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So, you want to know the mysteries of Hathor? I'll reveal them to you in one word: FUCK! Yup. That's it. Everything is contained in that single little word. Fucking. Raw, wild, passionate, nails across the back, toe-curling, gushing vaginas, throbbing penises, nasty, spontaneous, screaming, "Harder Daddy, harder!" at the top of your lungs, embarrassing, "Did I just say/do that?" kind of sex. Sex so good most people only have it once or twice in a lifetime, but even when they're ninety and can't remember the names of their children, the memory of it is still with them, warm and glowing. It's life and connection, pleasure and creation, participating in the endless cycle of carnation. But there's more to her mysteries, of course. It's also "Fuck!" as in pure, mind-blowing, ego-transcending, at-one-with-the-universe, instant enlightenment, satori, where all words fail you except "Fuck!" It's also "Fuck you, man." As in, you know who you are, exactly what you want out of life, what you were created to do - and you're no longer willing to let other people determine that for you. You aren't going to play by their rules, pretend to be this false mannequin in order to gain their acceptance or support. You're bending limits, transcending preonceptions, flipping the bird to the status quo. You know that you're a powerful, unique individual, and everything you'll ever need in life can be found within yourself. As a consequence of this, you may have to go out on your own, blaze your own trail, face hardship and condemnation - but fuck it, none of that matters if you can't be yourself. There's also "Fuck, man." That blissful, content, friendly vibe which comes from finding souls that accept you for who you are and are willing to share your walk with you. A bond of friendship and intimacy so deep it transcends language. You don't even have to explain or build up safe walls of words - you can just groove with these people who truly get you, man. Fuck. However, there's also an element of danger: "Fuck - I almost died!" Because this mystery is the point at which life and death unite, a powerful, primal matrix of creation, a tornado which if you don't know how to ride it - to simply let go and be, to relinquish control and attachment to ego - it will destroy you. There's also fuck in the sense of "Fuck, I know this, but I can't really put it into words," because she is pure experience, undivided and therefore indescribable, since words are imperfect, finite things that can never capture the richness and complexity of Being, but only partially suggest it. That, of course, is why it's a mystery - something a person could spend a lifetime trying to understand - or grasp in an instant once they stop trying to apprehend it with the intellect alone. If you know what I'm talking about, I bet you can find a million other nuances to fuck, but I'm not going to try and enumerate them for you. I can't. It's either something you get, or you don't. And if you do, then join me in saying, "Fuck yeah!" Because that's part of the mystery too. I owe my partner, a Great Mystagogue, for this insight. Many thanks, dear one. |
