I learned to play with the flow of my own internal energy, telling my friends to try to push me over, balancing for
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long periods on one leg, practicing various breathing exercises while sitting alone in my room, and even trying to generate heat in my body like the Tibetans I had read about.
Eventually, other aspects of adolescent life came to dominate my consciousness. Hormones started coursing through my body and my mind became preoccupied with girls. Confusion ruled the day and fantasy ruled the night.
As a pimply teenager, I found women totally confusing. I had no idea why they did what they did. There were times when I was busy doing homework and my girlfriend pounced on me, pressing her wet mouth all over me, grabbing my crotch, hump• ing my thigh, and moaning. Naively, I assumed she wanted sex. However, when I dropped what I was doing and returned her fervor, she suddenly seemed less interested. I would be throbbing and on fire; she would coolly walk away. Angry and frustrated, I wondered why she jumped on me in the first place. I had no idea what was going on.
Occasionally, we would actually have sex.
As I lay on top of her, meekly thrusting, she would often push against my naked chest with her hands, seeming to resist me. So, naturally, I would pull back. "No, you idiot," she conveyed with the exasperated look on her face, "when I push you away, I want to feel you taking me deeper." So I would force myself into her, ravish her hard and deep, and she would love it. And then, a few seconds later, I would notice that she was not loving it anymore. What was I supposed to do? Harder? More gentle? Give her space? Overpower her? What did she want?
If I was too careful, she'd complain that I needed to be more passionate and sexually aggressive. If I was too forceful, she'd complain that I wasn't sensitive enough. When I finally figured
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out what she wanted, I'd do it, and she'd hate it. When I gave up all hope and just had sex with her without trying, she would suddenly plead my name and convulse in waves of orgasm. I was totally lost. Masturbation was a lot easier than this.
By myself, I could lie in bed at night and masturbate, fantasiz• ing about a woman who gave me exactly what I wanted. I would imagine being with her, stroke myself, spurt, and go to sleep.
Eventually, my girlfriend and I broke up. One night a few weeks later, after my family went to sleep, I made a selection from my cherished stash of girlie magazines, lay on the bed, and began masturbating. But instead of fantasizing about the women in the magazine, I suddenly became excruciatingly aware of the energy flowing through my internal circuitry. This happened quite unexpectedly.
I had more or less forgotten about the old-man-in-the-mall's internal energy practices when I became preoccupied with girls. Now, it was all coming back with a vengeance. Streams of en• ergetic force shot through me while I masturbated. With eyes closed, I saw within myself an exquisite internal circuitry through which energy flowed like a river of light.
I could see with my internal eye and feel with my body how pumping my penis increased the flow of this river of energy. Furthermore, I could see and feel how sitting all day at school, slumped with a sunken chest, had blocked the flow of energy around my heart and solar plexus. It became obvious how I could change my breath and posture to open these blocks.
After about an hour of experimenting with my internal energy flow, I was ready to stop masturbating and go to sleep. I looked at the girlie magazine and imagined myself with the perky blonde centerfold from Wisconsin. I jerked hard and fast and ejaculated.
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It was as if the light in the room suddenly became dim. My in• ternal brightness dulled, too. My breathing became more shallow and weak. Even though I was lying in bed, the slackened energy made me feel like I was slumping.
I was amazed. Orgasms had always felt good to me. Really good.