Good sex isn't about knowing what you're doing | Sarah Byrden | TEDxVail

"Good sex is about learning how to feel and be honest about what that is" -Sarah Byrden

Sarah is a sacred sexuality teacher/sex educator who has worked with hundreds of students, ranging in age from 15-80. She works with college students offering them spaces to connect with their humanity and vulnerability around sex, helping bridge the gap between pleasure education and assault prevention on campus.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at https://www.ted.com/tedx

I am afraid that we have turned our back
on what sex has to give us.

I am afraid that sex is becoming
an endangered species.

"Isn't she there yet?"

"I'm just not there yet.
Can't he see I'm not there yet?"

"I wonder if this feels good?"

"This really doesn't feel good,
but he seems to be into it.

Just keep going."

"Hold your breath, focus,
think about the laundry -

whatever you do, just don't come."

"Come on! Don't be a prude.
Just go for it."

"Stop acting like such a slut."

"Stop feeling so much."

"Act like you're feeling something else."

"Just stop feeling."

"Roll over and pretend you're tired."

"But it's been months. I miss you."

"I thought they were into me."

"I am so into her.
What is happening with my body?"

I created conversations
about sex for a living.

I hear stories about people's sex lives,

and I've had the honor
of hearing all kinds of things

that they'd never shared with anyone.

I hear from teenagers and adults,
people who are married,

single, celibate, divorced,

people who love sex,
people who are afraid of sex,

people who've never had sex.

What you just heard are some
of the voices that follow us to bed.

I'm here today to offer us
a new story about sex.

But in order to do that,

I want to start by helping us see
the story we're already living inside of

and how that has set us up to fail at sex.

We live in a super confusing
sexual culture.

On one side is pressure.

Locker room talk, pornography,

magazine covers, Hollywood imaging

giving us a totally unrealistic
and oversexualized version of what sex is;

telling us what sex and sexy
is supposed to look,

act, sound like and feel like.

And on the other side
of the equation is silence.

Silence, repression and shame.

We get messages like,

"Don't let anyone find out,"

"Don't talk about it,"

"Don't ask questions,"

"Don't be curious."

Essentially, sex is still taboo
and forbidden territory.

These stories have hijacked
our bodies and our beds,

and they operate in the background

dictating what actually
happens in our sexual exchanges

and what doesn't happen.

We are simultaneously,
without realizing it,

being bounced off the walls
between pornography and puritanism.

No wonder sex is complicated.

And it's not our fault.

How many of us have ever
- faked an orgasm?

- endured physical discomfort?

(Laughter)

- thought about the grocery list?

- ignored our partner
in pursuit of our own pleasure?

- gotten bored?

- wondered whether our partner was
enjoying things but never stopped to ask?

- pushed down rising emotion,
played it cool?

- felt ashamed for what our bodies
were or were not doing?

- felt violated even though we said yes?

- needed a drink, just to go there?

I think we can all relate
to at least some of these.

This has become our cultural norm.

We have come to approach sex

like we would a job,
a sport or a math equation.

We try to figure it out, get it right,

go through the motions, do our duty,

play a good game,
make it to the finish line,

and fake it.

And when we do that, it hurts -

whether we are 16 or 65.

And the reality is that
whether we are with a new lover or 65:

don't tell the truth,
and we don't trust ourselves.

What we do instead
is put our game faces on.

We act like we are performers
in someone else's script.

We demand our bodies
to look and act the part,

we pretend we're feeling things
that we are not,

we ignore emotions
and things that we want to say,

we ignore our instincts -

all in the name of what we think
sex is supposed to be.

It's true that we are
missing something in sex,

but it's not what we think it is:

what we're missing is ourselves.

What's happened is that we have begun
to look outside of ourselves

and look to the world
to tell us what sex is.

We've begun to just believe
a bunch of false sexual stories,

and instead of turning around
and calling their bluff,

we walk around thinking
there's something wrong with us,

taking it personally,
wondering what we're missing

and thinking we don't measure up.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

We have put ourselves and sex
in a box that is simply way too small,

and like anything that gets put in a cage,

it and we want to be free.

As a wide open horizon
and landscape of possibility,

it has its palm out,

waiting to catch us,

waiting to show us parts of ourselves
we've never seen before.

It is an adventure;
it is a hidden landscape;

it is an open horizon
that is waiting for us every single time -

an unwritten upon canvas

that depends entirely
on us being ourselves.

What if we could come to sex
and be more like ourselves in sex

than we could anywhere else in the world?

What if it was a place we came
to be known, to come alive?

And I mean this

whether we're talking
about a one-night stand

or the 10th or 20th year of a marriage.

Because sex is not
about knowing what we're doing;

it is about knowing what we're feeling
and learning to trust that.

So how do we get here?

We start by trusting three things:

the reality of our bodies,

the role of our emotions

and the wisdom of our pleasure.

Our sexual bodies are so much bigger
than we give them credit for.

We, all of us, this entire body,

this is our sexual landscape,

and we often rush past it
as if sex was only about the genitals.

And when we get to the genitals,
we have all kinds of ideas

about what they should
and shouldn't be doing and feeling.

What would happen if we let our bodies
really be as they actually were

in any given moment in sex?

That we didn't demand ourselves
to feel pleasure where there wasn't?

That we didn't try to feel
hard or soft or more of anything,

but we opened up our definition of sex

to include everything
that was actually happening?

Our hearts and our bodies
are intimately connected.

Somehow, we've come up with the idea

that sex and emotion don't belong
in the same room together,

and when they end up there,
there's a problem.

Our emotions are incredible
messengers and textures

that rise up to give us information,

to guide us,

to tell us what we're longing for,

to tell us what we need,
what we want to give and receive.

They are a part of our sexual experience,

and if we hold back our emotions,

our bodies will hold back pleasure -

and our capacity for connection.

We have a very narrow definition

of what sex, pleasure
and orgasm actually is.

We usually spend our time in sex

thinking orgasm is this destination
and singular event

that we're either,
in the back of our mind,

trying to figure out how to get there
or how to keep from going there too soon.

If we really let pleasure
and the wisdom of pleasure be our guide,

we would be interested

in letting every sensation last
as long as we could stand it.

And that would change the way we had sex.

And then we would have to refer back

to the wisdom of our bodies
and the role of our emotions

because then we would really start
showing up in that capacity.

What would happen if we started
telling the truth and trusting ourselves

when it came to sex?

What would happen

if we told the truth about our desire
to have a different kind of sex?

This kind of sex.

We can't do this alone.

Sex is a revolution that will travel,

and travels from body to body,

from breath to breath,

touch to touch.

Sex doesn't start in the bedroom;

it starts before we even begin touching.

Sex starts right now,

in how we relate to ourselves,

in how we emotionally connect
to the world, to our partners,

in how we regard ourselves.

The good news is this is not
about learning something new;

this is about coming back home.

This is about knowing that this
is the locus of our sexual experience

and trusting this.

When sex only goes skin deep,
we know it's missing something.

We come to sex to touch
what's beyond skin deep,

and that's what makes sex
really beautiful.

The next time we're in bed
with our partner,

we're on the brink of a sexual experience.

See if you can let yourself
really be there,

in exactly what is happening for you -

without a script in your mind,

without going through the motions
and without any kind of autopilot.

Can you really trust what's happening
in your body and let that be there?

Can you get curious about what's rising up
in your emotional and internal world?

Can you trust and listen to pleasure

and let it be a guide for you?

Sex is not a place for us to know.

It is a place for us
to come alive and discover.

And in the end,
we hold the keys to this cage.

Sex, like any endangered species,
is depending on us

to save it.

Thank you.

(Applause)