a pure love of self blooms
when a greet finds the gaze,
two souls merging as one
In a world where everyone is slowly but surely shutting everyone else down, owing to the consuming forces of technology and ideology, it is a rare moment when one pair of eyes meets another pair of eyes, each giving the other nothing less than hints of a common humanity.
In this dying world, even more rare are those moments when female humanity, unfettered and unburdened by the many hooks and chains of technology and ideology, dares to proffer a look that speaks to the promise of love, and here, I also speak to the varieties of lovelust.
This irrepressible impulse might yet still be the saving grace of humanity.
Although I must say, I have my doubts, given the many trends that I see.
The lust for life is most obvious in children for whom peace and prosperity have been kind. When merged with love, this lovelust is a potent reminder of humanity’s potential for goodness and greatness, at least until the serpentine jaws of technology and ideology begin to close.
But even here, there are those rebel hearts in adolescence and adulthood for whom a pure lovelust has not yet been swallowed whole by the serpentine ways, although I must be quick to add that I sense rather keenly that these souls are becoming ever fewer and farther between.
Be this as it may, let us buck the trends and broach the many varieties of love and lovelust in childhood and beyond. In doing so, we just might find a glimmer of hope that humanity actually has a future on this planet, knowing all too well that the moment this glimmer dies, we die.
1
I had worked with her side by side for quite some time ~ some months, in fact ~ when, one day, while sitting in a chair, I saw her stand before me quite unexpectedly with a look that merged liking with lusting. As I met her unwavering gaze, I came to know the meaning of lovelust.
In this fleeting moment, I pondered an appropriate and responsive gesture, but came up empty, in no small part because I lacked the requisite experience to move with the moment in a mutually favorable and desirable way. I was simply too dumbstruck by the opportunity presented.
Who knows where a soft touch to the hand might have taken us.
I came to know and feel the untold power of the feminine gaze, sparking a lifelong interest in cultivating sacred intimate relations with flowers from the Orient, which I continue to hold to this day.
2
I already knew from my exposure to films that catered to spreading awareness of the customs and cultures of aboriginal people that the pure heart of an aboriginal woman is nothing to be trifled with, but what I didn’t know was how deeply captivating such a wise heart could be.
A most unexpected moment occurred in the kitchen of a BnB home where I was staying. I do not recall how it was that we came to stand to face each other, but her gaze drew me close, holding my gaze captive with a look of uncommon joy, her liquid eyes appearing very wise.
Her eyes held no hint of lust, neither for life nor for love ~ just a warm, pure love arising in the light of wisdom, a wisdom, perhaps, born of centuries of incarnated experience in the ways of aboriginality, that invited the living, loving presence and promise of a sacred touch.
3
I had seen her, my neighbor around the corner from where I live, a good many times from afar. We had greeted each other warmly on a few occasions while she was walking her dog; I also knew she had a cat that bore a striking resemblance to a cat I used to know and love.
The spring evening air was cool yet mild, depending on the presence of a breeze. As I strolled at my leisure with my companion through the neighborhood along a sidewalk marked by puddles and ice patches, I spotted my neighbor from afar, walking toward us with her dog.
To bypass any potential trouble with the dog, my companion veered off our narrow path. Knowing the dog to be friendly, I kept to the path. As I approached my neighbor, I was ready with a smile. When our eyes met, and she greeted me, I was startled by the intimacy of her gaze.
The greeting in her voice carried a suggestive tone at once playful and intimate. We exchanged a moment of joy with our eyes, but her eyes flashed a hint of lovelust that aroused me truly and deeply.
In my mind, it all happened too fast.
4
I met her at an exhibit at an outdoor art and design festival in a posh neighborhood. As I recall, the summer heat and humidity combined were intense but not too oppressive. I knew there was something pleasantly and pleasurably unusual about her the moment she greeted me.
We talked at length about the offerings of the boutique she represented ~ beautifully crafted frames for beautifully composed works of art ~ which rekindled my interest in composing fine art nature photography and framing it in all of the latest, greatest ways it could be framed.
At the close of our interaction, she invited me to join her at an open house that included a free dinner buffet. Here, I would have the opportunity to meet and mingle with visual artists and entrepreneurs in the business of promoting both residential and commercial installations of art.
When I arrived at the open house, she greeted me with a warm smile and a warm hand. This was no ordinary greeting. I was not used to this sort of royal treatment. Mind you, this was not a subtle invitation to make love to her; the energy in her gaze ran much deeper than this.
It was an invitation to love one and all unconditionally, that is to say, universally. In this eternal moment, where time seemed to stop and space seemed to disappear all around, it was an honor and a privilege to meet and greet and ground myself with this lovely fourth density soul.
5
These days, the cosmic energies are running high. Fleeting moments of intimate contact contain more information than ever, but sometimes, intimate contact with a so-called stranger is not so fleeting.
One fine evening, I attended one of those establishments in the food court of a mall to acquire some middle eastern fare, and as I attended, I came upon the living, loving presence of a motherly woman in a hijab whose grounded gaze ran deeper than any gaze I had ever known.
From the outset, the whole encounter was guided by her gaze ~ some might say “goaded by her gaze”, but no ~ a soft, steady gaze that could only be described as eternal in its nature. Rumi would have been so proud; throughout, she spoke not a word. Her eyes did all the talking.
Her effect on me, on my gaze, my voice, my touch as I received her fare, was visceral; it softened me, had me be more intimate, inviting me, daring me to be as wholly submissive, transmissive as she.
It didn’t matter that an older woman behind the counter nearby was yelling at my eternal companion for reasons I could neither fathom nor care to fathom, for the love that bloomed for us was just too strong.
6
I was sitting with my laptop at a local library, tap tapping away, when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a girl who couldn’t have been more than 8 or 9 years of age. When I turned to look, she held her ground not far from where I sat, holding me captive with a most intense gaze, intense, that is, for a girl so young, for this gaze was no ordinary gaze, as it projected strong hints of lust ~ a lust for life, at first, but then also the kind of lust that seeks for passion. I affirmed her lust for life and love with a smile, before gently breaking off contact. Did our souls merge? For a fleeting moment, yes. I received her lust for life and returned to her an offering of joy in a smile; when the lust for life transformed into something more intense, I was startled, yes, but I continued to hold her gaze with a smile that affirmed her lovelust before turning away with a casual nonchalance, knowing all too well the forbidden nature of this sort of contact, especially in a public space. And yes, startled, but also a bit aroused in spite of myself, for how else would I have discerned the nature of her lust, not just for life, but for love?
A progressivist movement is afoot that would allow children to be sexually active with anyone they please, provided they give their consent. Is this a movement reflective of degenerate desire? Or a movement that expands and extends the parameters of desire with informed consent?
What to do with a child’s nascent sexuality?
I can well imagine that the mundane options for dealing with this powerful, not-to-be-suppressed energy have been many: ignore, dismiss, avoid, bypass, and suppress; the shameless options have persisted as a kind of cold, dark undercurrent: traffick, indulge, and exploit.
Wherein lies the context for cultivating a healthy, vital sexuality from a young age? Ancient wisdom had saw fit to gather all the children in one residence as they came of age and let them have at it, with the proviso that they spend no more than a few days with one another, and be free to explore the urge with as many as they saw fit to explore, with the results in later life being no incidents of rape and no calls for divorce. I do, however, find it hard to imagine watching such a scenario play out today.
And now for the hard question, the question no one wants to ask: How do we feel about trustworthy adolescents or adults making tender love to children in love with life with a lust for life who are ready, willing, and able to give their informed consent, while letting said children take and keep the lead in the act of making love? In all likelihood, as long as the taboo against such love persists, we will never really know, but what kind of world would arise if such a taboo ever fell by the wayside?
The bar for informed consent would have to be high, as well as clear (if indeed such a bar is even possible at a time when dark humanity is violating its own children in the extreme), given how breathtakingly easy it would be to spill crazy glue on a false accusation of wrongdoing.
In the meantime, maybe the spectacle of grown adults behaving like baby boys and baby girls is not such a bad thing. But then again, maybe the tolerance of same is contributing to the untimely sexualization of children from a young age. Time no doubt is already telling the tale.
Parting Thoughts
The feminine gaze is as personal as it is captivating, inviting deep connection, but with its attractive and captive powers, it also rises to the status of being transpersonal as and when it draws and holds with uncommon power the masculine gaze with such grace and ease.
However, unless and until the sacred masculine gaze can tune into this uncommon power to project and reflect love and joy, the cultural spite and spiting against all things men, male, and masculine will continue unabated until there is precious little that is left to draw and hold.
The prospect of an empty planet in a future not so distant seems almost assured. Perhaps one day, as global population pressures ease, and as the specters of Satanism, communism, and fascism are removed, and as a more just and equitable world for the restless many comes into focus, the cultural tide will shift in favor of vital relations that welcome fleeting moments of love and joy in the thrall of grace and ease.
I dare say, at this point in time, even knowing this Law of Creation ~ “what you put out is what you get back” ~ I am nevertheless tempted to maintain, at least for now, that one can only really entertain a mere glimmer of hope for the future of human life and love on this planet.
I can, however, point to a way out of this rather grave impoverishment beyond a mere greeting that is fleeting and beyond a mere glimmer that grows ever dimmer and grimmer by the day (and night).
Stay tuned for more on this matter from yours truly.