Friday, April 24, 2015



This morning, I decided I would spend a little time meditating.

I like meditation. It allows me some space to just tune out the world, and of course, it's very relaxing.

One time, I decided to meditate in the bath and fell asleep somewhere between Om and Nirvana. I woke up when the water reached about 40° Fahrenheit and came crashing back into reality. Every inch of my skin looked like lasagna noodles.

They say meditation is good for you. It's supposed to relieve stress and all the everyday tensions of all the everyday world. Of course, if you have a screaming 3-year-old in the kitchen, well, it's hard to get into that state of calm that meditation requires. Reality always seems to have our phone number.

Then, there is sex and mediation. Tantric sex. I'm no expert on tantric sex, but the point of it seems to be to enjoy one another fully without necessarily having an orgasm. It's sort of like having a turkey dinner, and the drumsticks just never stop coming, no matter how much you might want to get to the pumpkin pie and gob some whipped cream on top of it.

Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but really, I'm not a tantric kind of guy. I believe it comes from my writing background. Everything seems to need to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. I don't like a story to linger too long, and I don't like my sex to take two days before I zoom into the stratosphere.

Don't get me wrong. I don't see sex as a kind of drive-thru experience, but really, love is forever, hopefully a long journey, sort of like a never-ending cruise around the world. Sex is more like a bus ride downtown.



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