It’s 8 days until Virtual Pleasure Boot Camp launches.
8 Days until I get my hands on the women whose lives will utterly and completely transform in the next 10 weeks.
8 Days ’til I set loose a whole stratosphere of change in the way this community of women will light up themselves, and light up the world around them.
These next 8 days are a holy time for me.
I spend time, every day, in gratitude—for every woman who has said yes to her deepest, most un-namable longings. To every woman that is reaching for a new paradigm of living her deepest truths, her greatest beauty, her radiant sensuality, and risking the deep passions that long to be lived inside her.
I welcome you, I honor you, my new Virtual Pleasure Boot Campers.
Whether or not you ever take a class with me, know that you will be in my prayers every morning, this week, at sunrise, on the beach.
Now is the time for women to awaken. I stand for you.
Okay, so here you are, in bed with your new guy for the first time. He starts to kiss you in a way that makes you feel like he is a bull and you are a salt lick.
You really like him.
So, you say nothing, you just kind of try to hope that one day it improves.
Your partner continues to drink too much and get too loud at parties. You are utterly humiliated, but you weakly agree to drive home and say nothing. Again.
The gal you live with is a pack rat, and your apartment is gradually looking more and more like an overcrowded storage unit. But you don’t want to risk losing the relationship, so you hold your tongue.
There’s someone—or rather, five someones—I’m dying to introduce to you.
You have a lot in common with these women. They were each naturally gifted with tremendous beauty, brilliance, originality, passion, and sass. Full-blown goddesses from birth, basically.
And each of these women has used the technology of the Womanly Arts and tools to cultivate their natural talents and loft themselves to previously unimaginable heights.
It’s a little over the top, really. I’m talking motherhood that’s defined on your own terms and actually adds to your glow. Dancing through breast cancer with an army of sisters at your back. Shedding 20-30 pounds and seeing nothing but deliciousness in the mirror. Dropping the anger and going for what you want in your marriage. Waking up in the morning and looking forward to your job. Creating the kind of friendships that last a lifetime…
How hard is it for you to say your truth?
What happens when you see something you are in complete disagreement with?
Do you squirm yourself to silence, inside?
Or flick out the truth like you were tossing a handful of coins in a fountain?
And how about the truth of the way you feel?
Like—let’s say—when you feel scorched with jealousy?
Or unhappy with the way your lover is treating you?
Can you be simple and direct about where you are?
Or do you go to internal overload—like a nuclear power plant in Code Orange, internal sirens blaring?
How about when someone hurts your feelings?
Or disappoints you?
Can you out yourself?
Or do you slam shut like a clam?
It’s a funny thing about women. Funny, wonderful, and frankly, perpetually irritating.
As successful as we are, as strong as we stand, as helpful and nurturing as we can be, we just don’t feel right unless we are really living in to the essential hot, molten core fire of being a woman.
If we ain’t flirting*, we ain’t living.
We limp along, glumly, victimized by every hap and mishap.
Pissed, hurt, disappointed, thinking “Is that all there is—really?’
Even if we go the distance and power through a sink full of dishes, run a fierce board meeting, or sit on the phone with a needy friend for an hour, we don’t feel proud and radiant like an Olympian who’s won the race. Rather, we feel fried, toasted, and wasted, ready to reach for the glass of wine and the jumbo sized Kit Kat bar. Not flush with renewed life and a sense of deep accomplishment.
When we don’t stand in our radiance, we feel like a cell phone that has run out of batteries—the casing is there, but nothing inside is working.
We can push every key, and throw the little device smack up against a wall—but if there is no juice, there is no juice, and that is the end of the story.
A woman is no different. Unless she is a woman who knows her way around the Womanly Arts. These are a secret set of lost arts, finessed by the greatest women in history…