When I arrived at Menla Center that Friday afternoon, I was tired yet excited. I drove all the way down from Quebec—a seven-hour straight drive to Upstate New York. For the first time, I crossed the frontier alone behind the wheel. “Is this your vehicle, Ma’am,” asked the custom agent. “Yes, it is, Sir!” I cheerfully answered. With my acoustic guitar and a yoga mat on the back seat, I chanted my way through the luscious Appalachian scenery feeling alive and free. Fully aware of my body sensations, the light pressure in my temples and the tension in my belly were indicating my imminent mooning. This month, my hormonal flux was perfectly synching lunation. Will it be the New Moon on Sunday night? Precisely.

Once in the circle, I had to answer two simple and straightforward questions: “How do I feel about my body?” This one, I feared most. I knew it would bring up harsh sentiments buried deep down inside me. I allowed myself to plunge into this layer of emotional archives no matter what. The recall of my congenital hip dysplasia and the enduring pain I suffered daily for almost a decade in the hip joint came up first. I spoke about how a medical surgery as a toddler and periodical pediatric examination until my 14^th year of age have marked my childhood. The pain I experienced in my adulthood was now well kept in check by my practicing yoga many times a day although this part my sacral chakra was still the siege of violent memories. My body holds trauma from being a foster child and a victim of incest. I used to feel rejected and broken.

Suddenly, I am bursting in tears. Laura, my circle facilitator, encourages me to let it go. “That’s ok, Monica, take your time”. Rapidly overwhelmed, I’m now struggling to catch my breath. She gently invites me to inhale deeply which immediately brought me back to my senses. I closed my eyes and reconnected to my body. “Let’s do it together”. The whole room then started to breathe deeply with me. The thirteen of us synchronically took a profound inhale and an equally long exhale while I looked around the circle. I felt supported as my inner voice whispered: “I am in a safe space. I am surrounded by sisters. I am allowed to speak my truth, to be listened to, to be welcomed, to be heard, to be acknowledged, and to be seen” since we were all sitting in the nude. My tears stopped as quickly as they started. A warmth feeling enveloped me. I calmed down, my body soften as I continued to breath normally now fully connecting with the other women in the circle: I saw support, friendship, and empathy. The liberating act of exposing a dirty secret I was keeping in the dark corner of my being for decades felt as an immense relief, a right to be. The power of speaking my truth turned into an instant healing moment.

By contrast, answering the second question “How do I feel about orgasm?” went smoothly: Great! I love orgasm. Orgasm has been an important part of my life from my early teenage on. I have no souvenir of my very first one, but I do remember masturbating a lot while secretly watching Madonna’s ‘Justify My Love’ clip late at night in the early 1990s or fantasizing either in my bed or in the swirl bath tub, and even in front of a mirror. I never felt ashamed of masturbating. My body loves it and I trust its intelligence. Such a rush of lust and love brings me inner peace, relaxation, joy, and energy all at once. For me, masturbating to orgasm is the most reliable sex skill and a natural medicine.

When I sat next to Laura for Genital Show and Tell, I felt I was properly being initiated. I leaned back, opened my legs, oiled my hands, and shared my vulva with the others while Laura and I were looking in the same standing mirror on the ground with the other participants closed by on the background. That was a powerful moment of intimacy and reconnection. Stripped of both clothes and shame, I ended up feeling quite relaxed. It was my first time being naked with a group of women and I felt a strong sense of belonging. Laura described the shapes and colors of my vulva and asked me to identify her different parts. I surprised myself to crack some jokes during my showing. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore. Why should there be? She is part of my body. She belongs to me. She is beautiful. She smells amazing. And she exists for my sole pleasure.

That Sunday night, I brought my guitar to the bonfire. We sang in small group until the chilly night took over inciting us to sit closer by the fire. As we rearranged our little party, I took a step back. “Hey sisters! Tonight is New Moon. Wow! Look at the stars!” We gasped at the spectacle unfolding before our eyes. We stretched these last moments together bathing in the long and slow fading of sex energy following the earlier erotic recess in the afternoon and the warmth friendship developing. I went to bed late that night feeling high, happy, energized yet serene.

On departure day Monday morning, the sun was shining. The tensions in my temples and belly melted away as my mooning peacefully started when I woke up. Such a profound transformation had taken place in the intimacy of this weekend long intense group sharing. I experienced first-hand the healing power of liberating sex energy among women. Despite our own singular stories regarding our body and orgasm, we all connected to a certain level: we all shared the desire to explore our pleasure by (re)awakening our sexuality, and to get rid of shame and guilt inherited from our cultures of sexual repression and intergenerational trauma. After heartful goodbyes, I sat back in my car with my yoga mat and my guitar on the back seat. This time, I was following Susan, a new friend of mine, as we rolled through the countryside crossing villages until we split apart on our way up North on Highway 87 waving goodbyes through wide open windows.

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Monica is currently in training as a Bodysex Coach. 

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