So, I’ve been home for a couple of days now. I have mostly spent my time gushing (figuratively and literally ☺️) over what an amazing soul reintegrating experience my time in San Diego was. The rest of the time has been spending dealing with “Jetlag” which is apparently my body struggling to adjust to time travel. Oh Marty McFly, you make it look so easy; perhaps I should’ve worn a vest while I was flying to insulate my organs from the space-time continuum rip.
I’m tired, really tired; physically I feel as though I have the flu, mentally I feel fried like I’ve been cramming for a final exam, emotionally . . . I am melting. Every time I wax poetic about my week-ish in Tantra-ville, the real artistic beauty that is Tantra just flows from my mouth. Info that I didn’t even realize I took in or that it resonated with me until it fell from my tongue with grace and beauty. Philosophy that sounds both beautiful and destructive; too good to be true.
The simplicity, that is Tantra’s ultimate goal, has yet to be achieved. It first is busy at work playing Jenga with this really amazing Fortress of Emotional Solitude that I built for myself. It started small, my Fortress but, over the years I have added some spectacular security enhancements to keep people out. I truly feel that the interior of my fortress isn’t even its most impressive part. I have spent years placing scenic items along the way to distract and confound those around to keep them at a safe distance. I occasionally lower the drawbridge over the moat filled with alligators and electric eels to let good intending people in but I’ve put so very many defensive strategies in place that sometimes the people who love me most get hurt.
Tantra on the other hand, treats my unburdening like a game. I don’t even know how it survived the moat, scaled over the 3 layers of masonry walls, made it through my thorny vine maze to be standing at my side with a huge grin. It says, “OOOOH! Let me see that! I know what to do with it!” So, without a second thought, I just hand over a brick because Tantra seems really interested in the architecture of it. There are oohs and aahs at the weight and durability of the stone that Tantra now holds. Then, it just tosses it aside. Tantra just chucks it away and says, “You don’t need that anymore. You never did.”
Tantra is not aggressive, just kind of . . . a very friendly asshole. It has found an easier way but, is totally comfortable standing where you’re at and hanging out with you. Tantra is like that friend that comes to your house and starts to clean because they see that your home needs it and it’s something they just naturally excel at or have a fondness for but, you get super uncomfortable because you feel like you should’ve cleaned it before Tantra came by. Tantra isn’t your housekeeper; it’s just a friend that wants to give you a leg up.
I don’t know if I’m having as much fun as Tantra is with disassembling my Castle of Seclusion but, I’m so riveted by Tantra’s invitation to see what is both beyond the wall AND at the center of it. Tantra says, “PUT THAT DOWN! All you’re doing is straining your back. Why are you dragging and stacking all this heavy shit, MAN!”
*My Tantra is currently very 1970’s, with a commanding mustache (slight fu man chu-ish) who wears bell bottoms and has very well manicured feet for walking around barefoot all of the time through other people demolition projects.*
I don’t have a good answer for Tantra. ‘Why?’ Because I was told to, I was trained to, I was programmed to believe that the only way to be truly happy is to suffer through the hard parts to reach VICTORY! My happy is LOVE. So you can imagine what I’ve been keeping out of my Fortress and the type of “love” I’ve been letting in. If it was painful, I just opened the door, fan fare and all . . . “The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care.” So, I repeatedly suffered GREAT amounts of pain that still twitch in my body while I sleep. I kept trying to prove how nice my love could feel to the recipient but, I stopped receiving a long time ago.
Tantra didn’t bring me a solution; it just offered me a way through my barriers. I don’t have to sacrifice anything or become a devotee to anyone but, mySELF.
HOLY FUCK! THAT’S TERRIFYING!
I’ve only ever given to others; how now brown cow do I give to myself?
I feel like I need a list or maybe a diagram or bar graph. Perhaps . . . schematics, this seems like a schematics situation. Do any of my followers have an instruction manual on ‘How To Give to Yourself After 32 Years of Leaking Love’?
Well . . . I guess I’ll have to sit down and really figure out what makes my SOUL SING, my HEART HAPPY, and my KITTY PURR (because the secret to happiness is recognizing she needs attention too).
Oh Tantra, I really hate playing games where people say stuff like, “It’s about the journey, MAN,” or “Everyone’s a winner.” I despise even more having my questions answered with a question because just answer the fucking question, guy! BUT, YOU are enticing and your words intoxicate my soul to remember things that my world has spent my entire life trying get me to forget.
Come on in Tantra, I’m making tea.