I was practicing—meditating. I would imagine, visualize, as they say, my true self, my inner self, as a shining light, pure emptiness, or pure consciousness (whatever that might be). I would say the word kundalini and imagine that goddess as a serpent, and, with my eyes closed in meditation, see the path she took inside of me as she climbed a path unknown to science, opening the petals of lotuses associated with chakras. And finally, I could imagine her (and therefore myself) joining with supreme consciousness as one thousand petals of a golden lotus blossoming on the top of my head. It was my imagination and it felt good.
But deep down inside, maybe not so deep, I admitted that I didn’t really know.
I felt like an honorary member of an esoteric society but blood is thicker than water. I couldn’t change my foreignness and I wasn’t able to find my place on the grid. I was still using a grid that didn’t fit the world I was in.