Natalie: A Kundalini Love Story
  by Paul Lyons



Jim and Natalie meet on a freezing London sidewalk. He is hurrying to a business meeting. The beautiful Thai woman is shoplifting a bottle of Listerine. With no way of communicating but sex and thirty words of English, their love must surely destroy them, as Jim’s financial judgement deserts him, and Natalie becomes entangled with the gang that trafficked her to England.

Shock Kundalini awakenings can be devastating, physically and personally. As Jim struggles to understand what is happening to him, and Natalie’s claim to be a “big Buddha woman” puts her at greater and greater risk, their love seems doomed, unless sex itself can become a path to transcendence. The erotic classics, such as Tristan and Isolde and Madame Bovary, speak of a love that is tragic because it breaks social conventions and defies moral taboos. Jim and Natalie defy the violent materialism of our age, and break the taboo against pushing consciousness beyond its everyday limits.

Author Paul Lyons says, “Kundalini took my music to a whole new Level."

Here's what author Peggy Payne had to say about Natalie:

"I keep an eye out for what's new in the world on the subject of kundalini. As you may know, my novel Cobalt Blue focuses on the creative and at the same time disruptive power of this life force, by the Sanskrit name of kundalini, rising to flood level in an unsuspecting woman.

"Now I find another novel is about to come out on the topic: Natalie: A Kundalini Love Story by Paul Lyons. There are only a handful of novels that deal with the subject. Like Cobalt Blue, this one is a story of erotic obsession.”

Paul Lyons was born in Australia. He attended Sydney University, and won a scholarship to read English at Cambridge, interpreting Shakespeare from a Tantric perspective, and got kicked out at the end of his first year. He worked as a brick layer and piano player in London. His first novel, The Eden Man, celebrating of the mysticism of manual labour, was a Times Reviewers Book Of The Year and won a Fellowship from the Australia Literature Board. His Kundalini awakening occurred on a frozen footpath in North London, when he encountered the Female Buddha, Vajrayogini, embodied in a beautiful Thai woman. He now lives in Mae Suai, in the mountains of Northern Thailand, teaching English and music in the village school.

Says JJ Semple:

"Lyons' book combines an interracial love story with the trafficking of Asian women into the UK. It's a story of sexual obsession neatly interwoven into a thriller storyline that ultimately allows the lovers to escape the violent materialism of today's world through compulsive, yet rapturous, Tantric lovemaking."

Excerpt #1

   "She burst from a doorway, spat on the sidewalk, a string of spittle trailing from her lips. It took me an instant to register how beautiful she was, and to notice the jacket hanging over her shoulders covered a short, pink petticoat, and that all she had on her feet was a pair of slippers. The day was freezing. The shoppers on Kilburn High Road all wore scarves and woolly hats. My overcoat offered scant protection against the mid-December cold.

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   "The door swung shut behind her, and locked itself with a click, shutting her out. A piece of green cardboard, cut into a star shape, with a name scrawled on it, was stuck to the intercom. She didn’t buzz to be let back in. She stood gagging and glaring at me. I was gawking at her, blocking the narrow aisle between the wire bins of two sidewalk displays, one heaped with shoes, the other filled with bottles of detergent and toilet brushes.

   "Her broad lips were moist at the corners where some pimples had been smothered with powder. When she scowled, a dimple, like a surgical incision, stood far out in either cheek. Her body was full and willowy. She was tall for an Asian woman.

   "I didn’t move. It was a struggle to remember I had a meeting to go to.”

   "She pushed between the pound shop’s bins of household merchandise. The wire baskets tilted and scraped as she barged them apart. Bottles of bleach jumped. A pack of washing up pads fell onto the sidewalk. She didn’t stop to pick it up. As she forced her way across the rows, squeezing between the browsing shoppers, her petticoat snagged on a piece of wire.

   "She grabbed a bottle of Listerine out of a pile, twisted the cap off, thrust it to her lips, tipped her head back, and filled her mouth with the antiseptic. A blue trickle ran down her chin."

Excerpt #2
   "My hand was cupped between her legs, fingers bent, palm arched, as if it was trapping a wasp. I sensed, from the way they ached, that my fingertips hadn’t moved from the prickly warmth above her pussy for a long time. The bristles breathed in and out between my quick and my fingernail. The heel of my hand stayed anchored in the give of her stomach.

   "Somewhere below my palm, her caesarean scar forbade me to touch it.

   "I had no idea what time it was. It felt late. A clock ticked just behind my head, but I knew that if I turned to look at it I’d wake her. 

   "Somewhere in the nightmare arrangements of my home life, I’d agreed to always get back before my family were in bed. 

   "The prickle of her bush turned to a speck of rubbery skin. Her clitoris felt miles down, below the folded softness, unreachable, tiny, a grain of sand stuck on a bony resistance.

   "I knew that, in her own way, she too felt the stinging brightness. She too, in some ‘prince and princess’ dream, saw the shining thread of something that was unapproachable, yet everywhere.”

   "My fingertip rose on the peak of her pussy as she breathed out. The speck of rubbery skin pressed against me, working itself moist, wetting my fingertip, trapping it in finer and finer folds of slipperiness. The grain of sand slid sideways, vanished on a bony push. 

   "She drew in a long, waking breath and spread her legs wider. A hardness gathered, grew heavier, touchable, a callous under my fingertip. 

   "A foot landed on my knee. She gripped my cock with her bum, squeezing my erection with small clasps of her arse muscles, showing me where Kundalini was, inside her body, burning towards the surface. My finger slipped on her clitoris and slid down a spasm of wetness. It was time to fuck. There was no alternative, but to roll face to face and screw."

Excerpt #3
   "I had to change the way I was living, before I went crazy. A new, and scary, way of making choices was required of me. From now on, I needed to live as if consciousness was the source of my body, even if my body didn’t for one moment believe it. From tonight on, I needed to pretend that I was motivated by an idea I didn’t accept as true, for the sake of the dizzying split seconds when it was true. I wondered if this was what Natalie was doing too, at this very instant—fantasizing she was a ‘big Buddha woman’, an angel, telling herself lies for the sake of the dizzying split seconds when the lies came true. That she was a big Buddha woman with Pra, and not me, made me moan with pain.

   "I once touched a live electric cable. For an instant, before the circuit breaker cut off the current, my fingers closed spastically round the cable. As it passed through me, the current spasm-ed my hand and locked it to the charged wire. 

   "The energy at the base of the spine is so powerful that consciousness spasms around it; closes spastically round the current; is locked in a paralysis in which consciousness seems to be nothing but the ghostly adjunct to physicality. But this isn’t how it really is. When the power at the base of the spine, Kundalini, is experienced in Her original state, as consciousness—when the spasm-d hand opens— then Kundalini is known as what She truly is, intelligence.”

Author Q&A
Q: You claim that Natalie, A Kundalini Love Story is both a fiction and a spiritual autobiography. How?

A: Much of the book is directly authentic, the way in which Kundalini awakened in me, the woman with whom the awakening took place, the effect it had on our lives. I then wove this core of personal reality into an erotic thriller, because I felt that narrative form can give a truer idea of the impact of Kundalini than direct description.  

Q: The book begins with a degradingly mechanical sexual act. What’s spiritual about that?

A: I can only describe what happened. Because the sex was mechanical, neither of us reached orgasm. The orgasm energy shot to the brain and woke a deeper force, which blossomed into love. 

Q: Jealousy plays a central role in the story. Surely jealousy can only be negative.

A: Jealousy arises from the fear of being replaceable. But the fact is we are replaceable, insofar as we are just an ego and an ego-driven body. Jealousy can bring us to the point of facing our insubstantiality. It can force us to jump beyond ego to what is genuinely unique.

Q: You’ve said that a widespread awakening of Kundalini will transform art and literature. How does this relate to the way you write?

A: At the moment transcendence is latent. It’s present in art and literature, but hidden. I think a widespread awakening of Kundalini will bring transcendence out into the open in books, music, film, painting etc. Paradoxically, the result will be an art that’s more, not less, down-to-earth and emotive. I like the sparky dialogue of Elmore Leonard’s crime novels and the raw honesty of Charles Bukowski’s early books. Natalie, A Kundalini Love Story could be compared to Elmore Leonard confronting Krishnamurti, or Bukowski getting it on with the Song Of Songs.

Q: Isn’t your book just pornographic?

A: Pornography aims to titillate and frustrate. When Kundalini awakes in the sexual act both titillation and frustration are bye-passed as the erotic energy rises up the spine and opens out into a transcendent state. The sex scenes in Natalie, A Kundalini Love Story follow this rising and opening out process. They are episodes in a real life love story as well as being a passage through the different sensory worlds of the chakras. That’s not pornography.