Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Sex is a Finger Pointing at the Moon

The deeper you dive into the Left-Handed Path of desire, the more you run up against this inevitable truth: your monkey mind thinks it's about fulfilment, but it's not.

A well-known koan runs, Zen is the finger pointing at the moon. And the non-answer to the riddle is, "Don't look at the finger. Look at the Moon, stupid."


Don't get hung up on Zen teaching. Don't get hung up on perfecting your meditation practice. Don't get hung up even on the quest for enlightenment.


If we take desire a teacher, the stakes are high. We're pretty nearly hard-wired to imagine that the perfect fulfilment of the fantasy, the perfect connection with the perfect partner, the perfect orgasm, is what will bring us completion.


In other words, we're almost inevitably inclined to "chase the dragon," hoping for the perfect high.


If only the masseur's touch were a little firmer. Or a little lighter. If only the guy I just started dating were five years younger. Or older.  If only he were more my type.


If only my abs were a little tighter. If only I could still keep it up like I did when I was twenty-five. 


If only I'd come out six years earlier. Or twenty years earlier. Or fifty years earlier. 


If only the surgery hadn't put an end to my ability to ejaculate. Or to my partner's sex drive.


If only I weren't actually living my life as it is, here and now, in this present moment.


When we keep staring at the finger, we miss the Moon. We miss the lightning flash of unexpected experience. We miss the magic of what we never bargained on, of what's more than we could have asked or imagined.


Your fantasies, your memories, your expectations, they're all a finger. You need them to point the way. But look at the Moon.

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