Le Gentilhomme

Do not mistake my gentleness for weakness.
The strong hand is a gentle one.

 

Your Tension is fearful.
Violence is fearful.Β Anger is fearful.

 

For the rowdy male is frightened. Internal eye on only his weakness. He knows he is weak. They know.
And so he attracts the weak, for the strong disregard him. His company, who he dominates to falsely validate himself, is his reflection.
He is a playground bully – stuck in the little boy.

 

The gentle man, by contrast, is silent.
Still.
Certain.

 

Weakness is an inability to do what must be done.
The blemished male has an eagerness to act violently in mad defence of a rotting kingdom of blame, shame and excuse.
The gentle man will be aggressive if the moment calls for it, but never violent, and always benevolent in his correction of the adversary. He, loves all.

 

Yet few are willing to look at themselves and make the necessary corrections before attempting to correct others.

 

The gentle man, by contrast, corrects self.
Perfects art.
Elevates others.

 

Through the necessary internal adjustments I embolden and enlighten my reflections and therefore myself.

 

I am the dark angel, emanating from the light.
Your death has come to save you.
As I gracefully walk, things gently weep and wilt around me,
reborn beautifully in my wake.
Untouched by chaos.
I am a beacon of peace.
The eye of the storm.

 

My woman is my art. I cut into her with the blade of my stillness, and then mend her up with the light of my love.
I, her great destruction. I, her loving healer. She, the bubbling, churning abyss of my passion.
We die. We are reborn. We integrate.

 

And as I foster the seed of her might, the tree of my power thickens and entrenches itself deeper into the earth, becoming increasingly unmovable,
and unfathomably solid.

 

I am fluid. I am strong.Β I am gentle.

 

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Artwork by Josh Courlas
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Correction.

No step is a misstep. All moves to perfection. There are no mistakes – until an action has been corrected and repeated.

Correction can come internally (ideally); externally, from life (in the instance of ignorance); or from another person (in the instance of belligerence). How long it takes for an action to be corrected is directly proportional to self-awareness and inversely proportional to the extent to which ego has its grip on you. A big ego is not a concern. An ego that is in control of you is. Have the big ego, this is a powerful thing. Have control of it. This is more powerful again.

Self correction is an aspect of knowing what must be done, and then doing what must be done. The knowing precedes the doing. And we can only claim to not have known so many times before we enter the realm of childishness. Make it your business to know. Make it your business to correct yourself. Do it before life corrects you and especially prior to being corrected by another.

If another is so gracious as to reveal to you a chink in your armor, thank them, do not apologize, correct yourself. There is nothing more to discuss.

For as long as you require repeated external correction, your progress will be limited in proportion to your effort in achieving your mastery. In other words, you will have diminished your unlimited potential.

Step instead into responsibility, diligence, grace.

M.

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Image from the music video for ‘Lonely’ by ‘The Peach Kings’

 

Save

Economy.

Speak less, think less, do less:

Silence is the great reservoir of all strength. Certainty is silent.

Simplicity is the highest sophistication. Remove all that is not necessary.

Stillness is the fountainhead of clarity. Become economical in speech, thought and action.

All that is then left behind is strength, beauty, and power.

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Artwork by Hansol Choi

M.

All will come.

I was ran by desire. “Teacher,” I said “I want this.”

“Sit in power, all will come.” He replied.

“No I will go this way.” I insist. I go. I fall.

“Teacher, I fell.” I report back.

“Yes, I know.” He says.

Again I implore: “Teacher I don’t want to go that way, that is the opposite of where I want to go!”

“Sit in power, all will come.”

He does not understand, I think. So I go. I Fall.

“Teacher I fell again.” I complain.

“Yes, I know.” He says.

“Sit in power, all will come.”

So finally I sit. I relax. I breathe. I construct a vessel for power to fill. I listen.

And finally, all I desire is coming.

“Teacher, here it all is.” I whisper.

“Yes, I know.” He softly says.

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Artwork by Hansol Choi

The Eye of The Beholder.

What you give your attention to, expands. Drama, love, peace – make a choice. You are the creator.

Similarly, if you hold your eye on the beauty of a woman, you will be witness to her ever expanding beauty.

It is your responsibility to make your world beautiful by holding your eye on only beauty, not the world, or your woman’s, responsibility to be beautiful for you. Correct yourself lest you see only an enemy and be ruled by the ubiquitous despot – the ego.

In each woman; mother, daughter, child; there is the seed of the goddess. She may plant this seed in fertile soil, step into vulnerability (her power) and tend to this garden herself and channel the divine goddess deliberately. Or, you (the God) may foster it in her through channeling your own divine masculine energy.

Therefore, if you see only girls, or are unimpressed by the women in your life, it is you that is the problem, not the women. You are bringing to these people only a little boy, keen to be looked after and tended to like your mother did for you. You are looking for a woman to take care of you to avoid stepping into your own power, and therefore reflected back at you you see only women who are yet to step into theirs.

A man watches intently the woman in all female forms,Β  knowing all he must do is listen, watch her spin around, admire the beauty and that this is all that is required for the seed of divine femininity to sprout into a mighty oak under which you might find shade. Allow her to cool you, be her sun.

This is your path, gentlemen.

Now walk.

 

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Illustration by Robert Fawcett (1903-1967)

(Featured photograph by Vanina Kalovsky)

Sharpening.

Silently, I sit…. Admiring her softness.

I have a stone upon which I sharpen my sword – a woman – whom through serving I build my tolerance for sacrifice and thereby step further into my strength. Service to her and to all women is my daily practice. And I have become fond of repeating the basics until perfect.

I was served by a woman as a child, and I now serve this woman and all women as a man. So turns the cycle of birth, death, and birth.

Woman, I now need nothing from you. Not your romance. Not your sex. I have everything I need internally. And all that is mine, externally, is coming to me. All you must do is be what you are and you will be loved deeply, and unconditionally. You will be listened to, and seen. You will be cherished for all that you are.

So do not clean after me. Do not cook for me. Do not exert yourself for I am not a kept man.

Accept me, consume me, and I will be a God for you that we might perpetuate this eternal dance of energetic polarity into each night and spill it over into each morning.

And when you wake I will be here. Unmoved. Unmovable. The warrior.

Your man.

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Photograph by Andrea Tomas Prato

 

Daisies and Chain Mail.

Come to me dressed up in daisies and chain mail. I will unsuit you.

Walk away from me in irreverence – the door will be held for your exit.

Amused for your presence, and grateful for your absence. Come or go. The enemy in neither.

My greatest strength is knowledge of my greatest weakness which is ignorance. Of you. Of me. Of energy. My next greatest strength is resolve. I unravel you slowly. And as I unravel you I unravel me, your divine reflection, and energy twists us toward perfection.

This is a class act. And like a boxing bag, rounded into shape by the repetitive thud of the hungry, I learn the hard way and am fashioned into shape by mistake after mistake. Yet I endeavor to trip over everything just once. For thereafter lays the realm of the fool.

I work at my art. Beat away at my craft. Perfection is nearing.

So come for me, dressed in whatever you like. And be ready to be undressed. Of everything you’ve been told you must be for me.

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Artwork by Andrea Tomas

Walk from me, with as much or as little love in your heart as you can summon. Love finds its home within my eye. And you may find love, and the long road home, by my side. Home bound, nonetheless. Walk with me.