STORY: My experience of an astral being in deep Transcendental Meditation (TM)
I have just completed a midnight transcendental mediation session.
As my chin dropped I went into a deep realm ...
I met an astral mind, who sent me revelation.
They revealed to me my deepest held psychological imprint, or ‘samskara’, regarding women and sexual lust, in the form of a poem.
The following is the poem I received during meditation:
I love the idea that just one experienced working girl,
could possibly have meant so many different things to so many different men.
Some men may see her as a romantic date with a sensual make-out session,
while others see her as a kinky whore to choke, slap and whip
Some men see her as a companion to share a bottle of exquisite French wine with,
while to others she’s a dirty vice to snort fresh Colombian cocaine with.
She’s a goddess to some, a porn fantasy to others
a girlfriend to some, an anger outlet to others
a therapeutic listening ear to some, a living breathing fuck-doll to others.
The only thing all these men have in common is that they have used her through her varying roles in their fantasies,
to satisfy their base male urge and find
... a moment of bliss ...
a relief from the inferno of the male animal instinct,
the temporary oasis of orgasm in the arms of a courtesan.
I have just completed a midnight transcendental mediation session.
As my chin dropped I went into a deep realm ...
I met an astral mind, who sent me revelation.
They revealed to me my deepest held psychological imprint, or ‘samskara’, regarding women and sexual lust, in the form of a poem.
The following is the poem I received during meditation:
I love the idea that just one experienced working girl,
could possibly have meant so many different things to so many different men.
Some men may see her as a romantic date with a sensual make-out session,
while others see her as a kinky whore to choke, slap and whip
Some men see her as a companion to share a bottle of exquisite French wine with,
while to others she’s a dirty vice to snort fresh Colombian cocaine with.
She’s a goddess to some, a porn fantasy to others
a girlfriend to some, an anger outlet to others
a therapeutic listening ear to some, a living breathing fuck-doll to others.
The only thing all these men have in common is that they have used her through her varying roles in their fantasies,
to satisfy their base male urge and find
... a moment of bliss ...
a relief from the inferno of the male animal instinct,
the temporary oasis of orgasm in the arms of a courtesan.
