My partner, cleared for the next step of the process, proceeded to the mandala room. I was eager to hear about his trance-like state. The extra punching pillow had gone unused. Only an occasional muttering or raised eyebrow indicated any internal stimuli. And indeed, he said, he’d had no visions, no urges…just lay there immersed in the sound. But he was surprised at how fast the time had passed. Three hours seemed to fly by in minutes, not hours. For a man who carries batteries and chargers in his pocket lest he lose contact with the external world, I thought “just” laying there calmly, not insignificant.
My turn to be breather came after lunch. I wished I’d eaten less. It was hard to resist all the brightly hued, varied combinations of fresh foods. My intestines churned as I lay on my mat. Actually, they’d been overactive since I’d arrived at the workshop a day earlier. It was unusual for me to experience abdominal pain. Maybe it was psychosomatic. I was both scared and eager to confront the negativity surrounding my birth. The pain was just beneath my navel. As our breaths intensified, I breathed fast and deep into my pelvis.
With the music carrying us like a wave, it was easy to keep up the fast rhythmic breathing. My lower abdomen filled with air and deflated in a whoosh with no pause between inhalation and exhalation. The pain disappeared and I was only aware of my breath and the eerie compelling sounds.
But suddenly, my pelvic area started shimmying much faster than my breaths. The lowest part of my torso vibrated at a speed I’d never imagined possible. In fact, if it weren’t for orgasm, or the most labored crunches, I wouldn’t have even known there are individual, discreet muscles down there. Now they were gyrating like a belly dancer.
And then, as abruptly and intensely as it had come, the energy shifted. The quick pulsating was now shaking my upper pelvis. Maracas were playing a wild song of ecstasy and release in my abdomen. Again the energy ascended, pulling me up to my knees. I felt like a reed in a howling wind. I bent backwards into the huge wave of sound. I wished I could limbo beneath it. The shimmying was in my diaphragm, lifting me up and back. I was an arch of energy. The wild tempo exploded in my chest. Next it rose to my neck. The movement was its own master. All I had to do was allow it. A small part of me worried what I must look like to others, but mostly I loved being one with the surge moving up my body. The energy ascended again. My head shook to its rhythm. I was a drum being played from the inside. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the vortex of energy was gone. It had coiled through me, enlivened me, and left. In its stead was a pressing urge to get to my feet, stamp them quick, shake my arms from shoulder to finger tip, cup the air hot and thick and move it over my body.
The music turned gentler. I sank back to my blanket. An incredibly sweet voice rose from the middle of the room. Was someone here singing like that that? It sounded so immediate. But it was hard to believe that anyone could spontaneously sing in such pure soaring harmony.
Suddenly I felt suffused with sadness. I ached for my lost child. I felt the tears coming, tears I usually stop. But I let them come. My body balled up in pain. I pulled my knees close as the tears grew more furious. The music sheltered me, and I was tented by my blanket. I envisioned my son’s long back in front of me, imagined hugging him to me, and cried even more for the chance I’d never get. Finally the pain subsided. The music was sweeter than ever. I lay back on my mat. My body sank into a liquid calm.
After leaving the room, I turned jubilantly to my partner. “Did you see what happened to me? Can you believe I was moving like that? You know I’m like lead when I dance. Even walking fast is hard, sometimes… But the energy just rose up in me! I was totally taken over by another force. Did you see that?!”