Chugga-Chugga Motion

 

Part 14 of 30

Self-Abuse September

I’ve had a few newbies-to-the-nasty reading my posts this month, which I hadn’t expected, and a few of them made inquiries about basic techniques. I thought nature covered most of that, but then remembered, yes, a little initiation goes a long way toward one’s outcome. And not everyone has first cousins close at hand or near them.

So let's get down! I’ve always said it’s in the grip. But how many ways can you insist it’s all in the grip while avoiding the gripes of those who needlessly insist on details? I’ll just repeat what I heard long ago: If you’re right-handed, hold your hand in front of your face. Make an O with your thumb and first finger. Hold that up like you’re a pirate looking through a telescope. Survey your immediate surroundings, be on the lookout for landlubbers, hornswogglers, sightings of booty and cutlasses. In other words, parents and responsible adults who don’t approve of sex. OK, that’s good. If you’re left-handed, I have no idea, but I would suggest the opposite.

OK, maties, the coast is definitely clear, and you’re very sure, so drop your five finger discount to One Tree Island -- the happy native awaits his coming -- and embrace him in camaraderie -- less daintily and more insistent than if adults are near -- and see that he comes to life before he dies. And think, you’ve been a handful all your life, you just never knew that night after night you were tucking in a monster that at long last would manifest himself and his evil ways. This is nothing to rue, for good fortune is now at hand and before you know it you’ll be celebrating skyrockets in flight.

Shh, I thought I heard someone pull in the driveway. Gotta check, just the mailman turning around. You have to look out for everyone, certainly anyone who'd blabber everything in addition to censorious adults, who think it’s their life's mission to be killjoys. So I can’t run over everything in detail now. You have to feel your way through this.

But we do have time to review: 1) Grab a handful; 2) Be familiar with the different names of the apparatus, dick, etc. 3) Picture something that’s especially pleasurable to you. This doesn’t have to be body parts and actions of others, dirty words, etc., but you’ll completely fail if it’s not. 4) Go to town. 5) Be prepared for a distinguished aftermath, the arching fireworks of life. Tissue is preferable, although if you’re planning test tube babies now or in the future, any standard test tubes -- not recycled -- will do. Any other details you’re not certain of, again, just feel your way.

The Order of The Patchouli Leaf

Great news, everyone. I feel I've crossed an important threshold. I'm actually certain I did. I've worked hard for it, as I see now in hindsight, although at the time I wasn't even conscious that it was possible. Now I just need to wait for the distinguished gentleman to get here. Hope he hurries.

For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, of course everything about this communique will be inscrutable. But for those into patchouli leaves, and those who happen to be very lucky, naturally you'll rejoice with me.

I've long been an admirer of the patchouli plant, having started out like many of you with only the essential oil. Which is nothing to sneeze at, because you can make important strides with merely the oil. But then I realized something was missing, as a person wants to get to the root of things and not just enjoy the fruit.

It was probably 10 years ago, or a little more now, that I brought home my first patchouli plants. That seems like a long time, and in the modern world, I guess it is. But in terms of eternity, as the old cliche has it, it's a blink of the eye. It was a long time, but it sped by. In that "blink," I've gone from youngish to old, from fairly well-coiffed to bald, and in stamina ... honestly, I can still go the whole way, Katy bar the door...

Be that as it may, the oil and leaves were there. I hung them upside down by floss, then kept the dried harvest in plastic containers. Only taking one out now and again to prompt myself in the ways of the arts, a beautiful thing. They have aged well, having packed away enough sunshine and air for their long journey. They're rife with promise, O God, how it thrills me!

Recently then, feeling that I've stewed long enough -- only the individual knows -- I have gone out and found, and procured, five beautiful new plants. When it happens, you will know. Let me say, dear friends, I'm lightheaded just thinking about it -- it'd be the purest folly to descend from this cloud, although intoxication's never been my ultimate aim.

In tending my plants, then, recently, I saw a leaf wither. At last, the time was right! I lovingly removed it, as one must, and brought it into my home and into my life. As nature instructs, I rubbed it between my fingers, then back and forth on my wrist, and so forth like that, bringing forth the pleasant, strange fragrance. It was seriously enough to knock me over, but I remained upright and confident.

But the rest of that day became crazy. Everywhere I went, and in everything I did, that scent was with me, covering everything like a blanket. The honest to God truth is, it completely overpowered me. I didn't know what to do, I started to get frantic. You know me and my problem with olfactory hallucinations. I blew my nose, went outside, went out to eat, took a shower; I tried anything and everything. Yet it was right there, ever pushing against me, in some weird way both from the outside and within. There was nothing I could do. With my remaining strength, I put it out of reach, in my briefcase, and spun the combination.

The next day was far less crazy. The fragrance had receded in the night. But dare I open the briefcase? I worried about it, then faced my fears with bravery. I opened it and there it was, harmless. I bent and sniffed and there was nothing overpowering about it. I touched it and my skin felt nothing out of the ordinary. This was the beginning of the threshold experience. Something like a completed initiation.

Outside, then, later, within the hour, I went to water the five new plants. At that time and in that place, within a sort of bower or leafy enclosure, all the domains of heaven and earth opened unto my senses. I was in the company of a magnificent world fellowship, revealed in lights, announced without words, yet still clear to my senses, as "The Order of the Patchouli Leaf." I did not turn away but stared into the essence of the vision until it reduced itself to a solid point of light, then vanished all together.

Alone, now, in my study, I write this in my own hand and without compulsion. I can still see the point of light -- like retina burn, like the old flashcubes Grandma used to use. I blink and it's colorful for a second. It probably should go without saying, I have a fresh patchouli leaf on my desk. My little companion. I have fingered it a time or two, maybe five or six times, at the most a dozen times.

I have been given to understand that I am to expect a distinguished gentleman visitor later, who will confer on me various honors and instructions, and will open to my understanding more fully what my life is to be as a member of The Order of the Patchouli Leaf. Every car going by might be him. I don't know whether to expect a Corvette or a Model T. What a day!

Yes, I Teach My Disciples Deeper Things

The question came up from one of my more faithful readers, "Is your teaching the same for everyone, or do you make distinctions for the---" That was his question word for word. As you can see, he broke it off without finishing, perhaps because he didn't know exactly how to word it. Or maybe he thought it was a stupid question and decided to cut his losses. (I don't think it's a stupid question.) Or maybe he was simply abashed by his effrontery, asking me something like that, thinking, If I wanted him to know, I'd tell him.

Well, have no fear, dear one, I am happy to tell you. You must know how open I am to all seekers, and what a true welcome I give to your questions. I'm nothing if not full of love and grace. I've never turned away a true seeker yet, and since that's the way it's been, that's probably the way it will be for the foreseeable future. You can ask me basically anything. Of course I don't want overly personal questions --no one would -- like what's a typical shower like for me, or how often do I change my underpants. (It's everyday, I guess I don't mind that question, since there's nothing embarrassing about it.)

But first I need to finish his question. "Is your teaching the same for everyone, or do you make distinctions for the uninitiated, the facile, the moronic, the surface-dweller, the common Joe, the sightseer, the dullard, and/or the shallow?"

The answer is a qualified YES. I would qualify it by saying, theoretically, the fullness of my teaching is available to anyone. I realize we're all seekers (I used to be), and that we don't have what we're seeking for, and often we're ignorant of what it even is. So I don't make distinctions, theoretically; I want everyone to know that he is welcome to sit at my feet and to receive what he needs.

But that's in theory; the practical truth, for one reason or another, is that not everyone is ready, and, frankly, there's no time wasting their time or mine in those instances. They may not be wise enough to see it. I find that's very typical. But I am wise enough to make that judgment, and it's usually a snap judgment, with my record so far being 100% accuracy. I can just look at you, and maybe listen to you guffaw loudly, or clap someone on the back in an outrageous way, and say, "This person isn't ready." So I send them off.

Whether, then, folks wander in darkness, never finding their way back to the light, of course that's possible. But I figure, you know, it's a big world, there's only one of me, and I can't be all things to all people, try as I might. I'm just happy to know I can pluck a few of these poor souls out of the fire. That's fulfilling to me.

So I am, of course, open and willing to teach people the wisdom they need. And I do it, day after day, sometimes till I'm literally about to drop. Even in those extreme moments, I do it with dedication, even if I can barely go on. But, yes, a lot of those folks are getting the shallower version of things, the truth they're able to grasp or bear. And they're happy, because for the most part they're oblivious to the fact that there's more to it!

But for the true seeker, meaning the one who is really ready, I am also ready, ready to take them under my wing and to share with them the deeper things. It's those who receive the full provision for their body, mind, soul, and spirit.

Great question!