about pleasure

Pleasure is presence made sensory.

It doesn’t require meaning — only attention.

It’s not just about s3x or desire (though it lives there, too).

It’s in the earth under your feet,

the laugh that escapes without warning,

the pulse of life reminding you:

“I am here. I am here. I am here.”

In some paths, pleasure is feared —

called temptation, distraction, danger.

But in many tantric and animist traditions,

pleasure is a portal.

To the divine.

To self-remembrance.

To union.

Because when you let yourself feel fully —

when you stop numbing or rushing or judging —

you meet the world in truth.

And that meeting is sacred.

Pleasure is a compass.

It tells you what brings life.

Not just comfort, not just stimulation —

but vitality, resonance, yes.

It’s not selfish to follow pleasure —

it’s how nature moves.

Flowers open to the sun because it feels good.

Bodies heal more easily when they’re relaxed, safe, and delighted.

Pleasure isn’t indulgence.

It’s medicine.

When you claim your pleasure,

you reclaim your power.

You say:

I am not a machine to be optimized.

I am a being to be cherished.

And I am allowed to feel good.

Even in a broken world.

Even when it doesn’t last.

Even if no one taught you how.

Pleasure is a prayer.

And every time you say yes to it,

the divine says yes back.

(written with the help of chatGPT)