We Remember The Sacred

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There are not many women who have been fully sexually satisfied.

Deeply fulfilled to the core of their being.

Touched, soul touched, heart touched.

Body replete.

Given herself totally, utterly.

Every level of her being open, exposed, safe, loved, respected, honoured, worshipped, elevated.

 

There are not many men who have been fully sexually satisfied.

Deeply fulfilled to the core of their being.

To touch from their soul, with their heart.

Body powerful.

Given himself totally, utterly.

Every level of his being open, exposed, vulnerable, loved, respected, honoured, worshipful, elevated.

 

There is a separation, a soul separation.

We have drifted from our essence, from our true nature.

The ties that bind us to the highest we are, to the deepest possibility, have slipped, and we are adrift.

 

Emasculated warriors in a rudderless vessel lost in a sea of pain and confusion.

Within us an anger so deep it fills our world with bloodshed and violence, with oppression and darkness.

An anger so deep it can be expressed as nothing but destruction. And we destroy, our planet, our neighbour, our sons and daughters.

We destroy with greed and corruption.

We destroy with weapons and words.

We destroy beauty, for we cannot look too long in it’s mirror for the shame we see there.

We destroy hope, for we cannot in truth promise what we know to be a lie.

And, out of the anger at what we have become, we destroy ourselves.

We destroy our power and our glory.

We destroy the image within us of that sacred light. We bury it deep, we shatter it, we pollute it so that we may not have to look at it.

 

The Goddess who has become the witch, who has allowed the connection with the Divine to be taken from her.

The suppressed, oppressed, subservient who has become weak.

The light of creation that burned within her is but a feeble echo of its brilliance.

She has become wracked with pain, her words bitter and vain.

And she too has become a destroyer. That which she longs for, the power of man, that which opens her to the fullness of her beauty, she despises.

Her dance has become mere posturing, her song an empty note.

And her fire, the fire that burns in her belly, the fire that burns bright in the belly of the universe is an ember growing cold in the passionless dark night of the soul.

 

As we search for that which we have lost we have taken the beauty, the power of sexuality and coloured it with guilt, we have burned it with shame and we have stained it with condemnation.

 

But there are those who remember, those who have carried the flame, those who have held the heat in the hearts and in their bodies.

Those who have looked into the stillness of the water, those who have listened to the silence of the night, those who have kept vigil through the night to the breaking of the day.

Those who have stood as warriors against the tide.

Those who, with humility and honour, allow the Sacred within to speak its voice in the world.

 

And so we do our work.

We heal.

We learn.

We grow.

We connect with our hearts.

We come into our bodies.

We come into presence.

We come into intimacy with life.