The wheels of the old rusty bike churned....forward...fast...furious...tears welling up in my tear ducts and streaming down my face, even as I dodged traffic.
We do this for all men, I thought. We do it for all the men who couldn't, all the men who wouldn't, and definitely for all the men who thought they shouldn't.
"I need to find courage," he'd said to me. We had been casual, life-throbbing hot lovers for several years. We would get together maybe once every couple of weeks, for one specific purpose: WONDERFUL, FUN SEX! This time, I had made one specific request of him. During the throes of our passion, I pulled my face back from his luscious, wonderful lips, looked into his eyes and said,
"Hey--do you have anything you want to wish for? I'm going down to the river today, and when I go there, we get to make a wish. So whatever you're most wishing for, now is the time to let it be known."
He didn't look surprised. By now, he knew how much I loved to use HOT SEX to FUEL my consciousness, TRANSFORM my reality, and CREATE HEALTH and well-being for myself and others in my life. Together, we had learned how to harness our hot sexual fun and use it for our greater good. We knew we lived in a world where people said that SEX was something you had to PROTECT yourself from, so we had set out, long ago, to treat our PLEASURE as a life-giving source of good health, vitality, and...
"Courage," he said. "I need to ask for courage--the courage to ask myself 'What needs do I have that need to be met FIRST,' and the courage to fully live my life."
"All righty then, you fucker," I told him with a salacious grin, "You asked for it!" I pinned him down by arms--and legs--down to the bed, and whispered my most filthy secrets into his ear.
This time, condoms had a function much more powerful than "protection". We both put them on, together, and prepared to catch our offerings for Earth, River, Life, and Courage. Today, as was often the case, our sex wasn't focused on goals such as penetration. Instead, we wrestled, sweated, screamed, laughed face-to-face, kissed passionately, and moved our bodies together, bucking, writhing, and sliding around in our own sweat. Our intention: To generate as much erotic excitement as possible, and to harness that energy to fuel our dreams.
I could feel his orgasm coming. We had both been riding the wave for what seemed like hours...that sweet edge where breath and movement and sound can prolong the euphoric goodness of orgasm almost indefinitely. Either one of us could choose to cum at any time. Signaling complete let-go, each of us surrendered to shouts, screams, and passionate embraces of COURAGE, EXHUBERENCE, AND VITALITY FOR LIFE.
"We're fully ALIVE," I laughed out loud with him, over and over, as we cut loose and then drifted down that sweet river of after-glow bliss. "We've got full vitality, passion, and courage," I said, over and over, as our breathing patterns gradually returned to normal.
I arrived at the river and pushed my bicycle through the tall weeds, toward the high banks. I was approaching the water, unwrapping my offerings, when two men appeared. They walked by me as if they didn't see me. I couldn't tell whether they were intentionally ignoring me or if they really didn't see me, so just in case, I called out, "Hey there! "
They turned in acknowledgement, and so I continued with the words, "I wasn't sure if you saw me, and I..."
"I hope we're not disturbing you," one of them said kindly, carrying a bottle of wine and walking out onto the horizontal tree which perched like a perfect bench over the water. Evidently, this wasn't such a "secret spot".
"No, you're not disturbing me," I said. "The problem is that I might soon be disturbing YOU because I'm going to be making some offerings to the river. I didn't want to surprise you when I suddenly start screaming, shouting, or crying."
"You go right ahead, bro," the one man said to me. "Just pretend we're not here. Hey--what are you doing, anyway? Is it some kind of meditation?"
Wow, I must be in Asheville, I thought. "No," I told him, "it's not a meditation, but if I try to explain it to you, I might lose touch with what I'm doing, so..."
"Sure man, yeah. Sorry to disturb you." With that, the two of them went to sit down on the tree, open their bottle of wine, and light up a hand-rolled...cigarette, and I...I proceeded down to the water's edge to open my...package...
Now I'm at the River to make our offering. I do it for both of us. I do it for all of the war-torn men who hurt. I do this to transform our grief and our anger to full, conscious sanity. I do this so that we can be whole and complete, free of our burdens, and available here on Earth for our lovers, our friends, our families, and not least of all--ourselves.
As I poured the offerings from their packages and watched them diffuse into the flowing waters, I felt so liberated! I knew I would write about such things. I knew that my writing would be part of the ritual. I knew that my words--like these waters--would go everywhere. And so now, they do. Milk and Honey to the River. Amen, and Blessed be.