Author: Amy Butcher

How accurately we depict . . . or not
At the most recent Seattle Erotic Arts Festival, I had a chance to take part in David Peterman’s amazing Me by Me project. The premise is that the “artist” quickly draws a life-sized nude image of themselves then poses next to it—buck naked.
I was feeling a little gas-and-bloat that day and it was making me grumpy. I drew quickly too (less than 2 minutes) knowing that would be the only way to keep my perfectionist “artist” at bay. The drawing that emerged felt accurate in that moment.
While David and his crew “framed” my picture, I stripped down behind the curtain. Even though I was in public and had David, his camera, and a bunch of helpers coaching and encouraging me on, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing there. Me beside my drawing. Me by me.
Now, when I look at the image he captured, I’m struck by several things: the energy in my face, the strength in my body, yet the way the energy fades as my gaze travels down to my feet. The energy of the top doesn’t seem to match the energy at the bottom. Almost like one of those kid’s books where you can flip sections—rearranging top/middle/bottom—to make your own magical creature.
But maybe that is just the story I tell. An old story. Maybe making things visible like this can reshape something. A little truth and reconciliation within my own psyche.
June’s theme is all about visibility and putting forward who you are. Happy Pride, everyone!
— Amy
P.S. Thanks to Zed for showing me this technique for making a photo SFW. The white lines are mine, not David’s. And kudos to David and his crew for creating such a strong and positive container for this experiment. Magical and fun!

Image & inspiration from Brene Brown’s talk on empathy.
The theme for May is “blossoming”.
Exciting, upward, explosive energy of those germinating sprouts and all their potency finally breaking the surface and busting into the sunlight.
But sometimes those sprouts needed a little support, a little empathy, before they pushed themselves up and out. Just picture those shoots who, so intent on their destiny, have lifted cracked pavement off their backs to find the sun. Don’t you imagine they might have had a moment of self-doubt underground, a moment when a passing worm paused and wordlessly bore witness to their struggle. Can’t you feel how that little earthy empathy might have given them the courage they needed to keep growing?
I can.
Sweet springtime to you,
— Amy
PS: Don’t forget about Portals of Pleasure! Registration is now open. It happens July 19-23, 2017 near Albuquerque, New Mexico, and women and non-binary folks with some experience in erotic embodiment circles are invited.

Boundary Waters

I am thinking about transitions, pacing, and limits of the imagination.
Recently, I completed my first triathlon. Our swim coach had told us to “touch your hand to the bottom three times before you stand up” at the end of the swim. Simple, right? But coming ashore, that bottom is oh so tempting. It’s hard to wait. The sand looks inches away even while the water is waist deep. But I wait and claw my way to shore, practically belly-flopping on the sand before standing up, ankle-deep in the water. The transition is made easy by that patience.
Swimming itself requires some imagination. We are land-based creatures so to allow ourselves to submerge into the fluid environment asks of us a certain trust. That we can float. That we can find a way to get nose (or mouth) to air. That we can be held by this thick environment so contrary to our conscious mind’s beliefs. The more we struggle, the more we sink. The challenge is to relax into the unfamiliar.
I’ve had some bad experiences in the water where my body panicked and revolted against the environment. This triathlon was a renegotiation of sorts between me and the water and my fears. I like where we’ve gotten with each other.
Now the question is—with these experiences still fresh in my body’s psyche—how can I apply this learning to other changes in my life? How can I be patient in transitions? How can I relax into the unfamiliar? How can I allow that which wants to emerge to soak into my imagination and come into form? How can I find my sustainable pace?
Happy springtime!
xo,
Amy