Twinflame Love~~ <3

HDF

Not a moment longer can I wait,

It’s already so late.

Will you not say what is burning your lips?

Will you not reveal your heart?

It’s tearing me apart.

How long will you let silence envelope your being?

This 3D world is all about ageing and dying.

How long will your torture continue?

Is there no other avenue?

For expressing your love?

Yes, it is you my Beloved,

If you do not know it so.

It is you for whom my body burns,

My mind imagines and my soul reincarnates.

Dissolve this dualism.

Return to me, my Beloved.

Not a moment longer can I wait.

You are the ONENESS of existence,

You are the separation of sky and water,

You are the rhythm of the pulsating stars,

Vortexes do you create with your breath.

Universes reside in your pores my Beloved.

In every way you are what I created.

In the canvas of my mind.

Like a tornado did you come into my life.

Ripping away every shard of sanity.

Insane have I become.

For you, for your love and for union.

Every stab of pain that I have ever felt.

It was you my beloved.

For how would I know you,

If I did not know pain.

You are my first rays of the Sun,

You are the pale kiss of the Moon,

You are the dream of a perfect imperfection!

Where is the peace that I long for?

Where is the Silence I seek?

The quest of looking for you,

Through aeons of time and space.

Is there no grace?

Tired am I.

 

Enter into me and reside there now my Beloved.

I know I have found God.

No more residing in the eye of insanity.

That time when we kissed.

Those tears kept flowing through our eyes.

They flooded our souls.

Uncontrollable were the emotions.

In the mind’s oceans.

This birth I have looked for you,

and in the life before,

And I will keep looking even after.

Thirsty and hungry am I now my Beloved.

Our love story will remain hidden,

In the secret scrolls of humanity.

Let us circle around the sacred tree.

In silent ceremony of our union.

Humanity is not ready to love like this.

Not yet.

My Beloved, all this is just a dream.

Wake up now and come to me.

The rain flows from the sky and tears from my eyes.

For this cycle of birth I have waited.

Waited for your embrace.

Every single day I sit in worship.

I look into the eyes of Shiva and all I see,

Are your eyes dancing back.

I sit atop the mountain

The wind shoves me to the floor,

Like it is you.

My body tingles and my heart sings.

It scares me to think that we might be simulations.

A forgotten project in some far away World.

My Beloved, you and me might not exist in reality.

It’s as if I feel a panic attack.

But no, says an inner voice.

Everything is as real or as unreal,

As experiences.

Reality is experience.

It exists cause we view it.

We have subscribed to this show.

Whether we like it or not.

But it’s not too late to unsubscribe.

We can create our own story.

I don’t care if you are real or unreal.

For what is real?

You might be as unreal as the Universe itself.

But does that make my  love any less real?

This is our time to play together.

For soon our worlds will collide.

Our energy fields fused in one.

Do you feel it like I do?

 

 

 

 

The Song of Remembrance~ Twinflame Awakening

Is it immortality I seek?

I dare not make such demands.

For what if I have to be without you?

There is no meaning in the meaninglessness of life.

Without you.

You ignite the fire of my soul.

And wild passions in my body.

Life itself is a mockery.

A moment equals to numerous lifetimes.

Have you forgotten everything?

All those smiles and tears.

Those tears in smiles and those smiles in tears.

In all those Universes and dimensions?

Do you not remember how my tears flow every time I kiss you?

Do you not feel my pain?

All those lives we lived.

In each other’s embrace.

You have forgotten every single thing.

From every single lifetime.

And I am cursed with remembrance.

It is my curse to burn in the fires of anguish.

To yearn to be one with you.

Here I am Beloved.

To sing about those days.

I will find you, you will see.

Life moves on.

Do you remember the last time you died in my arms?

For it has happened many, many times.

Watching life leave you, my beloved.

I have died a million deaths.

But what is life?

What is death?

Energy never dies.

It is indestructible.

Do you at least remember the times I died in your arms?

Do you feel any of that intensity?

We return time and again.

On this Earth,

For the vow of love.

Do you not remember your multiple lives?

Nirvana eludes us my beloved.

Because all we want is each other.

And we are willing to be born again and again.

I have wanted you and you me,

For eternity.

We have loved and been together through unending time.

How many more times will we incarnate?

To carry on with this vicious cycle?

To just love each other?

This vibration pulls us here.

To be born in flesh.

As man and woman.

To touch each other and make love.

In Mesopotemia.

In Egypt.

In the Indus Valley.

In Babylon.

I have always been looking for you.

And you for me.

Do you remember?

How we were separated in the Tower of Babylon?

When we began to speak different languages?

Did you understand the language of my eyes?

For words mean nothing.

My beloved, I look for you in the stars above.

In the myths, legends and fairytales of mankind.

In the eternal love stories of humanity.

That first initiation.

On the banks of the Ganges.

The Buddha initiated us.

We were both together my beloved.

As we embraced the eternal Dharma.

That sunrise in Bodhgaya.

That mantra still rings in my ears.

Have you forgotten it?

Us, side by side, holding hands.

Surrendering to the Universe.

Your shaven head.

Your teary eyes.

I know those eyes.

Do all these memories not reside in you?

I remember it all, my beloved.

Our revolution and love.

You and me.

Through space and time.

Wash away the debris from your heart.

Feel our deep connection.

That nothing can erase.

I remind you my love,

You will keep coming back and so will I.

Till we do not join in sacred union.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twinflames and Synchronicity~~

A real love letter is made of insight, understanding, and compassion. Otherwise it’s not a love letter. A true love letter can produce a transformation in the other person, and therefore in the world. But before it produces a transformation in the other person, it has to produce a transformation within us. Some letters may take the whole of our lifetime to write. ~~Thích Nhất Hạnh

That is the kind of LOVE LETTER we all need to write…to ourselves and to our MIRROR SELVES~~our Twinflames! And it is only from such a PURE and SACRED SPACE can we begin to address our emotions and feelings for our Twinflames!

Synchronicity is choreographed by a great, pervasive intelligence that lies at the heart of nature, and is manifest in each of us through intuitive knowledge. ~ Deepak Chopra

What is synchronicity?

Carl Gustav Jung coined the word to describe what he called “temporally coincident occurrences of acausal events.”

You know that time you drive out into the highway and it starts drizzling and some track begins to play on your devise. Maybe you heard that track at a party where your eyes caught another’! And you were thinking of him/her and bam, that track plays bringing with it all kinds of desires and longings…inexplicable, deep pangs!

Sometimes you think of a name and your cell rings. Presto! It is that very person.

Sometimes you realise that the name of your Twinflame is a word you have heard many times. It has always been there and one day you put the pieces of the puzzle together.

I worked with an inter-racial couple once. They are Twinflames. I could see that the moment I met them, their synergy was awesome. They told me such crazy stories of synchronicity that I was left intrigued.

They had met in the US very many years ago. They hooked up one night and never thought anything of it. Years went by and they both had kids. And then one day they met again. In Bombay of all places.

They instantly recognised each other and in fact he told me that he had thought of her many times in the past. Especially at times when he was single. That means every time he felt vulnerable, he thought of her.

This is a commonality. Twinflames often think of one another in times of crisis. But of course he never managed to find her. In fact, they reconnected on Facebook and realised the intensity of their feelings for each other.

Speaking to her I realised how she had never forgotten him. She actually waited for him to get back, but he didn’t. He tells me that somehow he never managed to connect with her. He tried. There it is….they had to split up and finish off their karmic stuff.

Now listen to this, he fell in love and had a baby girl. And as he tells me that her memory kinda got buried under his busy schedule. And without thinking of it, he named his baby girl. And guess why I am saying this? The name of his baby is her MIDDLE NAME which he never heard before. Imagine his surprise at this! He was never aware of this! Can you believe this synchronicity! I was confounded!

And they met on the 11/11/2013 and I might have discussed how important his number sequence is in understanding the Twinflame phenomena. Most Twinflames are in some way guided by the 11.11!

11 is a master number which represents intuition, creativity, genius, refinement and fulfillment. Eleven is also the numerology code for self-awareness.

As Jung would have us believe- nothing is coincidence my dear! There is a GOVERNING DYNAMIC, an INTELLIGENT DESIGN, a LIVING BREATHING UNIVERSE that is working through us, expressing through us, orgasming through us!

One quote that moved Jung(and me) is from Lewis Carroll’s THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS, where the WHITE QUEEN tells ALICE: “It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards…”

A new theory claims that time does not move forward, but rather, everything in time is ever-present. According to the theory, if we were to ‘look down’ upon the universe, we would see time spread out in all directions, just as we see space at the moment. EVERYTHING ALWAYS ALREADY EXISTS! Time does not flow, TIME JUST IS! Like the BENESS!

“The Hegelian doctrine, which identifies Absolute Being or “Be-ness” with non-Being, and represents the Universe as an eternal becoming, is identical with the Vedanta philosophy.” — H.P. Blavatsky, The Secret Doctrine, Vol. 2, p. 449-450

You won’t believe it, I began to seriously look at Twinflames after 11/11/2008. I remember how often this sequence began to pop up. It drove me nuts and I remember so vividly that the terrorists attacked Bombay on 26/11, just a few days after I began to SERIOUSLY get into this whole thing.

I had a lot of tragedy happen to me as well with this 11.11.

My furbaby(he was my whole world) had a terrible, uncalled accident on the 11/3/2011! That broke my heart and if I did not have my spiritual work, I might not have made it. Yes that is how strongly I feel. I am an empath! Shockingly, it is at this time that my heart cried out the most for my Twinflame!

I know that when our Twinflame energy is close by, we can expect to see this number. The Universe is conspiring to reunite us with ourselves, in the shape of our Twinflame! Yes and how beautiful will that be!

Another beautiful couple that consults with me have such an interesting anecdote. He is from the UK and she from SA. They met on FB through my Theosophy group. Yes! A huge success story. They wish to remain anonymous, but that will not stop me from saying how lucky they are to have found each other.

She tells me that since he added her on FB, everywhere she went, she began to hear his name. Say his name is Tom. She kept hearing TOM, TOM freaking everywhere. And every time she heard that name, she thought of him, her new FB friend. Then finally, she threw caution to the winds and texted him to go out. And as they say, the rest is history/herstory!! 😉

There is another story that comes to mind. This guy saw this girl at a party. His best friends were constantly talking about her. She was the new girl in town and she is hot! So he kept hearing her name and within a couple of days, he kept bumping into her or her car or her sister. He tells me how everywhere he went in South Bombay, she was there. At the club, at the gym, at the lounge. It was like the Universe was screaming and pointing her to him. So without wasting any time he approached her. But she did not say yes for two years, but once she did, they have never been apart from that day! What a story!

These anecdotes I presented are not MERE COINCIDENCES! No people! They are TWINFLAME SYNCHRONICITY! It does not happen much, but when it does, it is MAGICK!

Like this…the love story of Bergman and his leading lady Liv. A lot of highly CREATIVE couples are Twinflames. I have discussed this before. Read my other Twinflame stuff.

Synchronistic events offer us perceptions that may be useful in our psychological and spiritual growth and may reveal to us, through intuitive knowledge, that our lives have meaning. ~ Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD, The Tao of Psychology, p.7

Are you seeing 11.11? Are you frantically searching for your Twinflame? Calm down! Being desperate will not work here. It is all about PATIENCE! Yes patience is a real VIRTUE!

You know why some of us are looking for our Twinflames? It is to experience a SPIRITUALLY AWARE relationship. Not to say that the present one I am in, is not so. It is. But our life partners bring about a different type of resonance from our Twinflame energy. I will repeat again. It does not mean you will be 100% compatible with your Twinflame. Quite the contrary! You might be miserable if you do not recognise the SOUL CONNECT! You have to want to BE with that person no matter what and usually this intensity is easily found between Twinflames. But some people are so blinded by rampant mindless materialism that they miss out on such an important connection

I have seen that happen too and it is very painful. But chances are high that you are on the lookout for this energy if you are reading my blog! I am after all a Twinflame Mentor!

There are numerous SOULMATES. I spoke of the 144. Check my other articles out on this topic. So you will find 11 SOULMATES, but only ONE Twinflame! Again the number 11!

Another noteworthy aspect to mention is that most Twinflames have SPIRIT GUIDES or ANCESTORS, friends, loved ones who send energy to make this union happen. Therefore it is possible to experience crazy dejavu’s, almost of a spiritual fervour with your Twinflame.

If you are aware of your Twinflame, your body will vibrate every time you think about them. You might not even be consciously aware of it. So next time you feel compelled by somone’s eyes, look deeply if they stir these Twinflame emotions in you. But again, use your powers of discretion!

The Dalai Lama quoted: “I am open to the guidance of synchronicity, and do not let expectations hinder my path.”

I will tell you the same. Let the Universe be your guide and do not expect your Twinflame to adhere to any preconceived ideas you might have had. Delete and clear all those redundant files and let the beauty of SYNCHRONICITY guide you and you will find your Twinflame. Let me know when that happens…

I leave you with these thoughts today….look for synchronicity and as always I am waiting to hear from you. Let me know your love story. Uncover the Twinflame mystery with me…for TOGETHER we can! And TOGETHER WE WILL! ❤

http://www.tinaheals.com

tina@tinaheals.com

The Plan ~~ A Novel by Tinaheals

Notes from the underground
The home of my dreams-

Soft fleeting tears.

Marigolds in bloom.

 

I do not know how I began to tell this story. Why did I begin? It is nothingness, a deformity in my subconscious. It is just a pointless pursuit. It began where I don’t know, but right now, I am sitting in front of a Policeman and a State sponsored Psychiatrist.

I know him- Rustom Mistry, yes, that’s his name, I can see the Faravahar glittering in the light. “It’s to remind me of my true purpose, at least that’s what my mom hopes.” He’d told her when she’d asked about it. The winged disk and the bearded human motif looked very appealing to me, but today it seems scary. The purpose of my life, it’s fucking over! Not even the Faravar can save me!

He is asking me all these questions, with a very stern face. But believe me; I cannot understand what he says. For the life of me, his words are a jumble. I am trying to answer, but nothing. My jaw muscles have gone on strike. It’s like I never knew the powers of speech. I am unable to communicate and totally enervated. Have you ever heard a singing bowl? The sound of it keeps reverberating in my mind, suddenly out pops the Tom and Jerry tune in my mind, some heavy programming by Disney!

I have been forced to shut down, just like when you hold the power switch of a computer and just manually shut it down, you do not take the trouble of performing a proper shut down. My consciousness is the black screen, the product of a forced shut down.

My wretched eyes see everything. Rustam’s impassive face. Yet, the trace of anxiety makes itself known, which he suppresses with dutiful vigour. I sense that I’m watching him as different Ninas. Complicated emotions are tormenting me.
Ting tong! The bell rang. I was dressed in this gorgeous little black number from Yves Saint Laurent, also boasted of wedged heels from the same make- black luxurious suede. I was waiting for him.
I opened the door. Dr. Misty stood there. Ah yes, he was complete with the clichéd bunch of roses in his hands-blood red ones. He was speaking as clear as a bell, trying to implore me with his eyes. He also said something to the effect that he had wanted me for very long, but never had the guts to speak up. He told me he thought about me and was becoming obsessive, like I was under his skin. A chance is what he wanted. He throws caution to the winds and hugs me. The next minute I am in his arms, his lips are on mine, trying to get inside my mouth, as if snaking in to touch my soul.
One of the Nina’s (I have many Nina’s inside of me, fuck!) look at his lips, those same one who were trying to part her lips, to explore her very being. Those lips were now moving, creating geometric shapes, like the shapes formed when a kid blows bubbles from that god-awful soapy liquid.
Evanescent worlds,

Like dews of dawn.

Ghosts in time.

So the shapes his mouth is now making also disintegrates like the transient bubbles. Nothing elucidates impermanence as this act of blowing spherical shapes in the air which disintegrate in a few seconds. Poof! They are gone. New worlds created and destroyed, at the blink of an eye-lid. The bubbles form words. He’s asking me why I am here.

Why is anybody here? There is seriousness to his voice as he asks me why I had gone to Lilavati last night? Obviously I did not reply. I could not. I was physically unable to. Trauma I think is what did it. “Can you tell me why you stabbed this man repeatedly?? You killed him…” he was shoving a picture of a smiling face in my hands.
I have on tight mini-skirts and leather boots that are a few inches above my knees, very dark and Gothic make-up and I have on a wig, a short trendy wig. I try to touch it. Someone watching me from afar would notice a shaky hand moving to touch the hairline with no definitive purpose. But the purpose was known to this man- Rustam. “Why do you have that on?” He asks pointing to the wig.
I sit silently, looking down at the blood drying on this super expensive pair of boots that I bought online from some German fantasy leather footwear company, as a gift for my sister. They were splendid in their craftsmanship- the Germans definitely know how to design and make things. Other words from his mouth also manage to surface briefly in my consciousness. Word association! I normally think of a word when I hear a word. One word brings about the memory of another and so on so forth. The story is never ending. This has been a most fascinating way to tend to burgeoning ideas. Words like “life-support system” made its way to my subconscious. A sting of incredible pain jolted me into nausea. I’m throwing up all over the table, my clothes my shoes, my heart rate through the ceiling, my body drenched in sweat.
Rustam signals to the police behind the mirror to send in lady constables. Two stout Marathi female cops burst into the scene with some medical aid. “Kai zala?” They lift me up, try to stuff water down my throat, wipe me up and revive me. But I almost faint, the pain is too oppressive. I would have preferred to be Mary Antoinette, marching to the guillotine.

Muffin, your softness is what I seek; where are you baby? Come to me, there’s nothing I need more than your purrs and rubs.
And then I saw his face.

 

The face of cobwebs,

Disintegrating like the quarks in an atom,

Of nothingness.
Rustam is looking at me and I think I know what’s going through his head. My beaming face, obviously enamoured by his intellect and sophistication, sitting in the first bench, listening to him talk about Jungian Collective Unconscious, yes that memory is surfacing in his mind. It was a less complicated time. We were infatuated with each other.
But now, everything has changed. Today he stands in front of me as an inquisitor and it’s a witch hunt. A murder! He is supposed to uncover the darkest depths of my mind to know how I could commit such a hideous crime. No sorry- Hideous crimes and now I sit as dead as a doornail.
Dr. Rustam Mistry will be questioned about his diagnosis. He will go with the catatonic stupor characterized by motoric immobility, mutism and catalepsy, followed by the rare bout of nausea, blah fucking bloo.
Frank came to meet me and my mind kept repeating, A hope which is now forever past…A love so sweet it could not last,
Was Time long past…it just broke my already broken heart.

The police officer informed Rustam about his arrival and was asked his professional advice on whether Frank and I could meet. He did consent to our meeting and was there right behind the mirror to observe every subtle emotion that was there or wasn’t there or the ones he just thought existed.
Jail or any form of detention centre is hardly the place for lovers to meet. But Frank just held my hands, kissed them so very tenderly and whispered something about star stuff contemplating the stars…it was a Sagan expression we both loved. Gorgeousity! Star stuff, contemplating star stuff…Malana cream and Sagan. Ah!
When I hear these words I am reminded of another life, in another world where

I remember saying that we are made up of star stuff and he took my chain of thought and elaborated on it. “We’re star stuff, contemplating star stuff…” “As above”, said I and before I could complete my sentence, he covered my mouth and completed, “So below”…for me. We kissed, long and deep, like a Russian Kiss which explored not just my physical body but ignited a fire in my soul, it lasted the whole night. That night was like an eternity!
Frank sobs softly. “I will not give up on you or us…” My heart sobs with him, but I am catatonic. I want to ask him about my cat, Muffin, a majestic British Blue male, two years old and my baby. I want to hold him in my arms, his purring body close to my heart as he nibbles my nose with affection. He is missing me. Two most important males in my life, both from the Great Britain. An irony? The Angrez have not lost their hold on us. Anglophiles formed the part of Bengali society I called my family.

The vilayat, complete with toilet papers to wipe your arse. Who cleans their arse with water? What savages? Don’t forget the knives and forks, eat with your hand and in a jiffy you’re the outcast, chi chi, eating with your hand, as if somehow the toxicity of the hands were confirmed and verified by science.

I’d seen this documentary on Satyajit Ray, where he speaks of how the Western world took to Pather Panchali. He spoke of how some American women had been forced to throw up after watching Indir Thakrun eating with her hands on screen. What a bunch of barbarians, thought the pretty, sophisticated mems.

Okay I might have even fought super hard to be this sexy, sophisticated Angrezi lassie, if so many people around me had not made it their lives’ mission.

They are everywhere, singing Psalms in Convents at the crack of dawn, wearing micro mini, chote chote mini skirts with tank tops, as if showing skin is a sign of emancipation from old oppressive customs; these creatures were allergic to anything that screamed desi, like vampires to sunlight.

Imported goods, imported bathroom fittings, imported brains?
It’s not that I refuse to answer Frank. Believe me, I want to. But my mouth just refuses to speak, my eyes just sank deep into their crevices, my tongue just hangs there like a limp rag; I feel my brain is losing control, like a general who loses his soldiers due to some internal mutiny. The general, my brain has lost power, its reign is over and each of the organs has taken control. But this time, they are not working in harmonious synchronization, they have developed individuality. Screw individuality! Each behaved in the way it wanted to. All they seem to want is to not respond. So there you go, there was no response to Frank’s entreaties. Was this real??? Frank’s face, his tears, Rustam’s face, his stern look- it feels like cardboard scenery, in fact I have the taste of saw dust in my mouth.

I want to thank Frank for caring after my boy Muffin; in a sense he is the be all and end all of my existence when it comes to matters of the heart, and the only male in my life for so long. Thousands of years ago, the Egyptians worshipped the cat in the form of Bastet, killing a cat was punished by death and if a cat died, it’s family would shave off their eyebrows; well, seems like cats have not forgotten that and my Muffin certainly deserves worship.
Anyway Rustam is watching!
Little does he know that a woman is looking to meet me, her name SAPNA VERMA, the wife of the man I had brutally stabbed to death. He had multiple lacerations, a punctured abdomen and his testicles were chopped off. Such gruesome acts were only seen on telly in serials, where you get to see how evidence is collected which ultimately points to the guilty, no matter how much camouflaged the identity of the killer is. My DNA was everywhere in the crime scene, the CSI guys would not break a sweat in proving that it was I who did it.
Anyway Sapna has walked up the Police Officer who’s called Rustam. I have to meet her, she said. Rustam’s apprehensive, but then he sees Frank exit my cell. Sapna follows his glance and instantly approaches Frank demanding to see me, this bloody witch who she would have gladly burnt at the stake.
She enters my cell. Her eyes confront the pale corpse in front, my practically lifeless body. I must say, a shocked expression registers on her face as she looks at me from head to toe. What is this phantasmal entity, she must be thinking. How did this weakling kill my husband? Little did she know that when your mind is set, you can achieve anything- nothing is out of reach? I could have killed him over and over again, a hundred, fuck it, a billion times if I had to. It was like the most important exam I had to take, an exam which would ensure my demotion in the karmic law.

Lines from my poem are swimming in my consciousness; as a writer, one has the ability to randomly switch off and travel to other realms. Yes, it’s officially true, we have super powers.
Dadu would not approve. He was the type of man who would not take a shot at the enemy even if his range was clear and the bullet would definitely find its mark. He was an obsolete man in this world, an outdated DOS operating system. He was more interested in questions like who am I? Where did I come from? He preferred to ponder on such things. Self enquiry, he called it. Dadu I was screaming, who am I? The answer rang loud and clear- a killer. I had killed a man.
Sapna is pale-faced looking at me. “Are you her friend?” She asks Frank hesitantly. Frank nods. I’m not looking at them, but I know exactly what’s happening. At that precise moment I’m observing a spider spin its web. Is it spinning the web to catch a prey? All webs are not spun only for nutritious titbits; some webs are spun as hobbies, as works of art. To create something without any utilitarian purpose, but to create just for the sake of creation! What’s the point of that?? Some common-sense lover would say. Nothing honestly. Right? Wait, I think I see a tiny movement in the web. Is there an insect? Or is it the wind? Or is it my fucking imagination.

Ah! Imagination! It’s what always got me in trouble at school.
I was reprimanded for having too much imagination! My skin crawls to think of the parent’s-teacher’s meetings that Dadu had been subjected to over the years. Sheer torture for both of us and of course for the teachers!

They were just trying to help me through life and look what happened! I went ahead and killed a man. How horrified they would be. I imagine my Algebra teacher, Miss. Kalpana, a hard martinet in her late 50’s on the witness box, telling the judge how she knew I will be in trouble some day. It’s her fault, it’s her imagination.
Imagination is the culprit.

Lines from my poems kept ringing in my ears. STOP!

Back from these lines assaulting my consciousness, poetry is truly my life breath. Only if reality could be poetry, then I might have had a chance to do it differently.
Anyway, by now the shock has transformed into anger. It’s quite amazing to note how humans can translate any emotion into a show of anger. I think it’s a shield they hide behind- ANGER! Anytime you are unsure of how to express yourself, just display anger. It’s safe and effective! You can block off the more painful introspective thought processes.
So Sapna Verma takes the easy way out, she opts for anger. She musters all her strength and strides up to me. After a stare at my impassive, immobile face for a few minutes, she can control herself no longer. The oppressive silence envelopes the room like a thick cloak as all wait with bated breath. Then a slap almost knocks me off balance, but somehow my body refuses to be floored. I have no clue how and why. I just sit there. The sound of the slap is unnerving to Frank and Rustam behind the supposed glass, watching everything. But I feel nothing. Then funnily enough I hear the chorus, “I feel numb,” yes U2, and I understood what numb means.
You go through life, learning new words, understanding their meanings, but actually you understand nothing. The words are nothing but words unless you have the pertinent experience stored away in the depths of your being, which leave permanent imprints on your brain and yes, then you understand the word. Not till then.

Rape, murder, death- all these are words which are very much a part of our regular vocabulary. But how far do we understand them? We honestly don’t. Ask the young college student what rape means; presuming she has never been violated, she will have only a vague understanding of the term, maybe from movies or books.

Mine was from Monika Belluci’s incredible performance in Irreversible. But ask a rape victim what that word means and you will be shocked at the difference of understanding. The same word, but completely different levels of comprehension! Experience is what makes us learn new words, not just simply by glancing at a Thesaurus, but by learning through life. I understand the words Death, rape and murder, they have closely associated themselves with me, like the hanger-on friend you simply want to avoid.
Sapna is breaking down, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. She comes really close to me; I can smell her Chanel 5 perfume and minty breath. “Why did you kill him?” She asks. Very predictable question! You already knew that was coming right? But get this; she then murmurs something totally unexpected. After a moment’s hesitation, she whispers, “I’m sorry…I know what happened…with your sister…” now this should have definitely instigated some reaction from me, she thinks. It did, in the subconscious. But consciously I’m fucked up, incapable of any expression. I sat like a chopped up tree log, destroyed and cut down. If you apply the crescograph on a chopped up log, it’ll be interesting to see what level of consciousness remains.
I felt like writing but my physical body was pretty much worthless.

Poetry will not erase this woman’s troubles and nor will it answer her questions. Will it? Is poetry even useful? Or is it as worthless as me?

Sapna is troubled about an image that plagued her mind. Her thoughts travel to a certain day when she had looked through a crack on the door panelling. She’d seen her husband on the floor, howling with immense pain. A newspaper lay crumpled by his side, which displayed a beautiful girl. But creases had formed on her face as the newspaper sat wrinkled, but the smile was infectious.

It’s bewildering for her to see the physical similarly between the haggard girl in front and the face in the newspaper, but there was a slight difference. Not to mention that the girl in the newspaper was smiling, brimming with life and this girl in front was as lifeless as a cadaver. Still that was not it. There’s something else and I might have been able to help her, if not for the mutiny of my organs. Ridiculous!
I think the stark imagery of her husband’s painful explosion that night is a bit too much for Sapna to handle. Her head begins to swim and she’s about to collapse. But Frank provides support, the rock solid man that he is. Sapna is thankful for this support and the warmth his huge frame provides that she just holds onto him, his aftershave wafting in the air, tinkling her nose. For a moment she forgets where she is, holding onto him seemed the most natural thing. And then the tears came, they breake the floodgates and storm in like huge tsunamis. Sapna’s outcry sounds like a hurt animal and then she says these words. “But why kill him??? You can’t take what you can’t give…only God can take a life…”
Naive humanity! Who is this anthropomorphized God? What kind of a God will intervene- he will create and then destroy! This idea never agreed with me, in fact it nauseated me, every time people spoke about God like “He” was their personal problem solver. Of course I indulged in that odd prayer or two before my results; they were like placebo. And remember God has to always be referred to as HE!
Dadu used to say that Bengalis are a matri-bhakta culture; to them the mother figure is as important as the father, if not more. God to me could not be a He or a She. This was crystal clear in my mind even as a child. I gave it a lot of thought, but nothing made sense.

Gradually I began to avoid the word God. God in the sense society spoke of the idea. Man cheapened this transcendental concept. It is beyond human understanding. With our dwarfed intellects we can never grasp this idea; it’s a waste to try. “Nothing in life is a waste,” another one of Dadu’s lines! Dadu, Dadu where are you? How come our times together ended? You would say, “Nothing ever ends and similarly nothing begins, it’s just your perception which keeps you chained to such ideas of beginnings and ends. You are eternity in yourself…”. I would do anything to lie in Dadu’s lap or cuddle Muffin.

I hear Dadu’s voice- it’s crystal clear, his smell wafts in my consciousness- Asatoma sadgamaya, tamo soma yotir gamaya, mrityrma amritam gamaya!!

These words they play with my consciousness, Dadu enunciates them so well, so crisp, and so effortless, it sounds divine. He said that Sanskrit was the language of the Gods and there was never a doubt in my mind when he spoke it. He made the language godly.

He spent much time explaining this shloka to me- from Unreal take me to the Real, from darkness take me to light, from death take me to immortality!

Everything about this situation my friend is unreal. No you do not understand, a murder, by my hands? It is unreal. I respect life; harming even a fly hurts me. It’s no charlatanism! I do not care if you don’t believe me, it’s not important, not trying to get you to come to my side, I’m just telling you of how things are, no embellishments, no B.S.

It was basenter dupur bela, a spring afternoon; we sat near Dadu, in our living room. It was a Sunday, a lazy Sunday. Dadu had a ritual with us; he’d read to us, from the Vedas, from the Tantra texts, the Upanishads and the Bhagavadgita and explained certain parts. Zeenia was less open to this idea as she grew older; she preferred to be on her phone or laptop.

Dadu did not scold her, forcing his opinions on people was not what he sought to do when he read to us from these ancient texts; he wanted us to be connected to our roots, discover what our ancestors had left behind.

I enjoyed his company immensely, his stories interested me on many levels and he brought out the different characters so vividly; this led me to form a fascination for the human psyche. Come to think of it, it shaped my future; I decided to take up psychology honours. My parents has both studied English in college; when I was a kid, I knew that I would probably end up studying it too, but eventually studying the human mind became an obsession.

Anyway, that afternoon it was the Bhagavadgita.

The lines ring loudly in my ears, but in it the concept of Arjuna having to kill all his relatives is what bothered me. But dadu, how can Arjuna kill all these people? Especially Bhishm, his gurudeva, and all his cousins? The thing that plays in my mind today is a question little Nina asked him, Dadu but how can anyone kill?

This question, it’s mocking me, this question’s alluring me, and it begins to take many forms, grotesque, grave, gruesome, until it begins to drive me crazy. All this angst in my mind, but if you look at me from afar, I’m carved in stone, an effigy created to be burned.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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The Wolf Goddess~~

What a sight you are!

A true Goddess of your own creation.

The holy red gushes down your legs.

You stand naked, bare breasted.

The defiance in your eyes.

The slight smile on your lips.

They magnetic sway of your hips.

They ridicule you and laugh at you.

Your raw power scares them.

You know how to CONNECT.

You know how to join together.

You are a natural leader.

And that scares them.

They call you a sinner.

Never will you be a saint.

Even if you have fed the last morsel to them.

They have burnt you over and over.

But from those ashes have you arisen…

Again and again.

With different names.

In different countries and cultures.

The guilt they have bred in us,

Is not to be found in you.

The palpable fear is also absent.

For you seek no validation from them.

You don’t care to play by their rules.

Holiness in every ounce of your blood.

Every Goddess of every culture,

They reside in your body.

You are holy, the Creatrix!

You are not afraid of pleasure.

You know what to do with pain.

You are here to liberate other sisters.

You are not looking for personal gain.

Never have you controlled the urges,

That women have been taught to do.

Instead you have transmuted them into alchemy.

You have transformed them into divine inspiration.

You have ignited the fires of passion.

And made magic with the man you held.

For a God he was when you made love to him.

You are his Goddess.

You are  our Goddess.

Your mission is to tell the others.

To activate the powers of the Womb.

This FEM-FORCE will steer us into a new awareness.

Let them worship the sacred blood of your menstruation.

For that is the only atonement from their end.

To have defiled and demonised the sacred life force of the menstrual blood.

They say you are a whore.

What does it matter if you are Madonna or a whore?

They have raped, pillaged and tortured,

The mother, maiden and the crone.

No one is safe.

They will find the Wild Ones.

Silenced they must be.

But how can they be shut for life?

In their voices is the fem-force of life and death.

We will be told we are evil.

We will be told our magick is for the devil.

The Devil is but Lucifer, the bringer of Truth.

The apple is the process of initiation.

It is you, yes you as Eve,

Who initiated Adam.

It is you Sita, who burned Rama’s sins,

In the fire of your sacrifice.

Wild Woman you will make us eat time and again,

From that sweet apple of knowledge and passion.

Run like a She-wolf and howl at the moon.

You are the Matriarch, the very crux of civilisation.

Tonight under the Full Moon, you will rub the damp earth on your body.

And make love to the Earth.

She is as wild as you are.

Soul lovers through infinities.

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Image by Alexandra Banti

 

Twinflame Reverie

Where did you go?

I finally let my control go!

Where did you disappear?

I know not.

For my memories have dissolved.

They have dissipated from my mind.

Like clouds in the bright blue sky.

The resonance is an initiation.

To a new birth.

The ray will return to the Source.

The rain will melt into the sea.

Where did your form vanish?

Your solid 3D physical body.

It is like you never existed!

I am aware of your origin.

You are of 5D light- activate it.

That memory of us in union.

Like the frozen Tundra of my mind.

That memory of oneness.

Nothing can take that away.

You were buried in the womb.

My companion as you held my hand.

There through the Great Void we journeyed.

Falling down to 3D denseness.

Where our physical forms took shape.

I touched you and you touched me.

So different were we.

As we touched each other.

Beloved we have been lovers.

Forever in the darkness.

But our love is not of flesh and blood.

So how can we hold each other?

How can we join in passionate copulation?

How can our hearts bleed?

The ray has solidified into form.

I has divided and is now you and me.

We are individuals.

We are One Ray.

Our love has now felt itself take shape.

Our love has loved in a new way.

It has fallen in love with itself.

Can love fall in love with itself?

Can spirit fall to matter?

Can Ardhanarishwara become male female polarities?

For are you not my Twinflame?

For are you not light consciousness?

You and me in 5D.

Have we not birthed a new love story?

Where we feel every emotion.

Where every feeling is intensified.

Have we not experienced something.

We never could.

As we slumbered in the Great Voidness.

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The Astro suggests Tantric Sex tonight~

I am ecstatic to announce that tonight there is some wild and sensual astro happening- Moon squares Neptune. The Moon is in Sag- aha! And Neptune is the ruler of Pisces. Venus is retrograde pushing us to maddening depths of emotions and feelings.

So what do you get with this mix? How can SAG and Pis merge? Oh, let me think. Philosophy and myth debates that heat up into intellectual kerfuffles which could lead to electricity crackling in the air and then when sexual intimacy takes place- it feels like a dose of spiritual energy has been infused in the love making process!

So I am going to suggest a small meditation module for tonight.

Clean up your space, sage it and prepare it with candles, incense and aroma oils. Use the diffusor. Take a long soak in the tub, preferably the two of you. And do not start making out please! Just lie with each other and make an effort to join your breathing. Breathe together. Feel each other’s heartbeats as you sit soaking in the tub.

Now feel all the negativity draining from your body. You may use chants or switchwords when doing this. A good one would be ALLOW-FLOW-BE, which releases your internal blocks. You can keep saying VENUS-DIVINE-BE!

Do it together- do it consciously. Step out and wipe one another clean. Gently and not sexually. Just as if he is a human, you are not concentrating on the sexual angle right away. Now rub oil on each other. Get a nice carrier oil like jojoba and then chuck a few drops of your favourite essential oil. You can use amyris, clary sage, jasmine, neroli, patchouli, rose, rosewood, sandalwood, vetiver, ylang ylang- they all work as aphrodisiacs.

Rub it in with conscious intention that your hands are filling this person you are caressing in this erotic massage is being healed. Oh yes by now the massage has gone erotic. I cannot start explaining exactly how to massage, because I believe there is no hard and fast, one single way to do it. The massage is an adaptation of deep rubs, kisses and caresses, suited exactly to the person in front.

Drop all thought. Very important. Exist in the moment. Exist in the now. One will massage the other and then the other will return the favour. Get it. Do not try to massage each other together. Nope. After you have completed the erotic massage, then stand up and hug.

After the hug, start NOW massaging each other. Build the intensity. Oh stare at each other the whole time. Stare into his eyes. Try to see beyond his form. Whatever you think is divine, associate that image to him. He is divine and guys, so is she. Try to feel the energy flow in each other’s bodies. You may actually see colours and your auras.

Then sit in meditation in the yabyum position, the symbol of divine union.

“Yab-Yum” is a Tibetan term meaning “father-mother”. The man is on the floor, in sukhasana or padmasana and the woman sits on his thighs while his lingam is in her yoni. The man’s penis will be inside your pussy, but do not move. Sit in that position. It symbolises the union of your root chakras. You have become ONE. Keep staring into each other’s eyes. Homosexual couples, please decide between each other who will take on the yang role and who will play the yin energy and sit accordingly.

Keep staring and keep breathing, the lingam inside the yoni. This is potent sex magic as the sexual energy with meditation can transmute itself to Spiritual. The Union will feel like you are losing consciousness. This does not happen in a day, it is to be cultivated.

Your crown chakra is channelling energy from spirit and merging it with your sexual energy. Please OBSERVE THE ENERGY and how it is flowing through your body. Try to identify blockages. Work from your heart chakra.

Some tantric teachers urge the participants to communicate their feelings to one another while in yabyum, but I personally leave it to you. You decide if you want SILENCE to be a part of this meditation or do you want to use loud chanting and/or speak to each other. It is entirely up to you.

After about staring for twenty minutes, then close your eyes together. Keep deep breathing. Now concentrate on your muladhara chakra and feel a ball of energy vibrating there. Now lift up that ball through your spine and bring it to rest in your crown chakra. Stay there. Keep breathing. If you cannot hold your erection, do not freak out. You are now PURE energy, not a limp dick!

Finally end the meditation with an orgasmic explosion, although it is absolutely normal if you do not desire penetration. During tantric yabyum most practitioners avoid the peak orgasm(ejaculation) to leave room for the much stronger full body orgasms, squirting orgasms, anal orgasms, prostate orgasms, vaginal orgasms, womb orgasms and more. You can feel things that are very VERY intense.

Your partner may cry as some of you guys know that women cry after an orgasm. Some of them do. I am one of those and it can get pretty intense and in fact some guys do too. Do not be awkward if she is crying, just hug her. Do not judge, label or criticise or offer advise. Just let her be. Be there for her.

Keep sitting even after everything is done and hug each other in yabyum, close your eyes and bring your focus to your third eye and stare inside. Finish off by doing namaste to each other.

If you do try this, drop me a mail and tell me how the experience felt.

Thank you!

Namaste!

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