Rapture, even when we observe it in ourselves, seems almost to have a life of its own. We can purposely breathe, move, or think in nearly any other pattern, but with rapture, all we can do is set the stage and let it happen. We establish beat, heat it up in fire…but when we surrender conscious control, that’s when rapture happens.
Orgasms are rapture. They are difficult to describe or explain, and sometimes the more intent we are on obtaining them, the more distant they become. Asking why they aren’t happening, or becoming emotionally and physically tense over their absence, keeps us in conscious control and dilutes our energy. All we can do is keep the warming, sensual heat on and enjoy what is until rapture comes into being.
Anxiety is rapture, too. Suddenly all the distresses and uncertainties of life come flying out of nowhere and collecting in our consciousness. That plane sounds like it’s flying awfully low…did I leave the car unlocked?…oh, I need to get that squeak in the brakes checked out soon…I don’t have money for that now though…hey, what kind of spider is that on the wall? I hope it doesn’t bite…. It doesn’t seem like we could worry about this many things simultaneously if we tried, and perhaps we couldn’t. Rapture in any form is its own leader.