Personal stories from women to the world related to vaginas.
Over the weekend (7-10 December 2012) the draft copy of 101 Vagina had a gentle outing at the Folk Rhythm and Life festival in North Eastern Victoria.
It was a bit scary putting the book out in public for the first time like this, but it turned out to be very heart warming to watch people engage with the book, often a couple or a few friends sitting together leafing through the pages and either reading silently or discussing the many and varied related issues.
Also very touching to see the book touch some people quite strongly, the book seems to carry a gentle power.
Unfortunately I didn’t take any photos at the festival but here is what was there and below are the messages people wrote in the note pad.
“What does my vagina have to say to the world? Hello child. You’re the best part of me. For Ben from Cass xx”
Finally someone wants to hear what I think! here goes….
This morning i was so Agitated! My Owner had me suffocated & trapped in a lace heat chamber!! After subjecting me to a Number of workshops & painting i was finally treated to An exciting excursion to the cool Refreshing Dam. YAY for me!
:) Lots of Love
“From my penis to it’s darling vagina.
Many places I have been, much warmth has this universe saturated me in, always hoping this will be my home. You hug me intensely, squeeze and squeeze and then relax. You want me to stay and there could be nothing I want more. Being close with you is the purpose of my whole day, I wish nothing but to share in your joy, give, and take from all our inglorious untold astral travels together. You are the gate and keeper to the only place that makes sense. You need nothing to understand me, your acceptance of me makes up for every wrong in the world, nothing else matters when you call for me. You have my every attention, I listen to you with my eyes, ears, my nose, and every inch of my intention, everything I am, is for you. My temple, I bow to you. You humble me and I thrive for/because of you.”
“Giver of human life
Wow so many things to say!!
All vaginas are beautiful in all their shapes & sizes. Everyone I have seen perfect in it’s own right.
Mine, wow, the joy & pleasure it brings! The fun, the liquid meltingness of interaction with myself or another.
I couldn’t live without my pussy :)
The delicate intricate nature of female orgasms, a special secret formula of each individual woman.
Vagina I couldn’t ask for more thank you!!
You’re the best.”
“Special life force!
Treasured, Loved & adored
“My Viking Vagina
It’s such a pity this book is in black and white. I am a redhead and my pubic hair is a rich, red gold, thick and curly and abundant, unique.
Back in high school the boys would ask if I had ‘red pubes’. Protecting myself from the taunting that arises from any kind of difference, I would lie and respond, “Of course not, it’s black, just like yours”. They seemed satisfied with my answer and the questions stopped.
Then, in art class there was a girl who’d moved to our country town from Canada. She was mature, street wise, creative and brilliant. For her painting project she decided to paint three naked women.
Of the three huge canvases, the first displayed a woman who was skinny and black, with tribal adornments about her hips and pert breasts. The second was a Mediterranean woman, with voluptuous curves and long black hair.
The third painting was my undoing. She was round and pink-skinned like a piglet, with a nest of tight fire-truck red curls embellishing her head, and her pubic mound. I was devastated in being outed in this way. I can’t remember the taunts afterward, but god I hated her for her thoughtless act of exposure.
Now, far beyond the pain of adolescence, I can celebrate my uniqueness. I just wish that I could now display it in this book in all its glory… just one page in colour??”
“8th of May, 2011
This piece is dedicated to – the beauty of my vagina. :)
The potential violence/ power/ debilitation of self-consciousness:
I didn’t start becoming self-conscious of my vagina until I had wanted to be sexually intimate with boys. Suddenly I had a whole new perspective of my vagina – the critical eye had awoken. It looked uglier and darker, and the labia minoras were larger than I had remembered. I agonised over this for weeks, not allowing my boyfriend to touch me or see my vagina as I tried to sort out what to do – the situation needed to be “fixed”, clearly not accepted.
Because I was fairly ashamed, I didn’t feel I could talk to anyone else; I was debilitated, stuck in my own despair and unease.
One desperate night I had the urge to pick up the scissors, head to the bathroom and try to chop my labia minoras back, to trim them short and neat, like my labia majoras. I sat there agonizing over the procedure, balancing the possibilities of: how easy it would be, how much it would hurt and how desperate I was.
…I spent several hours there, for several nights over the space of several months.
Each time, I would begin to cut into the skin, feeling the cold metal against my soft flesh and realising the pain I was going to inflict on myself – there had to be another way! I wasn’t aware of labial reconstruction, even if I was, I probably would have been too embarrassed to admit the supposed imperfection.
Thus, as our relationship continued, I continued to hide my vagina, not allowing him to touch or see it, even the first time we made love. This ashamedness continued on less severely through a relationship with another boy who openly and lovingly praised my vagina and its beauty, however, I had not found it in myself to love and cherish it.
However, with time, I have come to appreciate, and open to the wonders of my vagina because of the beauty, pleasure, sacredness and transcendental experiences she embodied and can offer me at any time. The external expectations and images in my mind of what a vagina should be like have faded away. I have moved away from the dis-ease and towards beginning to realise the vastness of feminine beauty.
I now look at my vagina with awe, gratitude and reverence – she is truly amazing.
However, I still have so far to go on the path of honouring, revering and listening to her. Viva la vagina!”
“My cunt does not want to wear diamonds. It is not a ripened peach. My cunt is not a metaphor. It is the part between my legs.
It is for bleeding, for breeding, for fucking. It gurgles wordlessly. It swells up, sucks up and spits out. I have no desire to gaze lovingly at its reflection. I don’t want to name it or talk to it. I am not going to glorify it any more than I would glorify a pinky finger, a forearm or a toenail. It’s as amazing and as mundane as every other part of my body. I’m not a prude. I love deeply and fuck deeply. But it is not my vagina that falls in love. It doesn’t house my femininity; it is not what makes me a woman. It is the part between my legs. It’s sensitive and skittish sometimes. At other times it wouldn’t flinch if you punched it. How much can you really talk about your cunt? It’s a part of my body that can bring me both pain and pleasure. My partner adores it. I trim its hair when it gets itchy. I keep it pretty clean. The end.”
“There is nothing in the universe more beautiful than my Yoni. My Yoni is the flower which contains within it the mystery of all existence.”
I echo the sacred formula internally, feeling fully present and full of Divine grace.
I am at a Tantra Shakti weekend for women, in the forest in the Swedish countryside. There are 20 of us here in the chalet, learning Tantric techniques and doing secret rituals to awaken the state of Shakti – the Divine Feminine, the primordial cosmic energy of creation, the creative potential of the Universe. The magical weekend is drawing to a close, the vibration is high, and there is an almost perceptible buzz permeating the room as we prepare for the final ritual – The Yoni Worshiping ritual…. Specific details of the ritual are secret, but essentially, after a series of powerful invocations of various sources and meditations to encourage the activation of the heart chakra and resonance with the Divine Feminine power of Shakti, each woman is invited to the front of the room. Here, she sits on a chair, naked, saying some mantras and a sacred formula internally. Then she spreads her legs wide open, exposing her Yoni to the other women, who sit in a semi circle facing the chair. The other women sit in meditation and honour her and her Yoni – seeing her as a perfect and unique manifestation of Shakti, and her Yoni as the infinite mystery of existence, as creation itself. For thousands of years, women in many cultures of the world have held similar rituals of Yoni worshiping.
We are all beautifully naked. I am struck by the overwhelming aesthetic beauty of the feminine form – such utter perfection. We are stripped bare, nowhere to hide, nothing to hide from.
Before my turn to go to the front comes I am already having quite an intense experience. I can feel energy moving through my body in slow, rhythmic, pulsating waves. It is as if I am in trance. I feel clear and light, and so present in the moment. Suddenly it is my turn, and I rise and walk slowly to the chair, sit down, and say the mantras internally. I spread my legs wide open, offering myself and my Yoni in full surrender. My eyes are closed as I perceive this energy flowing through my body, much more powerful now. I am shaking, pulsating, rocking back and forth, suddenly laughing, giggling, crying tears of joy, in spasms of ecstasy as the energy is explosively unleashed in my Muladhara chakra, sending strong vibrating tingles through my being. It is barreling up the full length of my spine with the delicate, refined subtlety of a freight train. The tingling feeling permeates my entire body, I cannot move. I am temporarily paralysed. All I can do is experience the Divine grace showering down upon me like a torrential flood, overwhelmed with gratitude and Love. I am one with the Universe, infinitely loved, infinitely safe, blissfully aware of the true nature of my being. Knowing, beyond any shadow of doubt. Beyond the mind. From the microcosm to the macrocosm – from my Yoni-verse to the Universe.
The intensity and nature of the sensations is somehow familiar to me…. I know this energy, it is unmistakable. It is the Kundalini energy. However, the circumstances last time I l felt this were much less harmonious. I was sitting in a café, with my two lovers at the time, when it happened. With the same intensity, the same involuntary shaking and screaming, laughing and crying. The same feeling of dissolving into the macrocosm, Infinite bliss. They had to carry me outside to the park, because I was causing such a commotion for the other diners, who were just trying to eat their lunch! So, this time I feel blessed to experience the Kundalini in such a sacred ritual, surrounded by my Shakti sisters, who are supporting me and sending me their limitless love the entire time.
My body is shaking with tremors and spasms for hours afterward. It takes some time to come back to ‘reality’, and when I do, it is different, again. A new world to explore with fresh eyes. Each time I feel I need to get to know the world again and get to know myself on a deeper level. People seem shinier than usual, colours are brighter. Things that seemed to matter an awful lot before are shown to be completely insignificant, not even worth mentioning, much less worrying about. I feel a state of expanded awareness, clarity, presence, deep calmness and inner peace. The synchronicities are ridiculously unbelievable. Life is a dream. The Kundalini energy continues to manifest in me sporadically. When I feel fully relaxed and open I can feel it there, buzzing through my being. When I receive a Yoni massage from a friend the G-spot orgasms hit me in waves, crashing over me over and over again, with such force that I am convulsing and screaming into a pillow. There are also some more challenging, less cosmic side effects. For days I feel floaty, spaced-out, forgetful, too receptive, super sensitive, fragile. I make the decision to integrate slowly, to go easy on myself, honour myself where I am now, and not to force anything.
When I first make love with my lover after this experience, it is as if we are truly meeting for the first time. I dive into the ocean of bliss inside his eyes, deep into the depths of his soul. As long as I have known him, he has always displayed a profound purity, a wide open heart and a penetrative awareness that is infinitely powerful, IF I can meet him in that place of awareness. This time I do. We are both crying tears of ecstacy. Finally, we are HERE and NOW, together!”
“The center of my being, is she…
My lovely lady bits have been quite the cause of some trouble and blessings…
She was my own personal play thing until the age of 16, when another form of play was found.
Girls, boys and toys each had their share, until her primal design was put to use, when, three times, my singularly unique vagina brought my children into the world.
Her narrow canal being stretched and pulled to unimaginable shapes and sizes, only to remarkably snap back to true form.
She has been the cause of envy, temptation and desire with many questing after her and the body to which she belongs. She has stretched her tendrils into my mind and whispered gently in my ear willing me to travel to faraway places in the quest of satisfaction.
Jealousy over the desire shown by others caused a breakdown in a long term relationship, but freedom was gained, and my oh my, did she drink from the overflowing cup of attention.
Through boyfriends, girlfriends, lovers, a marriage and several swinging sessions, she has never let me down.
She has kept all my secrets. She has been my honest center of feeling. She never lies about whom I love or desire.
I am a Mother, a Lover and a Girlfriend. She will never leave me. She will always please me. We know each other so well.
She is beautiful, special and there will never be another like her.”
“sweetness and light, all my gushing hormotional rage torrents a thick anarchic mess and smoke of a billion scooters buzzing down the highways upon roads upon freeways upon carparks upon billboards and seemingly endless noise.
abrupt, immediate and helpful smiley nurses spread me out on a table. intense gazing genius and passionate eyes penetrating deep into my cunt, here I am once again, metal objects sliding in and out, nurses contorting my scarred sensitive glandular bits in an acrobatic performance like you couldnt imagine, cameras flashing from all angles, haphazardly plappin my clitoris in a funny way I laugh and smile and aaaaall my privacy feelings float out the window and the desensitized life sets back in.
here beautiful people of all sorts of body shapes and forms and beauty dance a dance politely as possible to avoid the masses of swollen flesh and severed nerve endings from erupting the mother load of pain they slowly and surely grow to love because, well, you gotta love your body, right?
vagina boy removed a bunch of over sensitive tissue between my vag and my urethra. i was awake the whole procedure… it was bizarre… a beautiful girl called jib who has massive calm in the stroke of your hand and glittery colourful eye colour poking through her mask stood close to me. she took care of my make cunt numb treatment earlier, she spread me out and slopped gunk in my slit and sealed me up with this liner type thingo. once i was in the operating theatre vagina boy did lots n lots of extra make cunt numb injections, and before I knew it, it was all business haha. i didn’t cry! yay. i didn’t cough. i lay there calm, focused completely on my heart beating and my lungs expanding as calmly to deflate to a relaxing calm zone of zen. i don’t know how long I was in there with my feet tied up high above my body, but it was hard to keep my extremities from going completely to sleep!
so. i survived.
time to chuck shitloads of antibiotics and various pills, visualise the magical process of healing cell by cell by cell. fuck i wish i could climb up on the roof and watch the big tropical storms splatter and flash lightening out on the ocean, all expanse and blowing humidity into my face n shit.
having a leaky eyes-drop-in-bowl fulls type moment… see, before i left australia i got blood and endocrine doctor boy to cut my guts and shove valerate pellets into my flesh, and turns out i agreed for him to use 200mg worth… Which is a considerable amount more than my hormonal receptors are accustomed to handle. So, I’ve been crying and crying my face has been leaking plaploads plappin plap, plonk!
by the time i was in my twenties self-guided, self-funded medical cost became a proud burden for me, seemingly unimaginable to friendly feminine souls but completely respected and understood somewhat. many years of hurt and confusion working long weeks in labour intensive jobs, my flesh and i endured, and we now live a fulfilled life, free, stimulating, ridiculous, celebrated, lumpy and scarred often appreciated.
a beautiful moment of clarity of thought and sweetness. sun up cunt. DAILY! yup. things are pretty freakin amazing.
one day at a time.”