My thoughts: The Whore Who Accepts & Embraces
A woman’s love is essentially an accepting, embracing love. A man’s love is basically a puny, thrusting, grabbing sort. This is of course a HUGE generalization, but please consider whether, at a deep archetypal level, this is true. I sincerely believe this is so.
Allow me to elaborate.There are male and female principles at work in the world, and what I said above defines these PRINCIPLES rather than ACTUAL PEOPLE at the level of love.
In real life, all of us — both men and women — act from a combination of the male and the female principles. In matters of love, men are basically inclined to act in a “puny, thrusting, grabbing” manner, while the first instinct of women is to accept and embrace. However, men also have the female principle in varying degrees, enabling them to give a more long-lasting, gentle kind of love. On the other hand, women too have the male principle and are less giving, more grasping and more petty because of it.
My archetypal man — who is far from ideal — is the legendary Greek god Pan. His lower half is that of a hoofed, hairy, lustful goat, always horny. His upper half is a astonishingly ugly youth who plays enchanting tunes on a flute to lure fair maidens to him. Essentially lonely and uncivilized, he hides in the dark forests, ambushes women. He does not make gentle love, he ravishes. He does not aim to give pleasure; he is a robber.
My archetypal woman is the legendary whore with the heart of gold… sometimes also known as earth mother. (Please note: ‘Earth mother’ is not the same as ‘Mother Earth’. I mean it in its usage as ‘a sensuous, maternal woman’ — NOT as Mother Earth). This is a gentle, totally strong and therefore totally non-defensive sort of woman. Although she is soft and lays herself completely open to the pain and pleasure of loving, no man can TRULY hurt her, because her capacity for universal acceptance and selfless giving takes her beyond the reaches of expectation and of pain.
Now let us talk about whores. You know, I doubt that I shall ever go to a prostitute. It isn’t because of morality, but because I believe that prostitutes in real life have total DISDAIN for men. On the rare occasions that I see a prostitute plying her trade, what I feel is fear: “Oh-oh, here is a woman who has NO reason to feel respect for a man. In her eyes, a man is only a puny dick with a wallet attached.” The thought of even talking to her makes me feel like I’m near an X-ray machine/robot who can see through my skeleton.
So the guys who visit prostitutes or have casual sex must be more manly than me, or have less imagination. Because I would surely wither to the size of a peanut if I were with a prostitute! I wouldn’t be able to get it up; it's that simple.
So can there be a true whore-with-a-heart-of-gold? A woman who is so sure of herself that she generously and sensually gives of herself, and yet retains her essential freshness, her love of men and of herself? A loving whore who does not shield her inner tenderness with the harsh logic of All-Men-are-Bastards? A whore who does not become the paan-spitting, hard-faced, foul-mouthed creature that we see in red-light areas?
Hmm… I wonder. But if there is such a woman, I worship her. This woman is not only the heroine of the short stories that I sometimes write, she is also the ideal reader of ALL the stuff that I write. She is the muse who endlessly compels me to express whatever is within me — whether sacred or profane. She tells me to go ahead because she loves me no matter what!
Because she can understand what is lowest and most pathetic in a man, and yet love him flawlessly with her whole body and soul, she is the embodiment of understanding, tenderness and endless love.
I call her Goddess, and not whore. I worship her. I kiss the ground that she walks on.
Allow me to elaborate.There are male and female principles at work in the world, and what I said above defines these PRINCIPLES rather than ACTUAL PEOPLE at the level of love.
In real life, all of us — both men and women — act from a combination of the male and the female principles. In matters of love, men are basically inclined to act in a “puny, thrusting, grabbing” manner, while the first instinct of women is to accept and embrace. However, men also have the female principle in varying degrees, enabling them to give a more long-lasting, gentle kind of love. On the other hand, women too have the male principle and are less giving, more grasping and more petty because of it.
My archetypal man — who is far from ideal — is the legendary Greek god Pan. His lower half is that of a hoofed, hairy, lustful goat, always horny. His upper half is a astonishingly ugly youth who plays enchanting tunes on a flute to lure fair maidens to him. Essentially lonely and uncivilized, he hides in the dark forests, ambushes women. He does not make gentle love, he ravishes. He does not aim to give pleasure; he is a robber.
My archetypal woman is the legendary whore with the heart of gold… sometimes also known as earth mother. (Please note: ‘Earth mother’ is not the same as ‘Mother Earth’. I mean it in its usage as ‘a sensuous, maternal woman’ — NOT as Mother Earth). This is a gentle, totally strong and therefore totally non-defensive sort of woman. Although she is soft and lays herself completely open to the pain and pleasure of loving, no man can TRULY hurt her, because her capacity for universal acceptance and selfless giving takes her beyond the reaches of expectation and of pain.
Now let us talk about whores. You know, I doubt that I shall ever go to a prostitute. It isn’t because of morality, but because I believe that prostitutes in real life have total DISDAIN for men. On the rare occasions that I see a prostitute plying her trade, what I feel is fear: “Oh-oh, here is a woman who has NO reason to feel respect for a man. In her eyes, a man is only a puny dick with a wallet attached.” The thought of even talking to her makes me feel like I’m near an X-ray machine/robot who can see through my skeleton.
So the guys who visit prostitutes or have casual sex must be more manly than me, or have less imagination. Because I would surely wither to the size of a peanut if I were with a prostitute! I wouldn’t be able to get it up; it's that simple.
So can there be a true whore-with-a-heart-of-gold? A woman who is so sure of herself that she generously and sensually gives of herself, and yet retains her essential freshness, her love of men and of herself? A loving whore who does not shield her inner tenderness with the harsh logic of All-Men-are-Bastards? A whore who does not become the paan-spitting, hard-faced, foul-mouthed creature that we see in red-light areas?
Hmm… I wonder. But if there is such a woman, I worship her. This woman is not only the heroine of the short stories that I sometimes write, she is also the ideal reader of ALL the stuff that I write. She is the muse who endlessly compels me to express whatever is within me — whether sacred or profane. She tells me to go ahead because she loves me no matter what!
Because she can understand what is lowest and most pathetic in a man, and yet love him flawlessly with her whole body and soul, she is the embodiment of understanding, tenderness and endless love.
I call her Goddess, and not whore. I worship her. I kiss the ground that she walks on.
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