I squeeze a mango and make soft dents in its flesh. A shiver runs down my spine. I always touch fruit before I buy it. I drop the deep-purple fig that I am holding in the palm of my hand the moment I see red fruit beckoning out of the corner of my eye. They shine under the fluorescent light and feel leathery to the touch. I choose the ripest fruit, the one with the most juice in it, and walk to the till. As I upend my shopping basket, the pomegranate rolls onto the conveyor belt. The shop assistant gives me a penetrating look as he slowly handles the fruit. Licking his lips, he rolls the pomegranate along the belt. I sense the seeds bursting under its skin.
When I get home I immediately close the curtains. I undress and cover my naked body with a silk kimono. In the darkness I strike a match and light some candles, which I place in a circle on the floor. After I have put the pomegranate in the middle of the circle, I sit down in lotus position facing the fruit and give thanks for the harvest.
I learned during a tantric evening that fruit should be honoured. Together with five others I sat on the floor of a studio; we were divided into groups of two, the lights were dimmed, candles were lit and a pineapple was placed between me and my partner. The woman leading the session encouraged us to explore the fruit together. We took turns feeling the pineapple with our hands while looking into each other’s eyes. We massaged each other with the prickly skin of the pineapple, pulled off the outer layer, licked its moist flesh. When all that remained was skin, the instructor talked about self-pollinating fruit trees that create fruit by touching their own bodies. I decided that, next time, I would explore a fruit on my own.
There are various ways to take the seeds out of a pomegranate. You can use a knife to carve a pentagon around the stem and peel off the skin, you can use a spoon to knock the seeds out of the skin and there is a primal urge, the will to use nothing but your body. To take out the flesh with your nails and teeth, to touch, tear, pull and lick. To feel what you eat.
I put my right hand on my heart, my left on my lower abdomen. I breathe from the fertile earth, and my body takes on the heaviness of the pomegranate. I caress myself with the fruit and feel how two skins touch. As I roll the fruit on the floor, I hear how the seeds detach. I dig my nails into the skin, pull off the hard peel, and push the seeds out of their core. My cuticles turn red; juice runs down my wrists and arms. I lick the moisture from my hands and taste its slight sourness.
I put a seed on my tongue and press it against my palate, making it burst. Rubbing the fruit over my lips, I feel them swell up. My mouth produces increasing amounts of saliva. The more seeds I eat, the sweeter they become. Like a wild animal, I consume handfuls of seeds, eager to take in all that the pomegranate has to offer.
After that tantric evening, I searched the internet for ‘self-pollinating fruit trees’ and found the pomegranate tree. The wind spreads its pollen. Bright red flowers bloom from its branches and grow into pomegranates. I put my index finger on my computer screen and followed the curves of the fruit, which reminded me of my own body. According to Greek mythology, pomegranates symbolise fertility and the awakening of sensuality; it was Aphrodite’s favourite tree. The fruit growing from the flowers urges you to explore your own body; to listen, touch and feel. I imagined how my own self-pollination would ignite an inner fire. I felt the blood rush to my pelvis as I thought of an abundance of seeds feeding my body, making their way in.
I think of the shop assistant’s large hands massaging the pomegranate, his firm grip. I stretch out on the floor and let my kimono fall open. I roll the remaining seeds over my arms and neck, around my breasts, over my lower abdomen and groin. I turn red, glowing from all that rubbing. Imprints of seeds appear on my skin, reminding me that I am female, fertile and self-pollinating. I eat the seeds off my body and feel a pomegranate tree grow inside me, gently spreading its roots. Its branches grow tall and fuse with my body. I caress my skin and bloom. Then I give thanks for the harvest.