Spiritual union, as a means of achieving transcendentalism, has been a nuance, or sect, of many world religions. Yet, whether it issued from Judeo-Christian bridal mystics, Hinduism's Kama Sutra or Buddhism's tantras sex was relegated to either a minor position or to a very small faction of followers. In contemporary culture we also have the scientific aspect of sexuality, the drug-induced alterations of sexuality, and multitudinous displays of sexual imagery. Why?
From the beginning--as is evident by ancient texts--Mankind has longed for meaningful sex...and still does.
The collected poems of Bridal Mysticism allow the reader to explore a unique insight into human sexuality. It is for those who are willing to embrace their sexuality in order to fully embody spiritualism.
In order to be fully ******** one must
fully face what one fears most: disgrace, shame,
condemnation. There is no other way. It
is akin to Charon’s conveyance:
a river Styx. It is most like death, where one
transcends from what was—to is. All adventures
begin—as with ******—at that first place,
wherever it lies. There is no other
journey but through beginning. It makes
little difference whether sexual awakening
occurred with a friend, a father, a dog…they
will lay closer to ****** than any adult
lover. They began it so hold they the key
to climactic epiphany. This is the place
where most fear tread. It is Charon’s land of the dead.
It is where *********** breeds. Breathing Life
into first inklings…and innocent understandings
of sexual being. It is there one must
go…to face Themselves. Experience knows no
morality. It simply is. But there is
something greater on the other side of this.
As with Charon—the farrier—it is helmed,
yet leads away from shame and despair, removing what
pain so many bear through maturity.
It is Agape. It is the lover who sets
judgment aside and cries, “Daddy’s little girl,”
while she sits astride her cello, naked and coming.
It is the man who makes infant whelps, mouthing
as if nursing—and coming. It is the woman who lets
herself be Animus. It is pleasure from
every nerve regardless of where it comes from.
It is the love that transports lovers from one
plane to another…from the whelp, from the chair,
from crying, but All must…first…go there. To there—
and beyond to the place where Love lives. Past Fear. Past
Pain. Greater than History or Herstory.
To a place where all is true discovery.
There, sexuality pleases—and doesn’t hurt—in any way:
It is the transcendentalism God created it to be
and it all begins with a single step. A brave attempt.
A facing off with Fear. A longing for
experience more than suffering. It is the meaning of being alive.