One girl's spicy romp from monk to punk to finding love
Gurus, Rock Stars & the Men In Between invites you into my world from my years as a monk in India, to my life as a punk rock diva and beyond, peppered along the way by the men I've loved.
My blog features both excerpts from the book, and what I currently deem hot in realm of love, art and spirituality from the streets of New York City to beaches of Los Angeles, two cities I affectionately call home.
My home was filthy at first, but once I got through with it now sparkles and smells of the familiar iodine concoction for which I’ve developed a bizarre affection. It’s home. It’s my space and it’s private. But it’s lonely. While I appreciate introspection, there are moments when I feel I could live or die and no one would be the wiser. And I’m not simply being poetic. Coming home one day, bathing away the dust and grime of an Indian summer I emerged from the bathroom and most definitely dry, I switched on the light as dusk fell. I was immediately thrown by what felt like a thousand bolts of electricity pulsating through my body. In absolute shock and some physical paralysis I fell back onto my bed, still wrapped in my bath towel. I laid there not sure if this is the right thing to do, but I could feel my psyche switching over to that almost feral primal sense, where the body becomes all-knowing, silently demanding I stop thinking like a modern creature. Both terror and ultimate calm jockeyed for first place.
“Be still,” I told myself.
“Oh fuck, this is it! I’ve finally done it. I’m going to die alone, without anyone knowing where I am and how I died. It’ll be days, maybe weeks before they find my body. I had no idea it would end like this. This sucks!”
“Sssh,” my better self responded. “Be calm, let your body heal. It knows what to do.”
I drifted off to sleep or death, I wasn’t sure which. Hours later in complete darkness I woke with a gasp like the first breath of a newborn. I was alive. My body had indeed known what to do. I wanted to tell someone. I don’t even know what time it was, but I could tell it was the middle of the night. The world was dark and silent, something rare even in rural India. Used to the almost daily blackouts I have candles and lighter by the side of the bed. I found my clock, four a.m., and decided the best thing I could do was to give my body as much time for sleep as possible. The next morning I told the young boy at reception. But it’s India and nothing will be done. Ever since, when about to touch the switch I can be found sporting rubber soles and gloves. Madam is looking very sexy these days. If there can be an experience worse than death, perhaps it’s broaching the subject of tantra with a seventy year old man. This aspect of Vedic culture intrigues me. I’ve been hoping Dadaji will broach it, but as of yet he hasn’t and my days here are numbered. It’s been a month and I’m leaving soon to continue my travels, and in particular to meet a Swami in Kulu. I have to approach the subject now or never.
“Dadaji, um… there is something I’ve been wanting to learn. I don’t quite know how to say it…”
After much prodding I continue, “I want to understand… to learn how to do tantra*. I feel like it is an important part of life.”
I can hardly describe the look in his eyes, which if I take a stab is some diabolical combination of disbelief and absolute glee.
“Oh my, what do you want to learn about it?” he probes in his antiquated but flawless upper-crust accent.
“Well, you’ve covered other aspects of Vedic lifestyle and philosophy but this is a huge part too. I want to be trained in that aspect of my life. I’m only young and I want to know how to do it properly. You know… sex.”
“You really want to learn this?”
“Yes, I do!”
I’m relieved to finally expose the subject, grateful that he’s taking it in stride. Without another word, and with a look in his eyes that might just remain forever tattooed in my memory (no matter how many showers I take), a rickety old man complete in grey Neru suit lurches toward me like a zombie in a horror movie, lips open, intent on teaching me firsthand the secrets of tantra.
“Oh God no! No, no, no. I don’t mean that.”
He stops in his tracks, “What do you want then?”
He’s truly perplexed.
“I want to learn the philosophy of tantra, that’s all. God no! It’s actually late, I should go.”
I almost admire his optimism. Almost. One thing do I concede looking at it from his point of view… a young blond literally landed on his doorstep one month ago, completely unannounced. Why not a young blond that wants to be his tantric mistress?
It’s time to leave.
*An indepth science where sexuality is practiced as a sacred ritual.