Plugging Into Pleasure
Sensuality, delight, summer nights
Hello friends.
I’m writing out on my deck. It’s civil twilight. The moon is waxing gibbous. Mourning doves are calling softly to each other from the oak tree. A soft current of air just now stirred the hairs on my upper arms, lightly, deliciously.
It’s officially summer. And I’m here to talk to you about pleasure.
Pleasure is our birthright. Pleasure is the dessert of presence. Pleasure is necessary.
In my pursuit of a meaningful life, I have acquired many practices of pleasure, some of which are not suitable for a family Substack. I love to dress up. I love to dance, especially to live music. I love to eat and to cook for my family. I love funny movies. I love laughing with friends. I love a bright-orange Aperol spritz. I love a sauna, a cold plunge, a hot spring, and a firm massage.
Maybe ten or 15 years ago I was up all night at a boat party, dancing under blacklights, circling around Manhattan. There are many things to love about a boat party, but maybe the best part is that you are not leaving until it’s over. You are all there together, fully committed. Anyway, around four am I composed the following motto, with marker, on a popsicle stick:
Your body is the place to feel good.
I still stand by that. Bodies bring us a lot of burdens, and they shoulder many tasks. But fundamentally: no body, nowhere to feel good. Which also means: enjoy while it lasts.
If you concern yourself at all with the pain of the world, if you fight against oppression, it’s all the more important to have a robust practice of pleasure.
My queer friends and family tend to be really good at reminding me of this, now during Pride Month, and all year round.
It’s an idea adrienne maree brown puts forth in her book Pleasure Activism, which connects pleasure, especially erotic pleasure, to liberation. “Pleasure is not one of the spoils of capitalism. It is what our bodies, our human systems, are structured for; it is the aliveness and awakening, the gratitude and humility, the joy and celebration of being miraculous.”
And in the 8th episode of We Are The Great Turning, the podcast I produced with Jess Serrante, Joanna Macy shares her gospel of eros.
Her practice of sensual enjoyment is ingrained and effortless. It’s blush-inducing to hear a 95 year old woman talk this way.
“My whole body mind is kind of lit up and resonating from simply walking in my neighborhood on a sunny morning. Everything is singing the capacity for perfection. It's like the Earth is singing, as she dances, as she rotates around the sun, and we can count on her faithfully circling around, held in this orbit of attraction and celebration…Mama Nature makes herself beautiful so that things can get impregnated. We make ourselves beautiful for the lover. Mm-hmm. We make ourselves beautiful for coming together, the act of love.”
This kind of devotion keeps us working for a better future for our beloved planet. And this kind of bliss keeps us in the present moment. It’s our reward for not numbing out, or turning away from what’s happening in the world, good and bad.
“How can the world be saved without people who love it in every single way?” Macy asks.
It’s full dusk now. Fireflies are flashing their semaphors of love. I know the oppressive heat is coming, and for now I’m bathing in this sweet, cool air.
We can even parent on the pleasure principle. Especially, I think, in summer. I mean finding moments, activities, places, and snacks that you both can enjoy. And stopping to notice and amplify each other’s pleasure.
I remember one sunny, breezy day, when my oldest would have been about seven months old. We lay side by side on a blanket on the grass. She sighed and wriggled with contentment. We looked up at the clouds. For that brief moment, I noticed myself relaxing. I wasn’t anxiously monitoring her, catering to her needs, or even trying to entertain her. We were joined in shared enjoyment.
What are your practices of pleasure?
Some links:
Very much on the pleasure-activist principle: Public, low-carbon leisure should be part of our climate agenda. “Investing political hours—and public dollars—in low-carbon leisure helps cultivate interconnected communities, rebuild the political imagination, and grow a new political base—not to mention helping people survive the climate crisis.”
Dad jokes ruined by gentle parenting:
What do you call it when a snowman throws a tantrum? A meltdown!
Wow, that snowman has some big feelings. I wonder why he acted that way. I bet he feels sad that spring is coming and that he will soon cease to exist. I sure would be. I think the snowman would feel a lot better if he paused and did a mindfulness exercise—perhaps noticing the sensations of the soft wool of his hat, the warmth of the sun… and never mind, he’s gone.