To put my thoughts into writing in a slightly more prosaic way, I have been rediscovering the power of certain attitudes that I may have, at one point, considered to be “toxically masculine.”
It is a mindset to be drawn upon when necessary that acts like shears towards disempowering narratives. What masquerades as compassion can, in truth, be the atrophying of one’s own potential; where is the line between self-sympathy and self-pity? Can pity, at times, assume weakness? If so, can self-pity involve seeing weakness in ourselves, when we can instead see strength? If we pity ourselves too heavily, are we refusing to claim our own power, are we shying away from discomfort?
To speak more clearly, this means that there have been many times lately where, when being confronted with discomfort, and when my instinct is to shy away from the challenge before me, I will tell myself some “toxic” things, such as:
- Man up.
- Grow some balls.
- Just fucking do it.
- Don’t be a bitch.
- Is that all you fucking got? (While working out)
- Cut the drama.
- You’re a pussy.
Etc etc etc.
These are words that I have been offering myself when confronted with challenges or stresses.
And you know what? It actually fucking helps. It chops away my own disempowering mental narratives. I have realized how heavily my problems exist within my own head; I perceive challenge, I perceive wrongness, I perceive an issue, and then my instinct is to cling to the comfortable, like some infantile-regressive instinct inside of me who wants to cling to Mother for comfort.
It’s the equivalent of splashing psychological cold water on my face. I shake myself out of my stupor of valuing comfort over growth.
These words. They sound harmful. They sound self-hating. But, to me, I think they can be self-loving. I recognize that there is deep potential within me. I recognize that I am capable of more, and I want to see myself do my best. Out of love.
So I will come down on myself. At times hard. And I like it. It makes me playfully feel like I want to rise up to the challenge, I feel invigorated, like the masculine within is being beckoned forward, like life is demanding that my strength be used, and then I feel good because I know I can overcome. It’s recognizing my own ability to succeed, and not allowing myself to squander it.
This is where my appreciation for Saturn has been growing more and more. There is malevolence that appears benevolent, and there is benevolence that appears malevolent. Parents who are too easy on their children end up ruining them and doing them a disservice, thinking they are giving them kindness when they are only sabotaging them with “love.” Those kinds of parents are parenting selfishly, doing what makes them feel good, and not what is truly good for their child.
We must be our own parents. We must be our own mother and our own father, we must be capable of switching voices, and even blending them together as one. We must be both spheres of the Vesica Piscis, and the overlap in the middle.
There is alchemy in this. Balance of opposites in this regard is absolutely necessary and critical for any sort of self-actualization. One must harmonize and integrate both “Mother” and “Father” in their traditional roles for optimum success. There is a time and a place for absolutely everything. We must achieve the discernment to recognize when we need to be smacked in the face and stunned into reality, or when we need a hug of absolute warmth and softness.
There is a time and a place for absolutely everything, and Mercurial adaptability and mental agility allows us to recognize when we need to shape-shift into our own drill sergeant or nurse. There is a time to sit down and hug oneself — there is a time to muscle up and get your fuckin’ shit done.
What is often times the case is that we will have a heavy preference for one approach or another, and our march towards wholeness/growth is in integrating the opposite polarity of what we’ve identified with. That is to say, if we’ve been excessively soft on ourself/self-pitying, then cultivating a will of iron strength is our work. Conversely, if we’ve been excessively tough on ourselves our entire life, unforgiving, and not offering ourselves any softness, kindness, and/or warmth, then our work is in allowing for vulnerability (strength in “weakness”; weakness in “strength”).
So, lately, I have been feeling the glory of smacking myself around a bit. And it feels good! Because there is a subtext behind talking to myself in such a way; it carries and reinforces the belief that I need less, that I am not a weak and helpless being in need. It’s about demanding the strength that is already there to come forward; shining a light on the reality that I am strong, I am resilient, I am built of brick and mortar, and I can treat myself like it.
Fascinatingly, too, this period has been correlated with something seemingly oxymoronic: I’ve never been more vulnerable with others in my life. Never have I ever let myself receive so much love from others. I have been hanging out with my mom, laying on her lap at night, letting myself be her boy. I’ve been cuddling and snuggling with all my friends, opening up to them myself, and being there for them when they need me. And, somehow, this time has been correlated with what has felt like a peak in personal strength and vitality.
How? How can this be?
I would say that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The more I have allowed myself to participate in “traditionally feminine” behaviors, allowing my cup to be filled, and doing things that feed me on a deep-seated, emotional level, filling the well of personal need, the more fuel I have for a fire of genuine strength. Integrating the feminine allows for true masculine integration.
This honestly reminds me of when I came out as bisexual. Never did I feel more fiery, nor more capable of handling confrontation well, than when I allowed myself to act flamboyantly gay. I went to school in eyeliner, chokers, and nail polish; simultaneously, I had a peak of athletic success, I felt bold, I felt confident, and by other traditional measures of masculinity, I felt like iron.
This is the alchemy of opposites, this is the caduceus in action. Opposites being true at once; transcending duality through embodying both sides of the coin in one substance, being able to dance with yin and yang, making them as one.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 