Our culture’s common belief is that our sexuality exists in two forms: the interior and the relational.
In this perspective, sexual fantasy belongs to the interior; the stories or images that we find exciting or arousing, often derived from experiences in our childhood. Sometimes, these are stories, scenes, fragments of images, words or sensed experiences that we masturbate to, and sometimes not.
The common belief is that these fantasies reside internally within us, that they are private, and often we feel uncomfortable about them. Because they are internal, we believe the erotic charge which they contain can’t be shared or understood or felt by other people.
Even if we don’t feel uncomfortable, our fantasies often solidify and contract over time, becoming boring and repetitive.
To the relational, on the other hand, belongs the belief that our erotic sense can only be brought out by a person or persons whom we find attractive.
These beliefs are all mistaken.
Why is this important?
People are often troubled by their sexual fantasies. They are disturbed by the narratives, which are rarely straightforward and wholesome. Indeed, they are often dark and in conflict with the sort of person they feel they are, and what they should find arousing. Gaining an insight into their fantasies, understanding they are not freaks or weirdos, and sharing their fantasies with others is a tremendous antidote to shame and to feelings of aloneness.
The world of sexuality is overfocused on the body, and the belief that that’s where eroticism is exclusively found. But for many people, engaging in quasi sexual acts with strangers in sex clubs or similar places has a limited appeal. These people – possibly most of us – are erotically disenfranchised.
In my work with The Erotic Imagination, I work with the Imaginal to create a larger sense of sexuality: embodied, present, communicable, fluid, joyful, available to everyone. I want to open up people’s sense of their own erotic nature, and their capacity to express this to another, and for the other to be able to experience that viscerally and imaginatively.
I want to foster the -incredible, and incredibly liberating – idea that it is possible to create an erotic field with anyone, entirely independent of touch or of personal attractiveness.
I disagree with the prevailing idea that eroticism is a kind of chemical reaction with a special person, that it’s something that we do rather than an intrinsic and permanent part of who we are. I believe that we can change that persistent sense of incompleteness, of inadequacy, of missing out.
Through this work, people can rediscover their own erotic sovereignty.
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