Eleven Minutes…
I’m currently reading “Eleven Minutes” by Paulo Coelho. I bought the book on a whim because I love the author and the little quip on the cover caught my private insecurities and bathed them in light. It said…”A gripping exploration of the potentially sacred nature of sex within the context of love.”
Isn’t it amazing how when your soul is wrestling with something, the universe opens and something pricks through that seems to be the answer to the question in the first place? I needed this book right now and there it was.
I’m still smarting from an intimate conversation with Bonnie last night. She tearfully confessed yet another disastrous sexual experience with a stranger and how “icky” and “dirty” she felt in hindsight. I wanted to gather her bruised soul into my motherly arms and block all of the ugliness that was plaguing her psyche.
As the words left my mouth and resounded in my head, I realized that I was repeating the age old wisdom passed on to me by my mother, the wisdom that I had so arrogantly rejected in my youth. I experienced the tiny agonies that my mother must have felt as she recounted the trite wisdoms audibly and probably whispered desperate prayers that I would learn this lesson from her life experiences and not my own. I found myself whispering those same desperate prayers, now for my daughter.
I remember when I discovered that the social mores that were so vapidly pounded into my skull in Sunday school, were right. Damn it! They are universal truths, upon which we as a species we have agreed. We all recognize them…we don’t kill innocence, we don’t cause suffering, we don’t steal and we strive for beauty. These are the phrases that echo in our art and culture. These are truths from which inspirations springs into creation.
I learned, albeit the hard way, that sex is sacred, modesty is a form of respect and love has nothing to do with what you expect to receive. Now, comes the hard part. How do I explain these truths to my daughter more effectively for my daughter than my mother did for me? Can I spare her these hurts, or are these incisions in our souls the stuff of conscience and a necessary process in its development?
How can I show her that modesty is a mode of respect, decorum and civility that is almost elegant in its simplicity? How we present ourselves is directly related to how others treat us. Modesty isn’t giving up sexual power; it’s containing it, channeling it, saving it for what we really want. Sexuality is a power that should be governed by ethics as much as passion. How can I help her to understand that love is an experience based on trust, commitment and sacrifice, sexuality is a mode to express those feelings. Sexuality outside the context of commitment becomes vacuous and leaves one wanting the authentic connection. The happy histrionic models in the garish Diet Coke ads are plying a lie. The intimacy that is created within a healthy sexual relationship is easy, loving and playful and these connections lead to the true passion we all imagine and desire.
