and what came to reveal itself is far beyond my imagination

So last night I found myself in a striptease club for the first time in my life.

I had received opportunities before to check it out, but never felt right about it.

Yesterday, it all fit in the flow of the events and to be honest, I told myself: if I am to powerfully communicate about sexuality and sensuality, I should know what the darkness feels like, too.

So there I was in this old savvy place, with nude young all dolled up girls walking around me and a handful of men.

I noticed there was an asian lady, too, from possibly hindu backgrounds, sitting next to a man whom, I purely assume, was her husband.

Her look was not truly delighted.

And I quickly realised, why it couldn’t be.

If she was at least as tuned into her heart as I was, it was rather obvious.

The first girl dancing on the pole had a very disconnected demeanor.

I could sense she was just totally checking out of her body, maybe she had been doing this for a long time.

From a conversation later I take that this was “just another night on the grind”.

One of the men in my group, started to become a little touchy feely with me, and I kindly pushed him off.

Some allure must have taken him, that if I had walked all the way here with them, there was some kind of “ok-ness” about being touched or desired.

It also somewhat placed me in a position of more vulnerability, truly, because overtly he didn’t feel he’d have to “pay me”, right.

Oh well. Wrong.

I have my boundaries on check point most of the time now, thankfully.

This being said, something interesting happened.

As much as I entered to be just a witness from afar, it looks like the universe had a different experience in store for me.

About a moment into the watching and noticing, I asked one of the other guys if he was feeling turned on by this.

No, not really he said.

So why do guys go hang out in there?

Married, frustrated, low vibes he said.

All the while observing carefully how the women were interacting with the men, both in my direct presence and further away.

Body language is a beautiful thing, it speaks without words.

We kept moving closer, and before I knew it, I was right upfront on the VIP seats near the stage area.

And then that the touchy-feely dude placed a couple of notes into my hands.

Shit!

I didn’t ask for this!

Very uneasy at first, feeling like a perpetrator.

I eventually relaxed and became curious about this position, watching the men lavishly scanning the girls’ beautiful graceful erotic moves.

It was so weird: I had entered the club with the intention to be a witness and here was having the full-on experience in the seat of the usual customers.

One of the girls kept playing with me, and I sensed a lot of discomfort in my body receiving her attention.

I briefly clipped a note it onto their body wear.

Oops, this actually meant she was to give me more attention and there I sat being danced for.

Wow… I felt like I was raping the girl’s sovereignty by offering her money for this volatile visual exchange.

And this moved me to the core, truly.

A few moments down the line I saw in her eyes, that the discomfort I felt, must have been three times worse when she needed to offer her body up to the men’s objectifying attention.

I sensed that having me there, instead of a grimy dude could also be a comfort for her: so I blasted my sisterhood love on her intuitively. I let her play, knowing that I wasn’t perpertrating her no more, I was simply holding space in a very strange way.

And then, everything hit home:

Everything lit up a fucking fakery show to me.

I felt like I was in the middle of a movie, and a part in me wanted to just become invisible so as not to touch any of the cards in the pile, just so I could see the truth behind the veils of the role plays in action.

Right in the middle of a shower: mixed emotions, mine and others’ started to rush right over me.

All revealed and bare suddenly:

Numbness.

Despair.

Loss.

Desperation.

Frustration.

Competition.

Insecurity.

Limpness.

Eyes.

Bodies.

Disorientation.

Arousal.

Shame.

Guilt.

Disconnection.

Repression.

Denial.

Pretentiousness.

Honesty.

Reality.

I suddenly saw both of the parties being caged up.

Held hostage by their own beliefs and self-fulfilling prophecies and experiences.

All the stories, all the thoughts, all the emotions.

Both the men and the strippers were going through the SAME stuff, even if on various levels of the game.

Some emotions were there, expressed in the non-said and some were well hidden below layers of righteousness and alluring power.

The strippers believing that the money they will earn will save them, that displaying and disconnecting from their bodies may be the only option they have to create abundance in their life.

Maybe also, the submissive attitude being the only way they can survive in this world, the only thing they can adopt in order to receive what they so wish for.

So much grace flowing in as well, surrendering to the ability their bodies have to move in a sensual and sexual way, having developed this incredible skill to flow with visual beauty and eroticness.

I truly honour their space, yet I can also feel the amount of disconnection that needs to happen in oder to let go of their body being their temple.

The amount of desperation in their eyes could not be hidden: to me, feeling the woman in them, I knew that something else was at action, a somewhat distorted inner force to “cope” and “get shit done” in a harsh and self-depleting way. Not to say that every stripper experienced this, but just tapping into the question that if they could do something else to earn the same amount of cash, they most likely would not be sacrificing themselves in this manner.

And I feel, that THAT truly is where the pain body arises and became so vivid to me when I was watching them: they don’t want to do this, yet they are locked down by their primal need for survival and the stories connected to this. There is a desperate scream for help in their whole beings: they want to be saved from these grabby glimpses, deteriorating their self-worth night by night. The shame and guilt they experience is also very obvious, especially when they press themselves hastily back into their tiny lingerie pieces after their performance. Quickly, when the job is done, they sweep their earned notes together, most of them found it hard to move around in heels that are way too high.

Then, briefly moving on to the next client to entertain: in eager hopes they can get that extra dough in a private room.

And for the men in there, those souls desperate to be seen and validated. Seeking love and connection, even if how they are seeking this, is rather far from reaching any of it.

Totally wasted, throwing the cash on the stage and into the girls’ panties. Supposedly they should feel powerful right?

So much uncertainty in their masculine: being visited by the girls and receiving interactions and glimpses from them, yet not knowing how to handle themselves.

Some completely infringing boundaries and smacking them on their bums with the notes: extrapolation of repressed aggression.

I believe that the men in that space yesterday were far more in pain than the girls, even if it isn’t as obvious, because their “power position” masks it away so smoothly.

Below the surface of fake power and dollar bills lies the unexpressed burn: they’re misunderstood, scalded, scorned, blamed and shamed males.

Let’s be clear: no man can feel truly wonderful and self-accepting about himself when in this space.

Having spent much time with empowered and dis-empowered men alike: they all agreed that watching porn, seeing prostitutes or visiting strip locations has dirty or guilt-tripping side notes.

A sensation of doing something “wrong” but incapacitated to refrain from it for the temporary validation of power highs to kick in, ridding themselves of excess sexual energy (as if it was something they need to offload).

And it’s so understanding when they have been so incredibly dis-empowered by what society and traditions expect from them: to be super heroes, to be wealthy, to take responsibility for other people’s shit and then please please please numb yourself, ok, get it on! Man up! Deal with it!

How could they ever feel loved or seen or supported this way, right?

They HAVE to disengage, they HAVE to become the perpetrators, they HAVE to abuse and rape in return because they haven’t been shown the way of the powerful man.

I don’t mean to go into the depths of the psychology here, because I don’t feel I have the right skills for it.

I’m simply sharing what I see.

A very intricate and perfectly woven tapestry of energy exchange:

money for survival – money for love.

The joker here is paying love for survival.

I woke up shaken to the truth that this calvary of souls truly exists.

No disrespect, but what the fuck is on with the world?

I had to yoga box my emotions out, so much sadness and anger at this reality.

And then, a conclusion lit up:

We are so much more than this!

And what I see is a MASSIVE invitation for men and women and human beings per say to take their power back.

I see a huge possibility for men to own their sexuality and request what they need, rather than going through the back doors.

Boldness and truth to get the types of love they truly desire and deserve.

I see a wave flooding over that we are so able to express ourselves sensually and sexually without the ridding of guilt and shame.

I see a beautiful expression of play and powerful interactions between men and women and human beings: to speak our minds, to ask for what we want, to make requests, to be specific.

And also: to speak out our pain in sacred spaces, to name how we have been hurt and dis-empowered, transcend and transform if from the core up.

I see women holding space for men, and men holding space for women, and men for men as well as women for women:

what if we could just dance beyond this gender stigma altogether and simply see through the veils of distorted actions being silent screams for support and love.

I can feel my whole being stretching in this truth.

I can see goddesses rising alongside warriors.

I can see divine spirits merging to co-create real intimacy and love, the ones that aren’t scared of the shadows and darkness.

I can feel children stepping forth to be birthed into a space where communication flows effortlessly, powerfully and collides into real empowered action.

Maybe it’s because I can see and feel all of this, too, that I am no longer ok to accept being treated in disrespectful ways, or to witness other human beings being dis-owned of their truth, sovereignty and power.

I believe we have the capacity to overcome many things, especially together!

Once we awakend to the things we truly desire we have the choice to move closer to them.

So often people and clients ask me when we will be done with “working on ourselves”.

This is like saying to a child: when are you going to be done with learning?

We will always remain children inside, seeking for more wilderness, play, love and joy.

It’s a natural state.

Let’s take pleasure and curiosity in learning about ourself, fall in love with ourselves over and over again.

Remain patient, remain connected, watch, witness and see the bigger picture.

This experience validated why I do what I do.

I want every single human being to feel so incredibly connected to love, so in their power and flow that these things will just flake away.

Our soul thrives in this space.

We can totally fly.

We already are.

Lisy Butterfly