The story here at the beginning of my treatise is dedicated to those who truly have no clue about Sacred Sex. The last story, at the end of my words, is for Hoopoe.
“Once upon a time, there was a bird. He was adorned with two perfect wings and with glossy, colorful, marvelous feathers. In short, he was creature made to fly about freely in the sky, bringing joy to everyone who saw him.
One day, a woman saw this bird and fell in love with him. She watched his flight, her mouth wide in amazement, her heart pounding, her eyes shining with excitement. She invited the bird to fly with her, and the two traveled across the sky in perfect harmony. She admired and venerated and celebrated that bird.
But, then she thought: He might want to visit far off mountains! And, she was afraid, afraid that she would never feel the same way about any other bird. And, she felt envy, envy for the bird’s ability to fly.
And, she felt alone.
And, she thought: “I am going to set a trap. The next time the bird appears, he will never leave again.”
The bird, who was also in love, returned the following day, fell into the trap, and was put in a cage.
She looked at the bird every day. There he was, the object of her passion, and she showed him to her friends and said: “Now you have everything you could possibly want.” However, a strange transformation began to take place: now that she had the bird and no longer needed to woo him, she began to lose interest. The, bird unable to fly and express the true meaning of life, began to waste away and his feathers lost their gloss; he grew ugly; and the woman no longer paid him any attention, except by feeding him and cleaning his cage.
One day, the bird died. The woman felt terribly sad and spent all her time thinking about him. But, she did not remember the cage, she thought only of the day when she had seen him for the first time, flying contently amongst the clouds.
If she had looked more deeply into herself, she would have realized that what had thrilled her about the bird was his freedom, the energy of his wings in motion, not his physical body.
Without the bird, her life too lost all meaning, and Death came knocking at her door. “Why have you come?” she asked Death. “So that you can fly once more with him across the sky,” Death replied. “If you had allowed him to come and go, you would have loved and admired him even more; alas, you now need me in order to find him again.”
In a country in total upheaval polarity, the land by The Nile, nine out of ten women over the age of 15 years are mutilated. Maybe her clitoris is trimmed or removed, or the skin above her clitoris is cut off, or her labia (major or minor) cut back, or her vagina nearly sewn closed (infibulation), yet always her heart is slammed shut. The entire Egyptian male population is circumcised (foreskin removed). Male Egyptians are the second highest users of cyber pornography on the planet. Do not assume I am drawing inter or intra linking conclusions between these terrors. Female genital mutilation (FMG) and female genital cutting (FMC) is the name the United Nations uses because apparently the actual terms are too repulsive?
The desert land of sanctified temples, too many arcane hallowed gods with one barely enough, while entrenched in reincarnate tenderness ten thousand years in the making – Egypt forgets the delight of daring and embraces the disgusts of demons.
Although a prophetic stretch of holy life continues unabated in its reverence with five prayers per day, Egyptians float half a meter above the Nile suspended in fear swinging in neither the winds of change nor cuddling a grand plan privy to one tidbit of intuition.
The practice (dare we use this term?) of FGM/FGC is not prescribed by Islam, nor in the Bible. In fact, the sick sick habit predates Islam, and many religious leaders have denounced it. The cultural screwed up tradition cuts across religions yet is a ritual done by Muslims, Christians, Ethiopian Jews, Copts, as well as by followers of certain traditional African religions. FGM/FGC is more a cultural than a religious dependency.
Humanity probably is the only entity on Earth to exist within an impasse. Blessed friggin’ non-human life pumps on, or not, bringing and deleting one glory after another never stuck nor buried. The continuous cycle spins and spins while the cards clipped onto the spokes adjust sometimes in nano-seconds and at other instances requiring 350,000,000 twirls on its axis and 127,834,769,560 Earth days orbiting Sol.
Nightmares not dreams divide and conquer. Dreams push up to the edge of our pain pleasure. Dreams live beyond our comprehensive. Nightmares surface as little girls in the cover of darkness have their pleasure button cut of by a dafa. Whiffs of what could be haunt us as we paddle our canoes through the bloody sludge silently begging for the crystal clarity of understanding. In the flick of a knife and a smearing of ashes the beguine of natural womanhood ends. No roar is heard, nor allowed, the dance stops.
Mastering the soul happens in an instant or requires a multitude of spiritual to scientific happenings orchestrated to bring us to an free moment in time and space when we finally get it. Mutilated how is a young female of our species to discover her sacred sex?
What is not said becomes the mystery. Women do not learn being on top stimulates the clitoris and the G-Spot at the same time because men are vainly trying to be eleven-minute studs, not consecrated lovers. Plus, sister women normally do not become mentors for younger women. Some women cut up little girls’ pussies to destroy sexual pleasure to not feel what? Fear of whatever takes precedence over righteous love and lives well shared. Tantalizing pleasure is considered the work of she-devils or he-masters, or vice a versa, holding whips and wearing leather or monks as single acts beating themselves in cells while holding the addictive whip themselves on themselves. Our species oppresses life as a mean to serve what madness? Pleasure is removed from a not yet a woman out of pure ignorant bullsh*t to keep the slaves in-line, make sure a wife does not stray (?), and to preserve a false belief the highest form of female are women as a mother Mary. Primitive tribal stupidity divides the sexes, partitions the culture, and ploughs generational field after field of no self-esteem harassed by ego and mother superior misogynists or chronic paternalistic driven piety. For Christ, Buddha, and our sakes – it is 2013, not -23,313.
Any person of our species, no matter what sex or preference, condoning the cutting off of a woman’s clitoris and/or her labia and/or sewing her vagina almost shut is barbaric. It makes no difference if this was 6,000 years ago in the Sudan or downtown Cairo today. The ancient Egyptians practiced no such insanity. Egyptians adopted this cultural barbarity from tribal Africans. No Muslim woman in Saudi Arabia undergoes this assault on her body or soul but women in Yemen, Iraq, United Arabic Emirates and over 28 countries in Africa do.
Homo sapiens needs an international edition called Sacred Sex and I am not talking about a Tantric manual or other how to do books on how to get off, together and know oneness. Or, maybe I am.
Unless we as women and men of concern and consciousness take a stand to end this suffering insanity another 8,000 young girls, this day, and into the future, are subjected to the grand theft of their innocence and hearts. There are statues in place to make this act illegal yet global protection and a surge in favor of human rights is demanded not just wordy white papers.
In the past when I have written about this disastrous affectation effecting maybe 140 million women the apathy shown pissed me off to the point I wanted to march into the UN chamber and place in front of every country member’s station a photo of what a mutilation looks like. Rude awakenings are not limited to finding sobriety.
Our species are sick f**ks and if we are to have any semblance of hope to become compassionate sentient beings we can begin here with this very simple task – end female genital mutilation, today, not five years from now after another 14,600,000 little girls are sliced and sacrificed to the god of idiocy.
Urban Dictionary: misogynist – A man who hates every bone in a woman except his.
“Profound desire, true desire, is the desire to be close to someone. From that point onwards, things change, the man and the woman come into play, but what happens before – the attraction that brought them together – is impossible to explain. It is untouched desire in its purest state.
When desire is still in this pure state, the man, and the woman fall in love with life, they live each moment reverently, consciously, always ready to celebrate the next blessing.
When people feel like this, they are not in a hurry, they do not precipitate events with unthinking actions. They know that the inevitable will happen, that what is real always finds a way of revealing itself. When the moment comes, they do no hesitate, they do not miss an opportunity, they do not let slip a single magic moment, because they respect the importance of each second.”
Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes.