Day Ten of the Chronicle:

We’re almost caught up…

 I’m not that great with meditation. S. had given me some basic ones to work with. Gathering the chi in one place, imagining it as a ball of energy, and then moving it around the body. Following that, try sending it skyward and then sending it down into the earth. And he offers some very useful advice: fake it until you make it.

I did a lot of faking it. Until one night, sitting up in bed and sending the energy downward (to the core of the Earth – why think in half-measures?), I am bodily pulled down, deeper into the mattress. Whoah. I had inadvertently related the mental exercise to my breath – on the exhale, down goes the energy. And if worked.

On the upward exercise, up into space, I may still be faking it even now, seven months later. I imagine pushing through the veil of star-scape into an unlit plane of absolute darkness. On occasion there’s a slight ‘lift’ but it’s brief and ephemeral. And even there, in that blackness, there’s nothing to see. Should I be thinking light not darkness? Most Near-Death-Experiences describe the tunnel and light at its far end. I’m in no hurry to go there. Instead, I envisage an unpopulated, unlit blank slate, and invite someone to show up. Anyone. Hell, anything. But … nada.

One other thing: turns out I can only do the exercises for a short time. Three brief forays upward and three downward. It seems to take a lot out of me (if you’ll excuse the expression). Moving the chi around in the body is much easier, and confirmation of my efficacy comes from an unexpected source.

During one of my acupuncture sessions with L., with me on my back and eyes closed, and with needles emplaced up the length of my torso, L. asks me to move my chi from the base of my spine to my head. I concentrate on doing so. When I believe I’ve reached my head with the energy and before I can speak I’m surprised by L.’s saying, ‘Nice. Good work.’

Hang on, how did you know?

‘The needles tilted in succession up your torso. I could track the chi as it moved.’

Wish I’d seen that.

I feel I’m getting a handle on this chi stuff. At around this time, L. tells me that M. will come out of retirement to teach me Chi Gon and Tai Chi, with one-to-one instruction once a week at the clinic. I readily accept the offer. The more I can learn about this stuff the better.

In the meantime, my wife has decided to cut her sojourn short and return home. I’m very happy about that but also somewhat nervous. What will the Kundalini do at night with my wife in bed beside me? Can K. get jealous if I split my attention, find sexual satisfaction in making love to my wife? Will my wife get jealous of K.? Will all these rampant energies affect her and if so, in what way?   Plenty of reasons for trepidation.

There’s another side. My wife has been doing yoga for decades. I’ve done nothing in that direction, nothing at all. So there might be some very understandable resentment there. She has been the seeker, not me. When I talk to M. about the various classes being taught around town, the Tai Chi ones, the yoga ones, he tells me that I might be walking into a lot more resentment, among instructors who’ve dreamed of Awakening for years, worked for it, longed for it, and have yet to find it. He tells me that most of the Tai Chi teachers in this city haven’t accessed the levels of chi that I have. To me, it all seems strangely backward. You’d think the high levels of chi and Awakening and so on would represent the reward for decades of spiritual and meditative investment. That only seems right to me. Instead, here I am with all these energies and shit and I’m having to take a crash course on Chi Gon, and M. wants me to get at least a series of exercises down before we start talking actual Tai Chi. I’m coming at this from the wrong end, and it wasn’t something I asked for at all.

Potential resentment? Yeah, I get it. It’s justified. Like never buying a lottery ticket, finding one lying on the street, and winning fifty million dollars. It’s just not right, is it?