byjonathanleung.com

Jonathan Leung · 

She Lets Desire Know Itself Through Contact

I just wrote this out.

She's deeply embodied, sensual, connected to her desire, connected to her knowing,
fully feeling, deeply feeling,
has spaciousness and dives into her aliveness,
has wide chunks of time.

Care, love, interest, aliveness flow through, tends to the wholeness from the wholeness like a garden.

It doesn't feel like she needs to justify why.

In fact, it just doesn't, is not part of her process.

But there's some deep bodily implying, deep knowing, feeling, knowing,
a holistic, sensual, felt, deep knowing,
connected and rests in the loving field of loving wholeness,
and is deeply nurtured by that and as that.

She feels the sizes of things, the proportions.

She moves by her feelings in interaction with the wholeness of the situation,
and rests in her sensing in the larger field and wholeness itself,
and tends to and cultivates beauty from and as beauty.

She can feel the proportions.

Yeah, there's something definitely about space here.

She's connected to her deepest longing and remains connected, nourished by her wanting.

She believes that she can have what she wants.

Her system orients towards having what she wants or receiving,
touches into a vibrancy of grounded nourishment,
a gently but yesness towards yes.

She's never alone.

She's always connected with herself, always connected and resting in the ground as the ground of the Great Mother.

All of her is held.


She does not need the whole answer to already be there.

Her knowing can be deep without already being fully formed.

There can be a bodily implying, a direction, a living more-this, less-that, a not-yet, a closer, a farther away. She does not force this into a conclusion too early. She does not demand that the body give her a finished plan before she is willing to trust it.

She can rest with the wanting while it is still becoming.

Her knowing may not tell her exactly what to do. It may tell her where to place her attention, what to move nearer to, what to touch, what to enter into contact with. It gives her the direction of the next living movement, not always the whole map.

And that is enough.

She lets desire know itself through contact.

She does not only go inward and ask herself from far away what she wants. She goes near. She touches the material. She inhabits the rhythm. She speaks to the person. She makes a little of the thing. She walks into the room, wears the clothes, tries the work, tastes the day, feels the life from inside it.

She lets reality touch her back.

The encounter is not only a test of whether the desire was true. The encounter participates in revealing the desire, shaping it, differentiating it, letting it become more itself.

She may think she wants the whole thing and discover that she wants one intimate part.

She may think she wants the identity and discover that she wants the actual activity.

She may think she wants the achievement and discover that she wants the freedom, the beauty, the depth of contact, the creative companionship, the feeling of her own force moving cleanly.

She lets the wanting change form without treating that as betrayal.

She does not require herself to have known perfectly from the beginning.


She can receive a desire without immediately seizing it.

She can feel:

Yes, I want this.

Yes, this matters.

Yes, something in me moves toward it.

And she does not have to immediately turn the wanting into a demand, a project, a promise, a permanent identity.

She can hold the wanting close without closing around it.

She can let it be wanted.

She can let it be felt all the way through.

She can allow it to be met by her own presence before asking the world to fulfill it.

And because she does not fear that the desire will be abandoned or erased, it does not need to become desperate. It can become more exact. It can soften enough to reveal its true size, its true shape, its true timing.


She can feel the different currents moving inside one desire.

She does not need to reduce the wanting to one pure reason.

There may be appetite there.

There may be protection.

There may be a wish to be seen.

There may be an old emptiness trying to be answered.

There may be curiosity, play, eros, ambition, devotion, beauty, generosity, power, rest.

There may be the wish to make something and the wish to finally matter.

There may be the wish to serve and the wish to be loved.

She lets all of this be included in the sensing.

She does not purify herself before she is allowed to know what she wants.

She feels:

What in this wanting is asking for what?

Which part wants the object?

Which part wants what the object seems to promise?

Which part is frightened?

Which part is alive?

Which part is already whole and wants to create from its wholeness?

She does not shame the compensatory parts. They too are held in the Great Mother. They too are allowed to speak. And because they are heard, they do not have to secretly organize the whole life.


She can feel through the borrowed wanting.

She can sense the desires that came from the room, the family, the culture, the image of success, the wish to be approved of, the wish to become undeniable.

She can feel what she learned she was supposed to want.

She does not need to violently reject these wants as false. She feels into them with tenderness.

What is alive underneath this?

What does this image carry?

What would it give me?

What am I really reaching for through it?

Maybe the borrowed form falls away and the deeper longing remains.

Maybe the original desire stays, but becomes cleaner, more intimate, more truly hers.

Maybe she still wants the large thing, but no longer needs it to prove that she exists.


She trusts the small wants too.

She does not wait only for the enormous whole-body yes.

She can feel:

I want a little more of this.

I want to stay here.

I want to leave now.

I want quiet.

I want warmth.

I want to touch that.

I want to keep going for ten more minutes.

I want less.

I want it slower.

I want it nearer.

I want this part, but not that part.

These small wants are not trivial. They are the tiny movements through which the organism remembers that it can speak and be heard.

She listens to them without making them absolute.

She lets the system regain confidence that its sensing matters.

And over time, the little movements may gather into a deeper line.


She watches what happens to desire through time.

She does not assume the strongest first intensity is the deepest truth.

Some desires blaze and become empty once touched.

Some are quiet, almost easy to overlook, and return again and again.

Some become more beautiful after reality enters.

Some become narrower, humbler, more exact.

Some reveal themselves only after skill begins to grow.

Some pass through difficulty and deepen into devotion.

She feels not only how the desire feels before contact, but what happens to the whole body after living with it.

Does she become more grounded?

More alive?

More truthful?

More relational?

More able to include the consequences?

Does the desire gain texture and patience?

Does it become capable of loving what it asks of her?

Or does it require fantasy, distance, speed, and self-abandonment in order to stay exciting?

She does not use this as another test to accuse herself.

She watches lovingly.

She lets time reveal the weight and depth of things.

She can feel which desires ask only for an experience, which ask for tending, which ask for a season, and which ask for devotion.


And when she chooses, she does not stop sensing.

She can give herself.

She can commit.

She can build the form, protect the time, learn the craft, stay through dryness, let the desire become disciplined and embodied.

But the form does not become more sacred than the life it was made to carry.

She continues to feel:

Is this still carrying the longing?

Has the longing changed?

Is the structure still nourishing the life, or has the life become trapped in maintaining the structure?

Does this ask for more devotion, another form, a pause, a release?

She does not abandon the living source once production begins.

She remains in relationship with it.

Her devotion is not rigid possession.

It is continual listening.

She can stay deeply, without becoming unable to move.

She can release without declaring the love unreal.

She can let one form die while remaining faithful to what was trying to live through it.


Her deepest knowing is not always an answer.

It is the place in her that knows how to enter the conversation.

It knows what to approach.

It knows how much.

It knows when to wait.

It knows when the next movement is ripe.

It knows the difference between taking and receiving, between forcing and tending, between excitement and nourishment, between a loud yes and a deep yes.

She rests in that.

She rests in the larger field, held and accompanied, while the wanting becomes itself.

And from there she moves—not because she has conquered uncertainty, but because she is connected enough to take the next living step.

This was written as it came, and kept that way. You can find more of the work, and the person behind it, on the about page.