8th February 2013 Back in Pattaya, spending our days learning about raising the sexual energy and our nights practicing. No sex in class, to the disappointment of some and the relief of others, led to such a charged atmosphere it was surprising the whole place did not erupt in a mushroom shaped cloud of ecstasy. I confess to being among the disappointed. A perfunctory rub on the front of the trousers when Mantak instructed us to stimulate the energy was no substitute for some good stiff solo cultivation, and ‘imagining gods and goddesses making love’ a poor replacement for remembering the Cuban of the night before or anticipating the Swiss Miss of the night to come.
I had returned to Pattaya via the magical island of Koh Pha Ngan, where a trio of Israelis, two Catalans and Kerry, followers of a tantalisingly tempting tantric cult, had initiated me into the art of sexual ecstasy. I later learned their Laden-lookalike leader was referred to by HH the DL as a ‘tantric fraud’ (a teeny bit of celibate envy perhaps?) but did freshly-divorced me care, when the table was new-laid for pleasure and I was getting laid on it? No no no noooo! They were intrigued by Mantak’s stuff and I was very happy to trade initiations.
After Pattaya I returned to the Island with two of my friends excited at the prospect of plundering so many rich niches. Mr Electric travelled with twentyseven pairs of socks and difficulty sustaining relationships due to his practice, at the point of no return, of adopting the Embracing the Tree posture to recycle his ejaculation leaving the squeeze of the moment both mystified and frustrated. White Tiger ate crab every day and went on to teach a version of Mantak’s practice that gave his students headaches. We all need a happy ending from time to time, including – oops, sorry, no gossip! Not just yet, anyway.
Next Time – Got Lucky 13