Maria de los Angeles

Everyday Tantra’s erotic anatomy class gives students tools for sexual and spiritual well-being.

“Want to see your cervix?”

My doctor handed me a mirror and I sat up awkwardly while my legs were spread in the stirrups. The paper gown crackled, and my back felt the cold air of the exam room. Hardly erotic, but there — wow! — in the cavern of me, was the pink nob on which I needed to place my diaphragm. There, in a part of me I had never thought to gaze at with wonder, was a tiny hole from which all human life leaves the safety of the womb, thrust into adventure. Such power.

I got fitted for birth control many, many years ago as a younger woman. Fast forward: I would later study yoga, and step into the role of caregiver to parents who passed from Alzheimer’s. I evolved into a teacher of heart-centered practices, and then, one day found myself studying erotic anatomy in northern Virginia.

Bear with me. Doesn’t seem like Alzheimer’s — the disease of forgetting — relates to sex, but it offers a powerful inquiry into the relationship to body. To witness the evanescence of the body was painful, surely, but also opened up key lessons in tantra and other practices that connect mind, body, and soul. Death begged a question: how familiar are you with the body in which you live?

Alzheimer’s is a “disease of forgetting,” well, so is sex education — or lack thereof — in our culture. Turning the body into a locus of sin makes us forget who we are as embodied beings, and this forgetting leads to much dis-ease. We’ve all felt that anxious uneasiness buzzing through daily life. Collectively, we read it newspapers: the often life-threatening political and social repercussions of a toxic world that is sexually repressive and violent.

We are human beings. Life lives through us in a sinewy sack of flesh and bones that has enormous creative capacity, and is undoubtedly erotic, even outside the bedroom. When I saw the physical outline of my once vibrant, fleshy, strong and passionate parents fade into thin air, I came to understand a deeper sense of being embodied through life — the expression of emotion, pain and pleasure — the richness of it all, myriad variations. My folks were dying, a natural process; yet who hasn’t felt depressed, effectively dead, as if plug pulled?

We do a disservice to ourselves when we neglect to deeply inhabit the body, all of it — from the tiniest atomic particle to the largest organ. So how do we learn — learn to remember these forgotten parts of ourselves? Step in tantra, an ancient path to human wholeness.

Erotic anatomy class

When Everyday Tantra offered an Erotic Anatomy class earlier this year, I was eager to attend. Sure, I had studied anatomy and physiology in college, but today I have a different perspective. Master tantra teachers Monique Darling and Peter Peterson designed the class to share techniques that help us tune into our own bodies and that of others with whom we share sexual intimacy. Alex S Morgan, a sex, intimacy and relationships coach, joined as co-teacher. The trio made a wonderful teaching team.

I met Monique and Peter last summer in D.C. and participated in a yoni massage course where we learned about the intricate musculature of the vulva and vaginal canal. (Yoni is the Sanskrit word for vagina.) We also gleaned how this part of the body is so deeply misunderstood in the context of culture — the reproductive organs alone are neutral, yet are containers of, so much meaning — they “hold” who we are in this body. The tantric practice of respecting and honoring our sexual nature — without shame and with boundless curiosity — carried through to Erotic Anatomy.

I came to January’s class already familiar with the topography of the yoni and the pulse points that may carry residual trauma. But I had more to learn! At the beginning, Monique and Peter laid the ground rules of consent and confidentiality, followed by Peter’s signature relaxing and grounding qigong exercises: simple and flowy standing movements with breathwork. Both teachers then gently guided us through various non-sexual, fully-clothed tantra exercises, such as eye-gazing and sharing through one-on-one conversation with another participant. The question that night: what do I want more of in my life?

I could say that in many ways, the second-half of Erotic Anatomy was as clinical as the moment in which my doctor asked if I wanted to see my cervix. Monique performed a lignam massage on Peter and a yoni massage on Alex. (Lignam means penis in Sanskrit.) Both recipients were naked for the purposes of demonstration, after which, Alex, in turn, talked about the use of strap-ons, other toys, and applications for kink practices. The trio also talked about the characteristics and functions of the prostate, the clitoris, the anal sphincter and different kinds of orgasms.

If anyone attended this workshop for titillation, they might’ve been disappointed. The explanations were very matter-of-fact, refreshingly so. We literally got to know about gonads. We left that night with methods for the sexual well-being toolbox, and erotic skills to practice. For a novice who has never studied anatomy of any kind, the class is thorough.

Getting to the ‘heart fuck’

If there’s one thing I love about Monique and Peter’s approach to teaching tantra, is that they demystify the more esoteric aspects of the practice. After all, if you’re fumbling through sex with fearful nervousness, it’s even more challenging to achieve deeper presence with a beloved. Monique and Peter sometimes refer to this depth of presence as a “heart fuck,” but the practice of making love with the soul comes with deep surrender in the body. I keep mentioning the word practice, because it’s just that — a healthy relationship to one’s sexual energy requires repetition and focused attention. Classes like Erotic Anatomy are important to lay a foundation for whatever is right for you.

I very much admire Monique for her candor; she begins every workshop humbly sharing the pain she suffered as a child from sexual abuse and how the path of tantra has helped her transcend not only spiritually, but also physically, into a more grounded sense of being in the human body. She always says: “tantra is about falling in love with yourself,” which is another way of saying: “remember who you are.”

Think about it: how many practices in our culture support an antagonistic relationship to the body that reinforces a sense of never being good enough? Tantra unravels that tightly-wound conditioning.

I can’t emphasize enough of how important it is to “undress” the naked truths about ourselves if we truly want to experience freedom in our skin and bones. Doesn’t even matter if you’re sexually active or not (conventionally, speaking) — what matters is tapping into your vibrancy. What matters is full intellectual, spiritual and physical consciousness of this miracle called the body, and its capacity to be an expression of love, some of which sings through the genitals — this song about never forgetting who you are.

Maria de los Angeles is a writer, teacher and spiritual entrepreneur in the Washington, D.C. area. She is the founder of HeartCenteredDC, a community journalism organization and podcast serving the conscious culture surrounding the federal city. Find her at heartcenteredmaria.com