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The Marriage Within

Friends,

For about five years I have thought seriously about myself and the world in terms of Masculine and Feminine energies existing in a state of dynamic tension. It started when Chelsea and I parted ways 5 years ago and I retreated into myself. Was I depressed? Perhaps a little. The onset of a long Canadian winter and the attendant darkness didn’t help much either. But in that withdrawal I became remarkably creative; writing comedy, performing regularly, acting in numerous film projects, and smoking a lot of marijuana throughout. I was embracing inner beauty which I’d never embraced before in such a wholesale way.

Something shifted in me after about 9 months though. I had been healing…softening… for too long and at a conscious level I was worried that I was beginning to self-censor because I didn’t wish to hurt or offend people. Also, spring was coming and I had a couple more film projects on the docket then I wanted out; it had been years since my last adventure and I could feel the call of the open road. What I later realized was that the shift I felt was my Masculine energy beginning to bubble.

While Feminine Andre lived comfortably in Kelly’s basement, did odd-jobs for the people in the neighbourhood and struggled to be normal around women, Masculine Andre boldly walked through Latin America like a conquistador and had no compunction about talking to any woman he saw. In most cases he got what and whom he wanted because he spoke up first and loudest.

Looking back on discrete stages in my life its easy to view Masculine and Feminine as adding up to 100% and being composed of varying proportions. In fairness, that is actually not a totally unsophisticated view of things and it has the benefit of being palatable to females who narrowly and incorrectly assume Feminine = Female and Masculine = Male. Since they (women) can typically recognize their own Masculine traits and behaviours, they usually accept the idea of a balance, especially if you emphasize the beauty and importance of Feminine traits.

But here’s what I learned: The nice 100% model of Masculinity and Femininity described above, where we try and maintain a balance of 50-50 in spite of fluctuations, is obsolete. It comes from a well-intentioned place, but it makes the same narrow assumptions about Femininity and Masculinity being equivalent to Female and Male respectively.

So what is the optimal relationship between Masculine and Feminine? As controversial as it sounds, Femininity needs to be bound by Masculinity. Think about it: If you’re a woman –especially if you’re a woman– you need to keep a wall up around you day to day.

Do you hate when men say, “Hey babe, why don’t you smile more?” Of course you do and its because they’re trying to coax out your Femininity, the most beautiful parts of you, for nothing.

Have you ever had to put up boundaries in your life with toxic people? We all have. Guess what? Those boundaries are built with bricks of Masculinity and they protect our most beautiful and vulnerable parts from being mistreated by vandals.

Interestingly there is a historical and etymological antecedent for this idea in the concept of paradise. The word evolved into its common iteration from the old Persian phrase for “walled garden.” Why is a walled garden a paradise? Well because its a little bit of unsullied beauty protected for your own personal enjoyment. In paradise you don’t have to worry about other people littering, or finding a secluded spot to lay your blanket. You have a discrete, finite area which is yours, which you can manicure and care-take. A place of verdant, fertile beauty, kept in bounds.

Going forward I am going to avoid the bi-polar trap of thinking in terms of Masculine-Feminine spiking -I don’t want that volatility anymore. I visualize myself now as a walled enclosure, and the wall has many gates and ports of entry. There is potential to let a lot of things in and a lot of things out –but only with my discernment. And let’s be honest about what this means: it means protecting your beauty from ill-intentioned interlopers, and protecting it with your life if necessary.

This is not gonna sound palatable to some but Man the Fuck Up! –Men and Women alike! Cultivate a strong Masculinity that isn’t hopelessly rigid but which will protects your beautiful Femininity nonetheless.

Best,
-Dre

 

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It’s a Lonely Night

Friends,

It’s been a good day, a long day, but a good one. I signed a lease today and will be moving into my own place tomorrow. This will be good for me as I have been living the hobo fabulous lifestylre too long, living on the largesse of others. Aside from that I completed some work project, paid my school deposit, got a lead on a new side hustle, made friends with just about everyone I spoke with and ate pretty healty.

But there was one dark cloud today: Since I can’t move I to my flat until tomorrow, I called my grandma to see if I could crash at hers on the south side of town.. There was no answer. No worry, I was in no rush. After all, I had a series of buses to take and a 90 minute trip with which to reach her. Just then, my new landlord, good samaritan that he is, offered me a ride to the southside as he had to go the depot for my new bedroom door anyhow.

We shot the shit for the drive and I like him and his integrity quite a bit. A few years older than me, he had taken his time finding a wife and starting a family -partying and such. We parted amicably, and I liad my backpack against the door and rang.

My grandfather answered the door and just looked at me and said, “Now you’re moving in?” Before I could explain he lost his shit and started yelling mostly incoherently about how he didn’t want to take care of anyone else and how his house wasn’t for rent.

Perhaps I should have known better -lat3ely he has been suffering from dementia (but I actually think there was a clarity to his words that I had never heard before…more on that in a sec), and between my invalid uncle and my cousin with his live-in fiance, my grandpa has a lot on his shoulders. I should have known better.

The fact that he is mostly deaf made explanations no easier and my grandma struggled to explain that I had just signed a lease and needex one night, even though I could tell she had he apprehensions about taking on a new dependant.

Here’s the thing -my] grandfather has never said an ill word to me, let alone raised his voice at me so I compltely taken aback, when later in the kitchen he unloaded on me with a lucidity I had never heard from this man who I always assumed was fairly unassuming:

“You’re a bum! You’re no good. I know what kind of guy you are! Why don’t you go to your father’s place? I’m not your father! I don’t want bums in my house. You don’t work!”

The whole time my grandma was getting upset but I implored her gently to let him keep going. I was upset by this, but also fascinated because from a certain perspective I agreed with him -there was truth in his words and it is a truth which I have been mostly isulated from my whole life and had to learn myself: I have not been making the most of my potential. But people have only just started telling me this and its a feeling like doors are closing as I get older.

It’s not a wholly bad thing -it’s motivated be to get my shit together, but again, it was pretty surprising coming so lucidly from from this man who is usually in his own world, mostly deaf, suffering from dementia and who usually calls me the wrong name.

My grandma tried to soften the blow, telling me didn’t mean it, but when I pressed her on the specificity of his word she said, “He used to love you so much. He wanted so much for you. ”

Even writing this I have to laugh. It’s so sad and its like being the last to find out what everyone thinks about you, even tho0ugh you know it about yourself and suspect they think it too.

But again, insulation; I feel like I have been lied to.

I lef tthe house to come here to this cafe and work on my computer and for a moment I got mad at my grandfather -I do work after all. When it copmes down to it he doesn’t know fuck all about me or my struggle. But that’s not the point -his truth, no matter how tangential and uninformed of the broader picture, IS STILL TRUE. I know its true because that’s how he sees it. There is something correct in his estimation that cares little for rationalizations, plans, non-traditional jobs, etc. His opinion is no the be-all, end-all but it is valid because it is ancestral, and on some levelhe must be worried that I have broken faith with him and everyone who came before.

Fair enough. I intend to make good on his faith and redeem the struggles him and those before him went through to bring me here. I don’t know that he’ll live to see it, but he does’t have to. The message has been communicated; maybe the last gift from this ancestor.

I won’t squander it.

In closing I will say this: Over the last year I haev really connected with the song No Eyes by Claptone. The chorus, “…no eyes…..no eyes on meeeeeee…” connects with me because as the first-born grandson I was the golden boy my whole life and everyone’s eyes were on me. Now, at 35 people have stopped giving a shit and are divesting. No eyes on me.

It fills me with foreboding and existential dread that I am alone. But its alrite because its also freedom.

And that’s what happens when you get past the breakers of ancestral pressure -the waves upon waves of “get married” and “start a family” which rash into your dinghy, wearing you down and pushing you back to the familiar shores of how it has always been done.

The brreakers will knock you back and leave you stranded in the same cycles of behaviour of everyione who came before if you give up. But if you persist, and keep fighting and paddling past the good-advice and well-intentioed interventions, you make it out to the open water.

But all that happens then is that you are in the middle of the ocean, left to your own devices with no eyes on you.

Act accordingly.

Best,
-Dre

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The Look of Love

Friends,

Staying with my uncle these past couple weeks out on Lake Huron and spending my days helping out at his restaurant. Yesterday evening I came down from the staff room, having shed my sweater and rocking a sleeveless tank, ready to don an apron and begin helping out with dishes.

There were two attractive girls at the bar in the mid 30s age range and the blond one, let’s call her ‘Holly’, was like, “Wow, you have big muscles!” I looked at Holly, and from my peripherals I could tell the guy sitting behind her was narrowing his eyes at me.

“Thank-you,” I responded.

“You wanna arm wrestle?” the guy blurted out?

“No thanks, they’re just for show.” I responded with a smile.

“I bet!” he shot back.

I looked at him, widening my smile, “ and responded quickly, “None taken!” -a clever little retort for forms of aggression passive and veiled that I picked up from the Brits. Even he had to break eye contact and chuckle.

In a mild state of disbelief and amusement about how low this guy went right from the hop, I turned my attention back to Holly.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Smiling good-naturedly, I gave her my best George Costanza: “I’m the opposite of every man you ever met.”

I guess I must have reached my left hand up to my face as I sad this, because as he quickly interjected, “I doubt it!”, she exclaimed, “I would love to love you!” -the script tattooed on my left forearm.

She quickly turned to her husband to explain she was just reading my tattoo.

Sure 🙄

Him again: “You wanna come by our hot tub tonight?”

I said, “sure” not really expecting anything to materialize from it. I was right in assuming it was a desperate effort to regain face.

There was quiet for a second and I said, “Actually I’m gonna go hot tub my hands in the dish-pit. Nice meeting you guys.”

I turned to put on an apron and the girls came behind the bar and began invading the kitchen to have a look; they’re friends of my uncle and cousins who own the place so I just let it happen. After the girls passed me I was still tying up my apron still and the guy came behind the bar.

“What’s your name, brother?” I asked.

“D’Arcy” he responded.

He broke eye contact first and mumbled something about nothing, continuing on into the kitchen and through to the adjacent store where the girls were talking to the staff and having a look around.

I followed to collect dishes and overhead him saying some more comments about my unwillingness to arm wrestle.

“Fuck it!” I thought, “Why not?”

I noticed he had the name of a construction firm on his hat so I assumed that was his profession.

“Hey D’Arcy!”

He looked at me and they walked over.

“You work in construction, right?”

“Yeah…”

“I work on my computer; I have no business arm-wrestling you.” I’m not sure if his wife got the sub-text, but he did: “I’m as fit as you and probably smarter than you.”

They left soon after. I’ve gotten a lot better at holding gaze and speaking slow and truthfully. In the past I would have gotten tripped up by such overt flirtation and aggression, but I really took this instance in stride, kept my composure and even gave a little back.

Best,

-Dre

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