In the Mahabharata, the five sons of Pandu (called the Pandavas) are exiled to the forest from the Kingdom in which they were born. During their exile, the Pandavas come across a lake which demands them not to drink from it, until the Lake receives answers to its many questions. Yet the five brothers are overcome by an unquenchable thirst at the sight of its waters. One by one, the Pandavas fall dead as the water touches their lips.
That is until Yudhisthira, the oldest of the Pandavas and son of Dharma, the god of order and wisdom, finds his brothers dead in front of the lake. He too is attacked by thirst, yet he resists it, and the lake proceeds to ask him the questions.
“Who are more numerous, the living or the dead?” The lake asks.
“The living, as the dead are no more.” Yudhisthira answers.
“Give an example of defeat.” The lake asks.
“Victory.” Yudhisthira answers.
“Who is your opposite?” The lake asks.
“Myself.” Yudhisthira answers.
“What is the cause of the world?” The lake asks.
“Love.” Yudhisthira answers, a smile forming on his face.
The lake is pleased with his answers. Immediately, Yudhisthira’s brothers are resurrected. The lake then reveals itself as Dharma, Yudhisthira’s father, disguised to test the wisdom of his son. He passed.
* * *
According to my reading of Vedic scripture, the world turns as a result of the dance between Shiva and Shakti. Alternatively (or simultaneously,) the world is dreamed by Shiva while Shakti stimulates it by rubbing his foot. In both cases, Shiva and Shakti are the divine masculine and feminine respectively. The former shaping and making the world, the latter giving him a world to shape.
Julius Evola focuses on this relationship heavily in Revolt Against The Modern World, where he breaks down the two figures to their fundamental being. Man is active energy. Woman is passive energy. Both forces are what moves the world, and only when one restrains the other is the world in harmony.
While the man can (and does) exist alone as a self-fulfilled singularity, few would admit this is desirable. Even the greatest Great Men of history were informed by some womanly energy, be it in the shape of wife, lover, or concubine. Why is this?
Woman serves the purpose of energizer. She gives life and meaning to all that men dream up. It is with her in mind, even subconsciously, that most men build themselves for. When encountering someone who evokes the passions of a man, who manages to turn on his divine feminine projector, physical pain can even be evoked without a woman lifting a finger.
She cannot shape as she is shapeless. She cannot build as she has no structure. She cannot think, as she has no thought, not like a man. That is why men have fought entire wars for one. Not for something as crude and callous as sexual access (at least, not all the time,) but for something far closer to the heart (which is a really good Rush song.)
* * *
Those who know me personally have had to endure the sorrows of young Paul over the last couple weeks. It’s been an interesting reminder that I’m capable of feeling things. Not only feeling, but being overwhelmed by said feelings when not watched closely.
Simpery is an illness. Though like any other illness, it can be cured.
Gay as irony may be, I struggle to find another word to describe the situation. Paul “Block All Women” Fahrenheidt experiencing a descent into woman worship. Thomas told me not to worry about it, certain women are meant to slip past your defences. He’s right.
Writing about Love is like writing about Food Shortages; no one seems to give a fuck until it’s happening to them. But when it is happening? It’s a pair of rose-colored glasses which sticks spikes into your eyes. A filter which colors the world and you can’t turn it off.
I’ve been told the feeling changes with age. I’ve been told it changes with marriage. I’ve been told it never changes, it just dims and dims until it’s something you don’t feel anymore; like the passing fear of monsters under your bed. All and none of these could be true.
Every seven years, you undergo a crisis. At age seven, you first gain consciousness. At age fourteen, you enter puberty and become a sexual being. At age twenty-one, you enter the ranks of adulthood. Each period is a transition, each period spawns struggles and growing pains.
I get the feeling God wanted me to feel one last little crisis the week of my twenty-second birthday.
* * *
The great tragedy of gender relations is the conflation of love and sex. When I found out the form prostitutes took in the modern day, sex dropped to about priority number forty-one for me. Love is still in the top ten. Anyone who tells me I’m wrong is an idiot.
The two are intrinsically related, of course. Amorous love cannot exist without sex or its prospect (though its prospect is oft enough.) Yet even in right-wing circles, men delude themselves into thinking they’re immune from the mix of pity and twisted purity projected onto a pretty petite brunette.
This is not simp apologia, nor is it raising women above what they are. Yet to deny that which can be born from a man’s heart is the peak of foolishness. Every man can get caught in a trap he leads himself into.
This being said, women do not belong in our spaces. Were it up to me, there would be zero women allowed to speak in these spheres. They weaken and corrode them. Whether by “Critiquing Men,” claiming “Hypergamy is Eugenic,” or launching purity spirals on men who just enjoy a certain art form. Women do nothing but disrupt, distract, and degrade any sort of discourse.
They one place they belong is in our future.
* * *
It is neither Shiva nor Shakti alone which turns the world. Separate, they are nothing. Man without woman is hollow, woman without man is formless. Yet when they come together, when woman’s life fills man’s shape, what is that called?
It’s called love. The sole force which created creation, which brought into being all things living and dead, born from the union of masculine and feminine, active and passive, that is God. No goal for man is more worthy than its achievement.
Nothing was ever built that possessed no form for someone to love. Nothing can be built without love in its form.
It’s the cause of the world.