Suck it up!

There was way too much sulking on the way to yoga.  Why did I have to fool around with the only awesome teacher I’d found after weeks of searching in Tucson and only days after taking his class?  Unfair, unfair, unfair.  And it was his fault too, for asking me out in the first place.  Since I’d already bitched to my sis and yoga friends in other locations (keeping a hard line on my localized version of a ‘kiss don’t tell’ policy despite the oddity of blogging about it) and I couldn’t think of any one else to call I called on Tara.

My prayer was heartfelt and mournful.  Why oh why can’t I find what I’m looking for and why can’t I accept what I have as exactly what I need?  Please fill me with as much light and understanding as you can, dispel my suffering and impart the words of wisdom that I need to hear in order to see things more clear.

“Suck It Up.”

While unexpected, the advice rang true.  I mulled it over that advice for a few minutes and when I got on an offramp and was waiting for the light to change I grabbed a pen and the only thing near by that I could write on, a dixie cup.  Then it hit me–I really, really do need to suck it up…  Visualize it, chop it up with a hook knife, throw it in a skull cup, tantra the shit out of it until it transforms into bliss nectar and then suck it up as an antidote to this unenlightened nature that continues to cause my suffering. That’s the practice of Chod and, coincidentally, it’s the practice of the wandering yogis and yoginis.  And I was wandering from studio to studio, that’s for sure.

Satisfied and more than a little amused, I popped the Chod CD that I just happened to have at arms length (thanks to my ex bf Mike T) into my stereo, gunned the v8 and resolved to get my flow on at  “Yoga Oasis” on Campbell.

Dakini Day

Now as any body who has ever had a crush knows, few things are as thrilling.  It’s an emotionally tantalizing mental and biological waterfall of mental projections and neuro-chemicals.  Thought I was over yoga guy.   After all, what was he thinking when he asked me if I made sweet love to my grandmother while in Phoenix?  Did he think I lied about staying with a Cherokee elder that I refer to out of respect as Grandmother–or was he so high that he bought his own line that there are many different ways to make love?  Over. It.  But Spanish Guitar, 90 minutes of sweaty power yoga and that cute ass that got me in trouble in the first place and, sister, you’ve got yourself a whole heap of goodies to use for practice.

Lama Tsultrim Allione has a fantastic book that goes into detail about Dakini Mandala practice.  It was no coincidence today that when I flipped on my iPad this morning, ready to imbibe some dharma with a cup of hot yerba mate tulsi chai, that the audiobook version of her book was cued up to the Padma chapter.  As Tsultrim guided her listeners through the  I stood facing south, gazing out over the gas flames the top of my stove.  I finished preparing my tea.  Sipping it, listening to the lama’s description of the enlightened, transformed state of passion, I drifted off into Dakini land ready.  Within in moments I was ready to trade in my desire for an eligible mate (or a hot fling) into an equally intense desire to manifest love without attachment for the benefit of all sentient beings started to open up in me…  I carried my tea and those feelings over to the couch and just rested there.  Eventually I began thinking  disconnected thoughts relating to the experience instead of being simply in the experience itself.  It started by wondering about whether I was relaxing in a natural state.

But then, inevitably began to drift back to the realm of wondering if I should order that Nutratint hair color on Vitacost.com, which dress to wear to the wine and cheese networking event tonight and wondering if I should venture from Dakini land into the realm of online dating.

Red Lotus, Red Lotus

This week is Valentines Day week.  And there is nothing to bring out my obstructed Padma state and all of the bells, whistles, aversions and attachments with it like being single, dateless and cooling off mid-infatuation out of a quickly turned un-romantic asana with a totally cute yoga instructor.  Vajrayogini practice, here I come.