Merging as a sacred ritual …

My husband Sam and I have this thing we do. No, it’s not graphic, or even private. Still it’s very personal. We call it “leg.”

We like to watch movies and chill together. We snack in our movie chairs; but when we’re not snacking, we move to the backless sofa, where we can lie down side by side. One of us moves first and motions for the other one. Lying down with each other, we can cross legs; and when we do, everything else disappears.

Sam is blessed with beautiful skin; and his thighs weigh about twice as much as mine do, they’re strong and muscular. But it’s not about that. Somehow when we cross legs, I take possession of his leg. It’s my leg. And my leg is his leg.

We meld. We are reinforced, refueled. We get an immediate second wind. We’re home, we’re in heaven. And all is right with the world.

Maybe your own personal rituals come to mind, rituals that are routine, but transcend the routine. They’re not sex, but they are oneness. And they deserve to be savored as sacred. They require only a desire and willingness to be present enough to merge.