Do you granny-out? Or stay in the game?

Every day is a challenge.
Not just for me, but for every woman.
How do we stay plugged into our source energy?
How do we connect with our power in a world that seems designed to disempower us?
How do we choose ourselves, and our magnificence, over and over again?
Especially if we, perhaps, have never chosen it before…or have never felt it before?
And now, at this point in my life, in my 60’s (70’s, 80’s, 90’s), how do I find my radiance beneath the surface of my skin, and stand in a deeper truth of who I am in the world? In a way that has nothing to do with anything I thought mattered. Nothing to do with wrinkles, weight, sagging body parts, accomplishment, or wealth.

On Friday, I was at the Standard Hotel in Miami. Peter and I were in town to attend a class on BDSM and Tantra. I chose the Standard because it has an incredible spa and hammam where you can relax and restore.

On arrival, I went to the spa, and changed into my bathing suit and coverup. There were a bunch of young woman in the locker room with me, and you know how you notice, but don’t notice the people around you? There was a group of three women in their late 20’s nearby. One tall blonde, and two shorter brunettes – all gorgeous. I was aware that I was the oldest woman in the locker room. Everyone at the hotel was young enough to be my daughter. I guess the people my age go to other hotels. This place has a young, sexy, European vibe. With its large, open hammam and outdoor mud lounge, it’s kind of a perfect pick up and hook up place. I could feel myself on the precipice of choice.

Would I granny out? And dim my light? And become invisible?

Or would I gather my radiance like a boss and double down on my duende?

Now, I had not been to the Standard in five years or so. I used to teach classes there, and had many fun memories. I plugged into my pussy. Felt her aliveness. Felt her magnificence. I slowed down in my movements. Pussy was in no rush. Instead of the standard-issue robe, I put on a long, sheer, colorful DVF coverup, and a sexy black bathing suit.

(Sidebar: let’s talk about these wardrobe choices. I look better in one piece than a bikini. Why? Any drop of fat I have, gathers right in my belly, which makes my body look like a (slightly lumpy) little kid if I am a couple of pounds over my slimmest, which happens to me in winter. A one piece handles the problem. But I will still rock a bikini because there are days I just fucking want to. It is super important to know your own wardrobe sweet-spots. What do you wear that makes you FEEL fabulous? Bright colors? Black? This research does not require a lot of money, but it does take a lot of time. More on that later.)

I hit my posture button. My posture button has me walking slowly like the Queen of Fucking Everything.

I am deliberate. I feel the Pussy spotlight on me with every step. I know my beauty. I feel my radiance. I am at choice, I am at cause. Each step I take, I create my legend.

(Sidebar: This is not easy. The locker room is filled with young flesh. I have no reason to choose to star in my own show. Except that I know this is the only path with any space for me. I need to show off my unconditional love for myself. I do not wish to risk anyone’s opinion of me but my own.)

I put on a sunhat with attitude. And allowed myself to walk as if I had diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and rubies at the meeting of my thighs. Plugging in, instead of plugging out. I went to the pool, swam, had lunch, and a few hours later, ran back into the same crew I had met in the locker.

This time, the trio of beauties who had caught my eye a few hours ago, was in the elevator with me. They had had some drinks, and the tall blonde spoke to me. “Ok, how old are you? You are so fabulous.” I started to answer her, but her cocktails interrupted us. “I am really good at this, so let me guess. Looking at you, I’d think you are 48, maybe 50, but, I think you are actually ten years older than that. So maybe 60? What’s your secret? I have to know your secret. Sex?” I laughed and said, “Yes, totally, lots of sex. But, the real secret? Pussy.” They all shrieked, laughed, and screamed. “I can’t believe she said Pussy!” And tumbled off the elevator.

When I choose to value every cell of myself, it changes my experience of myself. It is perceptible to others.

It puts me in a state of flow where the world and I are in dialogue, in dance, in step.

It sets an energetic field up, that creates a vortex that I am in control of. And the pathway there is mine to determine.
Yours to determine.
But…there is a HUGE BUT.
The only way to accomplish that is when a woman learns to connect to the paradigm of pleasure. Her pleasure. Not anyone else’s.
It is time for women to reclaim their power, their voice, their choices, their sexual sovereignty.

There are things we hang our hats on, as women, that give us our sense of value.
Things outside of ourselves.
Sometimes, it’s youth. Beauty. Big breasts. Long legs. Money. A powerful job. A rich husband. Accomplishment.
We might also make the decision that there is nothing about us that gives us our sense of value. Say, if we live in poverty. Or we are part of the LGBTQ community. A person of color. An older white woman. A woman.
And when the object or system in which we have chosen to place our power, fails, then we are fucked, hosed, disillusioned, and in a free fall from our sense of ourselves.
This position is dangerous.
It is a spiritual crisis that forces the potential for the most growth and opportunity, but it will feel like the most dreaded of circumstances. As if we are space walking and our life support cord was cut.

The only place with oxygen is the place that we have been taught, by the culture, never to go.

And when we choose the paradigm of radical self-love, when we choose to be pleasure activists, we actually manufacture oxygen, not just for ourselves, but for others. We bring relief to the young women in elevators who are terrified of growing old. We understand we are source, and in control. Not powerless.

With so much love and pleasure,

PS. Do you choose to value every cell of yourself? Do you gather your radiance like a boss and double down on your duende? You can live a life you love, fueled by your deeply held desires. To support you, for the first time in three years, we’re opening up our foundational course to The Womanly Arts, Virtual Please Boot Camp. Watch for more information about how you can join us, and learn to live a pleasure-filled life!

Regena is a feminist icon, a teacher, a speaker, a mother, a best-selling author, and creatrix and CEO of The School of Womanly Arts.

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