In early years, the nurture of our imagination was abundantly important.  We were encouraged to build and create with multi-colored bricks to engage the creative aspects of our fragile and simultaneously constructive and entrepreneurial tendencies.  We felt validated when playing at cops and robbers or cowboys and indians, feeling, this was the practice for adulthood.  We conjured fortresses and buttresses and saloons and desert islands.  We made facsimile of ancient battlefields and exotic places and wigwams and wide plains where buffalo did roam.   Our imaginations made concrete the reality we wished we’d been born unto.

This took our minds and hopes and dreams to unfathomable places.  We viewed, in innocent fashion, the unsullied possibilities laid before us via our books, teachers, and parents.  We prematurely embraced the limitless opportunities of self-determination and unaffected ascension that were fostered by an immaculate yet controlling familial nexus.   Unknowingly, we proceeded in cattle chute fashion, an entire infrastructure supporting these assumptions.  And thus we padded forward, lemmingesque, to the bright horizon we conjured from our tutelage.

When sex discovered, these fantasies seemed silly and inconsequential.  The innocence had been shattered, and the compelling desire to commune, corporeally, prevailed.   Stroke, temperature, proximity, reaction to a joke, even the casual touch of hand to hand contact had meaning.  Though these matters, lacked in imagination.  These were simple procreative compulsions.   I have experienced my share of impassioned titillation. The hairs of my flesh have been tingled appropriately at the behest of a lovely woman.  Few though could stimulate like the sirens of my unconscious.

The rapt compulsion towards copulation is a hard magnet to resist.  The intellect sapping effect makes dolts of supposed decent people. The hormonal response to these times is intensely erratic and powerfully resistant to authority, yet is no less invalid.

What happens when the pursuit of sex abates, and our fantasies once again take over?  Might these two jostle for prominence?  Do they fuse and constantly battle for dominance over  physical and mental ventures?

There are many that seem slaves to sexuality, incapable of reasonable thought and interaction if a sexual component is not involved.  There are others that are the complete opposite, devoid of libido, and thus driven to intellectual satisfaction or some other form of gratification.

Why can’t man play a carefully balanced game with this?  Why does the sexual nature of people arrest our higher pursuits and propel us towards endeavors unbecoming of our higher purposes?

It is quite the difficult quandary to quantify. In the prime of our virility, energy, and truly world-changing capabilities, we seek out that which satisfies only so briefly and spastically, the orgasm.   Our imaginations could provide the color for the canvas that the orgiastic ejaculations waste on frequent dispersions.  Artfully constructed chord progressions and deep moving riffs give way to the squandered tongue to earlobe maneuver.  Moving, insightful prose could be the substitute for vacuous pillow talk.

But we don’t realize what is occurring until we’ve been caught up in the swell, and the heat, and passion of that physical and emotional flood that sweeps us away.

Until those feelings no longer seem to charge us.  When our imaginations are recalled, we can be young again.  We can feel non-corrupted.  We can live in a world in which penetration may only mean puncturing a succulent and delicious steak with a knife, and hard, may insinuate difficult and challenging, instead of a throbbing tumescence needing to be relieved.

The interim confusion is the worst for many.  It’s a small wonder that a myriad of “tastes” have sprouted everywhere. The imagination and sexuality components have fused, causing a jostling superiority complex necessitating resolution.  If not satisfied, the fellatio fetish may soon become the pizza delivery fetish.  A pizza delivery fetish may lead to foot fetishes. After that a combination of the two may occur.  After that the limits of the imagination are interminable, until of course the libido again releases hold.

We are all so willing to succumb to our impulses and emotions.  We use our sexuality as an excuse for poor decision-making.  We blame our inability to connect on intellect or imaginative impulses.

We can achieve a calculated and satisfying fusion of the two, at any stage in our lives.  The problem is no one has taught us how to do so. We simply assimilate the conditioning that our flawed nurtue gifted us.

We subject ourselves to constant subservience in the interest of  the greater good, which has no great interest in pleasing us.  It’s time we look at sexuality the same way.  These acts of passion, emotion, and intimacy serve base, fleeting and immediately gratifying impulses.  They serve as injections intent on momentarily pacifying greater needs.

Let this be on your mind the next time coitus is imminent,

J