*This was originally a schmoozeletter email*
I once read someone describe the time period we're living through as "the age of metaphor."
Metaphor has been around for a good while, but I know that there's always been something magical-feeling to me about a well formulated parable to symbolize a deeper truth, and I love to use them myself.
In working with couples on their sexual intimacy, one metaphor I use is the following:
Imagine two different kinds of hikes:
One is a mountain that requires difficult and careful climbing. You painstaking look for each new foothold, pulling yourself up to the top, so that when you get there, you can feel the heady sense of accomplishment, and get to enjoy the breathtaking view at the end.
The second is a winding trail through a forest. There's not one clear starting point or end point, but several meandering paths through the foliage, beautiful flora and fauna to notice and enjoy as you explore your surroundings. You pause to look around and admire as you go; the walk is the view.
Some couples look at intimacy and sexuality as the first kind of hike:
Difficult, exhausting work that needs to be "done" in order to "get to" the pleasure, that's hopefully revealed, earned at "the end."
I like to introduce the idea of shifting to the second kind of hike. It doesn't need to be this strenuous, stressful uphill climb. It can be more like a gentle, leisurely path to enjoy. Take in the unique, organic terrain of one another- body and soul. Slowly, sensually, delight in what you see, feel, breathe, taste, and touch. Linger over the sensations, tap in to the process, the view, the feelings they elicit from and between you. Sometimes you may find a magnificent vista along the way, but often it's not about one big clearing or moment, but the many small but exquisite composite ones created as you mindfully, reverently walk your path.
What's fascinating is that for couples who are craving this big, orgasmic breakthrough in their intimate relationships, learning to focus more slowly and intentionally on the second type of nuanced, multi-faceted pleasuring actually increases the likelihood of achieving the first as well, over time.
Love is not a pass/fail course, but a multi-course feast to be savored slowly, many times, over time.
(I remember once thinking that the word "intimacy" sounds like "into me see" and then, years later, seeing that a colleague actually named her blog exactly this:)
In this week's Torah portion, we hear a lot about traveling. The Jews traveled, they camped, they traveled again. Sometimes they stayed for long stretches, sometimes for short stints. Eternally relevant events happened along the way. This traveling, this journey is actually the bulk of the Torah story.
The Jews left Egypt about a third of the way through the book of Exodus. The rest of Exodus, along with Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, are all set in the desert. 3.66 of the 5 books are narrated against the backdrop of the trek to the Promised Land. In fact, Israel is not even mentioned explicitly by name in the Five Books. The word Torah, which means instruction, or direction, is all about the journey, the path, the going. The word for Jewish law, Halacha, literally means: the way we go. Moses/Moshe never even makes it into the coveted land- his entire legacy is via "on the way."
As Jews and as humans, we utilize this linguistic metaphor often.
People love to describe what they're working on personally as their "journey."
A popular therapy podcast refers to its listeners as "fellow travelers."
We refer to people who are figuring themselves out as "finding their way."
Ralph Waldo Emerson is credited to have said that: "Life is a journey, not a destination."
Ram Dass famously observed that "we're all just walking each other home."
It sounds tranquil and deep, but honestly, I don't really like traveling; I like to "be there." I get impatient- with the process, with myself, with life, with G-d. I lose many precious moments inwardly asking "are we there yet?" checking the map, changing the radio station. (Ok, I'm old: checking the GPS, choosing a new audiobook... whatever. I'm busy in the car trying to move things along, instead of enjoying the ride.)
But the more I live, the more I try to slow down and take in the view. To breathe. To insert commas, skip lines. To live in the now, because the present moment is what needs my focus the most. I need the present moment the most. It's where I am. It's so hard to do, but it's where life is actually happening, where I can be and do and learn the most. Even for the future present moments.
We're not just here trying to get from point A to point B; we're being and becoming all the endless points along the way and that's actually the entire point.
The Biblical Hebrew word for camping along the travels is "machaneh." It has similar linguistic root letters as the words for rest: menucha, gift: mincha and comfort: nechama. So many of the tasks we do can feel like a race to the finish line. But I'm trying really hard to shift. To slow down and enjoy the ride. To remember to pause en route to stop and touch the flowers, admire that fawn in the distance, to receive the gift of being present. To inhale, exhale, to be. Here. Now. It's challenging. But transformative.
Life does have a starting point and an end point. But that's not the point. It's all the other points in between that matter, individually and collectively, where the living really happens. Thanks for being part of my journey.
Your fellow traveler,
Elisheva
If you'd like to subscribe for more exclusive content similar to this, (it's free:) you can join us here: elishevaliss.com/newletter
Comments