Receiving Through the Squirm
...the fine art of hard left turns...
Today’s NECTAR is for paid readers. That’s where I share all the sweet + sticky bits.
I’ve been considering recently how the most radical act of intimacy might not be what we give, but what we allow ourselves to receive.
The art of receiving is a squirmy subject, often overshadowed by the cultural glorification of giving. For many—especially caregivers, nurturers, and providers—receiving can feel unnatural, even unnecessary. Yet, receiving is essential to all realms of relating.
So why does receiving feel so uncomfortable? And why am I so passionate about creating tools to help people to get comfy with the squirmy?
Because on the other side of the squiggles is the ecstatic freedom of allowing energy to flow in all directions, naturally. And liberation from the muddy circumstances, contextual conditions, and unconscious triggers stealing the scene in the midst of a receptive-mode starring-role moment.
There’s a sacred dance between giving and receiving, like the eternal rhythm of inhale and exhale.
You wouldn’t try to only exhale, right? Yet that’s exactly what we’re doing when we give and give and give without ever allowing ourselves to receive.
We’re disrupting a natural flow, one that’s meant to move both ways. This imbalance creates dynamics where people pour out love and energy but struggle to refill their own reservoirs, leading to resentment, depletion, and exhaustion.
You know that moment when someone offers you a compliment and you immediately swat it away? Or when you’re drowning in responsibilities but still insist, “I’ve got this,” when help is offered? #itsfine
The practice of receiving asks us to stay present when every instinct says to deflect or diminish. It invites us to accept compliments with a simple "thank you; that makes me feel good," to let others carry some of our load, and to accept help without immediately planning how to reciprocate (gasp!).
These small moments of reception-rejection mirror deeper patterns about our attention, affection, pleasure, love, and care—habits that shape our capacity for intimacy and satisfaction.
But there’s a truth that whispers beneath all that noise: receiving isn’t passive, and it isn’t just about accepting things as-is.
Receiving is an active practice of creating space for pleasure to land.
I’ve been delighting in a multi-year practice: framing the act of receiving as a form of devotion to Union itself with my beloved, Eric—a true artist of Love.
Eric has brought this opportunity to me for practice every single day since we met. To receive gracefully—at full volume—equally offering him the gift of this giving (leading, hosting, providing) to me in his omnipresent, creative, generous ways.
In doing so, we co-create space for connection, for love to flow both ways. It wasn’t easy at first. I had my share of squiggly-squirms, habits, doubts, suspicions, impatience, and misapplied reciprocities.
Nowhere does this practice of receiving become more profound - or more challenging - than in our intimate relationships.
I've learned, through years of exploration and teaching, that sex and pleasure are naturally triggering, and that's actually part of their transformative power.
Relationships are the sacred laboratory for experiments in rupture and repair, rapture and radiance.
The vulnerability of being seen, touched, and truly experienced can and WILL awaken our deepest patterns of resistance. Our bodies hold layers of stories, traumas, and protective mechanisms that often surface in moments of intimacy. Without tools to navigate these moments, it’s easy to retreat into reaction, suppression, or disconnection.
This is where the mental mudroom becomes indispensable—a process designed to hold space for these dense emotions and patterns before, during, and after they arise.
It offers a safe framework that allows us to acknowledge and host all our feelings, as well as those of others, without bracing for conflict or resorting to avoidance. With this practice in your pocket, you gain the confidence to engage with the full spectrum of emotional weather—prepared to witness, respond wisely, and adapt to both the known and the unexpected.
The mudroom isn’t just a metaphor; it’s a lifeline. It helps you stay present when care or intimacy feels overwhelming, empowering you to navigate triggers without losing connection to yourself or those you love.
Like any other skill, it requires practice, patience, and a willingness to move through discomfort with craft and care. It’s about catching yourself in those moments of automatic rejection or familiar narratives and choosing something different—choosing to stay open, to let yourself breathe fully into the “yes” that lies within each moment.
This openness isn’t just about receiving care; it’s about engaging with life in a way that completes the circuit of love. By embracing the vulnerability and trust inherent in receiving, we create space for healing, for deeper connections, and for our bodies to pulse with satisfaction—a rhythm that nurtures us as much as those who give to us.
Yet, receiving pleasure—especially in intimate moments—is far from simple. It depends on a delicate and complex web of contexts: your experience within, opinions and preferences galore, your relationship dynamics, the techniques being used, your physical surroundings, your cortisol levels, what you enjoyed for supper, how comfortable you are with expression (especially using your voice), and so on.
And even in the most ideal scenario—when you're relaxed, in a private space, with plenty of time, trusting your partner, and experiencing skilled touch while bathed in flattering light—it can still be challenging to let go, fully receive, and wholly experience everything unfolding in and around your body.
What I’ve discovered in the lush, unpredictable terrain of reception has brought me an unexpected peace—one that extends beyond the pleasure inherent in the physical exchange of erotic energy.
Let me take you into a recent experience in our bedroom…
 | A guest post by
|