The space between two lovers. Not distance, for there is no distance between this kind of love. More a space to breathe, observe and admire. A space to grow.
As she walks up the stairs into his home it is as if her clothing evacuates her body. One piece at at time she sheds the personality she has chosen for the day. For this is how she dresses each day, based on her mood, her feelings and her persona. However, in his presence she can only exist in her truest form. For her there is no hiding from him, not even behind a thread. First her shoes one at a time. Every step she takes in front of him relieves her of the mask she wears and the shields she has put up to protect herself. Next her shirt would seem to rise above her with a sort of effortless wave of energy and then vanish, in a kind of spiral upward and away. As she continues exploring her surroundings, getting a feel for his space she can feel him everywhere. She absorbs his scent and his mood, as she steps out of her jeans, which seem to be just barely resting on her narrow hips. In 2 more steps the jeans are gone, evaporating like a mist. Still she does not make eye contact, because in that moment, when their eyes meet and their souls touch, there is only surrender. With a wispy and fluid movement she releases her skin from the confinement of her under garments, and there she stands in full regale...the Goddess she knows she is! In this space, in his space she is fully in the light. He is the place that reveals this gift to her. It is her own mission, to know it in her heart and soul.
For him this seems to be all in slow motion. This is the magic of true lovers. He is not lost in her, he is found. Like the yin/yang symbol, there is no line dividing them only an observation of the closeness. A reflection. Connected and separate at the same time, one the eternal balance of the other.
He is an artist and is taking it all in. Pulled equally from desire. His desire to take her and his desire to capture the way that she moves, breathes, they way she enlivens the space around her...to attempt to capture her essence so that he can lay it on a canvas. As a painter you cannot paint what you do not know. To truly tap into artistry you must experience your expression before you can be satisfied with its unveiling. You must know the subject intimately. His desire to absorb more and to know more is overwhelming. Choosing seems an impossible task and an en devour he has spent lifetimes preparing for. Her movements hold memories of the past and the future. To him she is rhythmic and has an artistry in her gestures that his mind can not fathom, yet his heart and soul understood eternally. His sensibilities stunned and mesmerized. Being in control is his armor and it melts at the sight of her. The journey of a warrior is upon him.
She stands there for a moment feeling more at home than she has ever know. Naked, bold and finally free. He asks her to stand there a moment. When he asks her for something it's not like a request or a demand...more of a shared mission of respect, from centuries of trust. He gets his camera and takes a few photos to attempt to capture what he sees with his eyes, what he senses and what he feels in her presence. Of course the photos are not enough. He must touch her with his hands, his lips, his body...his soul. The minutes turn in to hours, the moments themselves seem insatiable. Its a never ending circle of pleasure. There is a trust that is deeply rooted, rooted in an ancient love story.
This is the key to healthy sexuality. Trust. Trust that the other person sees you and hears you. Not just with their eyes and ears but with their senses. The arch of you body, the desire to give or receive, the sound of your response to their action and reaction is seen as a tantric dance. They sense your thoughts. What they take for themselves you receive, what you give you receive. A constant balancing flow of giving and receiving. A place of reflection so that each may know themselves intimately. A sacred space for lovers to unfold and reveal their own divine nature.
photo credit: Gustav Klimt, The Kiss