Let Them Wonder

Walking through the lobby of the Hilton, I sometimes wonder what people imagine when they see me. Do they think I’m a yoga teacher on my way to a private session? A bodyworker? A sex worker slipping discreetly upstairs?

The truth is, my work has threads of all those things — but it doesn’t quite fit into any one box. That afternoon I was headed to guide a couple through a Tantra lesson (they’d booked a hotel because their babysitter was home with the kids). From the outside, it could have looked like anything: yoga, therapy, intimacy coaching, or something more illicit.

And I’ll admit, there’s a certain thrill in that ambiguity. In knowing that strangers may be writing stories about me in their heads, some of them wild, some of them ordinary. There’s a charge in being unnameable, unpinnable — in slipping between categories so easily.

Because Tantra does that. It can look like yoga, sound like therapy, and feel like erotic exploration — yet it is none of those things on its own. It’s liminal. It asks us to live in the mystery, to resist easy labels, to find truth in what’s unfolding moment by moment.

Maybe that’s why I don’t mind the projections. The thrill isn’t in being misunderstood — it’s in being unknowable.

Let them wonder. The mystery is part of the magic.