It is summer, hot and horny, and I am on a roll. So I am going to continue this theme of beauty, attraction, seduction, sex, love and self-love until I run out of content — or steam, whichever comes first.

This piece was sent in by a reader of The Queen’s Chronicles. http://www.thequeenofmyself.com/chronicles.shtml

By Jade Beaty, CO

There’s a ceremony in Tantra that involves naming your genitalia. Some western traditions of sacred sexuality contain information about reconnecting to your genital sense of Self. I was intrigued with all this when I first began my studies of various traditions of sacred sex. There are so many layers of shame and confusion that prevent us from having a relationship with our precious most private parts, and I thought the naming ceremony was a brilliant way to reconnect…a baptism, of sorts. My lover of that time was such a lucky man, as I was trying out the things I was learning with him. The summer of 2000 was one of the best in my memory. We were playfully, innocently loving each other and enjoying the lightness of our loveship – no expectations, no plans, no demands – that was our motto.

One brilliant, crisp July morning we headed for a stream in South Boulder that we’d visited earlier in the year, when there was still ice along the edges. We’d spotted a boulder in the middle that looked smooth and even, the perfect place for a picnic. Removing our shoes, we waded into the icy cold water, carrying our essentials. We had the makings of mimosas – champagne and orange juice, a comfy blanket and some pillows, some fruit, a little primo chocolate, and a copy of “Jitterbug Perfume,” by Tom Robbins.

The rock was the perfect spot for some kissing, some reading and some culinary indulgence. We’d picked up some of the biggest, most luscious looking peaches I’d ever seen at the farmer’s market on our way out. We dropped them into the stream for chilling as we read a bit and enjoyed the sun and the sounds of the rushing water. After a while, we pulled the peaches up beside us.   I suggested we both take a bite out of one at the same time, as we gazed into each other’s eyes.

We’d been talking about the naming of my yoni for a while. Nothing we’d come up with so far had seemed just right. As our eyes met with that peach between our lips, taking an intoxicating, juicy bite, we both said, through the mouthfuls, juice dribbling off our chins, “Her name is Peaches!” Gasping, gulping, giggling, I rolled off the rock and into the icy cold stream and we baptized her right there. And Peaches is her name.

Friday: Peaches and Cream – Part 2

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Donna Henes is the author of The Queen of My Self: Stepping into Sovereignty in Midlife. She offers counseling and upbeat, practical and ceremonial guidance for individual women and groups who want to enjoy the fruits of an enriching, influential, purposeful, passionate, and powerful maturity. Consult the MIDLIFE MIDWIFE™

The Queen welcomes questions concerning all issues of interest to women in their mature years. Send your inquiries to thequeenofmyself@aol.com.