Perhaps, with all my writing and postulating about the Divine Masculine, it seems that I somehow have forgotten the natural counterbalance? You know, us women? It's not that I am intentionally neglecting us, ladies. It's that, I see a pattern and a trend here. Also, I didn't mean to imply that my brothers on the dance floor aren't my lovers. For these relationships are one in the same (brother/lover), they are not diametrically opposed. However, there are only so many of them to go around. Yet, there are many of us, my sexy, smart and spiritual sistahs. Given the dominant paradigm, I am just trying to even out the playing field is all.
Nonetheless, I have been a little blocked in my thinking when it comes to us.
"I don't know, how do us women need to evolve?" I'd whine to Sam. There was no pause on his part. No need to think it through. "You need to soften," he said. "American women have become so hard. I was out the other night and there were these women, dressed to the nines, trying so hard to look sexy, yet they were angular with stoic faces that didn't let any expression out. There was no vulnerability, just a rock hard façade."
Oh, right.
And, this is what my brothers have been teaching me, on our dance floors, over the course of these past few years.
In current collective consciousness, this story is being played out. It has the whole world fascinated because it is basically enacting this parable. You know, it's the one about the triangular love relationship of Jen, Brad and Angie? It's a timeless tale of where we find ourselves n-o-w:
America's rugged yet brilliant favorite son has been snared by a worldly and conniving temptress who embodies all of the Earthly human archetypes (both on screen and off) and the nation's beloved girl next door has been left empty handed but is still the reigning queen of feminine beauty with her long, angular legs and manicured hair.
Yes, us American women have become as de-masculated as our American counterparts. We have had our soft curves, flowing grace and gentle nurturance ripped right out of us. In our attempts at becoming "equal," we have mimicked our men - in dress, in look, in behavior. We have rushed right up to the finish line beside them. Sometimes, knocking them out of place with a swift bump of our diminishing hips. Yet, we get there and we recognize that we're all alone. Our brothers are peculiarly absent and it hurts.
