Hey y’all,
Remember the sage advice on Charles Muir’s first night?
Until the announcement was finally made, it looked like my only choice for a Tantra Buddy was Sierra.
As hard as it is to believe now, I was good with that at the time.
I wasn’t comfortable where I was and we had already connected at the Cascadia Tantra Festival.
Also, while at CTF, Sierra had expressed interest in me in a way that I appreciate. She was direct, yet offered a graceful exit.
I didn’t find Sierra physically attractive. But therein lies the power of a good approach – especially a few weeks after an ugly breakup. I was willing to consider it.
At CTF, I thought Sierra had a beautiful soul.
In Thailand, Sierra was a different animal. She wasn’t available.
She was willing to gossip, however.
She told stories about her awakening to kundalini bliss where she lived 97% of the time, as well as stories about that guy with whom she “had the best sex of her life” at the last Masters that had been bereft of queers, that “his kundalini had awakened due to fucking her,” and more about her power to heal souls.
Sierra was quite busy with zoom calls to clients in crisis in other parts of the world that had nothing to do with Queer Tantra at the Masters workshop that she had griped about until they gave her what she wanted.
This is when I heard her backstory with Charles Muir. Within that gossip, she also mentioned the rumor he had cancer.
There are plenty of Neo-Tantra teachers.
Why continue to take his courses? Why go where she had felt discriminated against, where she wasn’t allowed to learn cunt massage with the boys? Why keep come back to the “Masters” that was so heterosexist?
3 out of 4 times no less.
Her reasoning.
“I meet remarkable people every time I’m here.”
So did I. Big deal. Self-respect matters more.
It was bizarre.
Sierra was fixated. Seemed to me that she wanted validation from the same Charles Muir she supposedly couldn’t stand.
For instance…
One afternoon before his class started, we were chatting amongst the chairs near the pathway to the stage, and Charles Muir made his way around the chairs across from us to get where he needed to go.
“He just went out his way to avoid me!” Sierra muttered, all bug-eyed and offended.
“Well you said he was homophobic.”
Two minutes later, Christy Muir took the same route to the stage after taking her shoes off nearby, and Sierra consoled herself that must have been why he chose the roundabout path away from her and to the stage.
He had probably left his shoes there too.
Perhaps.
But I think it’s possible Charles Muir avoided the obligation to speak politely to her. And I don’t blame him.
That day, Charles Muir confirmed the cancer rumor himself.
He told the class he’d battled cancer in the last year or so, and expressed gratitude to Christy for the caregiving of changing bandages and clearing out gunk.
CM also shared that tests in December indicated the cancer had come back. They weren’t certain because they needed an MRI.
Yet they wanted to be here and “fully present” for us, so he postponed that appointment where he would find out what he didn’t want to know until after the Masters.
The return of cancer is never good news. And this last detail definitely matters.
I don’t know the man. But after observing him, it became REALLY obvious that Charles Muir is a man who has to be in control, a glory-of-man-master-of-the-universe type.
Anybody would be frightened in his position. But for a man like him to be powerless over his health?
That made for an intense and unexpected twist at the Masters.
Anyway, after Solla finally announced Sierra as one for the queers, Elise (not her real name) from Toronto approached her, said she was so relieved and that she now felt more comfortable there.
Sierra introduced me to Elise briefly at dinner.
The next morning, I passed her on the break during Mantak Chia’s class.
She said hi and we stopped to chat.
She asked immediately if I’d be interested in being her tantra buddy to practice these techniques. Elise also said she was surprised to learn some new tricks in the lecture that she hadn’t come across before.
One thing about the Masters, they got the ball rolling. They gave us homework from the word go.
Dakini Leah made it very clear that we wouldn’t learn Neo-Tantra from reading and paying attention in class. We had to practice.
Because Sierra was too busy healing the souls of people who were 1000s of miles away, only to claim exhaustion afterwards, I hadn’t been able to practice at all.
It was the 4th day.
So in answer to Elise’s invitation, I was open to it but I’d said I’d like to get to know her some since I’d only met her for a minute the night before.
Even though she asked me first, I asked if she was comfortable with something so intimate running out of the gate.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “I’m a sexological bodyworker and pro domme. I do this all the time.”
Ok then. Didn’t see that coming.
Elise seemed cool at first.
She was cute enough and very direct, a trait I always like. Since we agreed on the fast track to connecting, what subject do you think we launched into first?
Relationships. What else?
In the story swap back and forth, Elise told me that she hadn’t been in a relationship in 3 years because her last breakup had been “that kind of breakup.”
She also mentioned that she had dated a lot of borderlines.
“Unfortunately, borderlines tend to be really great in bed.”
There was plenty of common ground in our shared experiences of nutty relationships and bad breakups.
Elise was also very open about what she did for work.
She had a lilting, singsong cadence to her speech patterns as she talked about SexBod work (which was much the same as the Shamanic Sexual Healer), and pro domming.
“Being a pro domme is really fun. I like getting creative about meeting somebody’s fantasy. Naturally, I’m a submissive in bed, so I’m fascinated to explore the opposite end of the spectrum.”
“Sometimes people orgasm when I work on them (as a sexbod worker), so I guess what I do is kind of like sex work. It’s illegal in Canada, but there are ways people work around it.”
“I work with men, but I tend to be the lesbian domme. Somehow they manage to find me.”
One thing became clear quickly.
Elise was not my type.
Never mind her sexbod worker/pro domme career. She was way too femme, and when she mentioned being submissive, I cringed.
I’ve never been a fan of the dominant/submissive dichotomy.
I think it’s rigid and limiting, and makes one out to be “strong” and the other “weak.”
Also…the first thing that comes to my mind when I hear “Submissive” is the fear response of cowering.
But the image that comes immediately after is the manipulator, a passive aggressive who deliberately uses vague, indirect language.
I know this is a toxic version, and that healthy submissives don’t act like that.
But even under the best conditions, submissive simply doesn’t do it for me. Dominance does. Healthy dominance.
I love female masculinity.
This may surprise some because my ex-partner was anything but that. She sure as hell wasn’t healthy, and whenever she turned on her “submissive” side, I wanted to toss my lunch.
When I’m in an abusive situation, I often fall into the fawn response, which often comes across as submissive. Even if this is triggered by the instinct to “survive,” I hate myself for it every time.
But to me there’s a core difference between submission and surrender. I think the latter can happen between 2 strong people.
I love melting into surrender.
That is the most delicious feeling ever, to let go of control with somebody who has the confidence and ability to take control. But I have to know I’m safe to go there.
Needless to say, it’s been far too long since I’ve been able to enjoy that.
For the record, I’m a switch. I also revel in the different kind of yummy of holding that space for a strong woman who knows how to surrender. I haven’t been able to enjoy that either.
So not only was Elise not my type, my ex hadn’t been either.
I never wanted a grotesque caricature of rigid male/female role-playing between women, and I hated the role pushed on me in my last relationship.
But within the “Masters” workshop, no commitment is necessary and we take what we can get.
Was I Elise’s type?
I strongly doubt it. If she gravitated to BPD’s, I was probably too nice.
I suspect I was also too willing to be vulnerable. It was something she mentioned more than once the first night we worked together.
Although we were behind in our assignments because we hadn’t connected until the 4th day, Elise and I also hadn’t much time to get to know each other.
So we decided to start with a group event facilitated by Leah and another Source Tantra person - a warm-up of giving and receiving. The giver offers touch to the receiver as much and as far as the receiver wants. Clothes stay on, and permission is asked at every step.
Sierra was there, but not as a participant. She sat against the wall and watched.
To start, everybody set intentions for the Workshop in general and that evening in particular.
I don’t remember exactly what I said. But it was along the lines of getting my ex and her energy OUT of my body, increased pleasure in sex, etc. Elise said her intentions were to open up and let down her walls; and after 3 years of no relationship, she wanted more sex.
Amen to that, sister.
Elise claimed the role of giver, so I laid back and received.
She was considerate, gentle, asked permission often, maintained soft eye contact, and her ease made it easy for me to relax. It wasn’t surrender, but it came close.
When the time came to switch roles, Elise said she’d rather keep giving. That was fine by me. Touch is my primary love language – and except for massage, I hadn’t been touched in months.
“Do you realize how vulnerable this is?” Elise asked.
I nodded.
“I can appreciate how you’re able to open up like that.”
That night was sweet. It really was.
When time was called, we put our mat away and walked back together.
“I appreciate how vulnerable you were, Mana. Thank you for trusting me so much.”
Finally, it looked like the Masters of Taoist and Tantric Love was on track.
But of course, something happened the next day that fucked everything to hell. That is for TSS, Part 6. It doesn’t fit here.
The next night, Elise and I partnered up for the group event led by gay dakini Lisa.
We ignored her intimate meditation to trade off touch and consent from the night before. My turn to give and her turn to receive.
That’s when I found out how much of a problem Elise had with vulnerability. She visibly tensed when she should have relaxed.
“I hate receiving.”
“Why?”
“I can’t stand the lack of control.”
“You need to get over that. Receiving feels good.”
“I know.”
I started out resting my hands on various parts of her body before using various strokes. For a while, things were okay. Elise relaxed until she just didn’t.
“This wave of grief keeps rising up,” she said. “My first instinct is to push it down, even though I probably need to let it out.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m probably going to shake. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.”
Elise didn’t exaggerate.
At first, her shaking was self-induced. She had done a lot of work with TRE (trauma release exercise) and put her body in positions that would bring it.
Then Elise’s shaking took on a life of its own. Her entire body quaked. I kept my hands still and sent Elise Reiki for support.
But she was intense.
Other pairs noticed what was going on, and dakini Lisa came over to see if we needed help. She nodded when I indicated I had this, and went back to the stage.
Elise’s shaking went on and on, even into the closing exercise for the night. I started to get nervous, and probably got sucked in a little.
Because Sierra was compelled to lumber over and save the day.
Sierra told me I was starting to “spiral” as she put her hand on Elise’s chest and pressed down. It did work. Elise settled down and her shaking stopped.
That’s all for now, folks.
Thanks so much to everybody who is actually sticking it out through this saga of really long letters. It’s a mighty compliment now that we’re all afflicted with the attention spans of cockroaches.
I’m so grateful to those friends who continue to reach out with letters, notes, texts, articles, and helpful travel apps.
Y’all make-a me smile! Much love.
Peace,
Mana
