White Hole [PART 1]
- Artist’s rendition of the White Hole healing technique, the artist being a 4-year old retard.
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“It is my belief that no one can cause another any emotional distress, that all they can do is to help set up anenvironment that stirs the poison already inside of us. That being said, some people are really good poison stirrers. I seem to be one with this special skill.”
—Swami X, discussing his special “siddhi” power
We’ve all heard of a black hole. It occurs in space when a star dies and causes an immeasurable gravitational force that sucks anything nearby into an inescapable pit of darkness. It is also the nickname of Thelma the Harlem hooker whose “black hole” has swallowed more shooting stars than any other hole in the Universe.
You’ve undoubtedly heard of an asshole, unless you are a Mormon and in between sending you to church your parents had locked you in a cellar. It is slang for the rectum or a person who is a real jerk. It is also one of my informal nicknames, and while I never had a jersey with this moniker on the back, it is probably the name I have been called the most out of any of my nicknames, which includes: “Stinky,” “Swami Douchebag,” “Cheesy Balls Rodriguez” (from a burrito mishap at Taco Bell) and Yogi Prickananda, to name a few.
But what is a white hole? It is a healing technique that I originated that probably hasn’t healed anyone but has helped me pretend that I’m of some use in this world of slippery burritos.
In the White Hole technique, I imagine that there is a large whole in the center of my chest, other than the one that has been there every since my kindergarten block-building partner, Sasha, moved out of town. The hole consists white energy swirling in a circle. When I see or know of someone who is sad or in pain or sick, I imagine their “dark” energy sucking into my white hole where this energy instantly becomes transformed into white, pure energy. Sometimes I just pull the darkness out of the other, like one would remove a splinter. Other times I re-channel the newly bright white energy back into the other, like an energetic transfusion.
- The New Age one is as artificial as the powdered crap.
I remember telling Orange Tang, a girl I became friendly with at a New Life Expo, about this innovative technique and she immediately pulled out the New Age Rulebook and told me with concern that I should never take in someone else’s negative energy. I told her that I don’t follow rules written by douches and as long as we’re playing fantasy games about how our imagination can pull in someone else’s negative energy, why can’t we also imagine that we are transforming it into light?
No one needs magic incantations or mantras or hand mudras or special healing crystals or messiahs or 5thDimensional beings to do anything other than to boost her ego or her sense of powerlessness; she just needs to get out of her own way—and then it’s all magic. But instead New Agers place self-imposed limitations on what is needed to heal, become enlightened, talk to angels, grow a 14” schlong and it is always based on hearsay evidence of what their guru or favorite mystic or teacher or porn star or book has said.
And even this hearsay is often misquoted or misunderstood or intended for just the one listener who it was originally told to, who then writes it in a book causing everyone to think,“We must all stick a clove of garlic up our asses” when the scribe was dealing with an ass infection and we are instead dealing with an infection of the intelligence section of our brains.
"I'm thinking of getting a kitchen table, as the corpse is starting to stink something awful!"
Treya was the main healing teacher that I worked with in my lifelong pursuit of the useless. I became somewhat of an apprentice of hers, although I never really remember signing-up for that position; I just thought I was helping her out at her workshops in order to spend some time with her. It wasn’t until she started labeling me her apprentice in class that I started to feel like I was on a Donald Trump reality show and was ready to be “You’re fired, bitch!” I remember one girl asking me my future plans in the “Treya Organization” and I was like, “Dude, my first plan of business in the Treya Organization is to get the fuck out of the Treya Organization!”
Despite having no desire to become a mini-Treya, I still liked hanging out with her and we became very close friends, until I couldn’t handle some of what I considered limited thinking from someone who at one time was teaching what she called “Unlimited Reiki.” The irony was too much for me to take and so I amscrayed in the best way I knew how—by lighting aflame any bridges that I had previously walked.
This was before I learned about NonViolent Communication (NVC) and while I don’t remember the specifics of what I said, or rather, that’s what my lawyer has advised me to say, I probably mentioned something about how her ego and selling useless trinkets had seemed to cloud what I saw as the truth of what she was teaching and our periodic phone check-ins became twice a year on our birthday catch-ups.
Truthfully, the only difference had this occurred in the Post-NVC years would be that I would still call her an unconscious saleswoman but this time I would realize that I was speaking violently. Awareness may be the first step to solving a problem but it is definitely not the last. Unfortunately, I signed-up for the NVC Marathon and have only taken one step so far. I’m taking my time. I don’t want to get a cramp after all!
Treya has told me how beautiful she thinks my poetry is and as poor judgment as I tend to show, I would never think of sending her any of the inane, tasteless essays I post on Enlightening Nonsense if for no other reason than I don’t want to have to suffer through hearing her say the typical, “You have so much to offer and you are wasting your life on pedophile priest and nun’s dry vagina jokes.” So the last time we talked I shared with her “The Crying Tree,” [http://rebelyogi.com/the-crying-tree.html] which is an inspired poem that came out of me with a lot of emotion and which I thought was a sure thing to receive some praise to suck into my black hole of an ego.
But since “The Crying Tree” is also somewhat of a “White Hole” poem, like Orange Tang, Treya also warned me how she hopes I don’t take in people’s negative energy, to which I responded—now with my NVC training fully in place—something like, “You claim to be the powerful Oz but you’re just an old man behind a curtain.” I caught that this was not perfect NVC-speak, nor did it make much coherent sense, and so I modified it to become, “I am feeling sad because my need for the powerful Oz is not being met by your old man hiding behind a curtain lameness,” and that was the last we spoke in about two years.
I have used my White Hole technique on strangers who seemed distressed on the subway; then again, everyone looks distressed in the dirty, overcrowded, often delayed, rat-infested subways. I used it on Ninja while having sex, thinking that the heightened sensitivity of the sexual opening would allow her to release more of her anger and insecurity. It didn’t work. I didn’t factor into the healing equation that she is nothing but anger and insecurity with no real substance beyond her darkness, and so she remained a bitter, angry, insecure bitch ‘til the end, and by “end” I mean until I killed her and threw her into the Hudson River.
SEE “WHITE HOLE [PART II] AT
http://rebelyogi.com/white-hole-part-2
Read about Ogre and my head-banging matches in PART 2!