Village Eros
Eros in the village is nothing like the sexuality we project around in our culture.
In the wild body, in the primal body, eros is our guide down to the roots where we are all at home.
Eros is the way we experience connection in and through our distinct bodies.
This eros has flavors rather than lines, one flavor the way a mother belongs to her child, another the way a wife belongs to her husband, quite another the way the husband belongs to the wife.
The way the women belong to the women.
The way the men belong to the men.
The way some seamlessly weave themselves between, belonging everywhere and nowhere.
The way the children belong more to the wilderness and each other than they do to their parents.
Understanding these threads of belonging is corrupted with notions of ownership.
The divine truth of interconnection is tarnished with efforts to divide any resource which belongs, in the end, to the entire village.
What could be truer of the bodies of the village?
Indeed, the inseparabilities of the bodies within the village is the ultimate truth of the inseparability of shared resources.
You cannot, after all, lend your neighbor a hand--you show up in full to help him reap his harvest, as he shows up for you.
The village is the place where we resist asking the question of its border. We walk toward the edge, and no matter how far we go, if we walk through the village, we find our neighbors.
The village requires our willingness to operate without any delineations, yet following a distinct way. This way is informed by reality and connection to show the correct place for each sacred experience to occur, in relationship to all the others.
Even the outcast is occupying a sacred experience at an essential distance.
Our bodies are homes for each other, throughout the village, in ways as nuanced as the ways we open our literal homes to each other.
And the ways we do not open our homes, but we adorn the outside, and share the fruit that hangs over the garden wall.
We treat each others' bodies with the sanctity of a home which has opened its door for us.
We experience the entropy of our bodies, and their maintenance, the same way we experience all that serves to contribute to the collective experience. Well spent, worth it.
The energy of eros fuels our devotion to each other and the experiences we are creating together in our lives.
Outright demonstrations of sex and sexuality in the village are closer to how country folk regard the couplings of animals.
Heh. Yeah. 'Tis the season.
If we must, for the sake of THIS culture, delineate SEX, let's speak of Union.
It's more than marriage.
It's also not as strict.
Bonds that deep don't break due to small actions with large projections.
The feminine and masculine principles are drawn together to create so much, in so many ways. They weave together, situationally, indiscernible after all.
Union sex is the truth that the home for his body is inside my body.
Union is the sanctity of being in one another's home, and the added sanctity of being, at once, within our own home.
In intercourse, we share the home of the body and experience what's there for us within that home.
We create with and commit most deeply to the experience of home we choose, and we are always able to change our minds.
But, when you find that most sacred home, why would you move away?
