Pleasure

         The Queen of the Swords by David McCall Johnston (1971)

Pleasure. I think of food, a mouth biting down on a chocolate covered strawberry, the smell of truffle and maca. I think of aphrodisiacal things. The feeling of mmmm, the delights of human pleasure. I think, too, of the highs of joy in meditation or ecstasy. All of it.

But in what ways do I find pleasure, in the day to day? It’s easier to recall the moments of wanting pleasure, of seeking, of going, of getting, of succeeding and then the down-receding. What’s in it? Where is it? What pleasure was had? It seems at the center, but I’m running circles around it, only to tap it once, twice, and then keep on running and running, gravitating towards it, making it the center of my life, of what I do—isn’t that what many of us do?

We wish to seek reward and satisfaction in community reassurance, accolades from our parents and peers. What then? What pleasure is found within once the outside factors are fulfilled? Where does one go from there? Expression, creation, release, the exhale, that is a part of it too, not just the intake, the belated breaks towards subdued sighs and elated highs. Where does it take us? Pleasure. Chills on my back, sensitive finger tips, curled toes. It’s the sensation of life. The bloom of a flower seeks satisfaction and pleasure. The morning dew and storm seeks release and pleasure.

We think we’re the only selfish creatures because we like to punish ourselves for enjoying what is natural, but we are like all of nature, we seek release, satisfaction and pleasure. But it’s that they don’t chase other things, or for more or for excess. They do and they rest, like nymphs and faeries did in fields of green and purple ponds, spaces of delight. They knew. Just like Pan and his nymphs did. They watch as men self-disciplined themselves into misery so they could seek satisfaction after life while they waste away in suffering now.

Pleasure is arising and doing the little things for ourselves and our bodies. Pleasure is allowing ourselves to be happy, to feel joy and take it in fully, not resist it or feel ashamed by it. Pleasure is to be what God set out to do and made us to be. Pleasure is the fragrance of satisfaction. Pleasure is the core of our creation. Pleasure is the core of who we are and yet we pretend it is not, or we forget and we make it out to be something evil, then hide and do it in excess, because we can not be what we were meant to be, meant to show: to be in pleasure and be enjoyed, well-received, to not be shamed by ourselves or anyone else.

We seek to feel joy and be welcomed by it, and for it.

Pleasure is to slow down and seek delight in everything around us, and be so immensely grateful for it. Pleasure is to please ourselves for God’s sake! Yes! For God’s Sake! He wants this for us, for you, for me. The irritations come from not allowing true pleasure. Pleasure is taking a moment, taking a breath, a bite. To delight in all our senses and think mmm, how great is this? How wonderful it is to be alive and enjoy all of this.

Pleasure is sipping lemonade on the lawn chair, fanning oneself and donning a slight smile and giving a sigh, enough to make someone look and think what a fiend! What a lazy do-no-good—that’s not always true, is it? There was a time where it was normal, but there was always someone looking, judging, thinking 'they should be doing this,’ ‘they should be doing that.’ ‘They shouldn’t have time for that.’ We should, we should, we should, be busy doing this, doing that.

We forget to live, and we shame those who do. 

Pleasure is living life how it was made to live. Pleasure is honoring all that life has to offer, with reverence and delight and not shame ourselves for enjoying any of it at all. Pleasure is something I had felt guilt for having, felt it was too much to ask for, felt like there was something wrong or evil in doing so, that it was too selfish; ignorant. But I was really fighting for it, to live for pleasure and with pleasure, and I was confused that others didn’t support that, because they were in their own misery, and wanted me to be miserable too. Of course, they didn’t think that, they were thinking they were concerned, responsible, right for what they thought. They think, hey, watch out. You shouldn’t be seeking pleasure in those ways! You shouldn’t be living life that way! I won’t stand for it!

Then don’t.

I’ll take your concerns. I’ll hear it with compassion, and then remind you that it doesn’t matter. Thank you. Yes, thank you. For your heart and your concerns, but at the end of the day it is my life and I will live it the way I like, and whatever happens is not on you, it’s not on me, it just is. And we’ll keep going the way things are, and wouldn’t it be nice if we could enjoy it a little more? To honor life, and take it all in, and think to ourselves, “This is nice.”—Yes, why, I believe that is the way to live, and I’ll remember to keep doing that. I’ll remember to not worry about anything but that: to truly enjoy my life.

Join me on my crusade to joy. You can fly your flags, and fight, but I’ll be here, relaxing on the deck of my boat. You can hate me for it. Think I’m selfish for it, but I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do, and I think the years I felt I needed to make a “difference” in this world was truly the selfish thing, to shame myself and others for thinking we cannot be how we wish to be, do what we wish to do. We make it sound so evil! I’m so sick and tired of thinking I’m evil or others who wish to simply feel joy and pleasure is evil!

If enjoying our lives is bothering you, that is on you. We’re not hurting you, and look! That’s it! We’re no longer hurting ourselves. We relish when people bend over backwards, get blood on their hands and knees to do something for the “greater good,” welp, I’m out. Count me out. I’m done. I don’t want to be a part of any of your missions any longer. I don’t want to be a part of any league of angels or army of starseeds or collective of do-gooders. I want to simply live my life the way I want, deep deep deep down in my heart, and not feel ashamed of it. To not feel there is some other way I’m supposed to be, and that going after what I want must be “wrong” that it must be some evil I must excavate, that it’s a virus, a leech. Can’t I simply do what I want, because it makes me happy? Can’t I simply do what I want, because it feels good and it’s what I wish to do? I’m so tired of believing there is a way we’re supposed to be doing things. I’m done. That’s it. I’m over it. I’m living my way and that’s all there is to it now. 

This crusade is one of joy. This crusade is for creation. To make spaces for creation, and to live joyfully, to find pleasure in all things, not for me, for you—for life. To be alive, and honor every second of it. What does that look like? When I take on this crusade to live and honor pleasure and joy? It looks like creating safe spaces to be alive and feel joy and to honor our feelings and what we want to do, free of restrictive rules, free of ‘musts’ ‘shoulds’ and to simply be and come as you are. Nothing is wrong, and I’ll do well to remember that. To no longer shame, hold onto guilt or guilt others. But to encourage life, encourage creation. Not responsibilities, not change, not money schemes, nothing of that sort. I wish to encourage joy.

Healing my inner child wound starts there, to allow myself to do what I like and want despite what anyone thinks, or what I worry others will think, and to encourage others to do the same, and  believe in them. If it’s coming from the seed of joy, then do it. If it’s coming from a place of fixing or changing…then… well, I’ll let you figure that one out.

When the time comes, we can enjoy this life together. You can join me and we can bloom. Together, we’ll bloom. And we won’t look to change anyone else’s way of blooming. We’ll look and say, Ahhh! Wow, oh wow. How beautiful. How wonderful. I’m tired of criticizing. I make a promise, starting today: To not let a critical phrase or sentence out of my mouth, and if I do. I’ll witness it, not shame it, and I’ll nurture it back to health like a crying babe. I’ll be patient with it and myself, I’ll sit with it and say, I’m sorry, it’s okay. You’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with you. You did your best and that is beautiful. You showed up.

When we are creating, there is no reason to criticize. It is when we don’t show up for this life, that we wish to shame others for living theirs.