"I'm giving in to the Goddess, and seek to infuse my practice with Shaktism. It is not so much what forces my hand in this, but how my hands force me. In writing, there rapturous output embarrasses and hampers my communication, but when I give in to the most searing levels of ecstasy I find they have assumed the postures and actions used in playing instruments, particularly the fretting of strings like those in a sitar. (Saraswati, is that you?) Granted, this may be seizure activity, but that doesn't make it any less divinely real. The marvelous aspect is that the ecstasy, the electric rippling sensation of each finger stroke is felt not in my hands but in my crown, inside my brain, like little clown fish wriggling within the sizzling tentacles of a sea anemone, or divine strumming of the nectared rays shimmering from the sahasra moon.(shiva samhita) Gah! my body and mind are humming with ecstasy now and I mustn't waken my cellmate at 5am with a vibrating bunk-bed! Other mudras and hastas also play within and crisply"shape" this crown space, each in their own completely captivating way. In terms of falm meditation, I am still a complete failure, and it will be hard to break through the block. As soon as I apply sambhavi my spine stiffens, the bandhas pull into place, and kevala, kumbhaka appears. Breath and thought stop and dissolve, but I fortunately am easily sustained by an expanding air of electric anticipation, for I invoke the Goddess and know what is about to happen. (Thought once fickle, she has become a reliable lover.) My confidence begins to crackle with energy that jets out along my every nerve and sinew. A flashing vision of jewels swirling colors dances into my mind- the Goddess is imminent, and my soul flies like a moth to Her flame. I thrill to the feel of hot breath lofting my hair as she tests my neck with eager live-nips, coaxing and urging my ardor. (as if that were necessary!)And then the Tigress pounces, sharp fangs and talons sinking deep. I am pinned as helpless as a fawn, engulfed in ravenous thrusts of gripping pleasure that ripple and convulse up and down my being, from root to crown. The universe, and I with it, is filled with deep resonant vibration, and endlessly fructifying tapestries, lightning bolts, arabesques, and ribbons of ecstatic flame that pulse out and twist off into infinity with the tiniest flicker of body breath, or mind. The Goddess makes perfect love to me from the inside! It is not mine to say if human love making can compare, but trust that I do not feel cheated by my solitary path, for in those moments the last thing and of course everything is amplified by the deep frisson of awe that comes from the presence of the divine. In fact, these words are pale representations of the actual experience, and could never equal it in felicity or variety.
Now mind you, outside this state I still mostly deny the supernatural and think it fascinating the handstands, my mind performs to explain such intense pleasure coming from no visible source. But then it is I who intentionally devour the spiritual concepts, methods, and imagery that strengthen my link to the "other side". For once tantra opens the ferfumed gates of heaven to me, I am drawn irresistible into a peerless realm of love that is more real than real. It is a realm that makes its own demands on me, dictating my actions in life, for no matter what my "rational" mind may think, I can't risk the Goddess withholding Her favors from this devoted love-slave!
Thus it is that pure tantra allows for even idiosyncratic paths like mine. It diesn't tell ous what to believe, but helps us experience what to believe much more powerfully, whatever love-based ideals we bring to the party.
So let's party!
Be sure to follow Yogani's safety advice for my partial path contained no meditation or rest, resulting in years of broad emotional swings and physical symptoms. Wickedly sweet harmless revenge that totally disarms any anger in me. So is that really wrong? (laugh)
