The Art of Love Making

The art of making love is a never-ending journey. As soon as it dampens into the mundane – we are no longer present in between the sheets. Love making has the potential to be a multi-medium art form that gives way to channelling spirit like no other. It is a creative, visceral and deeply felt experience for transformation and self-exploration. Yet, in modern society, somehow it is used to run away from ourselves, when in fact, it is an invitation for some of the most vulnerable and intrepid journeys.

Self-Beloved, Art Piece and photography by Clare Morris
Self-Beloved, Art Piece and photography by Clare Morris

Self-beloved (A love poem to self)

I can see you moving towards me - stroking your fingers across my skin - as I listen intently to your softening breath - your fingers wrapped around my thighs - as my chest opens - ready to receive all of you - intimately - devouring me as your devotion - with my waking breath - that bursts at the seems - through the pores of my skin - as you touch my neck with your fingertips - and my pelvis collapses - in ecstatic bliss - I am yours forever - in this moment - beloved - tears clean my eyes - as my body bursts into light - dancing - dying - becoming - whole - in the fierce grip of your loving embrace - your beating heart - my swelling chest - your falling belly - looking deep into my eyes with unwavering knowing - that we will live and die a thousand deaths - in these arms.

I wrote this poem when I had been on a path of celibacy for the last 4 and a half years. I found myself in this sexual fast because I wanted to experience myself as being deeply respected from within. I wanted to become precious and free in my expression through my innocence. To be a temple of Gaia, like Mother Earth, to be erotically expressed through the pristinely pure nature of my sensuality, and to be held in the honouring of my becoming that deems all life as sacred.

I longed to find my true self. I felt that my body had been physically, emotionally, and spiritually violated through acts of sex. I can’t say I experienced what it truly meant to be ‘Beloved”. What it truly meant to be celebrated and seen… and so I learnt to be numb. To use my body as a tool to ‘check out’. I did not know what it meant to move with my breath or sink into the subtle tenderness of the warmth of each moment. Even though I loved deeply, and I was so willing, I was taken for granted by myself and so also by those who asked to be met by me.

In my journey of celibacy, I learnt many things...

Sometimes I would cry during sex, and I didn’t know why. Now I do… In my journey of celibacy, I learnt many things. I learnt how to make love to myself in a way that I could journey further and deeper into the angelic realms, as a state of bliss that can only be described as ecstatic heaven. I also began to explore different ways to access myself with scents and sounds. To look at myself in the mirror and soak in my radiance, which I could never do with a partner. To make love with my divinity in safety and know myself as the gateway to infinite love. But for a long time after my last my break-up, I could not touch myself. I could not make love to myself. It was too painful. My heart would break, and I would cry. I would feel the pain of losing those who I loved who had left me; and sink into the reckoning of my own self-betrayal… and eventually… I could hold myself so tenderly in my own vulnerability that those tears became a fountain gushing from the cleansing spring of my heart.

I was not celibate because I did not want to make love. Cleary, it is a passion of mine to explore all kinds of love-making. Playful. Intimate. Soft. Slow. Experimental. Explorative. Radical. Risky. I just didn’t feel like I was being sensually met in the holism of my heart. Love-making isn’t just about having a good “bang” where people masturbate with each other. Love-making is a language to express and experience the different parts of ourselves that exist in the many dimensions which are usually hidden. The discourse that is needed before and after love-making, is just as important, and is a crucial extension of the act itself. The actual sex is merely symbolic of the whole experience.

This kind of awareness requires us to be in relationship with ourselves, to be in relationship with another. To be able to initiate discourse for what remains unseen and unsaid. So that we don’t withdraw in the very spaces that are made for the deepest kind of vulnerability. I began to listen to podcasts about sex education and was exposed to the authentic conversations couples were having on what their experience is - what their desires, fears, and fetishes are – and how to create a safe container for deep surrender and exploration. To unravel what is hidden and become fluid by moving through resistance into ecstasy. To devour our shame as a form of poetic prayer, in the fire of our burning desire, to become known to ourselves by the virtue of bearing witness to the raw and real expression of another. Even just for a moment. Even just for a glimpse - in that sweetening tender moment when our guard is down, and the world can fall away as we soften.

Becoming Beloved, Art piece by Clare Morris marooned on a quiet day on our road trip
Becoming Beloved, Art piece by Clare Morris marooned on a quiet day on our road trip

But I couldn’t see this experience materialise for me in the world of casual play mates and one-night-wonders. I needed the connection – the emotional intimacy – the relationship – the presence. Without full presence there is no love-making. There are just bodies in a room. Love-making can happen in a look, a touch, an exploration of the soft and tender spaces that build into tension of total trust. To allow the terrifying nakedness of my true self to be seen for the first time every time I return to fall apart in another’s arms. To be fully present in my fluidity that I can bring my full radiance into the room and not rely on the other to draw it from me. To weave and journey together in a dance that allows whatever to arrive, in the space, to merge in the immersive moment of opening up the portal of softening ecstasy - consciously.

Watch my improvised spoken word poetry on Instagram here.

So... after 4 and a half years of personally exploring these many parts of myself – I got to a point where I JUST WANTED TO BE RAVISHED! I wanted to share and co-pilot what I had learnt with another. To play and explore the dynamism of these spaces between us – “oh the places we will go!” But I leant very quickly that sex is taken for granted… and it is also a tremendously scary place for people to meet. I feel that the culture of casual dating, one-night-wonders, and watching porn rather than normalising discourse on sex education has left us high and dry as a humanity – when it comes to embracing the innate opportunity of what it can truly mean to embody ‘the ravishing’ in love-making - for all of its alchemy – even if it’s just for one night – it can be healing.

Sex is Magick!.. and love-making is a channel for spirit

Sex is Magick!.. and love-making is a channel for spirit. I’ll never forget the moment I looked at my nephew when he was born and it dawned on me that sex is a gateway for a soul to come through into the physical plain. It really is an invitation for the power of creation to move through us. We are a channel for the divine - in all its polarising and shapes-shifting forms.

So… What does it mean to be present with it? To come alive? To allow what is unknown to be seen and be given life through our very bones?

Watch more spontaneous spoken word poetry here.

Once a lover said to me, “It’s too much pressure. Sometimes I just want to make love and forget everything. I don’t want it to have to be meaningful. I just want it to be in the pure physicality”… and that’s OK. Being turned on and pursuing that energy is highly nurturing and nourishing for the biochemical wellbeing of the body. But taking sex with another sentient being for granted, causes disconnection rather than a connection, and this is a huge loss to humanity – especially when it has the potential to be worked with for soul retrieval – as in unveiling unknown parts of ourselves through fluid and unmasked motions. Unravelling layer by layer like the petals of a rose.

The precious unfolding, art piece and photography by Clare Morris
The precious unfolding, art piece and photography by Clare Morris

When I said I wanted to be ravished – I thought I wanted to be penetrated – to be gripped – to be caressed by gaping lips and heated teeth, in the dripping breath and breast of being devoured in the ripeness of my overflowing fullness. I realised… that physical penetration… had nothing to do with it. I needed to be penetrated with presence. I needed to be taken - and shown - how to surrender to the beckoning of my own body – slowly - awakening into the spaces of my sentient being. But the nervousness, the thrill, and my expectation of how ‘the show must go’ threw me back into my many years of pre-conditioned numbing. I, myself – became a user. I did not deeply fall into the exploration or the percolation of my sensuality – and instead I gave so that I could take.

I needed to be penetrated with presence