August 17, 2012

Sex, Freedom and Food: My Take on the “One Taste” Community. ~ Rebekah McClaskey

If you are talking to me about sex and freedom, you are speaking my language.

Quite by accident, I discovered a new breed of conscious community. They hail from the exquisite coastal city, San Francisco. The framework of this community revolves around sex and freedom. So, when I encountered one of its members at a party I attended, I was immediately intrigued. This intrigue resulted in inquiry. I asked him if he would be willing to be interviewed for my internet TV show, Love Improv and he agreed.

Between the inquiry and the interview, I invested time into educating myself on the One Taste Community (OTC). I suspected that its popularity was a commentary on what individuals are truly seeking. There are many different facets and labels that exist within the OTC. The primary focus of the community is female orgasm. The central manuscript of the OTC is the book called, Slow Sex by Nicole Daedone. The essential teaching in the OTC is using a single technique to mindfully focus on a specific point of sensation. The technique is called Orgasmic Meditation or “OMing”.

The name One Taste was derived from Buddha’s teaching: “Just as the great ocean has but one taste, the taste of salt, so my teachings have but one taste, the taste of freedom.”

Inspired by the concepts championed within the OTC, but not yet willing to participate in the practice of  OMing, I set out to write about sensation in my own terms. Long before I ever learned of the OTC or how to meditate, I understood the pure bliss that comes from sinking my teeth into a newly picked, fully ripe, sun-kissed strawberry. Now, the combined elements of delectable edibles and mindfulness practice coalesce in such a way that meals are transformed from a perfunctory task into speckled moments of bliss.

As you read the words below, my hope is you will feel the freedom of being totally enveloped in the experience, and then let it go. Enjoy the One Taste in every bite.

No two bites can be duplicated. The flavor arrangement that swirls around inside my mouth as I chew each delectable morsel of food is like its own weather pattern. Some bites are billowy clouds, lush and full of flavor. Some bites are wispy fog-like structures that illicit response through texture rather than robust taste. Each bite carries the nuance of bitter notes that then give way to sour expressions and finish with the caress of sweet longing.

As my teeth chew a stack of eatable delights, a certain alchemy brews inside my body. One harmonious note presses into another and the resonance gallops its way into my brain’s pleasure centers. Every bit of attention I have rises and collapses as I lift the single bite to my lips, place it on my tongue, grind it between my teeth and engulf it in finality with a swallow.

Just as surely as I have let the full sensation of this bite roll through my body, I feel the longing for more. I want it. Again.

And if I let myself cling tightly to the moment that has already passed, I cannot taste the symphony of flavor that resides within each singular and spectacular bite.

Each bite has a source. Just as in the beloved movie, The Never Ending Story, everything can be swallowed up into nothing until we give it a name. Our thoughts are seeds that germinate into reality.  Every second is an infinite container of growth. In order to grow, the seed finds fertile soil or it is intentionally placed in nurturing pastures. This seed then mingles with its environment and springs forth as a complete arrangement of leaves, petals, roots, and at its peak, it bears fruit. The natural elements both taunt and encourage growth. Then, on a given day, at a given hour, within the bounds of that infinite second, maturation is reached. The fruit is plucked from its stem.

I hold a gem of creation within my palm—a ripe, red, speckled, sun-kissed, rain-drenched, mud-coated and plump strawberry. As if in unison, the berry and I pulse with anticipation. Shall I take its pure essence into my being? Shall I collect a basket of earth’s gems, bring them home, and turn them into jam? Will this berry adorn a well crafted pastry? Will it act as a subtle complement in the arrangement of a single bite? Or will it burst forth with untarnished potency? Only the moment will decide the details of our outcome.

Not every bite is a loving one. The pace of our experience is dictated by our willingness to participate in it. With swift precision I numb out. The flutter of my heart is nearly recognizable underneath the overtones of discontent, obligation, stress, and meaningless chatter. I have gathered noise onto my plate and I am washing it down with a solution that will soon turn into regret. This is a meal of cacophony. I barely took the time to notice my gluttonous ingestion of disdain. The mixture of nutritive elements dissipates with each hurried gulp. I have effectively sucker-punched my gut with apathy. I hooked myself into illusionary force, gave up my power and lost touch with sensation. I surrender my ability to taste for the fleeting relief of escape. And in doing so, every bite remains the same.

Bites are motivated by hunger. His muscles hug his body like a single road winds through rolling mountains. His sinew and tendons form peaks and valleys that promise strength and project a god-like aesthetic. Her skin proved to be dewy, soft, and fragrant.  Each curve of her luscious body melds into his with rhythmic precision. The attraction is gravitational. Just at the edge of their union lies a hunger that lingers like a lion, crouched in the bush, hunting its prey. The frame-work of time and space shifts into repeating bliss. The constructs of formal reality transform into actual reality; a place where there is no delineation between objectivity and subjectivity. There is only ignition and release. Each longs for the other. With the discovery of its counterpart, balance manifests. The whole and complete moment results in relaxed expression.

The type of hunger that seeks satisfaction is motivating.

The type of hunger that seeks to know itself both in reflection and through contrast produces balance. Neither is better than the other.

Pace yourself as needed. Take life one bite at a time, or swallow it whole. Continue to explore the simplicity of flavors or mash them together to create complexity. Each moment is your unique, singular, complementary, and potent bite. Be assured of this, there is a feast to be had. Let it be consumed at your discretion for this feast will nourish you contingent on how skillfully you choose it. Source your hunger to feed your love. Ride your sensations into awakening or into the arms of the OTC. Simply, enjoy life.

(If you are as curious as I was, here is the orgasmic meditation interview.)



Rebekah McClaskey is the creator of Break-up Rehab and the founder of Transform Now Counseling. She graduated with her Master’s in Counseling from Naropa University in the spring of 2011. Rebekah has four years experience in the field of psychology and she specializes in transforming suffering into victory. In other words, she is skilled at assisting you in answering the question, “Now what do I do?” You can learn more about Rebekah and about Break-up Rehab at transformnowcounseling.com. And you can find Rebekah on her FB page, Love Improv.


~Editor: Lori Lothian

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