In French, the orgasm is sometimes referred to as 'the little death'. It wasn't until I was twenty-five that I had my first orgasm and a little death it was indeed, almost preceding a big death, quite literally. I was suicidal at the time, preparing for my final exit. And I was angry...REALLY angry. Angry at God, angry at my ex-husband who I'd been married to for five years, angry at myself, angry at life. This all got embodied in my sexuality. "Why didn't anyone care enough for me to experience an orgasm?"
So, I figured that since I was going to kill myself, I was sure as hell not going to leave the planet without having had the experience of climax. Damned be God and everyone else! So, I did. And I cried and cried and cried. It was like a little death. A death to the God I thought would strike me down, a death to the idea that someone else was responsible for my pleasure, and a death to my ego, realizing I wasn't as strong as I had lead myself and others to believe. I was vulnerable.
While I struggled with guilt over the following years around masturbation, a no-no in my religious dogma, each orgasm was another death. Each time I touched myself without a lightning bolt striking me from heaven, I had to question the dogma I'd been raised with. "Maybe God doesn't really care what I do with my genitals?" This was a huge question for me with huge implications. If God didn't concern himself with that, maybe all the other stuff my religion was making such a big deal of didn't matter to God either. And further still, maybe my ideas of God needed to be questioned too.
I'm glad I didn't kill myself at that point in my life. The little deaths I've experienced along the way have lead me to cherish the life I have now. My body is my shrine. I am the Divine I seek. And these little deaths are my prayers to the only God I know.