I love my mischief. The fact that I am not always ‘good’. In there is my wildness. And my freedom from ‘good’ and ‘bad’. My wildness is untethered. It is not tamed. Untrained. Boundless. Free. In my wildness is my femininity. The true feminine which has not been conditioned.
My femininity is sensual, exotic, powerful, fierce. The true feminine has been sexualized by the conditioned masculine. Made dirty, impure, and thus shameful. But the true feminine is where all the power, confidence and certainty lie. And so to be distrustful of that is to deprive oneself of true power, confidence and certainty.
In truth, I love my true feminine for it is truth, it is my truest expression. And She loves me for I am Hers. She does not know shame for there is nothing to be shameful for. Shame is the conditioned feminine. For in shame, there is no access to Her true power.
Shames makes me a slave; it eats me up inside. Keeps me locked in chains. Immobile. Downward spiraling. For the eyes of the lustful masculine have taught me to walk with my head down. Not in humility but in shame.
Having been blamed for making man lustful. Illogical. Soft. At the mercy of his humanity. His powerlessness. And nothing upsets him more than this. Although he loves me because he longs for Her. And I love him for I long for Him. There is nothing ‘dirty’ or ‘impure’ about this but the nature of things. It is natural and therefore pure.
It is only impure when it is imbued with shame. For shame implies impurity and brings forth puritanical thought and behavior. Without shame, none of which would make sense or exist.