Exploring craving

Spending my Sunday mindfully doing the work I am paid to do. Am aware of this familiar craving, seemingly with no object. I think I can explore it a little now ...

opening ... releasing ... softening and pleasure in the right throat ... in the right jaw ... no longer craving, but desire to push or punch ... visualizing receiving the torso of my mother ... in my imagination I immediately want to push away as soon as I receive ... the receiving brings no satisfaction, no comfort. Asking again, what do I want? A huge palace, sumptuously furnished with very high ceilings ... and a body that can dance and move in every direction, can bend backwards ... I want something to push gently into my abdomen, into that special place that craves, my caecum ...

I do massage that place, gently. As in many past similar sessions, there is some sense of partial satisfaction ... similar physical cravings arise in the vulva, jaw, neck, throat ... I move my body, swaying, to specifically, precisely satisfy those cravings ... but only partially. Again I imagine being received in somebody's arms, and again I imagine immediately feeling repelled. My mind returns to my work: must keep accomplishing work! When I set aside that thought, the horribly mournful sound of aircraft overhead comes into my awareness and I feel the black depths, the void. Perhaps I can look into the void, as Trip taught me, without falling in: describe its shape, texture, smell, color ... today, the void looks like a bright hot summer day in central California, a long straight dusty road heading off into the distance, a vehicle driving away from us, never to return.

<30 minutes later>

Massaged that spot in the abdomen while lying on the loveseat in the sun. Still, only partial satisfaction, but the craving never ends. When the sense of the void arises, I recall the image of the road and the vehicle. I am standing on the road in a cotton dress, an adult holding me gently by the shoulders or chest as I feel the longing for whoever is in that vehicle. I recall the image and tell myself that that was long ago, and that now I will not be abandoned in the same way. This allows a bit more satisfaction to arise, allows fantasies of what I desire to appear more fully ... I desire for this spot on my abdomen to be like a vagina, a vagina small enough for just my finger ... if my finger could go in, there would be so much pleasure in my vulva. It reaches a spot where there is sunshine and wildflowers. Massaging my actual vagina or vulva would not be the same at all! Too exposed, too inconvenient ... the sensations too intense ... not cozy enough.

Now, having returned to my chair, I still feel some craving, but also some contentment. Ready to move on.