The Heroic Great Queer Hope and My Tantra Buddy - Tantric Shitshow, Part 5
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Image by Dmitri Posudin from Pixabay
Introducing Master #2, II - Tantric Shitshow #3
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Image by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay
Hey y’all,
(Continued from April 21, 2020)
How do I know all this? Because Charles Muir is a storyteller and he told us all about it.
For the record, although Christy Rose was described as one of the elite teachers, she did not offer private sessions that week.
His son, Orion, did. He was a beatific, California-hippie type who was cursed with the inability to get a tan. He had fair skin that burned easily, with regular features, a beard, and long, flowing hair. He wasn’t all that compelling. He revered his father and lacked his father’s charisma.
Charles Muir did have his own crazy version of charisma, because his appeal defies explanation.
Seriously, think of Yogi Bear as one of the players in “Revenge of the Nerds,” and you might come up with a fairly accurate image of his presence.
As the week progressed, I came to like and respect Leah, the head dakini for Source Tantra, quite a lot. You’ll be reading more about her later.
I had no idea I would that first night, however, when she was introduced.
She was cute, vivacious, and confident – a cheerleader type. She wore a form-fitting Asian-style dress from her neck to below her knees. Her dress would have been demure except for the slits that went halfway up her thighs and the obvious boob job encased in such a garment.
Leah was very frank and articulate in what she had to offer, and her specialties were erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation. She was very passionate about sex and sexuality, and how Neo-Tantra could help us all got so much more out of our bodies. She was especially enthusiastic that we women have as much erectile tissue as men, inch for inch and ounce for ounce, and we deserve to know all about that, and what to do with it.
In the gossip that ensued over the next week - because the Source Tantra group was very gossipy - I found out that she had been Charles’ partner for 8 years, from the time she was 25 and he was 55, to 33 and 63 respectively. She had also been one of students. During that time, she helped him run his Art of Conscious Loving workshops that he had started with his 2nd wife, Caroline Muir.
As Charles’ protegée, it’s highly possible Leah has surpassed her mentor and that really pissed him off. Leah taught some of the classes. The one time she and Charles were on the stage presenting together, he was such a dick to her and regularly undermined Leah during the lecture. She kept her head and her composure, and probably had to exert herself to do so.
When Charles introduced Lisa, the other dakini, the one who is gay, he made a point of saying that she had strong “Shakti energy.” (I’m sure Rashmi would have done backflips to hear that.) Lisa was the one I thought I would be interested in working with from the info about her online. But she didn’t have a whole lot to say other than “yeah, everything Leah said,” and that was pretty much it.
Lisa was not somebody I gravitated to, so I don’t have much to say about her – other than finding out through Facebook that she’s gay, and that she and her partner, Dana, traveled in Sri Lanka after the workshop.
So exit stage left, gay dakini Lisa, and happy trails.
After the lengthy introduction of his team, Charles launched into an overview of the next 10 days, with some sage pieces of advice on how to handle the experience and various challenges that would come up.
“Tantriks and tantrikas are noisy lovemakers. When you feel one coming on, make sure you grab a pillow and howl into that.”
He even showed us how, by grabbing a pillow and making muffled, gargling, and grumbling noises into it.
I thought it very odd that an Ecstatic Love Workshop on extensive private property that throws events like this all the time would have strictly enforced quiet hours that started at 10pm.
Especially because there were events up until 9:45.
Later, I heard that at the very first Masters 8 years before, the ecstatic orgasm noises got so loud and lasted so long that somebody in the neighborhood called the cops in the middle of the night, and “Master” Mantak Chia had to get out of bed to go deal with them.
That workshop must have been rip-roaring success.
Another of the topics Charles Muir covered was “falling in love” during the workshop.
“It’s so tempting,” he said.
“We all have that urge to merge. And you throw in great sex and possibly the best orgasms you’ve ever had, and it’s so easy to believe that you found the ONE! And this is LOVE!”
“Don’t do it!” he warned.
“When this is over, everybody goes back to their real lives. So while you’re here, meet people. Find friends you can practice on. So become tantra buddies and help each other learn. That way, you don’t hurt each other.”
Solid, practical, sound advice that definitely applied to the audience. Most of the people at this workshop were flying solo. At most, I believe couples made up 1/3 of the attendees.
That impressed me. His perspective on awakening sexuality impressed me even more.
Charles Muir was very frank and open about the gift of awakened sexuality for both men and women, and how riddled we are with the sexual shame that shuts us down. He said men had limited time to awaken before aging did its thing, yet women could awaken at any age.
He spoke with compassion how so many women don’t feel what they should with a clitoris that has 8000 nerve endings because we’ve been numbed out. We’ve endured stress, criticism, slut-shaming, fat-shaming, age-shaming, trauma, sexual abuse, rape.
He said we could heal. He said we could get our feeling back.
Listening to Charles Muir that night was such a relief. He was a truly powerful speaker and an eloquent storyteller. I was inspired after that talk, and filled with optimism.
Looking back on that strong beginning, it’s almost impossible to believe how badly things would tank within days.
And that, my friends, will have to wait until further down the line. I’m leading you into this slowly, and there are reasons for that.
Thanks so much to the friends who heard my plea and sent letters, notes, WhatsApp texts, and even a WhatsApp phone call.
That made me feel so loved. Yes please, keep them coming!
By the way, if you write me, I also write back. Not long epistles like this, obviously, because I need to have some time for me and the wonderful place I’m in.
Much love to all y’all!
Peace,
Mana
Introducing Master #2 Part, I - Tantric Shitshow #3
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Image by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay
Hey y’all,
So for the past 4 years, I’ve studied with a classical Tantra teacher who comes from the source. Rashmi was born and raised in India, and her family comes from a long lineage of Hindu Shakta Tantrics - like everything else, there are various lineages that approach classical Tantra from different angles. In her lineage, as the name implies, their priority is to worship the goddess first.
So…needless to say, Neo-Tantra makes her blood boil.
Neo-Tantra started in India about 150 years ago. According to Rashmi, it started from a bunch sexually-repressed white people who couldn’t handle all the decadent, sensuous images in the ancient temples, much less the culture of a people who knew how to enjoy their sexuality and their energy and their bodies – possibly without limits.
So what they did was take the sexuality and leave behind the spirituality (Hinduism) and the physical practice (Yoga) that went with it. Then some posers came back to reclaim both, only to get it all twisted and distorted and bastardized beyond recognition.
I imagine a few fake Indian Swamis got in on the hustle – and if so, it’s possible one of these was Charles Muir’s guru back in the day.
However it happened, Charles Muir is known as the “pioneer” who brought Neo-Tantra from India to America. His company, Source Tantra, is based out of California.
I can easily understand Rashmi’s rage towards this man, and others like him.
The workshops he branded with the flowery language of pretty words like “Sacred Spot Massage” and “Tantra: The Art of Conscious Loving” would be more honest and aptly described with the moniker: “How to Fingerfuck Like a Boss.”
Because that’s pretty much what it is.
However, that would be far more challenging to market.
“Welcome to the Sex Seminar,” said Charles Muir on his introduction.
Of course, that got a lot of laughs.
But what can I say about my own impression of the man?
To be honest, my impression of him on that first night was highly favorable. But my very first impression of Charles Muir was that he was in a lot of pain.
On the first night, as I had said in a previous email, the “Masters” were introduced to us along with their teams. While Mantak Chia talked and talked, Charles Muir sat cross-legged on the stage. His eyes were closed and he rubbed his legs in a continuous rhythm. His face held the tightness of people who are struggling physically, and trying hard not to show it.
His hands were huge – even larger in proportion to his tall frame. I think he stood around 6’3” to 6’5.” However, I wouldn’t call his presence imposing.
Why? Because Charles Muir has the goofiest face I’ve ever seen on a man. And once he started to talk, his mannerisms were as cartoonish as his features.
Not exactly what I expected from a man who has been married 3 times and slept with countless women all over the country while touring with his workshops.
Yet he was funny and very endearing. What was obvious was his personality, his humor, and his charm, not the patriarchal glory-of-man mindset that unveiled slowly as the days passed.
I also appreciated the fact, that unlike Mantak Chia, he allowed generous amounts of time for his Source Tantra team to be introduced with a lot of detail. They were offering private sessions during the workshop, and he also talked all of them up.
His team included his current wife, his son, and his 2 best dakinis - one of whom had been his lover for 8 years; and the other I would later find out was GAY.
(So, Sierra really wasn’t so necessary for the queers. But that’s another story and I’ll get back to that later.)
Christy Rose Muir is his 3rd wife and pretty much half his age. She’s a festival goddess type with platinum extensions braided into her hair, exotic makeup, and clothes that managed to be both clingy and flowy at the same time. She gazed at Charles with the goo-goo eyes of adoration, and even had a sultry, caramel voice. It could be argued that Christy Rose was also rather cartoonish, but sexy cartoonish.
“I met this beautiful man 8 years ago,” Christy Rose crooned when she was introduced. “And what you’re about to learn over these next 10 days are not just secrets taught to him by some Hindu in India, but techniques Charles came up with on his own, as well as relational tools we use in our relationship.”
So how did this idyllic pairing of beings come together?
At Tantrapalooza. According to Charles, the nickname for that happening was “Fuckapalooza” and his friends tried to talk him out of going.
He said something about feeling like he was too old for that kind of thing.
On that night, Christy caught his attention with her blue dreadlocks, mad hula-hooping skills, and six pack abs that had their own six pack.
Charles must have caught Christy’s attention with his presentation of sacred spot massage with one of his lovers, Mare Simone, who must be really well-known in the Neo-Tantra Universe from all the hoopla on the mention of her name.
Anyway, Charles Muir and Mare Simone did their thing with quite an audience, and she was also on her period that night. So at the climax (ha! Pun impossible to avoid), she squirted blood along with her sacred amrita, and they were a hit.
The first date between Charles and Christy was sacred spot massage. Their second date was when Charles invited her to be his “birthday present to himself” for his 65th birthday.
And from there, love blossomed. Isn’t that romantic?
Peace,
Mana
PS: To be continued on Friday, April 24, 2020…
The Quixotic Quest of the Great Queer Hope II - Tantric Shitshow, Part 1
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Image by ktphotography from Pixabay
Hey y’all,
[The beginning of this letter is the blog right after this one.]
I thought: “What the hell. I’ve never been to Thailand, and what better way to celebrate my freedom after ending a stifling, oppressive relationship than to go to SE Asia and start that journey with a Tantra adventure.”
So I signed right up.
This is the part where I should have done some research.
From the information I found online, the Masters – Mantak Chia (Tao) and Charles Muir (Tantra) - seemed really male, really straight, and much older than you would expect. Mantak Chia is 75 or 76, and Charles Muir just turned 73.
In other words, these men were of a different generation who never had to consider LGBTQ inclusiveness. Hell, they never even had to consider women – queer or straight – beyond making sure they had orgasms.
There was also no mention of Dr. Sierra Levy or a space for Queer Tantra in the description.
This would have been a good time to ask those questions. But I didn’t. And again, that’s on me.
So I get here.
This workshop was on Mantak Chia’s turf of Tao Garden Health Spa and Resort outside Chiang Mai. The grounds are lush and beautiful, there are yin/yang symbols everywhere, and there are all kinds of eastern healing modalities offered in the clinic and in the spa, some of which you can’t find anywhere else in the world, and it seems he keeps making up new treatments.
The environment there is far more Taoist than Tantric, but that’s ok. As complex as Taoist sexuality is, I learned just enough from Mantak Chia that I’m interested and curious to learn more - even if he was prone to saying “wagina” instead of “vagina,” especially when tired and his accent got so thick I hardly understood him. But I preferred his “wagina” to the excessive “yoni” talk that happened during Charles Muir’s lessons.
We’re not Hindu. Yoni coming out of an American mouth sounds pretentious. So pretty please, with sugar on top, call our bits the sacred cunt already. It’s more honest, not to mention sexier.
I finally ran into Sierra, who said she didn’t know how many people had signed up who were queer. Kind of odd for the head of queer tantra.
She said she had put the word out on Facebook and “other groups,” so maybe some would show up. She had heard there were “a few queers” here.
She also said that there would be an announcement drawing attention to her as the queer pod leader, and that’s how we would find each other.
People came to this workshop from all over the world - some couples, but mostly singles - of all ages and sizes, many between mid-twenties to early forties, and most seemed straight.
Although I suspect there were several bisexual women here, most of them were from Europe, a place where discretion is the better part of valor. From my experience, European lesbians/bisexuals are perfectly content to hide in plain sight.
And when you’re in a workshop that’s very patriarchal in its outlook, that’s probably a better way to be.
Oh, and both of the “Masters” in this Workshop on blissful, ecstatic love had a harem mentality when it came to women.
All this became more obvious every day.
So does this sound like the kind of Tantra workshop a queer woman would feel awesome in?
Umm….yeah…not. Dr. Sierra Levy did not tell me any of this.
Once I got here, Sierra told me a lot more. This was a biannual workshop – the 4th, and rumored to be the last “Masters.” She had been here for the 2nd and 3rd workshop, and said that both times had totally sucked.
“It’s so heterosexist,” she said. “I’m here to give support, and to make this a safe space for queers to be. The Masters need to evolve and change their language.”
And Sierra was here to make that happen.
She didn’t tell me any of that either when I had met her.
She had a particular hard-on for Charles Muir, the Master of Neo-Tantra.
Sierra had taken his course in California several years ago. When it came time for the men and women to separate to learn about yoni (cunt, goddammit!) and lingam (you mean cock?) massage, she piped up that she preferred to massage yonis .(cunts!)
Sierra insisted she’d rather join the men and Charles Muir refused to let her do it. He said she could buy his books and videos on how to massage the yoni.
(How about divine pussy? That has a nice ring.)
But Sierra Levy could not join the men.
“Well, what if I pack? Could I join the men then?” Sierra told me she asked him. “Charles Muir didn’t even know what I was talking about.”
Well, no. Why would he? Never mind the generational difference, most men who are mighty comfortable in their male privilege don’t take the time to learn the ways and verbiage of queer women.
Anyway, Dr. Sierra Levy, naturopath and acupuncturist has been pissed off at Charles Muir ever since.
Who knows how long she’s been a thorn in his side? She was determined to get him to evolve, and change his language to spill his secrets to a queer audience.
“I would rather die than change my language!” Charles Muir protested.
What’s mystifying to me is how many times she has taken his workshops. Again, this was her 3rd out of 4 Meeting of the Masters Workshop. And that doesn’t include the California workshop she took several years ago.
For what it’s worth, Sierra has a kind heart and I think she meant well. And to give credit where it’s due, the Sierra’s of this world do their part to bring about social change. They squawk long and loud, and eventually people have to listen, even if they only do so in the hope they’ll shut up.
Which she didn’t.
However, I did not knowingly or willingly sign up to be a part of her Quixotic Quest as the Great Queer Hope in the world of Neo-Tantra and Sexual Tao.
Oh, and by the way, she lacked the skills to be supportive to the one and only queer who showed up on her recommendation, much less be this stellar hero of the Great Queer Hope.
This was one of those scenarios where somebody wants to be a part of something so they can feel important and special, not for what they have to give to others.
If you’ve read this far, this is only the beginning.
Peace,
Mana
PS: Click HERE if you’d like to read the beginning of this letter.
The Quixotic Quest of the Great Queer Hope I - Tantric Shitshow Part 1
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Image by KiraHundeDog from Pixabay
Hey y’all,
Well, that was a disaster.
I love being open. I love the results of being open most of the time. It’s a state that makes life more interesting, and jumping into the unknown has landed me in some spectacular places and experiences.
But every so often, I would be wise to exercise the caution of taking a closer look of what I’m jumping into.
And this Masters Workshop Tao Meets Tantra, with Sierra Levy (no – excuse me, I mean Doctor Sierra Levy, naturopath and acupuncturist), allegedly as the head of Queer Tantra was definitely one of those times.
I should have researched.
I should have asked questions. I should have asked a lot of questions.
But I didn’t, and that’s on me.
To get y’all up to speed, I left the Masters Workshop on Sunday, while it ends today, Wednesday. I came to Pai with Kip on Monday.
Right now, I’m sitting in a lovely little café on a dirt road with a lovely view of a small farm between this café and the place where Kip and I are staying in our respective mud huts.
Roosters are crowing, birds are chirping, the morning sun is bright, and it’s not too hot yet.
Photo by me.
Oh, and there’s a white Buddha statue on the hill above us.
There are lots of Buddhas on hills around here, and lots of temples.
I have this gorgeous little cappuccino set up in front of me, with a tiny cup of flower water on a small wooden tray, with a wooden spoon to stir as much brown sugar as I desire into my cappuccino.
In other words, I’m good, life is good, and I’m in a good place.
Photo by me.
I’ve also had some time to process long enough to find the humor in what I just left behind.
It’s fabulous when everything goes smoothly in life and travel, but the really good stories come from conflict and chaos, when everything goes to hell and all the drama that ensues.
So please excuse the length of this email. For those who want to dive with me, it will take several letters to tell all this in digestible chunks.
On that note, back to the shitshow and how I landed in it.
I met Sierra last summer at the first Cascadia Tantra Festival on the Olympic Peninsula. I almost didn’t go. I had finally gotten back in my house and I was exhausted. But the guest coordinator convinced me to come, insisted this would be so healing and nourishing after a breakup.
So I rallied and went.
This was one of those times when jumping off the cliff into the unknown was a gorgeous idea.
Five weeks after my split with Morgen, I was numb. The healing from the CTF was desperately needed. At the end of those few days, I was able to feel again, without feeling horrible. And to give credit where it’s due, Sierra Levy had been a part of that.
Sierra and I were 2 of 3 queer women there. The 3rd, Grace Bryant from Seattle, was one of the presenters and her 2 workshops – “Deconstructing Gender Identity” and “Non-Binary Tantra” - left little doubt as to what she was about and what she had to offer in this workshop.
On the last day of CTF, Sierra and I had paired up for an exercise in letting go through sending some love to those who had hurt us and who we hadn’t forgiven.
Sierra said: “I don’t need to do this. I’ve already done my work, but I can hold space while you release. I’m in bliss about 97% of the time.”
Looking back, that statement right there was a red flag.
But I went with the flow. In the exercise, we sat across from each other and held hands – left palm up and right palm down, left hand receives and right hand gives to make a circuit between us.
It was intense.
Energy coursed through me as tears streamed down my face.
I let go of so much shit inside of sorrow and the sorrow inside of shit about Morgen and her daughter, Yseult. Then they flowed out, and Robert (my late brother) and Keckley (his ex-wife) came in, and then my older brothers, then my parents, and I think you get the idea.
A powerful release like that is vulnerable and sets up a lot of trust.
After this exercise, Sierra and I continued talking, and agreeably lamented the lack of queer women who were also interested in studying Tantra. She then told me about this intensive Workshop in Thailand, and to spread the word to other queers who I thought might be interested.
“I’m heading up Queer Tantra,” so said Sierra, “and I want as many of us there as possible. There are only about 20 spaces left.”
“Are you teaching classes?” I asked.
“Maybe. My role hasn’t been fully defined yet.”
She friended me on Facebook and sent me the link. I kind of had a picture of her playing a role similar to what Grace Bryant had at this one.
I thought: “What the hell. I’ve never been to Thailand, and what better way to celebrate my freedom after ending a stifling, oppressive relationship than to go to SE Asia and start that journey with a Tantra adventure.”
So I signed right up.
This is the part where I should have done some research.
To be continued…
Peace,
Mana
Lone Wolf and Ships Passing in the Night
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Photo by me
Hey y’all,
Traveling is bringing out the lone wolf in me.
I’m getting into the groove of that dance of solitude and connection. Being with myself and crossing paths with other travelers - usually solo female travelers – where we come together for a brief friendship of time spent in a place that’s not our home.
I’ve been very lucky with the people I’ve met. So much that I found myself craving alone time.
Anyway, when I was in Chiang Rai I spent practically all my time alone, with only the briefest of exchanges since I got here. And I’m good with it.
Of course, it helped that I knew my solitude came with an expiration date because I had a workshop right afterwards. Shared experience is always fodder for meeting and bonding with people.
The last few days I was in Chiang Mai, I buddied around at night with Nadia, who I met the day I checked out of my Thailand base, Hollanda Montri Guesthouse, run by Kiwi Dean and the Widow Su.
Nadia was the one who stared a conversation with me because I was tossing a 5 baht coin in my chronic game of yes or no answers to be found in heads or tails.
“Heads or tails? Which one do you want?”
“Depends on the question I’m asking.”
That’s how the convo started between us.
Nadia’s another seasoned traveler like Kip. Before she married a couple of years ago, she carved out 6 months a year for travel.
Nadia is what I’d call a soft extrovert. She wasn’t boisterous or overpowering, but she definitely knew very well how to meet people easily and connect.
When she met me for dinner in the old city, she had no problem asking the tattooed French guy if we could join him on a bamboo platform where another guy was snoozing in the hammock.
The Frenchman had lived in Thailand for years. Nadia asked him if he’d ever been a scuba dive instructor, which he said he had.
“Whenever I meet a Frenchman with tattoos, it seems they are always dive instructors.”
When the guy in the hammock woke up, she asked him what he’d been dreaming about.
He hadn’t been dreaming at all. He had been sleeping off a hangover.
I was ready for some alone time, or it may have even been her jetlag, but I found Nadia draining when I first met her.
But I squashed it down because she was company before I went to Chiang Rai, and who knows when I’d have a travel buddy to hang out with again?
Nadia was a very lovely woman. She was in Chiang Mai for a Thai massage course and to do her own thing, while her husband goes snowboarding in the Alps. They live in Holland.
Of course, Nadia was very interesting. I learned about a place I really want to go to from her.
“Get there before it’s discovered and becomes expensive,” she said. “It will happen because it is literally an oasis. My husband and I were there for our honeymoon 2 years ago, and it was magical.”
I just might go there next fall. And in the interests of keeping the secret a little longer, I’m not going to say where it is.
I saw Nadia every night from the time I met her until my last night in Chiang Mai when I circled the moat going around the old city of Chiang Mai.
It was so good to do that alone, even the tight spots of navigating near the old wall with vehicles coming at me. I felt light and free walking those 7+ kilometres.
I think Nadia was on the same page. She stayed at the guesthouse on the river and probably got her conversation needs met with Dean.
It’s such a gift to meet unusual, independent people while traveling.
As Natasha had said, traveling takes out a lot of stuff and distills the essence of who a person is. Then on top of that, solo female travelers crossing paths with other solo female travelers is its own magic.
It’s been a relief, this experience of connecting with kindred spirits.
But at the same time, there’s a compromise to spending time with another. Nadia had a very different rhythm than I, and sometimes it tested my patience to alter my pace to meet hers, and I’m not free to go where my feet lead me.
In some ways, that’s a blessing because I do things I wouldn’t have due to another’s influence. In other ways, I was kind of hungry for it – to simply do my own thing when I wanted as I wanted.
Those few days in Chiang Rai were pretty sweet. I got a good recharge before being around others again.
Traveling is getting me back in touch with my inner lone wolf. I met remarkable women in that workshop and made some beautiful new friends. Yet there were also plenty of times when I needed to go be by myself for a while. Usually to write, but often times simply just to be.
It’s a dance of solitude and connection, the alone time of being with one’s self and connecting with other beings for a brief friendship of two ships passing in the night, the horn sounding in the air as we all go our separate ways.
Most of these women I’ll probably never see again.
Peace,
Mana
Trippy Thailand of Gentle Reverence, the Buddha, Prostitutes, and LadyBoys
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Image by Dean Moriarty from Pixabay
Hey y’all,
Thailand is trippy.
On one hand, this is a profoundly spiritual culture. There are temples and Buddha statues everywhere. Almost every home and business has a spirit house for their dead and any other spirits to live in, and people feed them often with food and sodas. (Spirits really love sugar.)
What I see in all this is a deep relationship with faith and the unseen, which is entrenched in people’s daily lives, the kind of relationship that is not typical in North America.
Thais are gentle people, and there’s delicacy and ritual to their manners that is definitely atypical in North America. Even the classiest, most polite American does not express reverence in their courtesy.
The Thais do. People put their hands together in the prayer position and bow every time they greet and thank you.
If you’re a regular person, the prayer hands are under the chin or at the chest. If one is of higher status, they bring their hands up to their foreheads.
Thailand has strong feminine energy.
On the way here, I noticed my Thai flight attendant had on makeup, but I also sensed he was gay. Yet many of the straight men wear foundation as well in an attempt to make their skin look flawless.
The women are ladylike, soft-spoken, and demure. They’re not as modest as Laos women, but that country is conservative and communist. So…
And on the other hand, Thailand is well…decadent. Although it’s illegal, prostitution is accepted and it’s everywhere.
“A lot of tourists come here to boink,” said Dean. “Sex tourism is huge here.”
Prostitution is not only confined to the cities. All the villages have at least one brothel.
I first heard about this from Robert’s first wife, Lisa.
In the 90’s, she had been in the Peace Corps for 4 years as an English teacher in a small village. But another of her duty calls was to go around the brothels and educate – or try to - the prostitutes about condoms because HIV and AIDS was spreading fast.
“It’s as normal for a Thai man to stop at the brothel and get laid after work as it is for us to stop at a bar to get a beer,” Lisa said. “Problem is, although everybody has sex, nobody talks about it. So it was difficult to teach these girls about using condoms because they got so embarrassed.”
Lisa told me that the girls were sold to the brothels by their parents because their families were so poor that their daughters could support them. And they did. Even the most hardened prostitutes in Bangkok send most of their money home.
From this memory, I took that to mean that brothels were common, and that prostitution was contained therein. I didn’t know about the girly bars or the grittier Thai massage parlors.
Prostitutes were not on my mind as I flew to Udon Thani. Why would they be since I learned about the Red Lotus Sea?
I’m happy I went. The Red Lotus Sea of Pink Water Lilies did not disappoint.
What I didn’t know was my hotel was on a street with girly bars and massage parlors, and an arcade with a dozen girly bars was kitty corner to the hotel.
I like to walk around. It helps me feel out the vibe of a place.
All my back and forth forays along my street made me aware that the women here were unusually friendly.
“Hello Madame!”
“You want a massage! It will be wonderful experience for you!”
One evening, I was restless and went back out with the vague intention of trying to find the night market.
There were a lot more girls in the small bars along the street. They were young, and showing some skin in tank tops and short dresses.
Thai women are very beautiful, and these girls were no exception.
The girls looked so odd, sitting alone in these deserted bars while men conversed in the Italian café and the Irish pub.
I did see one girl sitting close to a 60ish white guy. She was 20 at the oldest.
Since day had turned to night, the girls were even friendlier than they had been earlier.
I went to the arcade thinking it was some kind of open-air market with various shops and cafes.
Instead, it was more like running the gauntlet.
The night was slow, the men were absent, and I was the only game in town.
“Hello Madame! Come on in!”
“Want to play pool! Welcome!”
The girls swarmed to the edges and called out. The demure standards of Thai femininity keep them from being too aggressive. But the ladyboys are not hindered with reticence.
An absolutely stunning ladyboy with thick, glossy hair, dressed in tight black jeans, a black bra, and high heels undulated her way to me with a big smile and her arms outstretched.
“Hello! Hello!”
She even gave me a hug, took my hand, and tried to drag me into the bar while the other girls of that bar cheered her on, but still hung back.
I extricated myself, told her she was beautiful, and continued on my way to the end of the arcade.
It was around this time that I finally got a clue as to where I was. But the arcade ended at a dead end with no place to go, so I had to turn around and make my way back.
The ladyboy approached again.
“Hello Madame! Come and have a drink with me!”
I actually wanted to. Thai ladyboys are known for their incredible beauty, eccentricity, and charm. I’m sure I would have had a very unique adventure that would have made an unforgettable story if I had said yes.
But.
I didn’t know enough about where I was or what I was getting into. Sometimes you have to forego a vivid experience to err on the side of caution.
So I shook my head, got out of there, and immediately came back to the hotel where I googled and found lots of information about girly bars and prostitutes and ladyboys.
Apparently, they make a cut off the “lady drinks” that you buy them. There was no mention of spiking drinks with drugs or anything like that.
The next morning, I had my day at the lake.
There was a Thai couple in the boat next to mine. The girl was not demure. She stood and screamed down at her boyfriend/husband hunched over in the bow. My boatman understood what she was shrieking about and chuckled.
Eventually, the boyfriend/husband got riled enough to yell back, but that didn’t shut her up.
I couldn’t understand a word she said, but I was disgusted with the girlfriend/wife. She seemed truly awful.
I urged my boatman to move on from the unpleasantness and the noise.
But all I could think as we made our way through the water lilies was that most of those girls I had seen the night before would have been thrilled if they could have been in a boat on a blooming lake in the company of a man like him.
Even if he was an ass.
Peace,
Mana
Happy Elephants in Thailand
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Photo by Into the Wild Elephant Camp
Hey y’all,
So, yesterday I hung out with half a dozen elephants.
If you are ever in Chiang Mai, the most ethical company for this kind of tour is Into the Wild Elephant Camp. Due to animal activism, many of the companies have shifted away from riding elephants to caring for them.
However, many are still putting these magnificent creatures into pens and chaining them up, and not caring for them all that well. We saw them at other camps on the way to this one.
At this place, the elephants roam the property freely and they are VERY happy elephants.
Here’s the link:
https://www.intothewildelephantcamp.com/
Elephants are awesome! Intimidating, but awesome, and yesterday was magical. Even if I got injured, it was a fabulous day.
For the record, it wasn’t the elephants’ fault. It was the guide’s for guiding me to wet, jagged rocks and mine for not sticking with the direction I had chosen.
I was part of a group of 6 who signed up for the all-day experience. A solo dude traveler from Scotland, a couple from Ireland, a brother and sister from Germany, and me.
As soon as we arrived, we changed into red poncho-type tops, so the elephants would recognize us as their herd.
I think sugar cane helped sweeten them up towards us because that’s the first thing we did. We each got a bag of sugar cane the same color as our poncho, and the elephants were all about us then.
6 elephants for 6 of us. 2 large, fully grown elephants and 4 young and growing elephants.
Sometime next year, it will be 7 elephants because one of them is pregnant. She’s 1 year into it, and we could feel her baby bump on both sides.
Did you know elephants are pregnant for 2 YEARS??!!!! Our guide told us the baby elephant will be about 2 meters when it’s born. Poor elephant mama!
The elephants ignored the 1 elephant/person rule and swarmed to whomever had sugar cane in hand. Since I took my time feeding my elephant, I still had sugar cane when everybody else was out. At one point, I was swarmed with 3 elephant trunks around me.
They could smell the sugar, I tell you.
I guess elephants, like humans, have a thing for sweetness.
Anyway, our tour entailed feeding the elephants, hiking with the elephants, hanging out with the elephants while they fed on anything green, coming back for lunch, feeding the pregnant elephant our lunch leftovers (she was the only one who hung around where we were eating), smashing and mashing the “elephant medicine” – came from the source, various foods like rice, bananas, sugar cane cubes, and bitter root and other stuff mashed together manually to make a ball of vitamin and mineral mush – and feeding them a ball of gunk apiece.
Then we gave the elephants a mud bath and took them to the deeper pond where they rolled around in the water.
Photo by Into the Wild Elephant Camp
We splashed them and they splashed us. But they were definitely more comfortable and playful with the staff who works with and cares for them every day. They acted like giant, goofy dogs – especially the young elephants, who sprayed all of us from their trunks.
The two giants were more dignified. One of them wouldn’t get in the pool with us. The pregnant one did though. But no rolling around in the water for her.
Anyway, to experience this piece of specialness was worth slipping on a rock. That happened at the first leg of the hike. We walked single file with elephants in front of and behind us.
I had fallen behind with Scottish Joey and the elephants made it to the creek ahead of us. They splashed and sprayed themselves and got the rocks wet. Joey found another route further up the creek bed. I was taking that way, and should have stuck with it because the rocks were dry.
But like an idiot, I listened to the guide who said the rocks right next to the elephants were a better route.
It wasn’t.
Photo by yours truly!
I made it across two rocks before I slipped on the third. I fell on my right shin and flopped gracelessly into the creek.
I was right next to the elephants when it happened, and made some kind of shriek because my leg hurt like hell. The guides got me out of there quickly and the elephants made snuffling, distressed noises and came out of the creek when I did, swinging their trunks and one of the bigger ones was scratching the ground with its giant foot.
“See, the elephants are worried about you! They know something happened and it scared them too.”
I don’t know if that was actually true, or if the guide lied to keep me from freaking out.
I was more than a little intimidated. I felt compelled to bow to the elephants to tell them I was fine, even with blood streaming down my leg.
No OCD concerns about germs, health, and safety over here. One of the guides patted at my wounds with his sandy hands, and the Irish nurse cringed and thought to herself: “Oh, don’t do that. Don’t do that.”
We kept hiking.
Photo by Into the Wild Elephant Camp
Other than asking me if I was all right from time to time, the tour went on and the guide assured me I’d get my leg cleaned up during lunch.
“Do you have antibacterial cream?”
“We have alcohol.”
We hung out with the elephants that ignored us as they fed on the grasses and branches and tore down anything that was in their way.
My throbbing, torn up leg distracted me some, but no way was I going to let that get in the way.
At lunch, my leg did get cleaned up while I listened to the Europeans discussing politics.
It started with Scottish Joey asking if they thought Britain was nuts because of Brexit. Apparently, a big election is happening in Ireland as well. And it struck me how much knowledge they had over the social and political state of their respective countries.
Then it was time for elephant medicine, mud baths and the swim.
Swimming with the elephants was my favorite part, and it was also the grand finale. I forgot my bathing suit, but I still went in.
So yeah, I’m having some gorgeous experiences on this trip.
Peace,
Mana
The Exquisite Loneliness of Travel
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Photo by Kip Wheeler
Hey y’all,
I gotta say, Kip and Angela have been my travel angels.
They’re leaving in a couple of days and that means I’ll be on my own. So pretty please, send me some love in the form of writing back.
A few people wrote me letters after my last email, and that made me feel really good and connected to my friends back home. But even a short hey-things-are-great-digging-your-updates (at least I hope you do) note does the trick.
The mistake a lot of people make about travel is only talking about travel as an adventure. Of course, that’s true. Travel is as exciting and stimulating and educational and mind-expanding as it’s made out to be.
But it’s also hard.
Travel by its very nature is unsettling and throws people off-balance.
It’s vulnerable to be in a country where I don’t know where I am, where I don’t speak the language, don’t know the customs, or how to find my way around. I need help immediately on arrival. I need help getting around and getting what I need – like food and shelter.
That can be frightening, especially because I take pride in my independence and self-reliance.
And dare I say it, I like to be in control.
I don’t consider myself a “control freak” as the saying goes. Yet that’s not to say that I don’t like having a measure of it – or at least the belief that I have that measure (which nobody really does). However, there is no control when I’m far from home. There’s not even room for the illusion of control.
Traveling can also be very lonely.
Photo by Kip Wheeler
Years ago, I kept an email journal when I was on the road for a year, selling a book of original fairy tales out of my Beast all over Alaska and the West Coast.
Although my friends enjoyed the emails, my biggest regret was that my email journal was incomplete. At the time, I was writing to entertain and thus, was showing off.
But I regretted not writing home about the long stretches of gray – the loneliness when I wasn’t meeting all kinds of people, and the isolation of being in constant motion.
After a point, the only people I could really connect with were others who were also transient.
If I had included those times, I would have kept a more honest record of that experience. This was really one of the greatest and most challenging adventures of my life – and I had that experience on home ground.
Enough of that. Back to my current travels…
I knew nothing about Laos when I got here on Saturday. Kip said Luang Prabang was really chill, really cool, and that we’d enjoy it.
When I got to Chiang Mai, I didn’t expect it to be such a crowded city. I expected it to be more like Luang Prabang.
Maybe it was the happy shake we drank on our first full day here, but I fell in love with Luang Prabang on arrival.
This town has a charm and ease, a beauty and grace that’s irresistible and very romantic. The French influence is very obvious in the architecture here, especially our first guesthouse.
But what really wins me over is the intense presence of spirituality. Luang Prabang is where the boys come if they want to be Buddhist monks.
Whether they stay in that life or not, it is a way for them to get a better education, and many of the novices come as children.
I saw this in Thailand and India as well, but spirituality is such an intrinsic part of daily life, I see it EVERYWHERE. The devotion and reverence to their system of faith – whether Buddhist or Hindu - is truly awe-inspiring and commands respect.
Maybe because nobody is trying to shove their beliefs down my throat?
There are temples and statues on every block it seems, definitely on every street. I think every home and every business has a small shrine on the premises, and many “spirit houses,” a place for the departed to live and hang out.
Our first night, we heard a small group of monks chanting in one of the temples as we went past.
“Let’s hang out a minute,” Kip suggested. “This is the real thing.”
Photo by Kip Wheeler
Angela and I went in and sat for a few minutes. Kip couldn’t join us because he was in shorts.
Remember the “Please dress politely” signs I saw in Thailand? They are even more strict about that here, and want shoulders and knees covered if you enter the temple gates.
Luang Prabang is an early town. Last call in the bars – there is a pretty lively nightlife scene here – is 11:30, and everybody is in bed by midnight because most people want to get up in wee hours of the morning to care for the monks.
Every morning before sunrise, the drums start beating around 5:30am, and not long after that, lines of monks dressed in their orange robes and baskets come through the streets of Luang Prabang to collect alms before going to the temples for their morning practice of meditation and chanting.
The locals sitting in rows with their baskets of rice, and possibly other food, are every bit as much of a sight to see as the orange-robed monks and novices streaming past in their bare feet and their baskets to collect their alms.
It was a few mornings before I got up early enough to see them. It was well worth the effort.
The first morning, I followed them along my street and around the corner to the main street, and watched the variety of locals and some tourists serving the monks.
One group of ladies brought the offering to their foreheads before putting it in their baskets.
The further along the main street we went, the more obnoxious the tourism became. When the monks disappeared down the street lined with tour vans, I turned back.
But this morning, I woke early and perched at my guesthouse.
That was so much easier, much more relaxed than chasing down the same group.
Photo by Kip Wheeler
At least half a dozen groups of monks streamed right by, and I took pictures as they stopped at the group of 4 women lined up to the end of my block. One of the bigger temples is kitty corner to this guest house, which costs less than $15/night.
Of course, Kip found this place.
By 6:15am, it’s done. The monks had all gathered before sunup to start their chanting and meditation practice; the Laos people gathered their baskets and headed home; and I was left with the morning to start this email to y’all.
I must say, I’m loving this budding morning ritual.
Yesterday, at one of the temples, I came across a photographic exhibition of Buddhist meditation. There were even some photos of nuns and laywomen – which were really rare.
Although other forms of meditation are practiced here, Vipassana meditation is huge in Luang Prabang. And that was the primary focus of the photographs.
That gave me pause. Several friends have done 10-day Vipassana retreats in North America. I have yet to gather my courage and willpower to do it, but I’m sure it would help with my out-of-control monkey mind.
Pretty cool, huh?
Such a big world and a small village at the same time!
There is so much more to tell, but I think that’s enough for now.
I’ll have plenty of time to write more after Kip and Angela leave on Friday, which is my tomorrow. Anyway, I’m staying a few more days to do the things I’d like to do that didn’t meet with consensus.
I really fell in love with this place, and I can’t stand humidity.
Peace,
Mana
The Reprieve of Pai, Thailand
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Photographer? C’est moi!
Hey y'all,
For the sake of keeping things somewhat current (and to prevent y'all from the impression that I'm doing nothing but weird, twisted, sex cult stuff - don't worry, I'll get back to that), I just spent 4 days in Pai with Kip, and I’m going to Laos with Kip and Angela today.
That Mekong river trip Kip mentioned became a 1 hour flight to have more time in a city with an ancient history, a strong influence from the French colony days when Laos was part of Indochine, and apparently a lot of Buddhist monks and temples. Should be pretty cool.
Anyway, Pai was gorgeous and very sweet, and the only thing that went wrong was that I was horribly sick on my last day and couldn't go on a tour to see the hot springs, pai canyon, maybe get an explanation of the bizarre mural I saw in the temple near the white Buddha, etc.
This is the 2nd time I've been sick since I got here. I got sick at the Tao and Tantra shitshow, but that paled in comparison to everything else that was going on there.
This last is possibly from something I ate, but it occurred to me that the viruses and yuck percolating in Thailand are completely different from the crud in the States and I have NO IMMUNITY.
Awesome!
I guess I'm building some up.
Anyway, I'll spare the ugly details except to say it started at 2 in the morning on Thursday, and my entire body was on fire all day.
I hurt everywhere and I was so bummed out, because I was scared I wouldn't be able go back to Chiang Mai yesterday and would miss the plane today. (Today in Thailand is Saturday, btw. It's so bizarre to think that today here is yesterday for y'all.)
I guess not eating anything and drinking water all day and sleeping for 2 days straight did the trick.
Except for a caffeine deprivation headache, I woke up feeling all right yesterday and was able to come back.
Pai is definitely a backpacker's destination.
It's kind of trippy in that it reminded me of Portland and Bourbon Street in New Orleans in a hippie, international backpacker kind of way.
There's tons of vegan cafes (Sabby, this place is your dream!) and bars that are completely set up to appeal to Western travelers.
But at the same time, it's also very Thai. I'm not understanding the fascination with Superman and Captain America that I saw on the road stop to Pai and then in Pai.
I asked Kip about it, and he didn't have much to say except that people like the superheroes there.
Photo also by me.
There's this odd, kitschy, childlike wonder about Pai.
For example, I took some obscure stairs from the road up to the temple site, and there were Buddha statues and whatnot, but also these joyful kid statues saying welcome.
It seemed out of place, but I guess it's a thing here. Cause I've seen them more than once.
I didn't know this, but apparently, modest dress is required at the Buddhist sites.
There are signs asking us to "Please dress politely" before entering.
I inadvertently broke that rule going into the temple where I saw the weird mural.
I hope I don't go to one of the Buddhist hells for that - but it was an innocent mistake.
Photo by me. Gruesome, huh?
Before I went up the stairs to the white Buddha, a couple of Thai women started shouting at me from their booth, where I had to rent a skirt.
I was wearing denim shorts, which is a no-no.
They were very sweet as they wrapped that skirt around me and it didn't even cost a dollar.
I said this on Facebook, but I really wish I had a knowledgeable tour guide with me.
At the reclining Buddha, many of the murals reminded me of the Hindu pantheon of gods and goddesses, and since they didn't look like hellish scenes, I wondered what the connection was.
Maybe I'll find out eventually.
Apparently, around here, the style of Buddhism is Theraveda, and sometimes even Tantric Theraveda Buddhism.
These differ from Mahayana Buddhism and Vajrayana Buddhism - which is another form of Tantric Buddhism, which I did not know existed until this trip.
What that lets me realize is that there is so much I don't know about the history of Buddhism, and that our Westernized, watered-down version of it probably doesn't even come close to the truth.
Travel is another form of education.
Tantra is following me everywhere, it seems. Not that I'm complaining.
Anyway, wasn't that a stroke of luck that Kip reached out via Facebook as I was enroute to Thailand?
If that's not a sign that somebody upstairs was looking out for me, I don't know what is.
His presence made it very easy to leave a situation - that although there were some gifts there - was really fucked up and triggering the hell out of me.
Kip's an interesting cat.
Running into him again brought back a lot of memories of that time in my life in SE Alaska, and truth is, I only met him once when he came through Juneau on his way to Skagway.
He's been good medicine, even if the reasons why are surprising.
Kip is a great guy and he's loved and admired by all his friends for the gifts he brings. He is not, however, somebody you can go deep with. He is not somebody you go to with your troubles or when you have things on your mind. His housemate, Angela, confirmed that.
"The thing with Kip is you can't talk to him about anything negative. That's just who he is. But he'll keep you in the present moment."
Angela's description of him as on point.
He does keep one in the present, and he is a wealth of knowledge, especially when it comes to traveling on a shoestring budget. In that, the man is a machine.
For example, he found a flight from Tel Aviv to Paphos, Greece (birthplace of Aphrodite) for $15. That is FIFTEEN dollars!
This is while planning his route back to Alaska, taking a few days in the birthplace of Aphrodite before doing an overland train trip across Europe to Paris, where "there are some great deals there," - all of this hypothetical as he's considering his options.
If I wonder about a tree or shrub, or the bright orange, climbing, flowering plant, he will research until he finds it, and then send me the link. (It was the orange trumpet vine.)
He found our fabulous mud huts, and figured out the back road, scenic walk past the long neck Karens into the bustle of touristic Pai rather than the busy road that was kind of nervewracking, and the possibility was constant that I need worry about being hit by a car or a motorbike.
When I was sick, he brought me sugary ginger tea and a packet of electrolytes. I'm pretty sure that's why I was able to kick it after another night.
There's a lot to be said about receiving the natural gifts somebody brings to the table and being thankful for that.
Kip has definitely been my travel angel since I got here. I would have been in a much worse state if I didn't have friends to go to when I left that workshop early.
Kip and company also made for a very POSITIVE start to this journey, because my trip began with them.
If I hadn't dragged my jetlagged butt into town right after getting here, it would have begun with Quixotic Sierra and that mess.
"Well, I guess it depends on how you want to spend your chi," Sierra had said when I told her I was leaving to meet Kip.
Yeah, I think that was a good use of my chi.
So here's to Kip in all his glory!
Peace,
Mana
The Lucky Traveler
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Buddhist Temple
Hey y'all,
So I'm in Thailand.
After 2 days of exhausting travel, this trip is already off to an incredible start. Except for the Tantra workshop that starts today, I came here with no plans and no itinerary, just freewheeling it as I go along.
It's one thing to do that on home ground where I speak the language with my own vehicle to get around. It's another to do that on the other side of the world when I've never been to SE Asia before.
For a change, Facebook actually served its original purpose of connecting people to each other. I know Kip from my time in Alaska, and I haven't seen him in over 10 years.
Anyway, he saw my posts about traveling to Chiang Mai - and since he is conveniently in Chiang Mai - he reached out via FB I spent my first night in Thailand wandering around the night market with Kip and 2 new Alaskan friends - Angela and Nate, who are both taking 2 week Thai massage courses.
We ate a yummy vegan (you would have loved this, Sabby!) Thai dinner on wood plates (they even had wood straws) in a hole-in-the-wall gem of a place.
What do we eat?
I may even take a cooking class there when I'm done with my Taoist and Tantra Sex, Energy, and Ecstatic Love workshop.
Anyway, Kip and Angela are going to Laos on a Mekong River trip after she's done, and I've already been invited to join them. They mentioned interest in hearing all about this workshop, especially after I read to them the course descriptions.
Of course, I'll join them because the timing is perfect and because I can, and I'm here to have spontaneous adventures.
These are the advantages of traveling solo with no itinerary.
And I'd be an idiot not to.
Kip is one of those people that you hear about before you meet him. He's a legend among his friends. He works out of Anchorage now, but was part of a gorgeously wonderful group out of Skagway when I met him.
The people who called Skagway home were unbelievably warm and friendly, not to mention incredible fun. The year round population there is maybe 300 people in the winter, but it goes way up to more than 1500 when the summer people come back. Many of the summer people travel like lunatics in the winter before coming to Skagway to work for the summer - and they come back every year and some eventually settle down there.
My first impression of that town was pretty vivid. A group of us from Juneau went to Skagway for a weekend of partying someplace that wasn't Juneau. The main drag of Skagway looks like a movie set of the mining days and the wild West or Wild Alaskan days.
But Mo's was the local bar that was too plain to draw in the tourists. This is where the locals went when they were done entertaining the tourist fantasy of the last Frontier.
So we hung out at Mo's and watched the locals as they let their hair down and came out of character to be themselves, drinking and smoking, etc.
Then "Get Together" by the Youngbloods comes on over the sound system and magic happened. The locals all stopped their conversations, started bopping their heads back and forth to the music, and with happy, smiling faces, sung the refrain:
"Come on, people now,
Smile on your brother,
Everybody get together,
And try to love one another
Right now."
And they did that with every refrain. It was surreal.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRbTvoxRNxM
Alaskans are amazing people, and some of the strongest souls I've ever known I know from my time there. However, they are not warm and fuzzy. Skagway is the outlier.
I don't know if Kip was at Mo’s that night, but he and his posse would have fit right in with bopping heads, smiling faces, and singing voices.
I didn't meet him until a few years later when one of his friends, Paul, was in my Tlingit Culture and History class and became one of my friends. His Skagway friends came to see him often in Juneau, so his friends became my friends, and that was how I got to know just how awesome Skagway folks were - and I'm sure still are.
Paul and friends had done some pretty impressive travels, but they all claimed to revere Kip as The Man when it came to high adventure. And they were only half joking.
He was not what I expected when I met him. I was expecting somebody more studly and less odd, but Kip was as awesome and joyful and free and larger-than-life as his friends described him.
He still is.
If you can imagine a Generation X Dean Moriarty of On the Road - much healthier, less drug-addled, but with the same high energy who has been everywhere, that gives a pretty accurate image of Kip. He really is a restless soul with a gypsy heart, who never met a stranger and is in constant motion.
This man has been EVERYWHERE
