If you want to change the world, love a man… really love him.
Choose the one whose soul calls to yours clearly; who sees you; who is brave enough to be afraid. Accept his hand and guide him gently to your heart’s blood, where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there and burn his heavy load in your fires. Look into his eyes — look deep within —
and see what lies dormant, or awake, or shy, or expectant there. Look into his eyes and see there his father and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time. Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt, without judgment. And let it all go. Feel into his ancestral burden. And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you. Let him melt in your steady gaze. And know that you need not mirror that rage. Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds.
If you want to change the world, love a man…
really love him. Sit before him, in the full majesty of your womanhood; in the breath of your vulnerability; in the play of your child innocence; in the depths of your death. Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man to step forward toward you… and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together.
And when he retreats — because he will — flees in fear to his cave…
Gather your grandmothers around you; enveloped in their wisdom. Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers calm your frightened girl’s heart, urging you to be still and wait patiently for his return. Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance, that he may be soothed, once more.
If you want to change the world, love a man… really love him. Do not coax out his little boy with guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery only to lure him to a web of destruction; to a place of chaos and hatred more terrible than any war fought by his brothers. This is not feminine. This is revenge. This is the poison of the twisted lines of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world. And this gives no power to women… it reduces her as she cuts off his balls.
And it kills us all.
And whether his mother held him or could not, show him the true mother now. Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth, smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core. Do not punish him for his wounds that don’t meet your needs or criteria. Cry for him sweet rivers. Bleed it all back home.
If you want to change the world, love a man… really love him. Love him enough to be naked and free. Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death, and thank him for the opportunity. As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods, be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being.
Let him know he can hold you, stand up and protect you.
Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you, even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before. Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself. And merge into the sweet nothing of this world’s heart.
If you want to change the world, love a man… really love him. Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him. And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected by strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows. Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream.