By Tandy Versyp
Lately, I’ve been searching for inspiration. It’s the end of the quarter, and doing my work is like squeezing a camel through the eye of a needle. Yeah, it’s biblically back braking. So, during the Film Festival, I went searching for something. Nothing in particular. A reaction. An evocation. Something dramatic to displace me out of my stagnant comfort zone.
Well, I found it.
I met a festivalgoer with a dry, dark sense of humor and the look of a precocious, big-eared beagle – a playfully coy person who crackled with disciplined hedonism. On the way to the Pankake Palace, our conversation went from popular culture to personal projects to the beauty of Savannah. Things went fairly well, so we continued to chat in the goer’s hotel room with the musical styling of The Police in the background.
Suddenly the conversation took a sharp, but strangely gentle, turn.
“I’ve fisted someone before,” the goer said calmly, without a hint of sleaze.
“Excuse me?” My Church-of-Christ-only-with-the-lights-off foundation needed a new bearing wall.
“It’s not what you would think.”
As Kim Carnes began her song about Bette Davis’s penetrating eyes from the nearby laptop, the goer described the occurrence with spiritual awe: the overwhelming rush and adrenaline and the intimate feeling of physically becoming a part of someone else.
“I could feel a heartbeat,” the goer whispered.
I could feel mine too. And hear it. Trying to see something with such an “ick” factor as enlightening frightened me. After leaving, I showered thoroughly and tried to go about my daily life, but couldn’t. The inquisitive moppet inside me wanted to know more.
So, I Googled the topic.
Even with the safety filters on, I found a handful of seemingly legitimate sources. There was a Web site called Sex in Christ describing the act as a way to become closer to God and your husband or wife. The site pointed out many scriptures, including John 20:27: Then He said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and observe My hands. Reach out your hand and put it into My side. Don’t be an unbeliever, but a believer.” There was an article in “The Village Voice” associating fisting with Eastern religions and Tantric sex practices that help participants achieve a higher consciousness through a relaxing trance and the act itself.
In a blog, a writer described it as a very vulnerable experience. It caused the receiver to give him or herself over to their partner completely. Like giving yourself over to God wholeheartedly.
Now, I don’t think Jesus was talking about fisting when he told Thomas to touch his Cruci-wounds, but there was a great amount of research that pointed in the direction of spiritualism, not the S&M notions I had.
Even though I will never try this, I am intrigued. In a lot of my work, I am a fighter – a sarcastic leader of idealism. Because life and the creative process is an active quest you have to take – teeth grinding, fists clenched and muscles flexing.
But for me, that’s led to a dead end. Maybe I just need to relax, let go and take it all in.
