what there is to love about a man: journey

This excerpt is from my out-of-print book, What There Is To Love About A Man.
The art is by British artist David Preston-Earley, who adds,
” This image is about a mythical journey where the people of the world
are carried on the back of a turtle.
The turtle is a symbol of
fertility and long life. To the Native Americans
it was associated with the lunar cycle and also female energies.
The spirit of the turtle can also teach us about our relationship with time,
it does not move fast, the turtle knows it has all the time in the world.”

Journey, by David Preston-Earley

Journey, by David Preston-Earley

When a man goes on his true journey,
it’s hard to know who might return.

His quest requires that he strip down to his authentic core,
that he litter his pathway with the baggage he no longer agrees to carry.

He will pass through uncharted territory with no map
and little understanding of where he’s headed.
The trees will be covered with thorns
Large, lumbering dragons will appear without warning
and breathe hot fire into his face.
Winds will shift
and golden fruit will hang just out of his reach
when he is starving most.

It is a pilgrimage he must make alone,
though able guides are recommended.
He begins when he is ready,
When he can no longer tolerate who he’s become.
When his only choice seems to be
implode
or explode.

Loved ones, wait patiently.

When the journey’s complete,
the pilgrim is reborn.

4 comments

  1. Hey, Goddess! Thanks for stopping in. Love that you are doing a Men Week — you have my blessing to quote, link, and otherwise share my Work on the subject. Over in the right-hand sidebar, there’s a category devoted to…you guessed it!

    Hey Readers, click on goddesspower978 and be transported to ‘Embrace Your Inner Goddess’ world. There’s a whole lot of bitchin’ going on — and I mean that in the most positive way.

    Like

  2. BuddhiHermit

    When a man goes on his true journey,
    He knows of no return.
    The littered pathway lies empty,
    His baggage, the truest illusion.

    No map marks the false path
    to thorns and dragons,
    more easily seen alone,
    Guarding the golden fruit,
    that inflames and sharpens hunger.

    It is a pilgrimage to make alone, though
    shifting winds guide in unseen ways.
    Sometimes like fire, it warms my bones.

    I stop when I am ready,
    When I no longer think I know who I am.
    When there is no choice left,
    But to slowly dissipate
    Like morning mist, now gone.

    Love waits patiently
    As truth is reborn
    -entwined

    Like

  3. BuddhiHermit,

    What a potent call-and-response. It is always a joy to connect up with beings of resonant frequency — especially after being away from my blog for what seems like eternity. You speak the words of one who is walking the path. Welcome…

    Like

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