single abandon had left me with a longing for home and a sense of belonging. I needed the emotional support of my family.
I called my mother. âIâm coming home.â
CHAPTER 2
Leaving My Old Life
I DRAPED SILKEN SARIS over my curtain rods. My wedding dupatta went over the sofa. I pushed my mattresses into my walk-in closet, clearing the bedroom floor for my Tantra going-away party.
I bought dozens of Catholic religious candles from the grocery store emblazoned with the images of Jesus and the Holy Mother. I scored a keg and poured Jell-O mixed with vodka into Dixie paper cups for Jell-O shots. A man on the Internet claiming to teach Tantra came by the office so we could meet beforehand. He didnât seem to know very much, to tell the truth. I asked him to teach PG-rated Tantra since the guests were mostly friends from work. Little did I realize theyâd appreciate an R-rated lesson.
The party was a wild mix of jokes with Larry Ingrassia, the Journalâ s handsome third-section editor, and his beautiful wife, Vicki, cuddling during the Tantra workshop. I wrote the invitation with a Tantric pun: The last to come would get a special door prize.
On a cold winter day after Christmas, my father arrived in our blue Chrysler minivan to help me escape New York single life.
Samsara is the Buddhist concept of worldly attachments. Although I left many of these behind when my father and I packed our rented U-Haul truck, somehow the truck was still packed with boxes filled with the symbolic representations of samsara.
This was the beginning of my lesson in nonattachment, a word I didnât even know yet. To me, Buddhism taught detachment. My father told me Buddha was detached when, as Prince Siddhartha, he left his wife and newborn son in his kingdom so he could wander and find the answer to relieving suffering.
âItâs not detachment,â a dear friend of mine, a student of Buddhism, told me gently but firmly. âItâs nonattachment.â I thought she was just being a highbrowed stickler for words, but my departure from New Yorkwas my first step in understanding this principle by which I could exist engaged with the world but not obsessed, possessed, or consumed, a tall order for a woman in a culture where every other friend, including herself seemed, to be battling OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Tantra says that the base chakra, called the root chakra, is located at the bottom of the spine. Its Sanskrit name is the muladhara chakra. Itâs supposed to be the force that empowers us by grounding us to the energies of the earth. Its color is supposed to be red. The organs associated with the muladhara chakra are the bodyâs physical support, the base of the spine, the legs, bones, the feet, the rectum, and the immune system. The mental and emotional issues associated with the muladhara chakra are safety and security, kinesthetic feelings, movement, and the ability to provide for lifeâs necessities. Not paying my Time-Warner cable bill on time meant, I figured, Iâd failed on this account.
The other emotional issues include the ability to stand up for yourself, feeling at home, feeling a sense of belonging, emotional support, survival, self-esteem, social order, familial conditioning and beliefs, superstitions, loyalty, instincts, and physical pleasure and pain. I struggled with most of these emotional issues and knew that it was in Morgantown, my hometown, where I could start to bolster my muladhara chakra. The physical dysfunctions associated with this chakra are chronic lower back pain, sciatica, varicose veins, rectal tumors and cancers, immune disorders, and depression. Depression. That one I knew well.
As I saw the last bit of the Manhattan skyline in the rearview mirror, I thought back to the world from which my family and I had catapulted into this reality.
It was 1962, and my mother and father stood on a railway platform in Hyderabad waiting for the train that
I called my mother. âIâm coming home.â
CHAPTER 2
Leaving My Old Life
I DRAPED SILKEN SARIS over my curtain rods. My wedding dupatta went over the sofa. I pushed my mattresses into my walk-in closet, clearing the bedroom floor for my Tantra going-away party.
I bought dozens of Catholic religious candles from the grocery store emblazoned with the images of Jesus and the Holy Mother. I scored a keg and poured Jell-O mixed with vodka into Dixie paper cups for Jell-O shots. A man on the Internet claiming to teach Tantra came by the office so we could meet beforehand. He didnât seem to know very much, to tell the truth. I asked him to teach PG-rated Tantra since the guests were mostly friends from work. Little did I realize theyâd appreciate an R-rated lesson.
The party was a wild mix of jokes with Larry Ingrassia, the Journalâ s handsome third-section editor, and his beautiful wife, Vicki, cuddling during the Tantra workshop. I wrote the invitation with a Tantric pun: The last to come would get a special door prize.
On a cold winter day after Christmas, my father arrived in our blue Chrysler minivan to help me escape New York single life.
Samsara is the Buddhist concept of worldly attachments. Although I left many of these behind when my father and I packed our rented U-Haul truck, somehow the truck was still packed with boxes filled with the symbolic representations of samsara.
This was the beginning of my lesson in nonattachment, a word I didnât even know yet. To me, Buddhism taught detachment. My father told me Buddha was detached when, as Prince Siddhartha, he left his wife and newborn son in his kingdom so he could wander and find the answer to relieving suffering.
âItâs not detachment,â a dear friend of mine, a student of Buddhism, told me gently but firmly. âItâs nonattachment.â I thought she was just being a highbrowed stickler for words, but my departure from New Yorkwas my first step in understanding this principle by which I could exist engaged with the world but not obsessed, possessed, or consumed, a tall order for a woman in a culture where every other friend, including herself seemed, to be battling OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder.
Tantra says that the base chakra, called the root chakra, is located at the bottom of the spine. Its Sanskrit name is the muladhara chakra. Itâs supposed to be the force that empowers us by grounding us to the energies of the earth. Its color is supposed to be red. The organs associated with the muladhara chakra are the bodyâs physical support, the base of the spine, the legs, bones, the feet, the rectum, and the immune system. The mental and emotional issues associated with the muladhara chakra are safety and security, kinesthetic feelings, movement, and the ability to provide for lifeâs necessities. Not paying my Time-Warner cable bill on time meant, I figured, Iâd failed on this account.
The other emotional issues include the ability to stand up for yourself, feeling at home, feeling a sense of belonging, emotional support, survival, self-esteem, social order, familial conditioning and beliefs, superstitions, loyalty, instincts, and physical pleasure and pain. I struggled with most of these emotional issues and knew that it was in Morgantown, my hometown, where I could start to bolster my muladhara chakra. The physical dysfunctions associated with this chakra are chronic lower back pain, sciatica, varicose veins, rectal tumors and cancers, immune disorders, and depression. Depression. That one I knew well.
As I saw the last bit of the Manhattan skyline in the rearview mirror, I thought back to the world from which my family and I had catapulted into this reality.
It was 1962, and my mother and father stood on a railway platform in Hyderabad waiting for the train that
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