One of my dearest friends has written a remarkable book! I’ve been privileged to read a large portion of it during the editing process and I’m looking forward to its release next month. Betsy Blankenbaker‘s writing serves to encourage us all to speak our truth through devoted, clarifying, and caring gestures to self that set one free and make room for new joys. Covering painful moments during childhood, adolescence, and years throughout her adult life, Autobiography of an Orgasm reveals our common threads, those that weave our trickiest, most private issues into cloths that bind us in fear and prevent us from truly loving ourselves and from fully feeling and living with sacred joy, head to toe, in heart, mind, and body. Through telling her own story she will sometimes make you laugh, and at other times seem to beg of you the question, are you living your truth? Are you authentically noticing and owning, each day, the beauty of living the soulful life that is your birthright? Do you experience meaning and intimacy as you interact with the world? And if not, when will you begin your personal journey to live a more honest, divinely pleasurable life? I find it inspiring, downright delightful, to imagine the person that can heal, forgive, and thrive by identifying in some way with Betsy’s reverently truthful and courageous autobiography of life up to this point. Below is an excerpt, enjoy!

— Jeannie Louise Mayhue

Excerpt from Autobiography of an Orgasm:

“My travel took me all over the world, some of it for work, much of it alone, but I always saved Venice to see someday with a man. It seemed too romantic a place to go by myself. Or maybe I didn’t want to give up on the fairy tale of being whisked off and serenaded in a gondola with my Beloved. Finally, at the age of forty-nine and hearing that the city may eventually be submerged, I decided to give myself the gift of a few days in Venice, minus the groom. Venice was sinking, and it felt like I was running out of time for the fairy tale.I ended up there as part of a cruise I was taking alone. With my fiftieth birthday approaching in a few months, I felt the need to do more, see more, feel more.

I’d have three days to explore Venice while the ship was in port. The previous ten days of the cruise had been to some of the most exotic and spiritual cities – Istanbul, Ephesus, Athens, Mykonos, Sardinia, Rhodes and Corfu. Every day had been a chance to explore and to discover the rich histories of cities that now used their landmarks as tourist attractions. People used to go to many of these places to pray. Now they go to buy souvenirs.

The morning our ship pulled into the canal in Venice, I was on my daily run around the deck. When I first saw the islands of Venice rising up from the water’s edge, unexpected tears came to my eyes. I was not sad for the person who never made it to Venice on her fairy tale honeymoon. I was crying because I gave myself the gift of Venice, anyway.

With Venice off the starboard side, I continued my run around the deck. I could feel the strength in my quads and the stretch in my calves with each step. I pulled my stomach muscles tighter, still aware of the curve of my belly. Behind the curve was a womb that had given birth five times. Behind the curve was my history – all the joys and all the pain. Behind the curve was the strength of my body, running towards the present moment, trying to catch up after being so caught up in her past. Looking off the port side, I watched the boats on the canal. There were several Italian men smiling and waving to me. I felt like the universe was giving me a wink. You are not alone in Venice. Go enjoy your honeymoon.”