My Second Tantrika Experience

How a Tantrika helped get over my anger with women.

As my marriage declined in intimacy, my wife and I tried going out to dinner more often. There was so much hidden anger between us it was almost impossible to relax. After an especially disheartening evening, I thought I might go back to Magdalena the Tantrika for some personal work.

After scheduling a session, I drove over to her quiet street and sat in my car for a bit trying to figure out why I felt so disconnected from myself. Nothing was coming to mind so I just walked to her door and rang her bell. We walked up to her little sitting area where she asked me what I needed. I surprised myself by blurting out softly, “I think I have some anger issues with women.”

“Hmm,” she said. “What kind of anger?”

“I feel controlled by women. I don’t know how to feel accepted by them so I don’t know how to fully trust them.”

After talking for a few moments, she motioned for me to sit upright on the bed with her, face-to-face. Both wearing sarongs, she positioned us with our legs intertwined (in Tantric lingo: Yab-Yum).

Without saying a word, she pulled the sarong down around her waist to expose her breasts. She cupped them, bounced them in front of me and ran her fingers slowly through her hair, flaunting her sexiness, as she said,

“Okay Chris, here I am, the canvas that men normally project their objectification onto.”

She further instructed me, “Put both your arms around me. Touch the middle of my spine at my shoulder blades with your fingertips. Look me in the eyes. I want you to face a woman in her beauty and to respect her. When I feel like you respect me, I’ll tell you to lower your hands two inches at a time until you come to the tip of my tailbone.”

It sounded like fun. I looked her in the eyes, but rather than respect, what took off in my mind was rage.

“Who the fuck are you?” I thought to myself. “Some sexy lady who thinks she’s a gorgeous, self-proclaimed Tantrika? Who are you to telling me how to feel and what to think? I’m the one who should be in charge here. You should respond to me. Maybe being a bit angry is okay. What am I doing here anyway? How is this going to help me calm down? What a waste of time. You probably have no idea how important I am. Why should I have to wait for you to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

I struggled like this for twenty minutes. I kept searching for some form of approval from her but she implied that she wasn’t feeling it. I cycled through all forms of fear about not being good enough or simply not trusting powerful women. Finally, I went back to our first meeting, where we exchanged those memorable words: I respect your place on this planet.

Slowly, I started to soften. I could feel myself gradually accepting aspects of her — what she was, on her path through life as a woman. All the complexity of who she was and all that was required from her in her life to arrive in this moment. I finally could let go of all my mind’s judgmental stories. I took a deep breath and could actually see her for the first time.

“There it is,” she gently whispered. “Drop your hands two inches.”
We did this for another half-hour. I slowly worked my way down, one revelation at a time, letting go of one more story, discovering one more layer of connection with the person she really was. I made it all the way down until my fingertips came to rest on her lower back.
She then leaned forward and held me close. I was quiet, almost dumbfounded. No tears came over me, but a deep sense of peace set in.

In the tranquility of that moment, her body felt so non-threatening, like a warm pillow. I realized I was no longer afraid of her, such a strange thing to feel as I was unaware I had ever feared her. The contrast was revealing. It takes a profound level of surrender to feel what we have been carrying. My gentle embrace was all I could do to thank her for the beauty she shared with me. I finally leaned back on my hands to gaze at her with a new compassion for women.

Walking out her front door, I remember a sort of intoxicated feeling of “what the hell just happened”. Only a few hours earlier, I was still unaware of what was really bothering me. I had some hidden anger but didn’t know the source. I felt so much more relaxed and calm after our session, the peace took me by surprise. As I walked down that sunny summer street, I felt a sense of pride for having the insight to throw myself into that encounter, mixed with a knowing I had the courage to stop fighting against something I feared. I was slowly breaking the personality traits I had inherited from my dad and slowly walking out of the shadows of fear.

Chris Hoffmann —

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