Saturday, October 30

I invoked the Goddess, I mean, really...

   New Scene from the Sacred Slut Show:
     I was never much of a masterbater. The first time I stuck my fingers up there was to insert a tampon and back then I was quick and lacked curiosity. Later, my friends would tell me what I was missing. They bragged about cucumbers and brush handles and toothbrushes and this was before they vibrated. One girlfriend even offered to show me how she did it with a coke bottle. But I was happy just massaging my lips from the outside. Oh, I enjoyed the occasional hand held shower head, or the vibrating back massager, but never had an overwhelming need for penetration.
      As such, I would never have suspected that my sacred sexual awakening would have started with self pleasuring.
     The first time I invoked the Goddess, I mean, really invoked God into my body, was while masterbating in India.  I, like most young naive tantra teachers went on an obligatory pilgrimage to India in search of my lineage, my roots. I was seeking the source of sacred sex, and ended up in a sex cult.

    I was at that unique point in my spiritual journey when my guru was losing his status as guru in my eyes. He had a powerful message, but clearly the was not fully integrated.

Michael had seen it coming all along.

“He’s not a total quack, his teachings are cool, but he’s constantly contradicting himself.”

The guru didn’t care for Michael either, “I don’t know why you brought him. There is nothing I can teach him." He had an unkept grey beard, bright eyes and always wore the orange swami robes. "Every man must learn from a goddess. That’s why I channel Kali, she talks directly through me. I give you teachings and you pass them along to him.”

Then he proceeded to ignore Michael at satsang and ptuja. He would give me advanced tantric practices about rubbing my breasts or sound healing on my yoni. This involved putting his face in my root chakra and actually blowing sound through my body as if I were a flute. It was powerful, beautiful, but I admit at times I was a little concerned about the hygene of that big unkept beard. And if that wasn't bad enough, sometimes he would give a talk from the toilet in the moring. Sometimes he was verbally abusive towards men, Michael tolerated a fair amount of verbal abuse in the name of crazy wisdom. And sometimes he would flip and say some mysogynistic things to his senior disciple, who happened to be the mother of his child. And then one time she talked back to him, and in broad daylight, he slapped her across the face.

Michael turned to me and said, “We’re leaving.”

I didn’t argue. I packed up my bags, and then I went to tell Swami-Ji

I sat him down and it was hard saying goodbye, it felt like we were breaking up. He gave me a beautiful string of mala-beads and spoke sweet words about my spiritual potential, but I was already deaf to him. I told him we decided to go to Kerala and go see Amma Chi. And then he got upset, he acted like I was cheating on him.

Michael and I left in the night, and after driving for hours we found a cheap hotel to crash in. Michael fell right asleep. But I, I went into a deep meditation.

It was a full moon, and there was a window build high in the cinderblock walls with rebar.  When the moon came through she cast shadows around the room. Her rays made my naked skin glow blue. I gazed at my body, as if another woman with blue complexion had slipped under the sheets with me and Michael. Then she rose up and began a slow melancholy dance. I was being moved by her. I was being danced, I was being breathed, I was being her. My body was her offering. And the goddess was pleased. She ravished my senses and insisted on seeing herself. I found myself infront of a dingy hotel mirror, and was astonished, I couldn’t believe the luminescence beaming back at me. One thought arose in my mind:

“Am I dreaming?”

THIS IS REAL. She answered swiftly her voice filling the room like honey.

Then I relaxed, and she took over. Pressing my body against the walls, until I was held by the right angled corner of the room. Clutching at my thighs and my quivering hips, she cried out from every pore:

But when I looked over at Michael’s sleeping body, I already knew that no mortal lover could satisfy her. That’s when my own fingers plunged into my wet depths and I felt as if my pelvis had become a chalice or bowl and as she undulated, my energy sloshed like sacred fluid that up against my edges and sometimes even spilling over. These ecstatic waves continued to surge in waves for hours. And then the sunrise usurped the moon and I was spent, but reluctant to sleep.

I didn’t want her to go away.

I AM ETERNAL. She assured me, and I settled back into my bed, which never felt so soft, I floated down into the pillows and was consumed by the mattress, holding me, surrounding me, dissolving me…

Until I heard the annoying buzz of a cheap travel alarm. Taaa Taaa Taaa Taaa But I had hardly slept. I was tired and groggy.

“C’mon, get dressed, we’re going to get Darshan with Amma today.” Michael says.

I didn’t care. It could’ve been high tea with the Dali Lama, there’s no Darshan greater than letting the goddess borrow your body for an evening.

All Rights reserved by Kamala Devi. This is an exceprt of an early draft of Kamala's one goddess show. It is a work in progress tennatively titled: The Sacred Slut Project. For details go to: or   P.S. The photo is of the aftermath of her Great Rite Maithuna ritual performed at her open marriage honeymoon in Costa Rica.


Al Polito said...

What a beautiful account! Thanks for sharing it.

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