The formulas we’re supposed to live our lives by are all around us. They’re in the movies we see on first dates. They’re demonstrated in the lives of our parents, the mistakes of our friends. I took all of this very much to heart, and before I knew it, I was planting markers in the ground. Engaged to high school sweetheart, check. Big wedding, check. Steady job with a 401k, check check. And then I got to the one I hadn’t really planned. Divorce. Check.
After my divorce, I had this brutal realization: I had no clue what had happened. I had no clue what was going on. I had followed the rulebook line by line, and yet here I was. Alone and lonely.
The loneliness is what really brought me to OM. Since my divorce, I hadn’t had much contact with women. I hadn’t had many dates, and the ones I’d had, it felt like I was sort of slipping off the surface, so to speak. I couldn’t quite get “there” with any of them.
When I found out about this practice, this Orgasmic Meditation, I could feel there was something there for me. Something that could take me deeper within myself, and deeper within my relationships. I guess you could say my decision to try OM was the first time I followed a feeling, not a plan.
When I first started to OM, I wasn’t feeling much—except a cramping in my hands and back. For three months I OMed with pain.
It turned out I had a lot of resentment compressed into a very thin layer that I could barely detect. A woman would ask me to do something, or tell me to do something, and for half a second, I would react with rage and resentment and hurt. And then the “nice guy” in me would push that feeling down. Once I realized this, a lot of the rage began to dissipate. My hands and back stopped cramping, and my OMs became a lot more sensational.
I can remember the first time I was fully stroking on the spot in an OM. People had told me there would be an electric charge, a spark, but I dismissed it as some woo-woo California stuff. I grew up in New York. Things are a little more practical out there. But I swear, that’s just how it felt. I don’t know if you have cousins, but I do, and we were idiotic enough as kids to touch our tongues to a 9-volt battery. And that’s just how it felt, being on my partner’s spot with my fingertip. Minus the acidic taste.
I've been OMing for a long time now and one of the things I've gotten from OM is the ability to feel for that spot of electricity anywhere, that spot of truth. This has helped me live a life of purpose. There’s nothing special about my attention, except that I’ve trained it through sitting down, stroking, OMing. The progress has been slow and incremental from those days where the only way I could move forward in life was attaching myself to somebody else’s made-up “plan.”
Little by little, OM has expanded my ability to see, to feel, to be attentive. And I guarantee anyone else who takes the time to sit down and stroke and feel will experience the same thing. The hard work comes in later, when you start to see all the things that were keeping you from having that level of attention. The fears, the ego, all of that. Facing all the programming is where the hard work lies. But on the other side, there’s a new and expansive world waiting.