melt open

She is breathing heavily, I feel her heart being wounded . Her body is indecisive.

Can I trust intimacy ? I place one hand on her chest , one is resting on her belly .

Heartbeat. Bellybeat.

It was her first Tantric Massage. As we talk, we already unite with our tears . Wondering about our fear of trusting life. Have we forgotten , the path builds itself as we go ?

We are sitting apart , confirming each other, we are enough .

” We do not have to earn love ”

” I just wanna be, and do nothing ”

I am holding her face in my hands . You are so safe and you have always been.

There is something with her right arm . Fear of being stretched . Thoughts are holding so tight as I press my fingers into her palm. A story has broken open.

Rest safe between my thighs . Bowing down .

I can hear you, I  see your pain.

Love & warm oil . We are the alchemists .

You are  weeping.  And you are willing. The Brave ones are giving in .

My touch – Your enjoyment . It is all for you , and there is nothing to give back.

This soft belly . Warm and exposed, so vulnerable.

Vagina . Sister . Soft tapping , are you letting me in?

I wish they have touched you like this before. Your fear is telling me something else. Thank God we made  clear that you are safe.

They are so unique and they forgot they all want the same.

Make self-love, declare it your meditation . Masturbate with awareness, every day.

So many stories buried in this rough spot of ours. I am touching upon several of them. A short turn-off into the cervix , enough for now.

Hope someone else points his attention into this craving sanctum . Deep , enduring penetration .

Lightening you up from the inside.


Melt open .

Yes, love can break down some walls.

Your surrender broke mine.





Bald Beauty

How does it feel to be born again ?

Naked . Exposed . A few days ago I shaved my head , buzz cut  . My hairdresser left half an inch of hair which I got rid off the next day and turned myself into a bald beauty , completely smooth .  I felt reborn, thrown back  into my earliest age , vulnerable and innocent . The coiffeuse placed a mirror into my hand and turned me around to show my back , when  I proclaimed ” mais je suis belle ! ” , ” but I am beautiful ! ” again & again.It took me a while to realize the meaning behind  that statement  . When my hairdresser started to cry , my attention was brought back into the salon . She was standing , me in the chair staring at the mirror , caressing my huge billiard ball. Surprised by the emotions that came up in her , she  tried to smooth over that moment , when I leaned my forehead on her belly .  What an intimate moment between strangers who have just met some minutes ago.

I had a pretty nice haircut before , very short , very female and sexy . I  loved it. But suddenly I realized that I looked like my own mother . My hair , my wardrobe , my perfume ,  my  style was the one of my mother! I was desiring her so much that I became her duplicate . So,  who  am I than without the stamp of my past ? That’s what  lead me to the cut .  I changed my complete wardrobe , my perfume , my hairstyle . And I chose the new with the question ” would my mom wear that?”

My parents shaved  my head when I was two years old and I remember a picture of me looking in the camera with eyes full of tears .  They used to tell me how big my head was and that I was looking like a nasty boy . I was convinced to be ugly and  wrong , but it was  their perception , the believe system they have been raised with,  It was time to get it off my had & back !

At my home  I shaved the last inches , and saw my naked skin, I  was afraid . A painful twitch streaming through my belly . How did I dare doing that ? My father always said, that a woman should have long hair , he didn’t allow me in my teenage years to cut more than one inch of my very long hair . Oh , how did I hate him for that !  The movie ” Pretty Woman” just came into the cinema, and all I wanted was to look like Julia Roberts , to have the same hair like her , but no way to explain Daddy my desire to be a sexy, wild woman instead of a prude peasant daughter with a plaited ponytail. The first thing I did when I left home at the age of sixteen , I cutted my hair . My mother was furious , she lost final control over me and I guess my father felt very deceived and betrayed . Yes , I dared to become a woman , without their permission.

These days , when I catch me in a mirror , I am amazed, my hand places itself at my mouth , mumbling ” ..they have been  wrong , so wrong , I am  not ugly , I am just different…” and then I name the outstanding parts of myself while  looking in the mirror

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL HEAD YOU HAVE ! AND YOUR NOSE, OH YOUR NOSE IS SO SPECIAL AND  YOUR EYES THEY ARE SO SPECIAL ! AND YOUR ARMS  THEY ARE  VERY SPECIAL AND YOUR MOUTH , OH HOW SPECIAL IT IS !AND YOUR VOICE , WHAT A SPECIAL VOICE YOU HAVE…when I get the momentum going , it goes deep into my heart healing and restoring the misunderstandings that have been left  uncorrected. Tears are rolling over my cheeks, the closer I come to  areas I was devaluing , or feeling ashamed of them . And finally there is no one else left to approve the rightness of my Being, than Me . How perfect . I am slightly getting  the real understanding of self-love , before it was only  a word that could not find a place to sink in.

No matter how beautiful I appeared to be for  people , a compliment would rarely touch my heart, actually it made me angry . I did not know where to put it , mostly in the category of ” you are just blinded by some desire ” , it was so contrary to the deep imprints I was unaware of  and therefore could only be reversed from the inside out , by no one else than myself .

I am learning to be the parent I never had , now . May all of us  love the raw rightness of our Being and stop expecting it from our spouses, children and parents .  May we get to realize the love that source has for us while we mother ourselves into the beauty of our masterhood .


Au revoir & Namasté

Sandra Kokic