The Brave Pedestrian

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 beca...

Mother, You who alone walk the hidden passageways of my heart, You who sense my every twist and turn, You who know my littlest truths and subtlest lies, You who see my most secret desires and lusts naked, Even ones that I do not dare acknowledge… Hear me, heed this prayer: Let my all be taken, returned to the good earth. Let the slow-burning fires of my many thirsts be quenched. Let my various hungers cease their endless creeping about the earth Like sleepless ghouls seeking satiation, saturation. Let them die unfulfilled For they are never silenced by fulfilment. For far too long have my brothers and sisters been cast away into the cold. The eloquence of this two-legged child who prays too frequently Makes you deaf to my legless and many-legged brethren Who suffer and die in silence. Their hunger and pain, their indignity As they are driven from their waters and their lands, Their homes desecrated, torn from their roots in the earth Are plain to those who see and hear. Why...

My neglected Mother who is largely unworshipped, You gave me dreams and daydreams Of being your footstool when I was tiny. I have not forgotten the ecstacy of those dreams. Mother, decades ago, I pledged my right hand to you And gave only my left to your rival. Bless me then to fulfil this oath. Let her be at arms length May I never prostrate before her. May I never pray to her whom the world worships. I beg you, Mother Don’t curse me by casting me away Or lose me by letting me drift. Or let me be one whom the world swayed. Don’t let me wake up one morning, Mother, And discover that somewhere along the way, I mortgaged myself in bits and pieces To the bitch goddess of wealth. Bless me that I may watch the dance of this goddess With amusement befitting your child, your plaything. When she turns her face to me, let me not be charmed. When she turns her back to me, let me not be anxious. When it looks like she has gone, let my heart not sink. When it ...