What if arousal was a state of being?

Not just a moment of fleeting carnal desire.  Rather, a slow, brooding consciousness.

Not tearing a hole in your mind’s eye, wrought with passion.  Rather, a slow, controlled brooding, peeling back the layers, a process of meticulous penetration.

This is arousal as a state of being.

After days of practice, this is the beginnings of transmutation.  Focus and presence.  That is what it turns into.


When I first began my journey teaching myself the ins and outs of seminal retention, I reached forward with only a faint idea what I was looking for.  It was a daunting prospect, that there was a way to enhance the sexual energy my body permeated.  The idea that there was so much more in my potential.

5 years later, and I can say I have a much deeper understanding of my body, able to harness my powerful sexual desires, and create a healthier self-image physically, emotionally and sexually.  Taking hold of our sexual energy gives men our spine, something that we can find missing in our lives.  Instead of posturing, huffing and puffing with our chests pushed out, we find a quiet, deep, peaceful power that radiates from inside our chests.  A heart-felt masculine power.

For beginners, it can be overwhelming if we dive into the literature.  We can be flooded with a fall of articles, books and techniques.  I find it is best to keep it simple:

Don’t ejaculate for 3-7 days and feel how your body responds.

Feel what it is like to have your sexual energy build.

Typically, this will be very difficult.  Men today tend to masturbate to pornography whenever the faintest urge arises.  It tends to be a quiet, solo affair that lasts for a few minutes.  It’s called a “genital sneeze”.  It can give us relief from our sexual desire, but it does not give us the deep satisfaction that we ultimately crave.  Instead, it can leave us empty and deflated.  You know what I’m talking about.

So, don’t ejaculate for a week, and see what happens.

Most likely, the urges and desires will become overwhelming.  You will be flooded with constant thoughts for sexual relief.  It will keep you awake at night, torn and stressed.  Emotionally you will feel vulnerable, worn out.  I remember the first time I did this, panting and crazed.  A female friend of mine observed my torture.  I remember saying to her,

“I would kill a priest in a church if I could get 20 minutes of head.”

To which she replied, “It would have to be GOOD head”, licking her lips with a mischievous grin.  Go figure.

Most of the time, we don’t want to admit to ourselves that we can be overcome by this rising explosion of desire.  It takes over our thoughts, our emotions.  We feel guilty and ashamed that we cannot control ourselves.  We hide it for fear of being reprimanded.  Society does not appreciate such a raw, unrefined sexual power.  So it’s either masturbate or suffer.

Seminal retention is the way to  find control and refinement over our sexual selves.  By doing so, you can find your deep, primal and noble power as a man.

to be cont…

Joice Esotica

It’s been 30 day since I left the beautiful Joice Joker, back to the other side of the world.  I miss her dreadfully.

I gave myself a few weeks to grieve her loss, and to feel the reality of her absence.  It still hurts, but it is nigh time to push forward towards that horizon.  Firstly, a bit of clarity.  We decided that my departure was best, considering the options on the table.  It was to either stay, or unite our names in matrimony.  It was on the table for a very long time.  In the end, we realised that autonomy and independence are our most precious values.  It was not an option for us.  A crushingly painful decision to have to make, but the correct one.

I will not lie, it has been dreadfully difficult for the pair of us.  Churning emotions, leaden melancholy, and many fearful thoughts have popped up.  It has been a challenge confronting this with utmost honesty, but I believe we are doing this with a certain beauty and integrity.

First time for everything, right?

Indeed, as I sit here writing this, I can only reflect on the many lessons of the past few weeks.  Indeed, the past year has been a period of stupendous growth.  What makes this piece different is it focuses on the end, the breakdown of a relationship.  It is a difficult topic indeed, because we tend to run away from the pain of loss.


Our greatest lessons emerge from times like these.

Here are 7:

  1. Everything has an end.  A relationship ends because someone is driven away by one of two basic impulses.  The first is fear, the second is dread.  Break through the former, but yield to the latter.  Fear is your response to challenge, that there is something beyond that you do not understand.  Do not run from fear, or you are a coward.Dread, on the other hand, is a sense that you are pressing onto a path that is not your life’s purpose.  Alarm bells will begin whispering into your soul, telling you that this is not what you are meant to be doing.  Listen to this.  Suppressing this warming will only lead to torture.
  2. Presence is everything.  We all have a fear of abandonment, that someone will leave us because we are not good enough.  I have discovered that it is particularly acute in women.  When a relationship ends, do everything in your power to remain present.  Never run, even when it becomes difficult. 
  3. Listen, and take care of your partner’s heart.  When someone’s path in life tells them that a breakup is needed, sometimes our crazy heart does a few flips.  That’s okay, it’s part of living.  Learn to seep into your partner’s body here.  This is essential.  Even at the end, show that the relationship was based on trust and understanding.
  4. Pain is another form of love.  If the love was immense, so will be the grief.*sigh…*
  5. Be prepared to confront your dark side.  It always happens when we have emotions writhing away in our bodies.  It tends to push the messed up parts to the surface.  Take this from a man who has spent a few weeks suddenly struck by waves of self-loathing.Most breakups end badly because we are not taught how to deal with this.  We become overcome, and we blame ourselves or our ex-partners.  A breakup is the ultimate test to your emotions, and you will need to be at your best to confront it.
  6. If the love is real, then the connection  will never die.
    A moment for me to sneak in a little message to my girl.My dearest Diana, what a devastating force you were.  Your eyes, your lips, and your flesh.
    My body is heavy, yearning to sink into your skin once more.
    It will happen again.  It is inevitable.
    Always, us, poised; for you to fall and for me to crumble.
    My love, I will see you again.
  7. You are always, always, deserving of love
    Forever always.
    As you read this, remember this.
    Your heart expands.
    Your sex enraptures.
    Breath and life will always be cherished.

Us men carry a secret.

Deep down we’re scared.

It’s a faint, niggling fear.  It happens every time we speak to a woman.  In particular, that powerful, sexually overwhelming woman.  You know the one.  The one with the poise, the swagger in her hips.  The one who can tear us apart with her brutal, destructive sexual force.  Her limbs, her beautiful red lips, and her penetrating eyes.  She is engorged with luscious, burning desire.

We fear that we will be devoured by her fiery essence.

That is the foundation of sexual cultivation.  It builds the centre of your masculine power.  With it, you can stand in your power, effortless, unmoving.  A strength that you know you should hold as a man.  The one that we all pose, that poise we pitch in overcompensation.  Yes, that visceral bastion of strength, the one you know she respects.

That is why we need to practice this.  As men.

Grief is the doorway to a man’s feelings — Robert Bly

Grief is the place from which this piece is written.  What is important is the idea that every man reaches rock bottom, every man reaches breaking point.  This is essential for who we are as men.

Grief then, is essential to connection, to touch who we really are.

It guides us on a path of deeper understanding, showing us the nuances of ourselves that we run away from.  In grief, we connect with our pain, fear, sadness, joy and love.  From the ashes of grief we rise, we blossom, we stand tall and we expand.  From there we take action, and we build.  We move, we nurture, we conquer and we grow.  We stride forward from the thunder in our chest.  This is what makes a man powerful.

But all of this, only if he crumbles into his own grief.  A man’s true power lies in his weakness.

And what a bottomless chasm of despair.  Loss, loneliness and mortality.  Lessons, all, in humility.  Until we as men connect to this pain, we are trapped in a space of arrogance and disconnection.  The slings and arrows of a painful life teaches us to be humble.

And this is where this piece is written.  Merely the first few steps out of grief.  Watch and observe the energy change.

Silent beauty

With a vigour of love and grace, you move me with your stillness.

Illustrious and effortless, radiating from you

I look into your eyes, and I see the ocean of feeling

Press my soft power into your heart

Behold this, sit in it, and melt

Melt and open, in my caress

Nothing to be done, that need be done, all in you

Soft, still, open, the most beautiful caress.


At times when we are feeling lost, alone, disconnected, it is easy for us to search for answers outside of us.  As though the answer is so simple.  A clever phrase to be spoken, a little joke, a piece of cleverness to win us some attention.  When a man moves into that place, moves his power to such a sprawling locus, he loves the semblance of power.  His actions lack merit, his movements lack vigour, his  intent loses sharpness.

Shame with a woman, when she cannot find her own beauty.

A difficult thing to behold, it is sure.  When a delicate pixie, a beautiful creature, cannot find the love inside.  Her laugh shows ecstasy, but there is no ease.  Her movements have fluidity, but there is no grace.  Her sex is searing, but there it is not soothing, not sensual.

There is a moment with a woman, when the magic unfolds.  It happens in silence.  When she loses her masks.  When she wears a true face.  The lines of joy and anguish drawn into her face.  For just that moment, with her, powerfully, completely.  When she opens with her heart in her eyes.

That is her true beauty.

Hot for my girl.

What drives me there?  As a man.  To reach out, eager to strike?  To breathe, groan, my eyes bewitched by her presence.  What is it?

When I look over at her, her figure swaying, lips full, eyes piercing.  Dancing in living, skin glowing in the sunlight.  What is it that catches my eye?  The curve of her hips, the way she moves?  I have seen it much, very often.  Lingering scent in my nostrils.  Familiar.  Her gorgeous legs in a perfect outfit, capturing the shape of her body.

I have seen off of this before.

What is it then, that slays me.  Each time.  What drives me back?

It is not her beauty, though she is most lovely.  It is not her sweetness, her voice, her fire, her body.  Not the way she seduces the air she walks in.

It is all of this, and none of this.

The essence of her womanhood, flashing and slashing, a chaotic rainbow of strobing lights.  The woman I love, swirling through the fires of daily renewal.

Seductress, siren, sorceress.

A whirlwind of carnal vapours, shimmering in her skin.  Changing her every day.  That she can fall into it, surrender into herself.  Her blood beating new blood.  Never alike, always reborn.  Explosive, piercing, sorrowful, loving, motherlike, nurturing.  Never a day alike.  Always, my teeth on edge, my chest gripped with longing, excitement.

Give me those eyes

Those eyes that slay me

At once soft and sweet

Hued with the hum of fire

Pierce me with that flame

And burn me to awaken

Hark, that siren’s call

Mingled in the emptiness

Clutch me in my balls and my spine

Genesis of my brutal love

Slay me, and I will rise

Provoke me, and I will surrender

Ebb and sway

Within the touch of my grasp


Intoxicated with a yearning,

Thunder growing in my throbbing chest

Touch me

Without your hands

A piercing in the dead of those eyes

Slay me with your surrender

Cast me down to die by your gentle gaze

And watch what erupts

Those eyes that slay me

they drive my soul forward

to drive that stake

into both our hearts

Some thoughts bared on sex and culture.

It was a few years ago when my niece came for a visit.  It was a regular, sunlit afternoon in Australia.  I was doing some work on my laptop, and at the time, I had a lovely wallpaper from my favourite erotic site, AbbyWinters.com:  a lovely image of girls in kiss and caress.

3-year-old Christy came in, saw the pink skin on my screen, and pointed at it.

“That’s yucky.”

Harmless at the time, I simply chuckled.  “Not it’s not”

“Yes it iiissszzz.  That’s yucky!”

I turned my gaze towards her, then back the smut on my screen, and back to her again.

“Your mummy told you that, didn’t she?”

Christy became still and silent for a moment, pausing to contemplate my question.  She’s a thinker this one.  Without answering, she turned and shuffled away, shuffling away to find something to play with.  Nonchalant.

It was a moment that has stayed with me for a while.  That a little girl, innocent, sweet and bright-eyed, could be instructed to react to sex with feelings of disgust and shame.  I know that feeling well.  Not only did it take me time to burst out of that repression, it took even longer for my sex to grown and mature.

I wonder if there will be a day when sexuality can remain free and open.  I believe that it is our duty to cultivate sexuality, the same way we cultivate self-esteem or self-identity.  It is too primal an energy.  When that day comes, issues like homosexuality, age disparity and marketing won’t become hot issues like they are today.

But I will say one thing.  To live a life with my sex as a burden, is a terrible, excruciating, silent pain to live with.

A pause

And a touch of fire.

The moment when I look over and see you.  Sitting there.  Nothing.  Nothing else on my mind.

And I see it unfold.

Grabbing you, clawing you away from your table.  Throwing you onto the bed, your body throwing fits of defiance.  All in vain.  Watching you gasp with struggle and delight.

Pressing your wrists down with my hands.

Locking your his into place.

Pressing my lips onto yours.  A deep, sensual, passionate kiss.

A mix of heart, soul and saliva.

Your limbs wrapping around my torso.


A whisper in my ear,

A voice defeated and conquered,

“I love you”