I saw a woman at the markets today. She stopped me dead in my tracks. Up rose the gentlest of affections, the simplest of longings, untarnished by the violence of the modern sexual psyche.
I mention her because she punctuated that shopping trip with inspiration for what I knew I was already going to write about today – the beauty in the wild woman.
I need not address what a wild woman is. However I would like to address men’s bastardisation of her, and our propensity, with boyishness, to force her to be masculine and then to leave her for what looks like greener pastures. What a joke. And I’m hypocrite number one.
At the temple my guru once told me that Krsna (God) is the energetic and Hare (Krsna’s female form and lover) is the energy, the supreme reservoir of all energy. The gate to life is between her legs, the source of all you see around you is in her womb. She is the creator. The divine mother. What have we done? … What have we done?
The feminine is the most violent of cesspits, delivered with gentlest touch. And yet at the slightest hint of unbalance, or a waver in the gentle delivery of her power, we become frightened little boys, and start throwing around ‘slut’ and ‘crazy’, using language and manipulation to undermine her stance and outwit her credibility.
When I hear a “man” tell me that his ex-lover was crazy it just says to me that he was too much a boy to handle her ferocity. Like a kid playing with a shotgun. Just a bad idea. Someone’s going to get hurt.
Let me ask you a question, you handsome devil, if she was inactive, complacent and disengaged, would she still charm you so? Would she still be so compelling?
This is what we are doing to the women in our lives with our inability to be men, and then leaving them for a more refreshing source of femininity elsewhere. And we wonder why it’s called “a man’s world.”
Her rage is a test. It is a calling. It is perfection beckoning you, it is your future knocking at your door. Her seething and the juxtaposition of the bat of her eye and the lash of her words is an opening, if you choose to take it, to being a real man. To being man enough that she can relax into her femininity and be radiant there. What the fuck would I know, though. I’m still a boy and a have a long list of women behind me that weren’t “enough.”
In reality, I wasn’t enough for myself so I used them to validate myself. I desecrated the walls of the temple on my way out. And wondered why God didn’t answer my prayers for the woman of my dreams. It’s actually farcical in retrospect. I guess that’s a benefit of growing, huh?
As discussed previously, the first access to being a man is discipline. If you can remain unperturbed by the outside world, including women, and continue to do what must be done, then you have begun the journey towards embodying Shiva, the divine masculine.
I’ll leave you with a picture of a famous Hindu statue – of Shiva (the divine masculine) and Shakti (the divine feminine). In this picture, Shiva is meditating, supreme presence, unperturbed, pervasive while Shakti is passionately making love to him in his lap. They exist is cosmic union while she allows all of the world’s feeling and energy to channel through her and acts it out in a divine dance of all that there is to feel and be. Despite this, Shiva is unaffected and cuts through her chaos with his masculine presence, allowing, and indeed further engendering, her beautiful wildness.
This is so beautiful.