How Empathy and Emotional Evolution Will Save Us, and Why Feminine Energy is the Answer to Political Struggle, & Cultural Divineness That is Ceasing the World
Human consciousness is accelerating, moving through the woods and darkness of its own intelligence, awakening to itself. There is sound, where there was before only silence. What is it? This is waking up. This is the noise.
The first beautiful and fantastic fits of hysteria, which seem so utterly painful as they happen, from a macroscopic view, that is, a bird’s eye perspective, are the bright, curving spindles that begin in the center of some enigmatic pattern, forming the humming figure of a universe in full motion.
A new dimension is opening. You can read my words as the crooked ravings of a street lunatic with a keyboard, because they fail, as words inevitably will, to capture the grandness of human feeling and perspective as it widens before itself. Yet, that is what is happening right now. What is it? This is the feminine dimension. The other, sacred half of our experience. The denied portion of our sensual capacity.
For a very long time, we have tried to escape the feminine. And let’s be clear that I am not even speaking, particularly, of women—but just of feminine energy, in general. Patriarchy, whatever we say, has been our king and our primary ruler for a very long time. We have raged his wars, we have built his towers and castles, we have pretended his politics and we have gratified his need to preside over this and that.
This is masculine energy. I’m not attacking him. In astrology, our most ancient method of determining symbolical representation, masculine energy is represented by the sun. He is the golden, wondering spirit, compelling the human existence to capture, to search out, to reason. Without his ego, we aren’t individuals. Without his voice, we won’t hear ourselves speaking—we won’t exist as we know ourselves, in this physical dimension, to be heard.
Masculine energy is defining and questing, and his urge to possess, is born out of a desire to organize the unending layout of reality before him. Great. I say “great” somewhat sincerely, and somewhat sarcastically. Sincerely because we obviously need masculine energy, and sarcastically because his shit is getting old.
Yes, it is. But it’s not that we need to destroy him! We just need to recognize his shit. We need to recognize our shit. We need to call him on the carpet for it. We need to call ourselves on the carpet. It’s just the only way to deal with him/ourselves. We need to see that without the feminine influence, the other side of our sacred duality, the other face of the deity in whose image we are created, the masculine forces within us begin to swell into corrupt and frankly bullshit-ey figures that insult our purposes as human creatures, as animals sharing in the collective organism and consciousness of this world, this universe.
And using our empathic intelligence, I think we can do this. First of all, empathy is if nothing else, a profound tool for gaining insight, and knowledge. Through an empathic perspective, we can begin to feel the truth of our collective consciousness.
When we tap into that otherness beyond ourselves, and yet, that is essentially, the deepest heart of who we are, what is it that we all feel we need? We all feel that we need to feel. We all become aware of this massive lack in terms of emotional security and truth, and the disorienting result of our human passions, and emotional consciousness, smashed like glass against the hard fixations of the rationalist agenda.
This rationalist agenda is the physical and masculine world, whose only spirituality has been translated into the politics of religion until deity was filtered out, and whose only enlightenment was broken down in the rigid confinement of textbooks. Structures—logic—linear drawings of institutional concepts—these were the tools that he drew the world with. And while we needed (and need) this masculine influence to shape, and define our reality, we have lost touch with the sea of color, the spacious rhythm, of her—the mother, the black, endless womb, from which we feel, and originate.
This is why our culture denies sensitivity, and asks it to be quiet. “There is a time and place for emotions, and it isn’t now.” “We need to be reasonable.” “Let’s assess this logically.” “Let’s be rational.” But what if we need to feel, and further, evolve in terms of that feeling intelligence, in order to become whatever the solution actually is?
The world is shitty. We wish to make sense of it. But what if that’s a childish wish? What if there is no sense to make of this reality, what if there is simply a reality here for us to instead, sense? Does not all change first happen within the internal self? Cognitive therapy has become popular, because it promotes the idea that we can simply change once we become aware of the irrationality of our neurosis. And yet, this awareness does nothing but perplex and frustrate us, and we sit eternally on the proverbial couch, waiting for the logic to matter enough. And it never does.
So maybe what we need to do collectively—no maybe what we are doing collectively, is realizing that logic is not enough. A feminine balance is necessary, in this masculine world. A feeling consciousness is necessary. The solutions aren’t in a game of puzzles spread out and sorted by fat, political fingers. It isn’t as easy, as rectifying some order, out of all of this massive mess that is the human passion and experience. As a collective, we must become aware of this internal force, just as individuals do. And we must begin to heal, from the inside out.
We must see what we are, and we must emotionally evolve to see that there will never be a solution, without our emotional perspective—without our being able to know, the inherent truth that in each minute episode of suffering, no matter how far away it may seem from us, it is happening to us.
When we cut others down, no matter what their religion, their gender, their country of origin, their orientation, race, or what have you—we bleed.
And when we destroy our environment, we destroy ourselves. But without the acceleration, and the gift of emotional evolution, we will only be able to muse over whether or not this is true, and we will not feel it—because we will not be in touch with ourselves, enough to feel it.
And yet, we are beginning to feel it. This is the gift of feminine consciousness. The great receiving intelligence, who flows and intuits, who moves and curves and is one with all that appears to her—and all becomes her, and comes from her. She is in harmony. She is in touch. She is the great mother, the great mystery.
He has feared her, and he has built castles, and made wars, and made up everything, just to impose order upon her sacred mystery.
Just as he has wrestled to possess nature, he has tried to own her. And it is really time that we call him on his shit. It is really time, that we call the great mother out of the depths of our insides. That we yank our own mess out of our tangled bellies, throw it before us and feel this life until we understand it better. It’s our only hope of survival.