Saint's Sacrament - Sins of the Father

by Laveen, Tiana

  Many men in the front row jumped to their feet and applauded as he swiped his sweat away from his brow with a folded white cloth.

  “I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: make love to that woman’s mind, and you have her. Travel her heart, make her emotions well up like an ocean inside of her, and that pussy will get wet right quick and in a mothafuckin’ hurry!” He snapped his fingers. “You don’t even have to touch her, your words and your sincerity will get her ready for you, preheating the oven well in advance. A woman’s orgasm is tied into her mind!” He tapped the side of his head, bringing the point emphasis. “If she loves you, even if she is mad at you, she can still have an orgasm during sex with you. If you’ve invested enough time rewiring her properly, she will continuously come back to you for more. That is how you want your mate to be. You want it to be where she is calling you, saying some freaky shit, getting you all worked up!”

  Sporadic laughing flowed through the frequencies.

  “Sometimes, you are beat to the punch with a salacious text. You were getting ready, you know, had your phone out.” Saint pretended to text message in the air, causing louder laughter as he leaned to the side in a swagger stance.

  “And you are thinking yeah,” he grinned widely, “that pussy is gonna be mine tonight!”

  The raucous laughter practically masked his comedic performance.

  “I’m going to send her some shit like…” He sniffed coolly and wiped the tip of his nose. “Like, hey baby, tonight when I get home, I’m going to knock that pussy out the box so far, the damn Yankees will want to recruit me…yeah…”

  Boisterous laughter rang throughout the auditorium.

  “And, that’s fine.” Saint moved casually across the stage. “But, maybe, just maybe, you could try something else, something to take her off guard. Like…” He jutted his arm out, pretending to look at an imaginary phone and type into it once more. “‘You know, this morning when you were in the shower, and fragrant suds cascaded down every curve of your angelic body, I thought about how I wish I was the water...’ then wait for her ass to respond.” Saint snickered. “We know what she’ll say, she’ll type back either, ‘Really’ or ‘Why?’—right? So that’s when you go in on her. You flip the shit and say, “Because the only place on your body I haven’t been able to taste, to lick, to suck, to nibble, is inside of your pores, and the water does. So tonight, when you get home, I want you to get in the bathtub that I already ran for you and we will pretend to be what we really are...’ and then, gentlemen, she will urge you on, and ask, ‘And what’s that?’ and you’ll say... ‘You are the Earth, and I am the water. I’m going to be all...over...you. It’s a flood, baby. Moving inside of you, so...deep...so...damn...deep that your mouth will be speechless, just gaping open so your damn pores will have to scream my name!”

  The crowd began to applaud as Saint grinned and paused, still looking at his imaginary phone and smiling wider.

  “‘So deep inside of your mind, baby,’” he continued over the ruckous. “Making love to every thought you’ve ever had and forcing a climax in your soul before you even feel me pushing inside of you...’” Saint hitched the last of the sentence on a whisper, let it linger in the quiet of the room, then winked.

  “Tha man!” a man yelled out from the audience, clapping, causing another wave of laughter.

  Saint looked up and out into the crowd. “See? That’s an example of changing the script, of turning something that is just basic sexual banter into something that stimulates her mind. Both types can get her wet—only, my second example works all three levels inside of her so that you can achieve what I was describing before.

  “Sometimes, if you just plant a small seed, she will take over. It will no longer be a spectator sport for her. You get ready to type your sex text, and look down, and see her sending one instead...it’s a beautiful feeling though, men.” He grinned. “Instead of you telling her about how you want to be her water, she is telling you, how she wants to take you in! Absorb you, draw you to her core, and pulsate against you....goddamn!” He jumped up and down excitedly, causing more exhuberence in the crowd. “You know, once you bust through that damn door, that woman is in a world of trouble!” He cackled. “Your head is all messed up for the rest of the day. Your boss asks you for a report, and you say, “I’ll get it titty, right away, I mean READY right away!”

  The crowd rolled in laughter.

  “Mind just all screwed up....” He smirked, scratched the side of his mouth and moved toward the front of the stage, putting on a thoughtful expression.

  “But once you get to know that woman, in all these areas, you must apply it. Having knowledge and not applying it means absolutely nothing. I say this in some of the other conferences. You can listen to me the entire time we are here, but if you don’t apply anything I’ve taught you, don’t place it directly into your life, you may as well have saved your money and stayed home. You have to learn, and then apply. If a pan on my stove goes up in flames, but I don’t get the fire extinguisher despite knowing where it is and how to use it, what good did that knowledge do for me? It didn’t help at all. It is not the knowledge’s fault, nor the fire extinguisher’s; it would be mine for not utilizing it. You must understand passion completely, how it is born and how to maintain it.

  “Now, as promised, I was going to discuss more about the chakras and what kills us and our relationships. If you know anything about me, you know I don’t apologize about shit that I say, and I use religious references occasionally to illustrate my points. I use mainly Christian examples though I am not a Christian. I use these so that most everyone can understand. I have the understanding that the majority of my listeners follow one of these three religions.” He counted off his fingers. “Christianity, Judaism or Islam. We also have agnostics and atheists, but the bulk of the people in this room identify with one of those faiths. You can’t practice any of those religions without knowing something about the others because they overlap, and all this political and religious fighting,” he paused and he caught his forehead in his thumb and index finger, as if a headache were brewing. “Man...”

  A warm roll of applause rang through, encouraging him to finish, to tell them the secrets, the hidden truths.

  “I’m off on a tangent for a second, but these religions all over the damn world are really fighting over the same damn beliefs, just with different names and worded in another way. It’s the same damn story, in all three for the most part! Jesus also known as Yahweh, Mohammad and Moses! I am not judging anyone in here, I just wanted to put that out there because I turned on the news this morning to hear about more bombings over religious differences ’nd shit, people losing their fucking lives over deities that are doing just fine without the spilled blood. I’m tired of it.” He shrugged wearily. “We must survive, and you must do all that you can to do such, but only when all else has failed! Believing you will be granted eternal life because you blew up a room full of school children in the name of whomever you fall to your knees for is bullshit!” He felt his blood pulsating through his veins, his face flushed hot as horrid images of demons laughing and racing into various hosts propelled forward. Night after night, incubi crawled through the recesses of his mind, haunting him, and he’d turn on the television, and sometimes see the hell-raising visions played out, their dirty work foretold. “We now excuse ego driven insanity with religion. Some say it is one and the same! God is not turf!”

  The room burst out in applause.

  “Anyway, enough of that.” He slowly calmed as he patted the sweat off his hairline. “My whole point is that Christianity is laced with what some would consider pagan symbolism and new age allegories, and you know what?” He cracked a grin. “It is.” He shoved one hand in his pocket and made his way back toward the center of the stage. “The sun and moon came first, before any of the deities. There was the Creator, and then the world. In that creation, we were made, man, and w.o.m.b.m.a.n. God made soul, to keep us in touch with Him—it is
a telephone, our higher level making calls. God made spirit to drift between this world and the ones on different planes. God made chakras, to have us connect with the person he designed for us and to help us elevate and communicate with our own spirits. Now, let’s delve deeper into that.”

  “Let’s count them off. There are seven chakras.” He held up all the fingers on his left hand and two on his right. “Let’s take a look at them a bit more closely and I won’t take long. The clock is ticking.” A large screen lowered behind him and the room drew darker. “Chakras have deities associated with them, and they have a negative side.” He smiled as he observed the surprised reactions from the audience. “Yes, that’s right. So many times, when we as therapists, teachers and doctors speak of chakras, we don’t share the duality. Let me explain. Everything that has illumination has a dark side. We all cast a shadow under the right conditions. There is no beginning without an eventual ending, no up without a down, no right movement without a left movement. It is the same as the Christian concept of being born into sin.” He pointed behind him to the man on the chart with his seven chakras highlighted in various colors.

  “The baby is innocent, but he or she was born into a world of sin, from a mother that was not perfect and a father who was also not perfect. Thus, inside of her, that baby is the pure seed for a dark side, passed down from one generation to another, if you will. The dark sides are as follows: grief, guilt, unhealthy attachment, shame, illusion, fear, and lies. Grief in a relationship is staying in a relationship due to a fear of being alone. The possibility—the fear of the grief that happens when we end a relationship that is not in our best interest. Guilt is possibly thinking you owe that person something, that you owe them to stay because they’ve done so much for you.” He strolled slowly across the stage.

  “You owe them to stick it out—kind of like maybe a man that introduced his wife to alcohol. They are both drinking far too heavily; it is interrupting their lives in a negative way. Thus, they are alcoholics. He has aided in her becoming one, showed her the door to the addiction. After a few years, he gets clean, but she still remains a drunk. He doesn’t want to be around that anymore, but he doesn’t leave because he takes the blame for her condition. Understand? Moving along.

  “The next is unhealthy attachment. As we discussed earlier, it is the lower level chakra playing into this—your damn dick. You are staying for sex. That is self-explanatory. The next is shame. Feeling ashamed of something you’ve done or haven’t done… see how that ties into guilt but they have special, individual qualities? Next, is illusion—buying into the hype, feeding the illusion of a happy family, playing pretend. That ties into lies, but we can’t miss fear. Fear is being afraid that the person will hurt themselves, or even you, if you leave, or being afraid that you will miss out on something if you let them go.” He paused, previewed the audience and crossed his arms as he pondered.

  “Women sometimes struggle with this one, because if the man is paying their bills, then they are afraid to go because they need the financial help. So, they stay with him.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Now, there are some men like this as well. He is paid dick, basically. It’s fucked up! Us men fall into the fear zone when we don’t want to be in a relationship with a certain woman anymore, but we are afraid she will get another man, and that bothers our ego, so we stay with her, to keep her attached. It is unhealthy, it is sick!

  “Those dark sides are sometimes called demonic forces, but for right now, let’s just call them backward, upside down, unsavory and destructive. I prefer that over calling something black or dark actually. The connotation has always bothered me how things that are richer in pigment are construed as evil, distasteful, dirty. In any case, let’s look at our illuminated side, the part of us that shines and grows with development and nurturing. The positive side of the coin—the polar opposites are happiness, innocence, freedom, pride, acceptance of reality, peace and truth. When someone is sick, spiritually ill, you pour the opposite inside of them. Men and women are opposites. I’m not talking about our minds, personalities and all of that. I am talking about our actual design. Once we get past the neck of a man or woman, things change. Her shoulders are generally smaller, ours are wider. Her breasts jet out, our chest is flat. That is where the morphing into one another begins.

  “When you lie next to or on top of one another, you become two puzzle pieces that stick together perfectly. So now, her breasts are pressed against you. Your stomachs are flush with one another, and you are pressing into her as you go further down. Once you get past the lower thigh, things are like they were above the neck, they are even, but the middle, that is where your heart and many of the chakras exist. From the neck up and from the lower thigh down, you two are equal. This means you both have the same capacity for intelligence!” He pointed to his forehead. “And you both can walk the same path!” He pointed to his leg. “We need one another, to fit. We are sick without each other. Everything in us is programmed to cure, if we are spiritually healthy. There is nothing we can be afflicted with, that cannot be cured from the Earth; we just haven’t found all of the cures yet. And not to go off on another tangent, sometimes we actually have, but medical and pharmaceutical greed has forced us to not provide it!”

  Applause dotted the audience.

  “Some women say they have a headache to try and get out of sex.” He smirked. “That’s when they should be getting laid! We can fuck that headache right the hell away.”

  Laughter rang out.

  “Now, let’s bring this full circle. I brought up Christianity for another reason, a reason that makes some Christians angry.” He paced the stage, casually looked down at his slowly moving feet and shook his finger in the air at no one in particular. “That is, the story of Jesus and Mary Magdalene. This ties right into opposites attracting, which I spoke of earlier. A romance that was thrown under the rug, buried. Tell me, what was Mary Magdalene’s occupation?”

  Several men yelled out: “Prostitute!”

  “That’s right. She was a paid whore. She had sex with many men on a daily basis. Her vagina was a portal for menfolk from all walks of life, men who could afford her services because, you see, back then,” he ran his finger briefly under his eye, “prostitution was something only the wealthy and upper middle class could afford. None of that ten dollar blowjob shit we have out here now on the streets. The prostitutes now are, more times than not, strung out on something, so they will sell their souls to the lowest bidder. Not Mary Magdalene.” He grinned, stopped walking and crossed his arms.

  “... And she was beautiful. The type of beauty that would stop a mothafucka cold in his tracks. Men would drop at this woman’s feet. She was fine, stunning! Think of one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen, and imagine that same woman being a prostitute.” He winked.

  “I had a discussion with a friend of mine. He is a minister, a Christian, Baptist minister—wonderful man—and he was really pissed off that I said that Mary and Jesus were married. I told him flat out, over dinner one evening. Sorry,” Saint shrugged nonchalantly, “that’s what I believe. My exploration shows me that yes, this man existed, and that he not only was a representation of purity, he did have the power to heal. It was real. I believe in that.” Saint was certain to not go into his own life, and how he, too, was a healer. As open as he was, some secrets were meant to stay buried, and some crosses were only his to bear. “So many people are uncomfortable with imagining Jesus making love. Jesus having sex, enjoying sex, and with a whore at that! She wasn’t when he got done with her. He made her his woman! He turned that whore into a housewife!” Applause broke out as almost the entire room leapt to their feet.

  “And you know what he turned and did, gentlemen?” His eyes narrowed.

  “He healed that tramp, cleaned her of her demons, seven of them!” His voice boomed. “Is that a coincidence? We have seven chakras in our damn body! They can hold angels and demons! In your Bibles, Christians, it clearly says in the Book of Luke, chapter
eight verse two of the King James version…” Saint said, his voice going a few notches louder. Many said the verse right along with him: “Now after He had risen early on the first day of the week, He first appeared to Mary Magdalene, from whom He had cast out seven demons!” Saint turned and faced the crowd, his eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creased. “Seven!” He held up seven fingers. “God made the Earth in seven days! Seven is supposed to be a Godly number! Seven demons, seven angels!” The clapping grew so loud, he had to stop talking until it died down—and it took a while.

  “To remove something, you must get close to it! He went inside of that prostitute, that woman of ill repute, and ripped all that demonic possession out of her, cleansed it away! Seven of them, from the top of her damn head down to her pussy and tailbone! This beautiful woman was selling her body, and he wanted her, anyway! That is what drives us to deal with a woman with baggage, or even a damaged woman that we know has issues. It’s our love for her! We want to heal her, make it all right. We were designed to move inside of the woman and fix her, just like she fixes us with one single kiss! Period, point mothafucking blank!”

  Thunderous applause broke out.

  “And all these women talking about, ‘I’m no damn princess, I don’t need savin’’ and all that other bullshit are missing the damned point. I am not telling one mothafucka in here that they are superior to a woman. I am not telling any of you to talk down to a woman or believe you are in some way better because mothafucka, you aren’t! Women are powerful beings! In some ways, they’re even stronger than we are. Example in point, God didn’t trust us to birth any babies! He chose them to bring life! Yes, we speak life in our words and actions, but we can’t do exactly what they do, and we need not try to compare ourselves. We are just the delivery boy.” He laughed. “We all have our roles, however. We have them, and once we embrace them versus fight them, things tend to fall into place instead of fall apart. We are conducting our function, our design. We get wrapped up in emotions, instead of the basics and beauty of the prototype. Puzzle pieces...never forget that.” He paused and looked out at the men while tapping his finger on his bottom lip, pondering.