The Bitch Is Back

The bitch is back and she is sexy as fuck.  The bitch knows what she wants.  She can feel it, it is visceral.  She knows truth instantaneously.  And guess what folks, it’s not all roses out there.

The bitch is going to call shit like it is.  If it smells like shit: She is going to say something.

There are a few good men out there, backing up this bitch.

I would say, in this day and age, that men of color are more likely to “get it” when it comes to knowing how to support a woman who is knowing her own strength, knowing herself as a bitch.  Not “somebody’s” bitch, her own Bitch – y’all hear what I’m saying, right?

But, you know, it’s just a potential – and I’m partial to where I grew up and live now: the West Coast of the USA.  In so many ways, I speak to my own narrow perspective when I call out men of color as leaders of what might be known as “The Men’s Movement” in this country.  But listen, anyone reading…it’s gotta start somewhere.  It’s gotta start.  The male gender as a whole needs a big Heart Resuscitation.

Lately, I’ve been saddened and shaken by the numbness among men – I see it so starkly in men my own age, late thirties early forties…. Like I can’t even relate to their cynicism.  But, you know, age is just a number, and I’ve seen it revealed in men much older as well.  So clueless!

But – we must ask ourselves – where are the role models for men?


Like Hitler?

Like Freud?

Like Charles Manson?

Christopher Columbus?

Saddam Hussein?


So and so’s father who did this and that?

So and so’s husband who beat her?



And men, so many men all over the globe,

They feel so unloved, and so isolated

And so completely unsure of themselves




Unwilling to humble themselves

Before the true self

Unwilling to let their frozen hearts


Their minds


Their impulses

Hold back

And listen

.              .              .

Will you stop

And listen


.              .              .

I’m going to tell you

To give everything you can

To this Earth

Ma Gaea

And the women

And the children

Of it

Of this land

La Tierra

And the water

La Vida

.              .              .

I tell you

Men of the Earth

Now is the time

To become the most chivalrous

You have ever imagined a Man to be

.              .              .

Rise up Men

The Women of the Earth

Are calling you

To stand for what is right

.              .              .

.              .              .

And another thing,

If you have “mommy” issues

Or “daddy” issues

Call on the Great Mother

Call on the Earth and her Water

Call on all the Love buried inside you,

Aching to be alive in the world.

Call on the Great Father

All of Space and Time

Call on the Light within,

Your suffering will become your very Guru

In the light of Illumination

In the light of Love.

.               .               .

.               .               .


Dear Men, my Brothers!

This week I have learned about the existence of a man named Daryush Valizadeh (Roosh V.) who is organizing men world-wide in support of legalizing and condoning the raping of women.  What the fuck.  No, seriously.  WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Men, my Brothers, please organize yourselves against this war on women.  Please do not let this man create the definition of “Neomasculinity” or brand “Return of Kings.”

Rise up, Men!  You have to speak, you have to act, you have to be heard and seen.  Yes, you have to listen, but so many of you already know what needs to change.

Supposedly Valizadeh is canceling the events that were planned for this Saturday because of death threats and such.  He has garnered so much attention from all of this, become a media sensation.  So maybe we should all just look away and not give him the attention he is seeking and the sick pleasure of outraging almost everyone who learns of his existence.

But we can’t look away.  We, women, we can’t look away.  I’m tired of looking, believe me.  But I’m more tired of seeing nothing change.  Seeing that the illness of misogyny is alive and well (and not just in the form of Valizadeh and his followers) is making me very, very tired.

Hearing women crying, raging, and grieving the effects of misogyny, but not hearing the voices of men is making me tired.

Men, my Brothers, don’t let this man represent you.  Don’t let the teachings of using your sex as a weapon be cast off as “satire” or cause you to simply label Valizadeh as “crazy” and move on to the next headline.

Please, my Brothers, use your voices, use your hearts, and organize yourselves as the real Kings that you are.  Whatever has gotten in the way of remembering the beauty and power that exists at the core of your being, cast it off now!  Shed the lies constantly!  Look each other square in the eye and remind each other of the honor and responsibility that the entire world so badly needs from you.  And please, please, please, whether or not you have children of your own, shepherd the boys of this world to connect to their own humanity and support their tender and precarious growth.

Every man becomes a reflection to these growing boys.

I’m over it, you guys.  I’m tired.  Let me hear your voices, read your words and feel your presence in this walk toward freedom and safety for each and every one of us.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu

(May all beings everywhere be happy and free)

From the Gospel of Thomas:

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”


The New Sexy

There are men who don’t want to wake up.  There are men who are completely satisfied with the brain-numbing distraction, stress and entertainment that is targeted at them from a young age.  Maybe not satisfied completely, as in to-the-core, but placated enough, appeased enough, to shut up and let the current take them wherever it’s going.

There are men in various stages of waking up.  There are men who intellectually consider women as their equals, at least in public, for the most part.  But even these men find themselves forgetting when they become attracted to a woman, or annoyed by a woman, or in a position of power over a woman.  The woman is a commodity, and she is wanted or unwanted.

Woman is image.  She is form.  We like it, we invite it, we want more of it.  She has a face, but no name.  Or just a body.  Her face is not necessary, not if it gets in the way.  Her voice is a nice addition if it is seductive enough, and if she says what we want to hear.  Woman is here to satiate.  That is all.

The “good woman” works very hard and asks for little in return.  She is “pure” for all intensive purposes, but as kinky as her man desires when he desires it.  She does everything right and she looks good while doing it; she volunteers, cooks, attends all the meetings, sits with the children in the evening to patiently work on their homework with them.  Her kindness is never-ending.  Her demeanor is sweet and placid.  The food she prepares is delicious and creative.  She takes lots of advice from Pinterest.  And she works out religiously, in her magically-occurring spare time!  She is superwoman.  She has tons of friends, so she’s never lonely, but she always prioritizes time for her man.  She is ever-faithful.  She is drama-free.

Not all of us can be the “good woman” all of the time.  Many of us don’t care to follow any kind of prescribed path, ever.

Many, many women are in various stages of waking up.  I am one of them.

Despite being raised by a progressive single-mother in a liberal part of the country, despite my classes in Women’s Studies, despite a plethora of teachings about equality that I was given throughout my childhood and adolescence, I have forgotten my birthright time and again.  For many years, the drive to attain “what looks good” versus “what feels good” ran strong in me.  I was blind to it, for it was as simple as my will to survive, that impulse to please men.  Not all of them, of course, but when they entered my energy field, when they somehow applied to my life, I had to acquiesce. I trusted their desire for me (or lack thereof) more than I could trust my own sense of self.  I had no concept of what I actually wanted to experience because I had somehow been programmed to “make him want you/like you/love you.”  And yes, at times I felt like a shell of a human being.

The men weren’t doing anything WRONG, per se.  They were just letting me please them.  How convenient.  Another young lady who doesn’t know her worth, nothing new to see there.

But now, everything is different.  Not in the world.  But in this mind that has shifted its view, from outward to in.  The awakening of consciousness can be slow and weird and awkward.  There is this long stage of transformation that may last lifetimes.  As I learn to exist as Awareness, I am not a caterpillar anymore.  Neither am I the butterfly.  I am primordial soup.  I look and feel nothing like I did before I surrendered to the process.  What I am becoming is not yet revealed.  I am soup.  Dismantled.  Messy.  Unknown, except to the One who shapes me.

I live and breathe and move in the body.  I might appear to have it all together at certain times, from certain flattering angles.  I assure you, I do not!

Despite this mess, I do so want to experience the ecstasy of union with a man who can walk this path with me.  But a man like this is rare to find.

Men have an incredible opportunity and responsibility at this stage in our human evolution.  Every man has his own birthright that is calling to him, singing to him, and literally crying for him to claim it.  By gender alone, a man is given power.  This power is a tool or a weapon, and his choice is critical.

Many men would never even consider acting in violence against a woman, child or other more vulnerable being.  But few men will put themselves in the public eye to speak out against that kind of brutality.  Few men are forming coalitions to end sexism and to heals its wounds.  Few men feel brave enough to stand up to other men to stop the cycles of abuse that continue to run rampant in every country around the world.  Few men are seen outwardly grieving the tragedies of war – simply grieving, as in accepting the losses and feeling the impact, without running away with plans to retaliate with more guns and bigger bombs.

Few and far between are the men who are willing to speak out about their own wounds and become teachers and guides for other men who are also learning to heal.  To speak of emotions, pain, vulnerability and the need for healing is a dangerous act for many men.  Few risk it, but some do, and those some have a huge impact.  Because men haven’t just been dehumanizing women for millennia, they have been dehumanizing themselves at the same time.  Patriarchy is a bitch, for all of us.  And those men who are tearing it down are reclaiming the jewel of masculinity.

And that jewel, my friends, is incredibly sexy, indeed!


Shadow Men

The men of shadows like me

Because I know how to dance in their dark streets with my light

and I am unafraid of their secrets

Out of curiosity, compulsion and naivety

I have wandered into their inner chambers

Craving the pull, but all the while a sinking feeling

and trying to ignore it

Craving the story

‘cause I saw it in a movie

And every form of media

and residual karma


But it doesn’t take long

for the windows to disappear

and for the reek of loneliness to fill the stale air

Your internal temperature gets colder,

the closer you get to a man like this

And when you arrive as far as he will let you in

you might feel lost while looking at your reflection


What were you seeking when you traveled so far away

from safety and from love?

An experience that leaves your soul feeling weathered and torn

rather than comforted and cared for?

You knew –

it would end this way

leave you feeling this way

You knew,

but something drew you in

and you wanted the poison instead of the Prasad


Like a Siren’s call, you were called

to these shadow men

The Everything in you trying to understand itself

Feeling yourself the lowest of the low,

you ate garbage and developed

sunken eyes

Yet still, somehow you managed

to preserve your ember

while entering the mouth of the Wolf

That place where you have to die to survive

and break your promises or at least

omit the truth

Lest everything you love get stolen

broken or desecrated

That place will forever remind you

that things can always get worse

And you must find your way out of this mess


Your breath becomes shallow

A listlessness begins choking you

You are defeated by the lies you kept telling yourself,

now disappointing and shabby in the light of day

While the good people of the world

have coffee and dreams and commitments they love to keep

You have this –

shadow to reckon with

And you feel tired

like you spent all night digging yourself

another grave



Time, great healer

Wash me in your Ocean

Ring me out like the robes you will have me wear

when I meet you at last, for tea



She walks alone and alone

She walks alone and not alone

She stops pretending to know everything and she becomes

a beginner, what an honor

She left the dark streets

and dark avenues

full of tempting, lurking shadow men

The ones who made her look angelic,

if only for a little while

She found this path, instead

High into the mountains

Take off your shoes


The Gurus appear in her dreams

when she walks this way

up the many steps

in the misty grey morning

Up the many steps,

she is visually hydrated

by the bright green moss and wild foliage,

all covered with dew

The moist, cool air

filling her nostrils with the fragrance of clean, dark earth

Tiny white flowers

singing praises with her crumbling identity

and ecstatic heart


Oh Deathless One,

these shadow men

They just can’t light my fire

like You