A Nerve Ending on God's Clitoris

What is the sex of food?

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Linked with the very foundation of survival, let us consider the sensation of hunger (of desire) a primary impetus for action.  Our fleshy, vulnerable bodies, built so perfectly for the experience of pain and pleasure, hold within them the great burden and brilliant gift of the brain.  This benevolent organ wants only for us to survive, so to simplify things, it talks about hunger like it is an assassin.  

This reaction is archaic gossip. 

While it may remind us of our mortality, hunger will not kill us. 

Often I believe the rumors.  I stuff my face unconsciously, get drunk, and go on masturbation binges in desperate attempts to turn off the hunger alarm.  Super survivor!  Put it in me!  I'll take cheese and cock and wine and vibrators and anything else that will put to rest the blinking red light that says I am not safe without them.  But what happens when I stop trying to turn hunger off and let it turn me on?

I'm a bit of an extremist, a pleasure seeker.  Not everyone is as bent on filling up as I am, but perhaps some of you can relate.

In moments of real strength, I take a deep breath and disregard the brain's outdated advice.  I explore hunger.  I invite desire to the table, to the bedroom, to this little plaza in a small French town where I write to you at sunset.  Rather than attempting to assuage the sensation, I let it stretch my physical experience.  I turn into a taste bud on God's tongue, a nerve ending on her clitoris.  

Hunger, then, becomes a source of creativity.  I pay attention to it.  I acknowledge the mortality of my body and I come alive. 

I take each bite with a grateful whisper to the hunger that makes the food taste so good.  I make love with an earnest "thank you" to the desire that charges my experience of the present.  Such sensation is not easy.  I must acknowledge the ephemeral nature of this moment and let go of trying to keep it.  

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We can do this.  Come, do this with me.  Bring your hunger with you.  It's been falsely accused as a dangerous hit man.  Let's forget the brain's panicked warnings and navigate uncharted territory.  Together, we'll brave whatever sensation arises.  

This is the sex of food.  This is the sex of death.  Let's practice it.