On Sex and Death
Sex and Death.
The bookends of our lives.
Sex is the door by which we enter, death the door by which we depart.
Any surprise then that these two words and all they imply rule our lives? As they should.
It is our rather tortured relationship with them, in these rather troubled and troubling times, that the problem lies.
We be-came of sex, whether it was an act, a ritual, a fling, something. That moment of the coupling of the masculine and the feminine, bookends the beginning of each of our lives. And have no doubt, the energy around your conception is the first layer wrapped around your core, the seed from which you have grown to the point of reading this blog. Blob to blog.
So the sounds, the light, the feeling, the texture, the scream, the moan….they are your first embedded markers, shaping you for the rest of your life. Trippy when you think of it that way eh? But if you can accept that and in studying your parents, dive back to the moment it all began for you, tremendous release awaits. They are the unseen hand of the first sub-conscious, pulling you in ways and directions you have no idea about.
But more on this at another time.
And Death begins it’s existence at the very same instance. All that is born must die. Like all polarities, Life and death sit entwined like the symbol of yin and yang. Inextricably bound.
Like light and shadow, one cannot be without the other.
Sex=Life. So we go on seeking it. Life eternal if we could just keep having sex! Hah, if only it was all so simple eh? Think about that one for a bit, a longer piece later.
Death. Now here is an interesting thing. We die to be born. The process of actual birth is death for the fetus so life for the baby. One breathed not, lived in water, fed by a tube in it’ s belly. Then the passage out. Squeezing through the tunnel. At the other end, light, air to be breathed. Food consumed through the mouth.
I say that it is clear that the fetus dies so the child may be born.
So, first birth through sex. Second birth through a mini-death (or at least not perceived as such). Maybe this should be the impetus needed to celebrate death? At the moment of birth, we are actually celebrating a simultaneous death. And think of the surroundings of this second birth. Uffffff…… bright lights, plastic gloves, slap on the bottom to make you cry. Your first sound to the world is a wail.
Does it have to be this way?
More in a bit….