A Tantric Martyr

We had been regularly acquainted as casual friends. We'd maintained contact through various jobs and neighborhoods...I'd helped her move more than once. We were like brother and sister sort of, attracted yet repulsed... students on a common quest. It started when I agreed to take a Yoga class after work... learning to breathe. It evolved into Tantra, of which I knew nothing. At first our teacher said, 'let desire arouse you.' Then, as my 'partner' sat over me we'd hug and breathe deeply... until we both calmed down. Teacher would end our session as soon as we'd calmed. Each time, It became easier to relax sooner. I began to examine the essence of my animal attraction... every stage of arousal. It wasn't easy to stop my every unconscious routine of desiring to...have, become, consume my partner's aesthetic form. Teacher said to envision the ugly, repulsive side... 'Imagine the smell of her poop,' she'd say. 'Better yet,' I silently replied, with images of "Beauty & the Beast" racing through my thoughts... 'Imagine sniffing her breath...' Odd, is it not, how beauty and its underside-- how birth & the scent of death's decay-- do and must co-exist, necessarily? I had trouble at times staying awake...remaining erect. Sometimes, I'd dream...yes, we'd dream together. Once, I found myself travelling like Star Ship Enterprise through space... yet stationary, somehow... I craved to interiorize her beauty to make it my own. With a bright star behind her illuminating her darkside form... she appeared nailed to a cross... in great agony...self-imposed, as though her life's mission was alas to acquiesce in self-sacrifice to me, the hungry Captain Kirk-like conquistador. When we both recounted our experience we were amazed to see that we'd both had the same 'dream.' Our teacher said, 'Tantra is amazing.' --G-man767 Written October 2nd, 2001 © on Oct 01 2001 05:25 PM PST    0 • 16