On Men’s Polygamous Need

Men’s inability to devote themselves to a single woman and their insistence on a continuously varying excitement is telling in one fundamental way — they have failed in unifying their energies which peak in reason and love. Hence, the need which drives them like a moth to a flame to viewing women as sexual objects that are to be pursued in such a manner is a result of a fragmented and diffuse psyche and energetic flow that are in constant need to discharge in order to maintain their modicum of inferior dis-unity, a way of achieving a certain harmony in the internal economy of the being that enables it to thrive and struggle through life. The sexual act impoverishes them since it is not the crowning point of their energetic alchemy but is a tension suffered by a diffuse and disorganized creature, one that is bored and does not know what to do with itself; the climax is not followed by joy and a certain sense of hilarity and lightness but is experienced with a foretaste of sadness and depression, self-hate and a hate of the “object” used. A man’s inability to unify and peak his energies is consequential in another fundamental manner — he is unable to penetrate and engage his woman emotionally and intellectually; he thus fails to unify himself in her, through her, and through her with all of life. His life is lacking, as he remains motivated by a lack instead of an overfullness and abundance. He needs, and is driven like a slave to his fateful end.

The way into the arms of grace Rumi points at in his verse, “The kernel of true manhood is the ability to abandon sensual indulgence.” Rumi, in his simple manner, wants to nudge the will, not to repress but to attain control and mastery. Being in control means precisely being in unity; a critical edge where the impulses and faculties of the being are brought into harmony, are willed into harmony.

And a tantric verse, to echo Rumi’s, “One who, possessing desire, represses desire, is a living lie.”

Libertinism (polygamy) and its apparent opposite, asceticism’s abstinence, both have repression at their roots — a diffuse being struggling to maintain itself.

Altar of Ecstasy

Love’s chills,
tender ripples of ecstasy
coursing underneath our skin,
harbingers of abandonment
in the burning mouth of stars.

The tree of white flowers
blossoms inside our merged bodies,
arching our backs and breaking our ribs
as it raises us to deliver us, headless,
to the altar of the sky.