The West Village felt strangely autumnal enough earlier today for me to excitedly tweet: “It’s cool enough for a hot coffee at midday which means that turtleneck/pumpkin spice/decorative gourd season is coming, motherfuckers” — and I am still nursing the large Stumptown drip that I got from the coffee shop now, at 6 pm. It didn’t wake up my brain the way I hoped it would, and the writing I was so sure I’d churn out is not on the page. Anticipation can be a turn-on, but sometimes we set ourselves up to fail.
A lot of us treat astrological transits like they can instantly alter our brain chemistry like caffeine — we read about the rare Jupiter-Neptune conjunction that happened earlier this spring, or an app tells us that the New Moon is coming in hyperbolic language, or a friend texts us about the upcoming eclipse or Mercury Retrograde or whatever else is going viral, and we expect something to happen, something big.
When it doesn’t, we assume there’s something wrong with us or that astrology is bullshit. In truth, it’s a lot more complicated than that because it depends on your chart, of course. But just waiting for transits to give us a gift, to deliver a message, or to wake up our brain or body doesn’t always work — we have to feel into it, reach for it, take action — being in the right place at the right time doesn’t always cut it.
And it’s the same with pleasure. We think of it as a special gift, a rare experience, something that comes only when we’re dressed up and waxed or when we accomplish a goal or only if we “deserve it” somehow. Most of us don’t reach for pleasure simply because pleasure feels good and we want it in the moment — unless we’re using it to numb ourselves. (That’s another story and not what I’m discussing here today.)
In the wee hours of Thursday morning at 4:03 am EST, receptive Venus in hot-to-trot Leo makes a sweet, docile trine to Jupiter, currently retrograde in impetuous Aries. These two beneifics engaging in a slow dance in fire signs deliver a decadently sexy aspect, but it’s a soft trine. This is not a loud cosmic event.
So how do you use it? You reach for pleasure instead of waiting for it to come to you. Try to do that tonight or between now and the weekend. You might find that you have a hot sex dream, or that you desire your partner more, or that you crave a romantic dinner or want to spend a bit of time with your favorite vibrator before bed tonight. But I suggest this — even if you can’t tap into the feeling of wanting pleasure, give it to yourself anyway, and analyze it later.
For the last 17 days, I’ve been running a free repeat of the program I call #30DaysofOrgasm on my Instagram, encouraging followers to try to have at least one orgasm a day, solo or partnered. I end up focusing mainly on solo pleasure because it’s so important to create and cultivate that practice before you can receive toe-curling pleasure from a partner.
This program sounds like it’s all fun and games, and yes, it’s good for you mentally, physically, and spiritually — but it’s also work. Participants keep a pleasure journal and on a lot of the days, they face powerful resistance to providing themselves pleasure. Guilt, shame, discomfort, feeling unworthy, ugly, too old, selfish, too busy, not quite right — all of these feelings can come up when you commit to a daily orgasm for 30 days. At the end of the 30 days, there is often a more comple
x, nuanced, and deeper understanding of one’s relationship to pleasure, and this serves to enhance the sex lives and sensual experiences of participants. It’s not too late to join, actually, so you can hop onto my IG here.
With pleasure,
Stefanie
PS: Last night I was the moderator for #SexTalkTuesday on Twitter and I offered a limited-time discount to participants. I’m extending that to you here — but hopefully you’ll read this soon because I’m taking it down in a few hours.