The Secret Life of Cups

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The cup patiently holds empty space while longing to be filled. The cup sits, restful and attractive. Yet deeply yearns to be held in strong hands and embraced by eager lips of the thirsty.

The filler of the cup is decisive in knowing what to drink. Sometimes the drink is not available and the filler must journey through treacherous terrain to obtain the soul satisfying elixir. The filler boldly stands up to any obstacle to obtain the most suitable drink to fill the cup. The drink unifies the filler and the cup.

When approaching the cup, the filler shows respect knowing that it is a great honor to be in the presence of such a miraculous creation as a cup. The filler pauses for a moment to appreciate the cup’s power and beauty.

The filler makes penetrating eye contact and connects energetically with the cup. Lovingly embracing every curve and edge with simultaneous gratitude and desire. The cup is receptive with an alluring pressure that draws the filler forth.

With firm yet gentle hands, the filler holds and slowly fills the cup with the unifying elixir. The cup receives the drink with a softening grace. The filler presses the cup to lips, and slowly sips, remembering that this could be the last drink. The filler pays attention to every detail as the drink moves into its new space. From source, to cup, to filler, the elixir permeates all.

The filler knows to let the cosmic mixing of energy occur to completion, so continues to hold the cup even when the drinking is done. The cup’s space vortex is spinning magical webs of bliss that nestle into both filler and cup. Both are deeply nourished and loved.

The End.


How are you the cup?

How are you the drink?

How are you the filler?

How are you all simultaneously?

Fear of Intimacy: Message From a Man

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Why do you protect yourself from intimacy?
“As the representative for the delegation of men on earth, I would first like to start off by saying “We’re sorry.”
Secondly, given the enviable task of addressing how we would protect ourselves if given the chance to grow an intimate relationship with you, many thoughts came to mind.
With endless permutation of factors that could arise, rather I focused on three lenses of defense: The view of the man in pursuit, an overall societal view, and your divinity through said man’s eye.
For men there is a consistent call towards a fear of intimacy in relationships. Be it letting ones guard down, opening to vulnerability, or struggling to become physically and emotionally adjacent. As humans, we have torrid pasts that may consist of trauma in relationships from family or intimate partners. Growing up with absentee parents, losing a loved one at an early age, or being the victim of an abusive household. Subconsciously we can be drawn to relationships where spouses will allow or mirror this pattern of abuse.
When you get “iced out” after a moment of intimacy, it is simply the easier option built through avoidance mentality. It is a defense mechanism built in to eschew doing the real work required to be intimate with you. Through fear of rejection, unhealthy self reliance to meet all of your own needs is created. Life as a zero sum game. If you open your heart fully, it is too risky for what you would lose.
Addiction to new relationships is also a possibility as there might be someone or something just a little more perfect. For most men sex and intimacy are not mutually exclusive. Sex can be performed without looking in the mirror at our own frustration, regret, sadness, depression, anger, and remorse. Intimacy can not.
The narrative that has the most subliminal impact on men is that of our societal culture. Patriarchy is baked into the bread of our social order, which immediately puts your presence as a threat to our norms. Success and ultimately happiness are measuring sticks that in our civilization are proportional to institutionalized standards. First you get the power, then you get the money, then you get the women. Trophy wife, nice house, fast cars.
What us men fail to realize, however, is that these measuring sticks of happiness are built in a society that gave us a predesigned lifestyle. In a vapid culture of unnecessary possessions and broken sexual expression, the fallout is devastating. Massive increases in diagnosis of depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, schizophrenia, and anxiety all fall under the umbrella of social phobias and disorders that cripple intimacy. Fear of failure in interpersonal relationships and meeting the high need structure of emotional inexperience fuels low motivation and self worth.
And how do we cope with these mechanisms? Developing addictions: drugs, sex, lying and cheating. Measuring up to standards set by a society that emasculates self introspection slogs us toward this predesigned lifestyle.
Finally the last lens in which we build protection around surrendering to intimacy, the male view of you Anjani.
Your robust desire for vitality, embracing the fullness of the life you live, and the palpable aura that projects.
Mistakenly taking your fervor for growth and knowledge, as pressure that you want to change him.
You are an ambitious, entrepreneurial, intelligent, strong minded beautiful woman who shatters the mold of the traditional male breadwinner. The strength you bring to your practice, career, and family shows a love so deep, it can be frightening. “Brain orgasm dripping dopamine all over my philosophical matters.” Igniting this phoenix of desire is fueled through intellectual stimulation, which is something that must be cultivated and nurtured with intense passion.
Coming across as an expert in the art of sexuality is intimidating for men. As a Tantrica, your comfort in your own body can cultivate doubt and body issues of ours. Building up to feelings of inadequacy or performance anxiety, your ownership of your power through self reflection is daunting.
In the nethermost moments of intimacy, the body creates natural potent drugs such as dopamine, opioids, and oxytocin that create physical and mental attachment through pheromones. I have yet to meet another woman more in touch, and in control, of her body and its power. Through the physical experience, or the emotions conjured after, the divine fragrance of your essence is a faculty most men are unequipped to handle.
The value hierarchy men seek is perfection, while women seek wholeness. The corresponding acknowledgement and reaction in our life practice shows the enduring entity of these reflections.”

– M


Diaries of a Main Chick

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We love and rage in equal and monumental proportions. No half-steppin. Except when it comes to hidden truth.

Waves of opiates hit like oceans of pleasure and tsunamis of pain. Just when I can’t take any more, you tell me you’ve changed. And you did. For a while.

I want to believe my illusion. But …

You want to love many women just a little. I want to experience the depth of intimacy beyond human concepts of time, bodies and bliss. My pot is simmering. Stewing. Cosmic soul soup been steeped in wisdom and held in the center.

You keep serving up portions of my soup to the women you take naps with along your bohemian journey as the Gypsy King. Condoms missing from the night stand after that one time … where did they go? They used themselves? Now you live alone. No roommate to blame this time.

I don’t feel attractive. My inner sense of self has been crushed and destroyed. With your every love affair, fling and “just a friend” relationships.

Truth is, this has been our secret. You say you love me. I used to wish it were true. Love doesn’t need it’s light to be obstructed like this.

You tell me you want me. I know you do. I am delicious. I tend my temple of divine goddess embodiment like no other woman I know. My skin is soft like cocoa butter rose petals. I taste like jungle vines after new rain. My temple is always fresh. Warm. Inviting. Seduction in the way I walk, enchantment in my smile, love in the way I listen, look …

I definitely don’t want to put you down. You are glorious and I see you as God.

We all have neurotic addictions and ancestral distortions on our view of reality. We are here to elevate and see it all. Not to perpetuate the “sins of our mothers and fathers.” We are NOW. NEW. PRANAV.

Serendipity leads us to where we need to bee and to see what we need to see. Not always pleasant but guaranteed to be real. The obstruction to my view falls


and I see what I am to you.

Your beautiful, radiant object.

Never the only one.

Just the main one.









How My Yoga Teacher Taught Me Love

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Like the sound made without the striking of two things, my love is pure, attuned with the source and knows no opposite. 

I have had many teachers throughout my life but one who illuminated my shadows around male/female relationships. He made me question everything I knew about how to engage with the opposite sex and taught me the meaning of divine love. Not through romance but by the example of his presence.

It was 11:30 and brunch was almost over. I sat down on the floor of the dining hall and was served the usual rice and curry. I begin to eat with my right hand and observe the people moving about. My gaze was directed to a man dressed in all yellow with his back to me. I watched as he served food out of a huge steel pot into to plates of students of the ashram. His movements were ethereal and he seemed to be floating on air. His skin had a radiant brown glow and his hair was lustrous. The moment I saw him, my heart jumped into my belly. The overwhelming butterfly sensation almost made me burst into giggles. We didn’t make eye contact and I soon left the dining hall. For the rest of the day, my mind returned to this beautiful and mysterious man.

A few days went by before I saw him again. He was teaching a yoga class to the guests of the ashram where I was taking a teacher training course. I was too shy to go near the yoga hall so kept a safe distance to avoid my awkward feelings. I soon learned that he was a  brahmacharya and was visiting the ashram to assist with teaching. I wanted to know more about him but couldn’t bring myself to approach him. One night before evening satsang, I was sitting in a temple practicing meditation. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed a man watching me through the temple window. It was him! I thought, “He must be interested in me!”

My mental programming was set to a view of western mating rituals that had zero foundation in reality. 

That evening after satsang, he came up to me and begin to speak. I almost fainted. Rather than speaking what my habituated mind was expecting to hear, he explained to me about my sitting posture he observed through the temple window. He recommended that I use the provided rice sacks to sit upon to help with comfort and energy movements in my body. As he spoke, it was as if God Himself were speaking to me.

I told a friend of mine, “I think he loves me!” She replied, “Yes. He does love you. Just not in the way you think.” 

Over the next month, I found ways to place myself in his line of movement in places he would be, which was not hard since we were living in the same ashram. I relished every opportunity to hear him speak and to see the light in his eyes. I finally decided to write about the feelings that were coming up for me. It turned out that there was nothing sexual there. My desire was only to know him. To be intimate through gazing into his eyes and receiving his wisdom. It was a turning point in what I considered to be worthwhile interaction between myself and another human being.

Over the years, I have spoke to him many times over the phone, corresponded through email and have even went back to India to assist him in a yoga teacher training course. The feeling that his presence invokes 9 years later is that of electrifying connection with my pure essence nature. He makes me want to be more of myself. To find new ways to express love and appreciation. I honor him as I honor myself which is how I honor the God/dess in all.

I thought I fell in love with my yoga teacher. It turns out, I fell in love with the One who was always at the core of my being.