Turning the lights down
We at 49 are no longer ablaze. We aren't exactly training to become Hermits (9)[https://steemit.com/art/@reinhard-schmid/the-holy-mountain-and-the-light-in-the-dark-tarot-friday-10-and-my-first-card-based-completely-on-intuition]; but our lives must turn into the lampshine that guides the next generation deeper into life and ourselves back out.
The end is nigh!
Is that not so for every bulb? Each year again: the flower must wilt. Exactly HOW she wilts, and how her (less imposing) leaves are fed back into the bulb will deterimine her continuation. We come as bulbs to earth and must leave with their idea implanted in our soul.
Reader's discretion advised: I shall be speaking in far too many general terms. May there be a good reason for it.
The taboo of ageing
The milestone of 49. Seven times seven. Life is lived in blocks of seven. The way the astral, the planets, like it. You can reform the calender (again!) to make four day weeks or whatever suits the economy best, but you won’t be doing humanity any favours by taking away his last remaining memory of planetary alignment. The planets are our vowels, giving us the reach, the embrace, the awe, the I (in the sky), the interconnecting space: the sacred breath of YHWH.
Forty-nine happens to you whether you actively do or don’t try to get your head around the “cosmic system”. After it happens you may even see God. Or Gnomes. Hold off calling the nuthouse! I will explain this to you in a following post.
At 21, 26, 34, even at 44, 49 isn’t ever going to happen to you. Indeed it is one of the taboos we might add to those #kerlund brilliantly and boldly addressed already, that women age at all. We dye and shave our hair, liposuck and botox, diet and exercise to resemble fertile waifs. Sic: we do it for men (as inferred by the word fertile). Because we still want a man to want us? Or because otherwise our man will want somebody else?
Would we be fertile if it weren't for men?
Women who (still) would want to bear children please put your hands up.
Are we women because we want to have children? Or want to attract men? Are men only ever after fertile women because they remain fertile (let's say for the sake of argument,) until they become impotent? Is being a man and a woman only about sex? Gender glitsches seem to reveal that sexuality stands over and above the sex you are born with.
Don't couples have an understanding for which sex was only the ink? Does it all fall into a lie when the body changes? Is this a non-issue for same-sex relationships?
I respect the idea that the outward manifestation is reflective of the inner state; but it goes too far to disqualify the woman as a properly functioning woman when her genetalia dry up, her breasts shrivel up, her hair thins and loses colour, her eggs are all out for the count. How come we understand the limbless man is still a man, but the menopausal woman only half the woman she used to be? Sure enough were the limbless man also unable to attain an erection opions might turn sour for him too..... We seem to judge people according to their sexual performance. The fat and ugly girl or pimply, lanky boy are doomed to be inferior because who would "pick them"? Again the only criteria is one of the basic instinct of mating.
The older REAL woman
The menopausal woman finally beomes a woman and nothing but a woman. No longer a potential mother or concubine, she can be twice the woman she used to be. This is, clearly, more often than not, overwhelming to the fundamentally insecure male. What makes a man insecure can only be that which lives in his head. (Same goes for a woman.) As you age this head becomes all the more unreliable. What have you got left to fall back on? The I that I am. This soon leads you to your manhood, or womanhood, but what if that had been reduced, already, to your sexual prowess?
Women of interest are young
Interesting to whom? I was wondering why growing old is undervalued, and I keep coming back to the idea that we are still living in a young world, where men cannot imagine needing older women. What on earth for? Yes, mummy around is always nice. But for the rest?
It would be sexist to carry this too far. And men being ageist regards women is not really that much skin off the older woman's nose. We may find it a bit pathetic but are also, by now, used to being of no real interest to men, or actually appear threatening as competition (if you are not sexual prey anymore, this equality becomes all the more apparent).
Maggie Smith as Aunt Agusta "Travels With My Aunt", 1972.
Powerful men, abrasive women
The power men hold over women - as if by nature - is not to be underestimated. If you are not connected by way of a man of your own to a man's world it becomes very tricky to be taken seriously as a woman at all. Especially, in matters of finance, which stretches into all areas of life, from making investment decisions with your bank manager to convincing your plumber the cheaper radiator knob also works. Also, in places of learning there is still much covert discrimination. Women are simply poorly listened to unless they choose the same research subjects a man would. On the street, in society, even as a neighbour, you become pretty much invisible - unless you go around like Graham Greene's Aunt Augusta from "Travels With My Aunt".
I find myself too young to be the little old lady who needs her bin taken out, too old to be kept a curious eye on. It is quite remarkable to notice this. It means normal women with no assets of any interest have to compensate and work doubly as hard to feel themselves entitled to a place in society. The other day, I experienced a blip of depression, and expected cars to accellerate to run me over when I was trying to cross the street: one less old fogie to pay taxes for. I can see the annoyed looks by fashionable middle-aged people at my lack of making an effort (well, I spend a lot of effort and money on trying to stay warm!) Do I deserve to be a member of society still? Am I earning my place? Only as a mother to a boy with certain special needs. If that should ever fall away I become not only dispensible, but a burden to society.
I notice how doctors and dentists cannot really take me that seriously anymore. There comes a time when a house is best left to fall to ruin and then be torn down. How often haven't I been sent away with incapacitating complaints, "Sorry, to hear that , but that's your age". It isn't my age, though, for when I was seventeen and I went to find out what was "wrong with me" (for not having any periods) my GP mereIy sent me away with the Pill and told me to lose weight (I was about one stone overweight). I still don't know what is "wrong with me" and am awaiting a series of mysterious hormonal complaints for menopause. This time I'm referred to an endocrinologist who might like to use my data for his research project.
I am disappointed to say I've now given up on male physicians for myself, and especially the traumatisingly groping hands of a man in my mouth.
The problem with men
Young feminists may think this is an exaggeration: look at all the progress made! I'd hate to burst their bubble....
Eat your heart out and find ways in to Team Man. Why would women want to play that seriously at a game of tug-of-war for the sake of a piece of the power-pie? There is something fundamentally warped about the male that they oppressed us and abused us from way, way back, and need to be coaxed very slowly and sweetly to give us a bit more freedom. I think it is time we tackled the problem (that women show up sacrificially) from that side.
Women after menopause might as well be lesbiennes
This I have heard said in reference to how sexually uninteresting they become.
Are lesbiennes less bothered about ageing naturally? What on earth is anyone trying to say when they feel the menopausal woman suddenly becomes "like them other unattractive ones". There is something so inane about being classified as desirable or undesirable. I wish we would stop using sex for selfish satisfaction. People are not things to covet! This goes for any and all possible sexual relations.
I also wish we would learn to define feminine in natural terms, as yin and masculine as yang. For the rest "woman" or "man" doesn't really look one way or another per definition.
I have recently spent a lot of time studying the work of #davekavenagh, an excellent photographer, interesting in stylising women in provocative poses, with fascinating models who also love to flaunt it with abandon. This seems to be a younger photographer than #adamo who is usually seeking to highlight that which makes his subject (usually women) uniquely feminine (a smile, her shyness, her art).
I am hoping to learn from such men what they see in their women, or what they are trying to "make" of them in their works of art.
The Olympic Architect
Those photographers seem to be on a quest of sorts. There are also men who come to rather random conclusions out of a stranger shade of blue.
Back in 1992, I had a long discussion with an architect of the Olympic tower, on Plaza del Pi, one long Sunday, over quite a few screwdrivers and not enough tapas. I was 21 and he must have been in his sixties. Story of my life. He had recently left his wife, because after she had had a hysterectomy, he was unable to have sex with her again. He couldn't bear it how his seed would be swimming in vain, going nowhere. Flabberghasted I wanted to say how lucky he was to have anybody who would bed him. He was OLD. His theory was that if men were honest, they would admit to the struggle it is to have sex with infertile women. It was nature, according to him.
I knew myself to be a rather neutral individual, definitely not putting anything about, but also not attracting any unwelcome attention. I ended up believing I could go where other women would not dare to tread (bars in the morning packed only with men drinking congnac with their coffee, walk home at night by myself, do my reading in pool bars, visit the appartment of a Senegalese street seller,.... yes, in retrospect I had some narrow naive escapes). To my mind, - probably for that quick witted, smart-alec mind - nobody seemed to regard me as a woman, which did bother me (for I felt very much like one inside). That Sunday afternoon, which was for the most part very entertaining, this architect seemed to have given me the answer: men naturally avoided investing time and interest in me because I was unable to bear their child. Did the world work on such a primitive level?
I kept on overestimating the intuition of men for many years thereafter, but there is a twist in the tale of the architect. By seven o'clock we were tired of vodka and juice and tinto (we had started a little before noon after all), and he had to get up early the following day. If we wanted to have dinner, I'd have to come to his hotel and have something there. Something in the back of my head suddenly kicked in to tell me this was not a good idea. We walked to the metro together to part ways there, when he asked me again about dinner, and I refused again. He pressed himself against me as we parted in the Spanish way of many kisses on the cheek, his hard member unmistakeable. He gripped my shoulders tightly to practically snarl into my ear the words "You know you are a cock-teaser, don't you?"
I didn't. And even felt very ashamed for having caused ... what was it? Inconvenience? Disappointment? Blue nuts? But at the same time, I became astutely aware of the lie sexual attraction is. It means nothing! To my mind, after all, he had just invalidated his own theory, that he couldn't be sexually aroused by an infertile woman, for I considered myself such, and to a certain extent even acted as such, feeling I was under some kind of obligation to lie low for my unability to "deliver the goods". In a sense I already preemted this architect's view on the value a woman has! This is absurd programming at a level that insults my intelligence. It is also, therefore, a clue to deeply rooted social values.
Not made to love so straightforwardly
A lack of self-knowledge exists for both the male and female. We are raised as children on lies of who we are supposed to be. We are indoctrinated with beliefs that no longer serve us. Life is no longer about making babies to please the pope. As history progresses, there is a gradual reduction in the number of people around the world having exceptionally large families to ensure one of the children survive. These slow but steady evolutions in natural and social behaviour pour into a small well of wise conduct. If the Kingdom won't come we have to make do with Sophia's Wisdom.
I learned to self-efface the woman I was because I did not "function" (as it were, "perform"!) in a way that men expected me to or liked me to. I now know they don't necessarily read much of anything in any particular woman, and respond mainly to their own call to satisfy urges. This is childish (instant fix) and selfish (self-gratification), and men know it. Gradually they are reaching for the fore-play toys after they've done a load of washing.... sigh. When will we see it's not about sex or domestic chores? We only need men and women to get to know and respect themselves as spiritual beings.
Only then can anything change. Only then will manhood and womanhood make new sense.
Unappealing? What then?
Now, I cannot say that any man ever found me sexually desirable. Nobody ever fell madly enough in love with me to want me exclusively. I tended to be the Florence Nigthingale or the convenient bed for the night. And who was I to say no? Surely, after all my hospitality nobody would dare to be so rude to take something that didn't belong to them? So I have lain under a few men, a few times, puzzling on how they came to lie on my side of the bed. I was left non-plussed every time, and pregnant once.
If I were to ask around, what was wrong with me? Everybody can shout out at this point: your low self-esteem, you oaf!!
But what to do about it once you have been told you were not what you were expected to be (by your parents - and in no direct terms, either, just by keeping a very silent and disapproving eye on me - especially the male-role model... ).
The dagger finger
A photographer once told me that, eventhough he could assent to my having zero sex-appeal, I should stop being naive about feeling safe in male company: "a man would fuck a hole in the ground if he had to," he revealed. Of course, later on I let the stories of rape into my life, Berlin after the war, Rwanda, Yugoslavia, any war, children, old people, all just holes to stab your physical dagger into viciously. It boggles the mind. It makes me question the entire design of the male body.
The dual-purpose tool of relieving and impregnating seems only fully understood in all its glory by alchemy; having come early on to that science, I always revered the potential of the male; though I never got over fearing it, in the end. I no longer trust that men know how to wield this transmuting-potential. I learned there are two dominant moods that turn the penis into two contrasting implements: the baton that beats out the desire to be in time and the finger that seeks to press the pause and find infinity. The challenge to integrate all aspects into one soulful whole sometimes seems too big a dream every mother anew upholds for her son. Every man needs a woman more than a woman needs a man. That's the alchemy of it. I'll experience that too, when I return as a man. It's an Adam-Kadmon thing.
In the meantime it is my mission to get to girls before they become women and get to feel the burden of sacrifice that they must carry.
We need to see that how we feel about ourselves are states of being that make up the only places a spirit can stand in their own right. Womanhood and Manhood have been devised as planes of existence by which to determine suitable states of soul being.
Boy or girl, young or old
Sexuality is a part of you from the moment they cry: “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” There would be an ominous hush in the delivery room if it came out markedly as a bit of both. That shock tends to come many years later.
I often write about the point of gender division (and study aberrations as new lessons in the subject). My aim is to try and get us on a parallell track of sexuality an sich, and not get too lost in the forest of so many trees, so many forms of expression. Likewise, I wish to study ageing as an instrument for spiritual advancement.
I take a scientific approach not a psychological one.
The problems surmount with gender as the underscored problem
Gender IS an issue, for we don't understand eachother and we are in some respects two different species! We definitely embody two different aspects of soul (but we contain the key to the other one as well, in the spirit being we are). Gender is a costume for this play on Earth. In that metaphor, it also determines certain roles (no denying who is going to split open to bring forth progeny).
The same goes for age.
The real problem is a lack of tolerance - due to a lack of understanding and respecting the differences. Also, there is not enough celebration and sanctifying of those areas where these are able to fade into the background (as they clearly do in love).
Love is the answer, as always.
Too sad that we are often called soppy women for saying so.
Yellow Crocusses. For more on their link to St. Valentine see the article referred to in this blog
Very tired, that folks don't get that love is a rather "burning" question (actually somewhat masculine) with its drive and potential, and not for the feeble and fluffy or floaty and fragile. They will fare better on a dilution of comfort and consolation, kindness and sympathy. Daily ingredients for everybody's well-being! For the more adventurous spiritual quester, there is more love can do for you if you learn to potentise it into a trituration only a self can dose to another self.
I AM my age and my gender
It is of the utmost importance - in matters of a spiritual nature - how old you are and with what sex you identify. This may come as the most controversial thing I’ve said, yet, because aren’t we all one and sexless, ageless as spirit beings? Yep, but we’re not there yet.
The numbers contain clues. The woman and the man are two halves of a whole - Plato already told us that. There is much to study on this topic of Love.
You don’t have to be any age or any gender! You can be a bit of anything and every age etc. All good. But some of us need to hold the fort for manhood and womanhood and the life and death processes that are time dependent. Nature has cycles we can work with - we have enough already working against us! This is the Isis principle we women can tap into.
In the meantime (I am trying to return back to earth after every beautiful vision)
Pay mothers
Yes, yes, or fathers. But I am not here to have a traditional dicussion on equal rights. It's the differences I want to enhance. Fathers slowly find their way into fatherhood. Mothers are thrust into motherhood (actually at conception so have a head-start of about 9 months). This nurturing role, supporting a person at a stage of their life that doesn't much interest you (at least not for up to 16 hours a day) is not for every woman. Still, life is also about sacrifices, responsibilities, and motherhood comes with many.
I think half the women, now out doing meaningless work, would be happy to stay at home if they were validated and rewarded for it. I believe mothers should be PAID as housekeepers and childcarers. This is something a truly progressive State might want to look into, modernising Child benefit regulations, into something that benefits all society structurally and truly in the vein of independence, individualisation, but also community spirit. Ways would have to be invented how we can ensure top quality motherhood without imposing legislations or regulations, or heaven forbid, weekly check-ups by social workers. (I know what I am talking about on that front).
Nobody should tell any woman what makes her a better mother, wife, woman. And it's cruel to have that which you are great at (your career, your art or singing, travelling, or sport) take away from you for the sake of child-rearing. And, again, what is wrong with asking the father to do that instead? Or why not entrust a professional: like standardised, high-quality collective baby-care institutions (as in lovely Sweden)?
Why should women be mothers?
Afterall, do all children fair well under the wings of their mothers? Might I have not become a more sociable person at daycare (I kept on running away from Kindergarten, already....)? Of course, all these experiments are worth making, and some work for some people, but we must not forget to leave room for ideas that look to a very much more distant future (on an evolutionary scale: what kind of human do we all together want to have become in another couple of millenia from now?)
Let us be honest about the fact that some women make lousy mothers - but could it not also be a matter of helping such women set their minds, more happily, to it? A lack of sisterhood support seems to leave many women out on a limb. My own mother was nowhere to be found during my pregnancy and thereafter, coming from a time when pregnancy was indecent and interfering grandmothers too common.
Motherhood has to change.
We can't simply "go natural", start from scratch, crouch by the fire and stir the antilope in the pot.
Motherhood needs to become Tao and reinfused with a dedicated kind of love that spends time on the child as individual. This means to incorporate the anomalies with which our children are being born, as if there is something bad in the water. Of course, there is....but let us, again, be womanly here and look at it from a soul-perspective.
Bad parenting
We can let the men get on with their statistics and empirical research to show up the problems of problem children, but beware they don't spread out a sheet before you with the cause readin: bad parenting. There is no absolute good parent. There are two characteristics in men and women who become parents that are mistaken for bad parenting. And those might need to be addressed
- One it that the parents are not being parents enough because they don't feel grown up enough. The problem signals an adolescent stage of soul development. People are insecure. This is reflected by and infantile grown-up world full of idols, theme parks, fast food, quick fixes, drugs, sex and rock and roll. Party on! It does nothing to solve their confusion as to what is right and wrong, better or best. They next become victims to helpers who seem to come to the rescue, but end up indoctrinating. Poof, freedom!
- Secondly, and far more controversially, I dare to note that children are not made and welcomed with enough love. There is still to much fear and insecurity at play in our pairing up. Too many childish expectations. Not enough insight. Above all no genuine recpirocity. Too often we are deplorably incompatible on too many fronts that concern world views needed to create a safe and encouraging environment for the child.
Women must make the right choices
This brings us full circle to the woman.
It's her choice to get pregnant by that man. Or so it should be! (Research shows, if all goes nicely in a night club, it's always the woman who "pulls"/attracts; she will be "sexier" during her ovulation. NOT a good time, girls to hook up for life!)
I hear you hollor and protest at how I leave it all up to women.
May I then only speak for myself. Albeit, I am a fairly extreme case. I did nonesuch choosing myself. I didn't know I was allowed to. That harps back to my belief that I wasn't woman enough to have the right to choose. I just went where I was needed. Flo Nightingale, remember.
I suggest we refuse to join in the childish games men love to play. How many women, though, would say yay to that?
I cannot really (be bothered to) blame anything on men. I believe in the man as much as the woman: together they are to make something out of the human race. We, women, have to take responsibility over our own destiny. As mothers we could potentially have massive influence in the future design of this world, especially where women's rights are possible to establish. All we need to do now, is understand what we truly want for our children.
I leave you with a Lennon song that inspired me much a number of years ago, as if a voice from the heavens (a song, indeed only properly produced posthumously.) It's a little out of tune in the version I chose, but in the right key.
