a new chapter begins. 

as the planetary page turns, we step outward. 

from copper to iron — 

Mars, my masculine, it is time for us to take the step. 

How many cultures throughout history have had their ritual of initiation into manhood? 

I.. truly feel like it is now or never. Mine is beginning. How long do I want to remain dependent? To whine like a baby, suckling like a vampire upon mother? 

Ah.. I tried. I tried, before. But no, I was not ready. I hadn’t yet discovered the seed of selfhood for it even to be planted into the Earth, for it to produce anything substantial. 

So deluded and confused was I. I was so terrified of a life of being dependent on Big Brother, under his thumb, that I turned myself into another of the lost generation of men with a failure to launch, instead dependent on Mother, emasculated, stripped of potency. Self-flattery, delusions of grandeur, feeling above the world with my head far in the clouds, ignoring the fact that I planted nothing, was doing nothing, creating nothing, so afraid to play the game — why? Was I afraid of losing? I don’t know. 

This is what I know now, though: things have changed. Things have changed. I have recognized that there was an itch I didn’t know how to scratch but with work. I have recognized that I was unhappy with my circumstances for a reason, and that all I had to fucking do was take the motherfucking action to fix things. 

I discarded masculinity. I villainized it. Why? I was afraid of my own masculine. I was afraid of what it means to take the shears of the masculine — the cutting of the umbilical cord. To become a separate being, a man instead of a boy. 

But no… not anymore. I don’t know if I’m a man yet. I’m getting there, though. I want to become a man. So this is it: I’m being thrust into the unknown, and I’m being given work to demonstrate to myself my own strength, my own ability to stand on my own two feet and accomplish. 

Then, when I enter a relationship again, it will be as a whole and complete being. Not one so interdependent, not one with an infantile-regressive urge. No — it will be as someone self-sustained that I can walk away when it’s clearly not working. It will be through the lens of adulthood, with self-worth not as an abstract concept, but with measurable, tangible reflections of my self-worth:

• My own home. 
• Good grades in school.
• A body I worked hard to craft.
• A great job, with savings built over time. 

I am stepping into manhood and reclaiming the beauty of the masculine. My masculine felt ugly because I discarded it and wasn’t using it. I wasn’t channeling the flame. It became unhappy. 

But I’m sorry, to myself. I’m sorry to my own manhood. I disrespected a force of beauty. He is wild, he is so full of strength, he is capable of accomplishing great things. He’s hungry. 

I am so ready to allow myself to become a man. Healing the masculine isn’t discarding it; it is embodying it, using it, disciplining it, strengthening it, sharpening the sword, learning how to wield the sword, having honor and integrity that it is channeled benevolently… 

Mars. What are we going to do together?