Story courtesy of City's Best.
By Single Girl in L.A.
I recently took a Tantric meditation workshop. That's right, as in, like, sex.
It was, however, about a lot more than just sex. It was about power. It was about energy. It was about strengthening the nervous system through various breathing exercises so that the body (my body) could hold a greater "charge." The kind of charge you feel when an especially cute stranger walks by. There was some chanting involved. We may have sung a little. I vaguely remember a saxophone player and talk of rising kundalinis. It would have been sensory overload, if I hadn't been simultaneously learning how to train my senses to withstand greater levels of excited energy, without, you know, releasing it willy-nilly.
Also, it was a fantastic way to meet men.
For a month, the workshop met twice a week in a cozy, candlelit Venice bungalow tucked just behind Intelligentsia. As the instructor requested that all participants take a month-long vow of celibacy, the class was full of single and mostly single individuals looking to cultivate their Tantric power. All I knew beforehand was that the workshop included a component during which everyone would pair off to hold each other. Although I was intrigued by the entire Tantric concept, I was also, (like Bruce Springsteen before me), "just looking for some human touch."
(So, it had been awhile, and I figured why not take a Tantric meditation workshop, you know, really take advantage of my single status, and learn something (important?) -- rather than let single-life frustration get the better of me.)
The "holding each other" part of the class is referred to as "sitting yab-yum." Yab-yum is Tibetan for "father mother" and can be done in one of three ways: (a.) sitting cross-legged across from a partner with knees touching, (b.) sitting with the woman's legs wrapped around the man's torso, or (c.) with the woman sitting on the man's lap, legs wrapped around each other.
I told my mother I was taking a pottery course.
Yab-yum is clearly an intimate situation. However, it felt easy, even natural, to jump onto the laps of a variety of unfamiliar men (and one woman).
These were my best-of moments in Tantric meditation:
Most Tender: a long-haired man in his mid-fifties gave me a bow after we'd yab-yummed, and he thanked me for my "beautiful, open heart."
Hottest: a salt-and-pepper-coiffed musician re-calibrated my understanding of the functionality of pheromones.
Most Surprising: with a strawberry-blonde female yoga instructor ... (heterosexual women don't often hold each other like that, at least not where I come from).
Most Awkward: at the end of the month, when the sexual energy was rising, the natives were getting restless and, well, the groping got a bit out of control.
Most Complimentary: a strapping older man whispered an invitation to run away to the desert with him for the weekend. I declined, gently ... while still sitting on his lap.
Sweetest: the cutest guy in the class -- tall, dreamy beyond belief -- kissed my forehead after we sat holding each other and intermittently gazing in each other's eyes for 20 minutes.
Note: Girls love kisses on the forehead.
I didn't have a particular goal with this workshop, but what I ended up with is both a new sense of power and a date tomorrow night at Chez Jay with the Forehead Kisser.
Quick Guide to Single Girl in L.A.'s Goings-On:
Intelligentsia, 1331 Abbot Kinney Blvd., Venice; 310-399-1233
Chez Jay, 1657 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica; 310-395-1741
More Single Girl in L.A.: I'm Just Getting to Know You
Meet me, Single Girl in L.A., back here every week as I discuss real-life Mencounters and other single-life musings. For tips, thoughts or simply good e-mail banter, e-mail me at email@example.com