The Spirituality of Sex

This week the Pope said that nuns should be “spiritual mothers not spinsters”. He called for them to have “fertile chastity” and to be like Mary – who, of course, was a virgin according to the scriptures.

Well this got me thinking. What exactly does it mean to be spiritual? Am I spiritual? What is it about other people that make them appear to be spiritual? What can I do to be more spiritual, if that is something to which I aspire?

Someone once asked me, “At what time in your life do you think you were happiest?” My response was “now” or rather the “now” when I knew that I was cared for, and that for every ounce of lovingkindness I afforded to those I loved,  it was returned in equal measure. This, in turn, gave me a spiritual warmth that made me feel that everything would be ok in my world and in the world of others – known or unknown to me. Even with the inevitable hiccups of life, I, and those I cared about most would be more than ok.

So what was special about that time in my life? What ingredients gave me the feeling of serenity, of distinct and memorable moments of Satori, of feeling as though what I was doing for myself and others was as it should be?

I was enjoying a beautiful, healthy relationship of respect, consideration, affection, intimacy, trust, honesty and thoughtfulness – from both sides. I was working on something that I felt completely fulfilled by. I was doing something that I felt would benefit others, not just for my own self-satisfaction and absolutely nothing to do with financial gain. I was spending time listening to incredible music, going for walks in diverse and sometimes unexpected environments. I was being creative and appreciating the creativity of others. I was reading and writing extensively on a range of different, and sometimes conflicting, subjects. I had moments of such intense clarity that I didn’t need anything else in life other than that all important sense of who I am. I knew that I would be more than contented if I never ate the finest food or had the finest clothes ever again because I had become so attuned to my own self, who I was and what that meant to others. I was living day in day out in the now and loving nearly every minute.

It wasn’t all plain sailing. There were huge issues in my life at the time that needed to be dealt with, and still do. There were hurdles to overcome. There were barriers in the way of an even greater sense of wellbeing, but to all intents, I was content.

What I also had was a very healthy sex life. It was, and still is, an incredibly important aspect of who I am. I indulged in many a sexual act that I hadn’t even conceived of. They were naughty things that other people did – not my cup of tea at all. But as I learned more about myself, who I was and released some pent-up and much ignored inhibitions, I realised that these sexual acts were not “acts” at all. They were an integral part of who I am, and it was this acknowledgement and practice of my sexuality that added to my general sense of spirituality and wellbeing.

I was, and am, a far better person when I am sexually active because there’s something about the spirituality of sex and intimacy with someone you adore and who adores you in return that completes me. It doesn’t kill – it completes!

Acknowledging this fact I now ponder about whether I can be spiritual without the completeness that sexuality brings to me, and these interesting comments from the Jesuit Pope made me wonder once more. Can he or the chaste maids that he addressed ever be truly spiritual if they’ve never experienced the completeness of that moment of mutual and simultaneous orgasms that take you beyond this world into an unknown place where only you reside? Can the Dalai Lama, the Buddhists monks of the East, the catholic priests who are essentially good people, ever truly reach their moment of Satori and gain a true understanding of enlightenment if they’ve never known what it is to be physically, sexually, spiritually close to another human being?

Their answer would lie in what I said about fine clothes and food. They’ve gone beyond those needs, and they’ve also gone beyond the desire for sex. They have transcended those earthy needs and become non-attached, without need other than the basic needs for sustaining their existence – food, water, shelter. They are dependent on nobody. That is where their spirituality is.

Well, good for them. I’m glad they’re contented. I’m glad that if I asked them the question “At what time in your life do you think you were happiest?” they’d be able to answer “now” instinctively because their “now” is free from all the excess baggage that so many of us carry about in our complicated lives. I’m glad for them that there’s no aspect of co-dependency that seems to inflict the rest of us.

So for me, should I give up my sexuality and see it as an unnatural and dangerous desire in order that I reach this level of serenity that is expected of these people of faith, or should I accept that sexuality is an integral part of who I am and acknowledge, without craving it, that sexuality is a significant part of my personal spirituality?

It all sounds perfectly feasible. I opt for the latter and accept that I’m a sexual being who needs intimacy in my life – and this gives me the spiritual brilliance that I adore. Only there’s a problem. If we are to be non-attached, if we are to be at one with ourselves without the need for others, then clearly sexuality can’t be a vital element of our spirituality because, without being too blunt about it, you need another person for sex. I know you can masturbate for the physical gratification of orgasm but it really isn’t the same, however much we convince ourselves that “an orgasm a day keeps insanity away”.

It just doesn’t add up. You can’t have sex without a sexual partner. You can’t get a sense of spiritual wellbeing just by sex either. There has to be a significant connection between you and another human being – well, that’s the way it is for me anyhow. And this in turn, brings another thought to mind. Can you really be spiritually well without being slightly dependent on other people being an integral part of your life?

We all need our moments of being alone. We all need the serenity of the oneness with ourselves. We all need to follow our own paths and not be persuaded to veer off in another direction just to placate the whims, needs or hopes of another human being but we also need those other people too. The priests, the ones that have foregone so much of life to achieve this serene sense of spirituality are the lucky ones in many respects. They aren’t reliant on sexuality for the spiritual wellness, and many of the great texts from both east and west say that this is truly the essence of spirituality. So if that is the case, then is my sexuality anything to do with my spirituality or something completely different?

Yet, I return to that question. When was I happiest? The answer keeps returning to the same time, the same response. I was happiest, I was well, I was more spiritually aware, I was more ME when I was sexually fulfilled – accepting my sexuality, living, breathing, loving it. And the spirit of my sexuality was dependent upon another person.

As for now, if my personal sexuality makes me a more spiritual, person, if that sexuality is an integral part of me and my wellbeing, then how do I maintain a different sort of spirituality without sex? How do I function with one part of my soul locked? How can I appear to be, to myself and others, fully functioning without sex? How can I possibly be desirable to others, sexually and platonically, when my sexuality is missing? And if this is the case for me, isn’t it the same for others too? If someone has lost their sexuality, by choice or by being forced into the situation through bereavement or separation, then how are they to function without this basic need? Can anyone, even the lovely nuns that listened to Pope Francis’s address this week, really be the spiritual wonders that the world expects if they haven’t experienced the utter and overwhelming joy of sexual intimacy? And is it really any wonder that others appear more spiritually exciting than those of us forced to abstain when they have their sexuality in place?

I’m not the only person who sees this correlation between sex and spirituality. I’m not the only person who tackles with the dichotomy of what we get spiritually out of giving and receiving through sexual intimacy with others compared with the alleged spirituality of abstinence. I endeavour every day to change my opinion about sex and to embrace the emptiness of chastity in the vain hope that I will finally realise that the truest enlightenment can only come from within and can’t ever be dependent on another human being.

But quite frankly, I’m yet to be convinced because sex is so damn important, and of course for many, such as Abraham Maslow, is seen as a basic human need. Well if that’s the case, no wonder those of us who desire sex don’t function completely without it. Is there really such a thing as fertile chastity? Can we really be self-actualised, fully functional people, able to accomplish transcendence all on our own – all without sexuality? Can we really BE, without other people? I know the answer is complicated and contradictory.

As for me, I live in perpetual hope. And in itself, that gives me some sense of spiritual wellbeing.