An Approach of Reverence: Meeting Intimacy Differently

What does it mean to meet someone with reverence?

The word can sound formal, even religious. But I think of reverence as something much more immediate — a quality of attention. A willingness to meet what is here without rushing to decide what it means, what it should become, or what we want from it.

Consider how we usually approach intimacy.

We want closeness, understanding, pleasure, reassurance. We want to feel desired, welcomed, recognized. And when something feels uncomfortable, we tend to move quickly to change it. We explain, interpret, pursue, withdraw, or try to find our way back to what feels familiar.

Our experience becomes shaped by what we want to happen next.

But what if intimacy begins somewhere else? What if, instead of immediately trying to change our experience, we became curious about how we are meeting it? What might we discover if we allowed ourselves to stay with it a little longer?

The Things We Think We Know

We are remarkably quick to decide what is happening between us.

A silence becomes a sign of disinterest. A shift in someone's expression becomes evidence of disappointment. We anticipate what another person will say before they say it. We recognize a familiar feeling and assume we already know where the conversation — or the relationship — is going.

Much of this happens before we are even aware of it.

We bring our histories, expectations, longings, and protective responses into every encounter. They shape what we notice and what we overlook. And so we can find ourselves responding not to the person in front of us, but to what we believe is happening.

Curiosity offers another possibility.

What if we don't know what that silence means? What if we let another person's expression remain a mystery for a moment? What if we became interested in our own response before acting on it?

This isn't about withholding judgment as a new rule, or trying to become endlessly accepting. It's about noticing how quickly we move from experience to interpretation.

There is a moment between the two. It is worth discovering.

The Body as a Place of Inquiry

Our bodies are already participating in these encounters.

Attraction, hesitation, warmth, contraction, excitement, uncertainty — we feel these things before we have words for them.

And yet, how often do we listen?

We feel ourselves tighten and immediately try to relax. We feel desire and begin deciding what to do with it. We notice ourselves pulling away and start searching for an explanation.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to ease an uncomfortable experience. But there is something to discover when we first allow ourselves to feel what is actually happening.

What is this sensation? What happens when I give it my attention without immediately trying to direct it?

The body is not simply something we bring into intimacy. It is a place of knowing, sensing, and inquiry — and it often has something to reveal when we are willing to listen.

Desire Deserves Our Attention

Desire is often treated as an instruction — something to follow, fulfill, control, or resist.

But what if we became interested in desire itself?

Beneath the immediate longing, there may be a wish for contact, recognition, freedom, tenderness, adventure, or simple aliveness. Sometimes we know exactly what we want. Sometimes the longing is less clear, even to us.

We don't have to act on every desire. Nor do we need to suppress or dismiss it. We can listen.

What is this longing asking for? What does it reveal about what matters to me? Is the desire for this particular experience — or is something else seeking expression through it?

Approached with curiosity, desire becomes more than something to satisfy or manage. It becomes an invitation to know ourselves more deeply.

Allowing Another Person to Be

Imagine sitting across from someone you love.

You want to talk about a small moment that didn't sit right. The last time you were lying together, in what felt to you like a tender, wordless pause, they said, "Hey, do you want something to eat?" Nothing wrong with the question. It was just that the tenderness you were feeling went unnoticed — and you've been quietly carrying that for days, waiting for the right moment to say so.

Now the moment is here. You tell them. And their response isn't what you hoped for at all. They seem distracted. They don't quite understand why it mattered so much.

You feel the familiar tightening. Disappointment, maybe a flicker of irritation. You want them to understand. You want to explain it better, to help them see what you saw. You might even begin to wonder whether their response says something about how much they care.

And then, for a moment, you notice what is happening.

You are no longer quite with the person sitting across from you. You are with your disappointment, your interpretation, and the response you wish they had given.

What happens if you pause?

Not to suppress the disappointment or pretend it doesn't matter. Not to abandon your own longing. But to look again.

There is a person sitting across from you — with their own way of seeing, their own history, their own limitations and mysteries. They haven't responded as you hoped. And they are still there.

Perhaps you become curious about what they experienced. Perhaps you tell them what you'd been hoping for, or remind them of the moment that mattered to you. Or perhaps you simply let the silence remain for another breath.

Something shifts when we stop insisting that another person meet us in precisely the way we've imagined. We make room for an encounter with someone who is not an extension of our expectations.

This doesn't mean accepting everything, or giving up what we need. It means allowing the other person to be real — even when their reality is inconvenient to us.

That, too, is intimacy.

What Changes When We Meet Intimacy Differently?

Curiosity and reverence don't make relationships effortless. They don't eliminate conflict, disappointment, or the very human longing to be met.

But they do change the way we encounter these experiences.

We begin to notice the stories we bring into a moment. We listen to the body before rushing to correct it. We grow more interested in what desire is revealing. We let another person surprise us, rather than continually measuring them against what we expected.

Perhaps intimacy has less to do with arriving at a particular experience, and more to do with the quality of attention we bring to the experience itself.

This asks something of us. It asks us to slow down, to become willing not to know, and to meet ourselves and one another with a little more spaciousness.

It is an ongoing inquiry — one that can open unexpected doors.

An Invitation to Explore

This is the inquiry at the heart of The Intimacy Lab.

Over two days, we'll explore desire, reverence, and relationship through embodied inquiry — working with curiosity, direct experience, and the ways we meet ourselves and one another.

Whether you are single or partnered, this is an opportunity to explore intimacy beyond familiar assumptions and habitual responses.

The Intimacy Lab

An Embodied Inquiry into Desire, Reverence & Relationship

December 5–6, 2026 · Live on Zoom
Each day: 9:00–11:30 am and 1:30–3:00 pm Mountain Time

Individual registration: $185
Couple registration: $295

[Explore The Intimacy Lab and register →]

I look forward to exploring with you.