Day 29: Svadhisthana....Paryushana chakra water fast day 2....I meditate so hard over the female form the pipes burst

Day 29: While meditating on the second chakra a massive water pipe burst in downtown Peoria spawning cascading streams and gushing water slides which later sub-zero temperatures morphed leaving strips of downtown looking like frozen ponds or abandon hockey rinks. The second chakra is called Svadhishthan and is light orange in hue. I picture it as being a nerf ball, also located below the navel, near the level of the gnitals. the chakra has deep ties to the moon and water and is decisively feminine in nature. As Joseph Campbell states, "When the Kundaliniis active at this level the whole aim of life is sex. Not only is every thought  and act sexually motivated , either as a means towards sexual end or as a compensating sublimation of sexual zeal, but eveyrthing seen and heard is interpreted compulsively, both consciously and unconsciously, as symbolic of sexual themes.."  

 

There is sex and there is constant 21^st century lagoon of materialism we find ourselves an ineluctable part and there is (pants, bellowing, Sanskrit-skin scratching finger nail sex) with the person whose every quantum atomic pulse complements the sip of your every breath. There is being inside the louts of her body, there is the batting magnetic rapport of her eyes, there is the feeling where everything you write you wish to evoke a neurological nirvana viewed from the seat-cushions of her lips, the birth of her forehead, the clasp of her fingers hatching in your palms.

I’ve been blessed to have deeply spiritual shadows connect the dots  in the crazy narrative frame of my life. When I was fifteen I met a man who I would later dub, “the protagonist of my youth,” on a shuttle bus outside of Newark and it felt like I had known him my entire life. Twice when I was young I had older males come up to me and seem to know everything about me and now, looking back on it, I wonder if it was somehow myself cosmically skipping over the vagaries of time perhaps looking at my youthful self with a lingering nostalgia. One time I found myself in the audience on a lecture on mysticism and somehow time stopped and I realized that I had lived lifetimes with the individual gracefully orchestrating the discussion in the front of the room I lived with a Psychic for roughly nine years who would talk (rather incessantly) about vibratory rates, raising the level of spiritual awareness in the room. He would talk about a friend who had passed -on and the lights would twitch or an errant horn would blare and hew would talk about synchronicity, how we are all integrally one, world throughout world, amen.

I’ve had a few out of body experiences while meditating but most of my ‘vibratory eruptions’ spawned when I was in a state of despair, usually over a feminine, where, through my longings, crazy things have happened (ie, lights, computers randomly turning on and off to her picture). The energy in my body wasn’t balanced. One time I even ended up in the hospital after a melt-down, completely paralyzed in love.

It was after the meltdown when I realized that wayfarers spend both thousands of dollars  and thousand  of hours in mediation and never experience the Armageddonesque insight that spiritual love avails.

 Or, as Joseph Campbell states in a different lecture, “If you experience a love like that, you are lucky. And you’re lucky in you survive it.”

                                                

 During the meditation on the Svadisthana chakra I listened to the superlative Svadishthana mediation listed above. I had my copper clutched and the plastic vat of water  in front of me. I lost myself in the lemony swirl of the Svadishthana chakra, staring at it in the hypnotic method one is suppose to stare at a mandala, so that mandala begins to oscillate and swivel like a pinwheel upon every perusal. I thought about the female form and “silver apples of the moon,” the ecstatic jilt of finding yourself in the blink of another, her elbows and forearm forming Euclidean geometry of flesh, falling in deep between the chakra of her gender, the wetness of her body, like a four year old walking against the breath of the surf, scared and terrified at the  gargantuan drape of the ocean.

 

Wanting to go in and return to that place that he once came from.

 

The substance that fuels his breath and give him life.

 

When I received the text that Peoria was on lockdown due to a water-pipe erupting after I had meditated on the second Chakra, I thought about all the crazy metaphysical pings that would transpire almost Harry Potter like when I lived with the Psychic and gleaned one conclusion:

I must love Chakra pussy.

Judging from the damages accrued from the recent pipe-decimation in downtown Peoria mandating a three day water-boil edict, I must love Chakra Pussy a hell of a lot.