Tantrika Read Online Free Page A

somewhere between my teeth and my tongue.
    â€œSqueeze, squeeze, squeeze,” she began.
    It wasn’t enough to move the sexual energy with breath. Al slipped a cassette into the tape player as we cleared the wide floor. We were to use the blindfolds we’d been told to bring. I had forgotten. I borrowed one and immersed myself in darkness as a gentle sound spilled into the cavernous room. We danced blindfolded to something called Kundalini music. I crashed into a chair.
    We assembled again on the floor.
    â€œThe thought of surrender is terrifying to a lot of people,” Pala told us. “But to enjoy sacred sex, you have to open your hearts. Write a word on a piece of paper. Tuck it under your pillow.”
    Why not try? In my cabin, by the light of a flashlight, I scrawled one word, Surrender, and slipped the paper under my pillow.
    I wondered if I could surrender. Was it possible to release my heart? Maybe it was I, not the men I chose, who feared intimacy. It didn’t take much past Psychology 101 to realize that I wasn’t choosing good mates. My twenty-nine-year-old who couldn’t discuss his virginity wasn’t quite material for a spiritual love connection.
    One activity spilled after another in the weekend training schedule. Blindfolded, we ate food fed to us by our foot-washing partner. My partner was kind. He spared me the Tabasco sauce.
    Blindfolded again, we thrashed coiled towels against the floor to unleash our anger. I thrashed and thrashed. We gazed into the eyes of the stranger next to us. My partner had gentle eyes that lingered. John Travolta taught us how to thrust delicately in a movie clip from Saturday Night Fever. This was a trick for men to keep themselves from ejaculating. Thrust, pause, thrust again. Men could do the Kegel exercises, too, we were told. Like women, all they had to do was tighten the muscles that stretch like a hammock from the base of the spine to the pubic bone, supportingthe sexual organs, the urethra, and the rectum. Al called the exercise “push-ups for the penis.”
    We moved to a grassy lawn beside our log cabin retreat center. We were about to learn one of the most critical parts of Tantra, how to release and move the energy through our body through the seven chakra centers. They were the chakras Shiva and Shakti used in their lovemaking. I wasn’t a believer. I sat on the edge of my seat as another Tantra student, Robert, pressed a finger into the soft of my skull.
    â€œThis is your crown chakra,” Al told us. “Hold the pressure. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.”
    How strange. I felt myself relaxing. Maybe this actually worked.
    Robert moved his finger then to a dip at the base of the back of my head, the “Wind Mansion.” Then, he moved to the dips of my shoulders, “Heavenly Rejuvenation.” Then, right below my clavicle bones. I could feel my entire being release. It worked. I was a convert. The energy flowed down through me as if by some magical force of nature. My head collapsed. I could barely bring myself to pay attention. I pressed my own finger into the dip below my sternum, between my breasts. This was “The Sea of Intimacy,” the heart chakra.
    â€œPress here to overcome your fears. To open your heart,” said Al.
    We lay on mats on the grassy field. The teachers told us to put our hands on our waists and press our fingers into the dips there, “The Sea of Vitality.”
    We slipped our hands behind our lower backs so that our knuckles pressed into the dip right above our butts, at “The Sacral Point.” Pressing on it was supposed to release raw energy. Naked energy. Lust. The idea was to unleash our energy so that it brought us to higher levels of ecstasy.
    After a candlelight dinner together, we saw the sky had filled with bright stars. I walked down to the dock with Robert and the handsome weekend student, Frederic. Darkness had descended upon this lake, leaving glints of