35053668-Empire-of-the-Soul-Paul-William-Roberts

‘WE SHOULD SHARE OUR SEX ENERGIES’
themselves also exploring the mysteries of the tamasguna, stretched
out on a stained mattress, Pink Floyd at warp 10, the sole
‘unavoidable or compulsory’ activity being to roll another joint.
Swami Hariprasad squeezed down next to me. He looked like
someone who’d jumped straight out of bed and gone for a five-mile
run before breakfast. Everything was crumpled, sweaty, out of place,
including his meagre allotment of hair. I wondered if he might be
unhappy about my drawing out his Ma Tantra’s shakti for half the
night. Perhaps he needed that shakti for himself.
‘Have a good night?’ he asked, clearly telepathic. I nodded, hoping
this nod seemed noncommittal.
‘She’s a helluva lay, no?’ I agreed, hesitantly.
‘The women here are unbelievable, man.’ He sighed, barely able
to believe the unbelievable himself. ‘See that chick there?’ He
pointed out someone who might have been Morticia Addams’ little
sister.
‘Yeah?’
‘Go for her, man. She does this yoga thing with her legs you
won’t believe. She’s got muscles in her snatch like fuckin’ hands,
too – they virtually jerk you off in there.’
I wasn’t sure whether this would be something I’d like. ‘Hands,
hmmm?’
‘A fuckin’ noose, man, I swear. Just tell her you feel her vibes are
right to help loosen up your kundalini – she’ll go for it, I promise
you, man.’
‘You don’t take all this seriously, do you?’
He turned and examined my eyes for – what? He decided to look
puzzled. I made it simpler: Wasn’t he just here for the women, the
sex?
‘Oh, man!’ He groaned theatrically. ‘You’re still locked in that guilt
thing, aren’t you? You don’t understand who Bhagwan is, what he’s
bringing to the world. Sex is pleasure is love is giving is sharing is . . .’
He ran out of analogies. ‘There’s nothing wrong with joy, man. It’s
our birthright, Bhagwan says. The union of man and woman is a
symbol of the joining of heaven and earth.’
‘Yin and yang?’ I suggested.
‘Exactly!’
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