VI: Mother, Forgive Me

Mother, forgive me, that when I speak of God I speak of him, but I'm a man and if I'm not faithful to my narrow knowledge, I won't be able to speak clearly.

So. What is gender? It is the pivot, the hinge, the fulcrum, the that Archimedes in a delirium of hubris longed for. Gender is our secrets, the darkness that drives us through a lurking Yam Yeung to a revelation as still and blazing as the sun. lt is deeper than we know. lit forms the soul behind the soul that the anCient Hindu seers into emptiness believed in. lit can be reached only by a free-floating meditation as radical as an act of sanyas', by the koan that shreds this gauze reality to open that world with which we ignorantly shape our own.

The clash and mesh of genders engenders pleasure too often shadowed by indulgence, and indulgence too often shadowed by despair. And out of despair is born (inter feces et urinas) the rage to make money and war, to own and dominate, which is only slightly worse that the rage to submit.