2.6 How to open your chakras
It seems the more feminine a woman is, the more unnecessary pillows she had on her bed. Xena leaned back into the pile of pillows on against her headboard. Her painted toes poked out through knit leg warmers. She pulled me on top of her.
Sister Goddess Xena and I had become more than just OM partners. Although OneTaste recommended against it, it was a natural occurrence in the OM community. People often progressed from OMing at circles, to OMing privately at their homes, to having “Makeouts”.
A Makeout, in OneTaste verbiage, was any sexual act besides OM. Like the colloquialism “hooking up”, it could involved anything from kissing to penetration.
“Would you like to have a Makeout?” was the standard invitation. If accepted, it proceeded much like any sexual activity, but with OM’s influence. OMers treated sex as a “goalless practice”. We were trained to ‘follow the sensation’ rather try to achieve a specific end. Think less. Feel more.
But for me there was always a point where the sensation disappeared. I had a sort of Pavlovian stress response to intercourse. The moment I thought of penetration I went dead inside.
Sergio said I needed to quit Viagra cold turkey and go through a period of re-sensitization. But I wasn’t ready.
But I did tell Xena about my chemical dependency. As all vulnerable acts, it was scary at first but a relief afterwards. This was the first time I took Viagra in front of a woman who actually knew why.
“So what happens now?” she asked.
“We carry on. It can take thirty minutes to kick in.”
Once I felt the flushing in my cheeks, I reached for a condom. This was a different kind of ‘following the sensation’, of course. The sensation I followed was no longer from connection with the woman in front of me, but from a chemical reaction provided by the Pfizer Corporation.
Xena could feel I wasn’t really in my body. She looked up at me to bring me back to the moment. I could see she was really seeing me. I could feel she was really feeling me. And under that spotlight I began to shrink away. I tried to force it but soon I was just pushing a half empty condom.
“Ruwan, it’s okay.”
I grunted and flopped on my back.
“Tell me how you feel.”
She sighed and slipped on a bathrobe.
“Can I do some somatic experiencing something with you?”
“Just lay there and breathe.”
The room was dark but I could faintly see her hand hovering over my midline. I closed my eyes. I wanted to disappear. Two plus months of this dumb clitoris-stroking practice and I still had the same problem. Even the pharmaceutical industry was failing me now.
It felt like I was punched in the bladder, but from the inside. Xena’s hand was floating twelve inches over my lower belly.
I’ve felt pain there before. Actually every time I had had an erection issue, that area was painfully sensitive. Xena put her hand gently on top. My lowest abs were knotted. She put her other hand under my sacrum, making a lower belly sandwich. She took a deep slow breath, encouraging me to do the same. After holding me for what felt like a long time, the pain seemed to fade away.
“Ruwan, were you ever molested?”
“Are you sure? You can tell me.”
“Yes I’m sure!”
“Okay, okay. You just have trauma in your body. You are blocked up in your second chakra.”
Chakras, she explained, were wheels of energy on the center line of the body from the anus to the crown of the head. There were seven chakras. Each corresponded to a different emotional function.
In other words, some hippie shit.
But I didn’t have a better explanation for how she made that spot spasm without touching me.
“It feels like you have a lot of anger trapped in there,” she said.
“I don’t do anger. Anger isn’t a productive emotion…”
“Ruwan! All emotions are important! Your emotions are landscape, a garden. Each flower is important.”
“My garden is all roses.”
“You think so, because you think roses are the only beautiful flower, but a garden that’s only roses is… boring.”
Xena switched a bedside lamp. An unnecessary amount of pillows were scattered everywhere.
“Well, I’m glad you’re moving into the Wysiati. It’s probably good for you to be shaken up.”
One morning I woke up with my lower belly spasming.
I texted Xena. She said my second chakra was opening up from all the sexual energy I was being exposed to in the Wysiati.
Later that morning, Hannah called an impromptu House Meeting. I would learn later that unplanned House Meetings meant some sort of emergency, but now it just seemed like another random thing in this Orgasmic world of random things.
Most residents and staff were out and about, so the only people who showed were Wallace, Lila, Elodie, Dr. Tanisha, and myself.
“Okay, let’s check-in,” Hannah said.
This was the first time I had something specific to check in with.
“So my second chakra has been opening…” I said.
“No Ruwan! No!” Hannah scolded with her index finger raised and a smile on her face. She had a way of being both cute and threatening at the same time, like a sock puppet on a knife handle.
“We don’t speak hippie-dippie woo-woo in here,” Hannah said. “We speak Orgasm! Right T?”
“Right! We speak Orgasm!” Tanisha said, also raising her index finger.
“You should listen to Tanisha. Tanisha’s a doctor.”
“Yeah! I’m a doctor!”
“Okay…” I said. “My lower abs have been spasming and… I guess Orgasm is… opening a blockage in my body.”
“Better.” Hannah smiled. I didn’t like that I liked her approval.
After check-ins Hannah went into a speech on how we need to “tighten the rails” in the Wysiati. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. She said we all need to do more Fear Inventory. We need to follow the structures more closely.
“Pardon, a question,” said Elodie. “Why are the OM Circles so strict? Other OMers sometimes to complain to me that they like OMing but the OneTaste OM Circle is so rigid.”
Hannah’s gaze zeroed on Elodie like a laser. Elodie shrunk in her seat.
“The OneTaste OM Circle is the only OM Circle,” Hannah said. “OneTaste is the only game in town. We keep a strict Container for the Orgasm to keep everyone safe. Anyone who doesn’t hold the Container with reverence is doing the community a disservice…” Hannah’s head snapped around. “Where’s Daniel?”
“He’s sleeping,” Wallace said.
“It’s eleven o’clock!”
“Hum, he might be getting up then.”
“Who’s his bedmate??”
Dr. Tanisha raised her hand, but only as high as her shoulder.
“T! What the hell! Why is Daniel waking up so late?”
Tanisha’s hands went palm up.
“This is not okay.” Hannah sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is what I was afraid of. We need more masculine in this house… No offense. I’ve decided we’re moving Andrew here.”
“Yay!” Tanisha said.
“Who’s Andrew?” Daniel said as he walked in and opened the fridge. His hair was tousled and there were sleep lines across his face.
Hannah glared death at him and his posture straightened up. He closed the fridge and took a seat next to Wallace.
“Andrew is OneTaste’s legal counsel,” Hannah said.
“Andrew’s a lawyer!” said Tanisha.
“We hired him out of CP5,” Hannah said. “He’s going to come to New York and help us ground these rails.”
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