The Poetry of Pleasure

Originally published in Elephant Journal

These days I do yoga because it feels like sex. I told this to someone recently who said, “Really? You must not have great sex.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, “but could it be that you haven’t had great yoga?”

When I say yoga feels like sex, I don’t mean the penetrating, chaotic, orgasmic side of sex. I mean the pleasure of waking up into an animal body side of sex. The flow of energy in places and spaces aching for action side of sex. The relief of one’s body parts being met with loving focused attention side of sex.

This new relationship with yoga has had unexpected side effects, specifically, sound effects.

The sounds are usually so quiet only my own mat or nearest neighbor can hear them. But they are there, sensual and audible. Along with them, comes an experience of freedom in the body, but also of fear in the mind. What will others think? Will they be annoyed? Distracted? Do they think I’m trying to get attention?

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