I don't know about you but these past few months I've felt that all around me, men are apologizing. No…it's nothing they did to me, but a general sense that it's time to make amends. For example, last night at the Visionary Congress John Perry Barlow admitted that his generation behaved badly, despite all that psychedelic consiciousness they were going for. Robert Phoenix blogs his regrets and attempts to reverse archetypal energies. Another male friend is closely involved in the Sacred Manhood Project and I know many others who have for years worked in mens groups who are voicing similar sentiments. Maybe it's this even number — 2010 — that spurs us to Get Past It All by now. It would be a good time to re-integrate, rebalance, and I have been encouraged to start to think it's happening.
Because frankly, I'm a tired of the imbalance. I have a father, two brothers, and three nephews in my life, not to mention some very fabulous male friends, and through them, for them, I am personally invested in a balance for their sakes as well as for my mother, sister, and neices. Not to mention myself, a woman living and working in (how did this happen?) the world of motorcycles and technology and adventure travel which has been challenging for me professionally and personally over the years, and in which I have experienced a, let's say, interesting, devolution and evolution of behaviors over the years. I say this in retrospect having first experienced the devolution, literally being chased around desks at the office as a tech-typing temp and getting my butt grabbed by bikers.
Back on topic, I recently attended a friends' wedding. There were traditional elements to it but in general it was not a traditional wedding. The bride and the groom approached the altar from each side to music I don't remember because I was remarking to myself how wonderful that there would be no Giving Away of, no Taking of. What a relief. After all for God's sakes we're not in our twenties any more.
She was breathtaking in a traditional white gown. He was breathtaking in a white silk Kurta. The couple arrived at the altar at the same moment. Presiding over the ceremony was her friend, a Buddhist nun and his friend, a Jewish doctor, who proceeded to weave the stories of their lives for the record and enlightnment of each side of family and friends, some who had traveled from Australia. The storytelling bridged the gaps.
In his vows, my friend addressed his bride-to-be directly in a retelling of the story of their meeting. He recognized her divine femininity, which she radiates, and he spoke beautifully, generously, proudly and with a consciousness brought forth of many years of inquiry and honor. But here's where it got interesting. When it was her turn, this goddess, the queen and star of the wedding day in all her bridal superiority did not simply stand to passively bask in all her radiant glory. She told the story of their meeting from her side, and unabashedly recognized his masculinity and in many elegant words described it as divine, sacred, and encompassing of God. Her words were like a magic wand with which she raised her husband-to-be to equal stature. This for me was one of those transformational moments, the ah ha moment of realization that not only is it time again for equality, but that it may actually be possible.
On a side note, when did it come to be that the bride became the star of the show with groom in supporting role, anyway? I suspect when the common bride became possession, prize. For many this one day, her day, is the last hurrah of glorious recognition of a woman's divinity before a fall to property and the goal of comfortable materialism. And the groom, husband, provider, pressured no longer to protect from the elements but to provide provide provide, a sisyphean task in our era of continual acquisition.
I remarked on this, her recognition of the masculine divine at the wedding dinner, where Barlow told me the story he told last night during his Psychedelic Manhood talk at Visionary Congress. It began with the story about how one of his three daughters' boyfriends' asked him to lunch and surprised him by not asking for his daughter (an excerise in futility, anyway) but by asking him for advice on how to be a man. He was taken aback. A Montana rancher, Harvard guy, and Grateful Deal lyricist, John came of age when The Pill begat women's sexual freedom and Dr. Hoffman begat lysergic acid. What resulted was a lot of experimentation that unfortunately did not bring about equality and resulted in what he rightfully called a generation of justifiably pissed-off women.
That John shared his confusion with a couple-hundred visionary women is a statement of his masuline divinity–I know few men who could have pulled it off, really. "I just don't have the manual," he shrugged. Indeed. No one does. "How to be a man?" brought so many more questions than answers and the few young men at the conference were so sparked by it they left the room to have an energetic discussion outside in the rain. And for me, it ferments.
Another digression — I thought it could have been a panel discussion. Among my picks for that, along with Barlow, would be various smart and entertaining friends including tantric scholar Dr. Stuart Sovatsky, storyteller Mark Petrakis, mystic intellectual Robert Phoenix. (Woo hoo. Can I moderate?)
It was still raining as I drove home from the conference very late last night and my mind was fermenting on so many other things I'd learned, the so many the people I'd met, the articles I will need to write after the past three days at two very different conferences — where do I even start sorting it all out? Of all possible topics — concsiousness, publishing, technology, psychedelics — the topic of the re-integration of the divine masculine was the one that popped the cork out first.
Wondering why, first I suppose because it is so very personal for women who have such fabulous men in their lives. But, honestly, there's more at stake, like this thing we call unrealized human potential. It's also a social justice problem. When we're all busy loving each other we're not busy with divide and conquor, rather, we're unified in our view of the larger problems and better equipped to gang up against would-be distractors and solve them.
But now, for me, maybe it gets more light because, after a hiatus, I am what we call "dating." Several months ago I consciouly invited men back into my life, and it has been crazy amazing–a mostly enjoyable and always fascinating and occassionally boring and sometimes frightening experiment in interpersonal relations. It's a dance with many risks and possible vast rewards. I have found myself quite brave in some cases and a total coward in others.
Last night, with windshield wipers squeeking, oncoming headlights glaring, and the hum of tires on wet asphalt I decided that for both the noble cause of social justice and the selfish reason of personal gain I need to be, I want to be, I will totally become part of the healing process. So I accept the whirlwind of apologies, and forgive, and moreover, agree to the most difficult part of the equation which is to attempt to assist in the transition. It is 2010, after all, and it's time.
Somewhere on the highway between Petaluma and Point Richmond I made another connection, one that is so completely and totally self-serving that it made me laugh out loud. Simply put, the divine feminine in me doesn't really care to be worshipped by peons. She wants to be worshipped by gods.
Carla, it is great to see you writing something more than 140 characters. This is a fantastic piece about gender and evolution of relationships. –Brent
Bravo, bravo, bravo! You are worthy of such divine and deeply human reflections.
Awesome!
Thanks.
Thanks all, and Brent, thanks for encouraging me, as always. I have been writing much more than 140 characters but haven’t shared much yet, you will see it beginning of next year in The China Road Motorcycle Diaries. There are some previews on http://scribd.com/carlaking/
Beautiful writing and very hopeful. It is clear that Carla hasn’t given up on men and this makes me realize that I have. It is probably a generational thing or possibly it’s just me; tired, and not having the energy to make an effort since I think that men my age probably won’t ever change.
If you look past the various social roles that men (and women) are generally expected to play, you have no choice but to enter into the dark wood of sub-conscious forces.
In that dark wood, we all must joust with our inner animus and anima, and so initiate a complex journey of impulse and action, trial and error. This eventually returns us to those social masks, and to the matter of how we each conduct ourselves in our daily lives.
That’s why the idea expressed here by Terence McKenna in this video – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHsB3RviFN4 – of putting yourself at the still center of that cultural projection fest is kind of radical as well as critical to our being ABLE to find some alternative to that projection process; an alternative which works for us individually.
While we in the Bay Area may assume a broader selection of social options, it is still projections and masks that we are talking about, and thus no less forcefully imposed upon us from the outside.
Wherever that shifting definition of “man” or “woman” might lie, my guess is that it will continue to exist somewhere on the wheel of this inward/outward cycle.
Lovely, lovely piece, and I wish you many blessings and joy in your new adventures. But how long was your hiatus and how did you get the courage to date again? It’s a bit of a jungle out there, figuring out who to trust and how to meet people…and I really like your writing more than twittering!
Thanks for joining the panel discussion, Mark. But what, no manual?! 🙂 I love that video, am sending it to my college-aged nieces and nephews. And your playwright sensibility conjuring up an image of jousting in a dark wood with our animus and anima. Perfect.