moved closer to demonstrate the proper way to hold a partner, I noticed their uncertainty and hesitation. They lacked the confidence and trust in their own bodies necessary for this intimate art form. I watched as he masterfully corrected their postures. I vowed then and there that I would not be like them. I would learn this dance if it was the last thing I ever did. I left the event with frustration and booked the necessary private lessons. I committed to the journey. I wasn't there for just the party. I wanted to learn.

Five years later, I found myself back in Paris, no longer a beginner but a seasoned tango and ballroom dancer with a deep love for yoga as well. My journey to reclaim my body as part of the pathway to healing the heart began before I knew what was happening.

With all that time, I didn’t expect to see him again, but there he was, teaching hundreds of students at a time. He exuded an innocent sensuality, the kind that made me forget myself and want to save the entire world. I took his class and got up close enough to watch the movement of his muscles as they worked with the music; how they moved beneath the skin in response to each other, creating a singular orchestra of movement. His grace reminded me of a Hollywood actor, before all the Hollywood glamor and fame destroyed his talent. As he turned away from the last student, lingering by the edge of the stage, I thought about approaching him. Instead he walked over and touched my shoulder gently before standing in front of me.

His piercing eyes peered into mine as pheromones radiated from him like a fog being lifted off the beach by the warm ocean air at high tide; intoxicating my senses until I felt paralyzed. Before I could say anything, he asked, "May I?" Two words that were so very simple yet which stirred my soul that lived in my heart; like an aphrodisiac for which there is no antidote.

My partner moved his hand gently down my spine. Tears streamed down my face as I remembered how broken my heart still was. I could feel his hand on my shoulder blades sending an energy into my heart that I didn’t think I was capable of handling.  As he watched a single tear drop from my eyes, he encouraged me to use my emotions in my dancing. To love and to feel on the dance floor. To be one with the music and the story being created. A story of love lost and perhaps found.

He started to lead me into the middle of the dance floor and I followed. My body felt suddenly weightless, as if all the pain and sorrow of my past had been swept away and something else was born in its place. She was powerful, confident, passionate - a force inside me that until now I hadn't been able to access or express on my own. He held me close as we moved together in perfect harmony. With each passing moment I could feel my walls crumbling, freeing me from the fear that had held me back for so long. I was no longer scared of real love - or so I thought.

The music stopped and he paused in our embrace, looking into my eyes with quiet understanding. He whispered one more time, "Please stay after class. I have something to tell you." My heart raced with anticipation and fear as I nodded in response, knowing that whatever came next could make or break me; but this time I wasn't running away. This time I knew that no matter what happened, I would find the strength to keep going. I would face my fear of love and not run away.

As I watched him teach his students, it hit me why I always ended up on a dance floor. It was where my past life soulmates found me. His soul was familiar to me. I've tapped into spirit for as long as I can remember and learned that before enlightenment comes darkness. My guides taught me this: we must forget before we remember. We may be unconscious but the people we meet along our path are key players in helping us remember who we really are.

But nothing helps you prepare for realizing the darkness you need to face actually hides deep within your own subconscious desires. It's only when you awaken that you come to terms with the idea that those dreams might never have belonged to you in the first place, but were part of an intricate scheme meant to tear you down so you could become something or someone far greater than you ever thought possible.

He came over to me after the class ended. There were no words as he rested his forehead on mine and covered my ears. Melodic music with a deep sound vibrated through my body and stirred the urning of my soul. I couldn't breathe but could feel our hearts beating as one. And with one sentence, I was launched on a life changing adventure,  "I love you. May your journey lead you to finding who you really are."