Recipes for a Sacred Life: True Stories and a Few Miracles by Rivvy Neshama (best books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

When that feels complete, we move on to part two, where we share “Something I loved about you today was . . .” or “I loved you most today when . . .” It can be something really small, especially on days when you’re feeling grim and unloving. But the rule is, you have to say something.

One night, after a morning row that left us barely speaking, just when I thought there was nothing I loved about John that day or maybe ever, he said, “I loved you when I heard you laughing on the phone with your sister”—and I smiled and loved him most for that.

EVERYTHING I KNOW

ABOUT SACRED SEX

When I took est with Werner Erhard in the ’70s, it was partly because I wanted to raise my consciousness—something the training seemed to promise—and partly because Barry, my estranged husband, had taken it. God forbid his consciousness should be higher than mine!

The sixty-hour course took place on two weekends, and enlightenment aside, the part I was looking forward to most was when Werner would talk about sex. “He tells you all you need to know,” Barry told me, refusing to say more.

When the time came, Werner walked to the microphone and announced, “When you’re hot, you’re hot, and when you’re not, you’re not.” So ended his session on sex.

I feel like that now, writing about sacred sex. When you make love from your heart, sex is sacred. The rest is all details.

FOR THOSE WHO LIKE DETAILS

My friend Gail, who wears sexy costumes on Halloween and other occasions, says the best way to make up with your partner is to make love. That’s right. Even when you’re fuming with anger and feel anything but love, there’s something about making love that does just that: It can bring you closer, higher, and back together.

Why? Because sex is spiritual—powerful and transcendent—and can strengthen your connection to each other and the divine. Ascetics abstain from sex not because it’s profane, but because it’s so sacred. They want to make love with God and cut out the middleman.

That said, with sacred sex, less could be more. There’s a practice of Orthodox Jews called the Laws of Family Purity. Derived from biblical commandments, these laws require couples to cease having sex during a woman’s menstrual period and for one week after. Then, before making love again, the woman goes to ritual baths called a mikvah and immerses herself in natural waters.

A mikvah is a spiritual tool, not a physical one. The user must be totally clean before immersion and emerges feeling innocent and renewed. When a woman performs this ritual after menstruation, she says a prayer, asking God to sanctify her marriage and her return to intimacy.

I used to think that this practice reflected negative feelings about women. I now see its intention to make sex sacred: special and reverent. Judaism, an earthy religion, regards sex as holy, a gift from God.

But nowhere is sex more revered than in Tantra, a mystical path to Nirvana. Founded on the belief that all is one but divided into polarities, Tantra teaches how to awaken our “Shakti,” our deepest, most powerful energy, as a way to achieve union within, without, and with the divine. Tantra is a way of life, but it’s most known in the West for the practice of tantric sex, one of many ways to reach this state of bliss.

John and I were introduced to Tantra in Mexico by our California-born, Mexican friend Pam. A body healer and teacher of tantric sex, Pam looked the part: Tall, strong, and tanned, she seemed happiest when skinny-dipping or camping out in the jungle.

Tantra, an ancient tradition, evolved in Hinduism and Buddhism and has roots in Asian countries. But there was something about Mexico that made it perfect for our studies. On hot, sultry afternoons, we sat on Pam’s vine-covered porch, surrounded by the sweet scent of tropical flowers and the salty smell of the ocean, as she showed us exotic drawings and read from esoteric books. In her candlelit room, she led us through meditations and exercises that used the breath, sounds, vibrations, and visualizations to channel our sexual-heart energy. “It’s a way to merge,” Pam said, “with each other and the universe. It’s called the art of conscious loving.”

We soon discovered that tantric sex can ignite amazing energy and ecstatic lovemaking, and we saw how it could be a ritual for self-transcendence. We also discovered that it’s a path, and like all paths, it takes study, practice, and commitment. Perhaps because of that, or perhaps because we like spontaneity even more than ritual, back home we resumed our simpler, down-home loving.

Still, some things Pam taught us we now and then do. We might lie spoon-fashion and breathe in sync. Or call each other “beloved.” Or make our bedroom a temple of love by lighting candles, playing music, and reading poetry aloud in bed.

But in the end, it comes down to this: When you make love from your heart, sex is sacred. The rest is all details.

TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER

The more I learn about our world, I sense a kindness at its core. And it seems that all species instinctively know how to take care of each other.

One spring morning, Paul and Sarah drove John and me to a hospital in Denver where John was to have surgery. Sarah and I sat in the back seat chatting, and I was looking out the window at all the ranches on the way. At one ranch, I spotted a herd of cows with their young calves. It was April, so many babies had just been born.

“Look!” I exclaimed, pointing them out to Sarah.

“Do you know about cow nurseries?” she asked.

“No,” I said, and got ready for one of her wonderful facts. Sarah used to teach immigrant children, so she’s my source of basic knowledge.

“This is how it works,” she said. “The cows gather all the calves in