The Tip and the Clench

I once had a (female) teacher who used to tell a story about a lover.

Each time she concluded it she would do so, gleefully, with the following line:

‘And he surrendered his cock to me, all the way to the tip.’

This sentence would leave me in a stupor.

Surrender his cock? To the tip?

Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

Do I surrender my cock? Would I even want to?

Am I man enough to do that, say if I did want to?

I sense I inhabit my cock. But all the way to the tip?

To be true, every time she told this story, or replayed her favourite punchline, I’d feel this nagging sense that I didn’t inhabit all of my cock.

One time, I traveled the Balkans with an Argentine friend, and he was the only one in the group who didn’t get a girl. One night, he pounded his fists on the sand in despair. ‘My cock is like a sea-snail,’ he cried. ‘If I don’t give him a woman before the end of this trip, he’ll leave me for another shell!’

I loved the poetry of my friend’s despair. The cock is indeed like a sea-snail. It either dangles from the front of us, numb and unused. Or it’s a living, breathing, fully-integrated part. The appendix was, at one point, an essential organ. Now it matters little if you remove it or not.

Still, I was left wondering if I inhabited all of my genitals to begin with. Let alone being able to surrender them completely during sex.

‘Spiritual women’ often drop strange sentences like this. Sentences which make no sense until, one day, like a bolt from the dark, they become a life-giving insight.

* * *

Back in the Amorati, we talk of the saboteur. The saboteur involves the inner dialogue, the inner critic parts of the mind, which keep you safe by throwing negative thoughts at you all day long. If you have an inner critic that trashes your self-worth with heinous comments, you won’t go after what you want in life. In this way your saboteur serves you. He keeps you safe.

Men are dogged their whole lives with an over-active inner critic. But he’s not that hard to overcome. Do a little psychological work, and he can quieten down. Or, when you do your embodiment work well, and you shift your awareness from your head and into your body, his power gets lost in that move.

The men currently training their embodiment with me seem to discover something interesting, though. Once the inner critic quietens down, and these men find themselves in scary positions on the edge of their comfort zones, it’s not like they have clear access to effortless flow-states and courage. Not yet. First, they come across something else. Pure, unadulterated, tightening in the body. Clench. A rush of primal, hormonal sensation, then the body’s internal brakes. Testosterone, adrenaline, arousal. Clench. Oxytocin, the rush of love. Involuntary clench.

I would approach that woman over there. I have no negative voice, no issue with my self-esteem. My stomach’s tightened into a knot, though; I feel ungrounded and short of breath.

It’s high noon. All is quiet. And she’s over there paying at the counter. It’s no longer you and your saboteur. You’re facing off against your clench. If only you could break through, if only you could man up in the face of your knotted gizzards, then you’d have that freedom you long for!

Every dazzling act of leadership in your life lays just the other side of your clench.

Where in life do you clench?

In the realm of the body, we might even say that clench is the villain.

But I’ll let you in on the secret of self-love:

No-one ‘breaks through’ their inner clench. We’re talking about a pocket of trauma here, and force and non-acceptance only makes the clench cramp tighter. Clenches are a bit like skeptical women. One must love their clenches into submission; humour and patience opens them up. If only you had an embodiment tool that could have you journey to the centre of your clench, you might actually get to the heart of it, move it, love it, welcome it, expand it. You might dive through the fissures of your body, ease open the closures, find the fear and the hurt and the painful memories stored within, and you might love these memories open. You might free the awareness and energy that’s been hiding, all these years, safely in the centre of your clench; energy previously unintegrated with the rest of your life.

With that ol’ saboteur out of the way, loving your clenches open is the only thing that separates you from your flow, your ease, and your spontaneously-occurring courage.

* * *

It took me five years to figure her sentence out.

Yet it hit me like a bolt from the dark.

Thinking over the course of my life, even when I was connecting with a beautiful woman, and connecting well, there would be little tiny clenches right throughout my body. Seduction? Full-steam. Heart? Yep, a few protective clenches keeping it safe. It’s hard to open your heart to a woman when you’ve been hurt before.

Then, lower down in my body, might there be some clench in my stomach, my guts, my pelvis, my hips? Scan your body the next time you’re talking with an attractive woman. Even if your mind is empty, is there any clench going on down there? Hell, next time you get a text message from an attractive woman, is there any sense of restriction in your lower body? Do you hold on? Or are you firm and rooted to the ground, your anus relaxed, and your penis and your testicles hanging heavy, full of juice, pulse, meat? Does your breath caress your pelvic floor? Does arousal arrive with a relaxed smile? This is unclench.

I thought I’d had an illustrious voyage in the land of women. But I started to wonder: did I ever stand before a beauty, feeling maximally aroused, while my body just hung there, free of clench? Did I ever let every last tingle and emotion fire around my body, free of clench? Did I manage that? Did I ever make love to a woman, free of fear, free of self-control, free of clench? Did I ever hold nothing back? Did I exclaim that I was entirely hers, that I was unafraid of anything? That I love you? That if you’re pregnant, I’ll be here for you. That I’ll handle it? That I’m in control of everything because I’m utterly surrendered… to the force of life itself?

The smallest tightening of self-control, the smallest fear-born clench, is enough to trap a little awareness and energy within it. Awareness and energy which would, untrapped, expand right into the tip of my penis, a couple of inches—not of size, but of added awareness—which would open her sensitive cervix wide to God. I mean, when you take an oblong-shaped balloon and twist it round a few times, you make a sweet little domesticated dog. As you untwist the clenches in the rubber, the air pressure becomes unitive once more.

If fear lives in your body during a sexual moment and you clench around it, this reduces the energy of the phallus. Simple. Ecstasy graces those of us who are sufficiently relaxed.

You call this art?

One time, I had a lover I truly liked. She was yellow as a lily and she tickled me. All about us were fairy lights, and her bed a soft mattress on the floor. She would guide me between her legs with silken limbs, and suck me snugly to her depths. ‘I can feel you a little tight, baby,’ she’d purr, ‘relax into me, my ginger man, I love you, I want you completely.’ When a woman is soft enough, she enters the very cells of your body. I unclenched. I allowed my fear and my shame and my hesitation to circulate my body as my cock was inside her. She continued to whisper words of love in my ear, and my emotions conjoined with my arousal and it all inflated to full—all air came out—the tenderness into vigour, the softness exploding, and she screamed loud such that the neighbours banged violently on the walls and I evaporated, everything rattling, into the timeless black hole of her scream.

I knew one was born upon leaving a vagina. I guess it’s logical that, upon re-entry, one might be born again.

* * *

Releasing the Clench


Sometimes, this sea-snail of mine doesn’t have a lover. But I routinely train my body to unclench itself, at home, during all sorts of daily practice. The more I process my fears and feared emotions, the more I hang loose in daily life. The more I hang loose, the more I engage with the world when aroused. My vitality expands.

You either clench, or you move through the world with your pelvic musculature hanging loose.

Unafraid of fear itself.

There is no time left to live life with half a cock. It is time to learn how to unfurl your clench, to wave goodbye to chronic fear, and give the full surrender of your passion to the world.

Imagine if you could bring all of yourself to your work, your creativity, and your sex… Right down to the tip.

Want to know more?

On our custom platform, you can find a special, dedicated Masterclass to this topic.

With a mix of physical practices, shamanic and releasing process, and partner-work, you will walk through a full embodiment experience as part of a group. You will leave this session feeling differently about your body, your pelvis, and the nature of your creative-erotic energy.

Whether you have involuntary clenches that hold you back from fuller engagement with life…

… Or if you engage with such wildfire that it would be wiser to ride the currents of your passion more consciously…

… then join me.

We’ll release some of the traumas that have kept your life-force back. And we’ll expand the reach of your sexual vitality.

Sign up by clicking the image below.

~ Jordan

* * *

Jordan Luke Collier

Jordan Luke Collier has dedicated his life to helping create a solid learning community of men on a path to excellence with women...

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