I have sat in circles with women; danced, dined, & prayed with women. Women who I call sisters, women who are sisters, both by blood & by spiritual family of origin.
With the women I have known, we’ve seldom been hesitant to unfurl our souls or open our hearts with expansive vulnerability. We’ve seemed to be able to talk about everything if not most things: work, school, our future kids, our father’s indiscretions, the brand of conditioner we’re using.
We’ve spoken our truths in coffeeshops, on lumpy vintage couches, on long drives to the coast, under many different kinds of sky, against a plethora of backdrops. The scenery might change, but the conversations stay unwaveringly aimed at the heart of our immediate lives, always in the realm of our personal desires & inner battles.
But when it comes to matters of the sexual, we somehow find ourselves speaking vaguely, only slightly revealing slivers of truth about who we are sexually, what we are sensually hungry for.