EXCERPT FROM ‘ASCENSION OF GAIA: RESURRECTION OF THE SACRED SEXUAL FEMININE’
“G and I pulled up to the non-descript warehouse sandwiched between back-alley mechanics and storage units in the middle of nowheresville LA, both dirty and travel weary. There to help load up the artwork and props and head enroute to the final destination where the ‘ordeal’ would take
place, our two ambassadors were the first to arrive and greet us.
To say Ophelia and Paul (her consort) were an interesting couple, was an understatement.
They’d found me through my mentor, and I was to be woven into a special erotic ceremony in LA. I didn’t know what I was really getting myself into, but I was intrigued and game. Ophelia looked like she’d stepped out of the romantic period – silky grace enveloping her long red lustrous hair, while her British drawl lilted and twinkled as playfully described our coming event. Her softness was an interesting compliment to her partners’ friendly yet brusque demeanour. Paul, roguish and no-nonsense (though with a subtle dark sex appeal), went straight into shop talk as we discussed the upcoming order of events.
First, there would be rehearsals that night (perhaps even late into the night), along with the guests arriving the next day (all 15 of them), and then we’d be dropping into a weekend-long affair of erotic theatre, weird and wild rituals, and a full-on erotic healing experience in a group setting.
I was enthralled yet mildly nervous for this experience, while G was visibly nervous and on edge. While he’d agreed to attending this madcap adventure with me as a co-pilot in my performance, I could tell this was stretching his capacity (even despite him being 15 years my senior).
We continued chatting as we awaited the last of our crew to begin loading the art and props we’d need for this colourful experience. The last to arrive was Kylan, the third co-conspirator and creative director who was part of organizing this experience.
Ophelia’s brief description of Kylan had made G palpably nervous, and he was sweating bullets by the time Kylan pulled up in his black monster truck.
250 lbs of muscle and intensity covered head-to-toe in tattoos, long black beard and menacing eyes, even I was feeling somewhat intimated (which was not a common experience for me at all). His demeanour matched his appearance as he skipped small talk and opening niceties and went straight into dictator mode as he ordered us around to load various sculptures and the oddest assortment of props into his truck. “This is going to be very interesting…”, I thought as we lifted barbed wire body statues, 6 armed black dolls, and various Burner Man-Esque art into the back of his truck.
Our caravan of vehicles crawled through the mountains and mansions of Topanga Canyon after loading the props, finally pulling up to the sprawling property that would be home to this descent into eroticism. Boasting tiered landscapes and ranges, dotted with cabins, art, and houses surrounding the large main villa, we gazed in awe at the work that had already been accomplished. Chandeliers hung from tree branches over the colourful gypsy caravans spread across the land, while the old barn had been transformed into an eclectic shaman’s cave filled with oddities and sacraments like fruit loops, chicken drumsticks, and strange paintings.
This cast of characters was already making up for what would be a very eclectic and strange journey. It was like we’d stepped into a kinky Alice in Wonderland mushroom trip, and this was only a small taste of what I was yet to stumble upon.
“Buckle up honey, we’re not in Kansas anymore and you won’t need your panties”, I thought.
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