i have two friends, Joanna and Levi, and they are trying to be a conscious couple together. i am watching and learning, for one day yet, still, maybe, yes, this grace too shall come my way..... and by watching them, i am given this gift, of the impartial observer. impartial, but truly? well, if not, at the least i can find no clear reason for having an interest in who may be the right, or who may be the wrong, who may be the superior, or who may be the inferior.
And what i am bearing witness to, is my past, my present, and my future, all simultaneously teaching me at the same time, for i have been this woman, and i have been this man. i have been this feminine, and i have been this masculine.
they are struggling, they are often unhappy and bickering. he looks worn out, she looks like a frazzled housewife. he looks like a little boy, she looks like a grandmother. he looks scolded, she looks frustrated. what is this, this dichotomy, this ensuing chaos?
i call it the Unclaimed Feminine.
Joanna never truly claimed her feminine nature, and she is searching for it in a partner. Levi is the epitome of the feminine man. long hair, lean body, beautiful features, artist, transient, a true lover, a true caregiver. Joanna is the epitome of the masculine woman. independent, Type A, on a mission, worn out, angry, using some form of drugs or nicotine to soften the edges...
when they met, these two opposing forces attracted each other like the magnets they are, but they are each playing the opposing side to their true nature. Levi wants to care for Joanna, he wants to be the man. Joanna will not and cannot let him. she cannot surrender to the masculine essence she sees in a feminine man, she cannot trust him. Joanna wants to be cared for, she is frustrated by his lack of taking control and taking charge, yet she will not let him do anything without criticizing or chastising him. Levi for his part, wants to be taken seriously, he wants to be the man, but with her money, her car, her power, her history, her hard work to have it all - it will never work.
Joanna is craving her unformed feminine nature. the unformed feminine, that craves itself, will search for and eventually find it in the unformed masculine. pushing itself onto him, with his own unclaimed and discarded remnants, that too are unwilling to be worn or claimed by itself.
and then putting itself onto the willing unformed masculine, so as to find itself, finding itself hating itself as worn by him, recognizing itself as unnatural and uncomfortable on another, sensing the embarrassment of being worn by the wrong person.
like a broken and beaten puppy, the masculine cowers from itself, both as discarded by him, and worn by her. cowering behind the veil of the unclaimed feminine, that he wears like such a shroud, another veil to add to the weight that curves his spine and tires his legs.
as he becomes more and more meek, his unclaimed masculine builds in it's hatred of itself. until one day he is gone, by her hand or his, it does not matter. whether physically or metaphorically, it does not matter. but certainly, one day, gone he will be.
and her discarded feminine will sit beside her still, as once worn by him, still unclaimed by her, until the next man comes along, willing to wear it for even just a short while. And what a relief when he puts it on! there is a moment of true formation of the whole person, until of course, it becomes too great a weight for him, and too light of a weight for her.
for the weight of that essence is only hers to wear, only hers to claim. it is the weight that keeps her grounded to Mother Earth, the soil, the children, the home, the land, the people. it is her joy, her bliss, her dance, her song. yes, there will be men that will gladly sing it to us, for awhile, here and there, but it will never last, they will be gone.
and we will be angry, and we will be cross. and we will carry our story along with us, of the sadness, the departure, the unfairness, the loss. we are searching for ourselves, and we are tired.
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