pleasure and god
Pleasure and God
Not as a theological debate. As a feeling. A low hum of wrongness that lived just beneath desire — any desire. The pleasure of being touched. Of being seen. Of wanting something for myself.
I had split myself in two without realizing it.
The holy self. And the other one.
Most of us were taught — somewhere, somehow — that our body's pleasure and our spiritual life live in separate rooms. That desire is the door away from God. That feeling too much is dangerous. That something must be wrong with us for wanting what we want.
And so we learn to leave ourselves at the door before we enter anything sacred.
But here is what 25 years of practice — yoga, embodiment work, somatic coaching, and a lot of sitting with what I'd rather not feel — has taught me:
Nothing that is truly felt and fully present is separate from God.
Not pleasure. Not longing. Not the ache of wanting to be loved well.
Pleasure, when you stay with it — not chasing, not escaping, just present — becomes prayer. The body, when welcomed, becomes a temple. Sensation, when breathed all the way through, opens something ancient.
The guilt so many of us carry isn't proof we've done something wrong. It's proof we were taught to distrust ourselves. To distrust the very instrument through which we experience life.
That teaching was not the truth. It was fear, dressed in the language of morality.
The truth is older than the fear.
A practice to feel into this for yourself
I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to check with your own body.
The next time pleasure arises — any kind, however small — and the familiar voice whispers this is wrong —
Pause. Place one hand on your heart.
Breathe into the sensation, not away from it. Let it be there without immediately making it mean something.
Then ask, quietly: Is this separating me from life — or bringing me closer to it?
Let the body answer. Not the story you inherited. Not the voice that learned to shrink. The body.
In my experience — and in the experience of the women I work with — presence is always the portal. To God. To love. To ourselves.
It always has been. 🌹
If this landed somewhere in you, I'd love to hear. And if you know a woman who has been quietly carrying this split — share it with her. She's not alone.
Your sacredness is not at risk here. It's the foundation.
If fully embracing pleasure — alone or with a partner — still feels like it's in tension with your faith or your values, I hold a container where both can coexist.
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