Never been a religious man. Not one now. But faith and religion are not the
same thing.
There has been only one symbol which sums up my feelings of faith, of how the
universe works. Kali, the Devouring Mother. The answer to why bad things
happen: To pay for the good things. All beauty is paid for in blood.
Everybody pays.
She has always made herself known in my life, but that’s the sort of thing you
only see in retrospect.
First in art. In my kink, in my needs- but disguised. As time has gone on, She
has made herself much more apparent. I do not see Her as an entity, as a
Goddess. Not exactly. But She is the symbol for things that not only resonate
with me- but things I revere. Things that are holy. There is no
name for these things- so I have given a symbol all that that I can. She is a
Goddess, a figure built on the foundation of ancient reverence, by people far
wiser than I who felt her touch in their lives, in the tides of their blood, in
the ruin of their bodies, in the sand of their time. She is divine. All that I
find miraculous and terrifying. The things that remind me I am a fool, grateful
that I am at all, for as long as I am allowed to stay.
I walked into the Metropolitan Museum, For the first time, I was left cold. I
found nothing which inspired me. I ended up wandering among the Egyptians, tall
and impassive, regal, sexless, glacial, graceful, enigmatic, but ultimately
antiseptic. Dust and ashes in my mouth. Then I turned the corner.
India.
They were dancing. They were fucking and crying and raging and blazing and
curvy and sexual and angry and happy and alive. I sat there, staring. I
don’t know how long. I think my mouth was open.
I have written about the cost all my life. The cost of leaving home,
the cost of going home. I am looking down the barrel of the latter now.
She is the cost of all things.
I had a ceremony with my boy. It was about price. He wants to learn what it
is to be a man in our culture.
I paid for my part- I hate ritual, I hate telling people anything about myself
in honest terms, I hate admitting to my spiritual convictions. Talking about
this is part of the price, the things I brought to the table. I don’t ever
expect to write about it again. This is what I owe.
I took a cutting from my boy. A key. It was rubbed with the earth from my
Property, and the cigar ashes of my brothers. ("My Property". Boy, am I
ever ahead of myself. But I’ll leave it as I typed it.) My boy took the same
cutting from me, over his womb, which was rubbed with the same ashes. I have
always referred to my boy as "she". For the next year, it’s "he". He is busy
earning that every day. maybe sometime I’ll write about what it means to be a
man, what I have learned by teaching and being faced with his questions. But
that’s another time. I mentioned it because at the opening of the ceremony, I
asked Kali to be part.
Do I think a Goddess showed herself because I said a name? Not on your life.
I did it for me. I did it to try to be connected with the guiding principle of
my universe. I did it to promise myself that someday I will listen to the rain
from My House, on My Property, with the people that matter most. They may not be
there all the time- but they will have keys. It’s as close to a holy oath as I
could make. I bled on it, I scarred myself for it. I’m not yet done. I just
affirmed to myself that I am ready to pay. Kali gives us only so much time. She
is the price that is paid, the end of all things.
She is also the beginning of all things.
My boy was the beginning of this cycle, the door through which I passed to
start the cycle in earnest.
There is another- the second part. A different name, a different arrangement. It
is very, very difficult to explain. She is family, she is like my sister. The
connection is so profound, and so simple… I don’t know what else to say. I
cannot imagine this person not being in my life. Not in the future, and oddly,
not in the past. She is another part of this.
I have to assume ownership of my Property.
I cannot go on like this much longer.
We are waiting on a contract. Breathlessly awaiting rain, while Ken does his
best rainmaker dance with all of us on his back. We have clouds… but we need
rain. we are dying of thirst. We need a cloudburst.
I am waiting for the sky to crack open and make my future possible.
I have a boy who is lost, and looks to me to find himself.. I have a twin,
another child of Kali, begging for a home by my side. I have a new student who
reminds me that I have still more to teach (She looked at me and said “You have to go to India. But you will never come back.” She knew nothing of me. Yes, Mother. I am listening). I have all these things and more. I have so much to be grateful for, so many riches, despite our dry cracked lips and empty bowls. The only sound is the rattle of dice. Roll the bones and pray.
Please, Mother.
I will do anything not to fail.
Just show me how.
She is the cost of all things.
Everybody pays
