I have a curious problem with my chosen, beloved occupation.

I’m a writer, a reader and a thinker, and I feel uncomfortable when I write, read and think.  My husband is also a writer, reader and thinker, but he doesn’t feel this way.

Thoughts imparted to me in childhood, from beloved adults, common sayings, the subtle, ongoing training girls and women receive in feminine conformity…these thoughts niggle at me. Especially when I read in the afternoon, sitting on the couch or outside in the sunshine – I feel wrong. Sinful!

Thing is, I’m always reading God-stuff! Never a People magazine or fluff novel – oh no, I’m constantly researching the All in All.

I always feel like I should be doing something, as if writing, reading and thinking are not getting things done. But “a woman’s work is never done,” and dammit, that’s true. Besides being a writer, reader and thinker, I’m also a wife, mother, daughter, business manager, accountant, chauffeur, cook, cleaner, launderer – and there is always something that remains undone. Even on “vacation,” it feels like there is always something to do, someone to please, something to give…

Still, I adore reading. Reading has always been a major factor in awakening my consciousness, and remains so.

I became aware without knowing I was becoming aware when I was seven years old and just learning to really read. And write! And create my own stories! I had the immense good fortune of living in a city and during a time period that prized education. Indianapolis neighborhoods were designed around schools, not the other way around, and libraries were plentiful.  Even though I was just seven, I was allowed to walk to the library with my brother or my best friend, so I did. Often.

Plopped down on the library floor right between the children’s shelves in the fading autumn sunshine, I was reading a book titled “Betsy’s Little Star,” by Carolyn Haywood. I adored the “Betsy” books and planned to read every single one on the shelf.  Betsy was very real to me.  She had a little sister, and I had two boring brothers.  It didn’t seem fair.

Absorbed by the story, I became aware of Libby sitting in a sun’s ray, dust motes dancing. My consciousness was avidly reading while simultaneously witnessing, detached.  It felt like floating, and I liked it.  My brother rudely interrupted my reverie, ready to walk home. I decided to ask Dad about this feeling later.

My dad winked and said I was different, and that being different was a really good thing.  Wise people are different, he said. The world needs people who aren’t afraid of being different, he said.  He told me he was different too. I was proud to be different like Daddy.

Quite naturally, I connected this blessed “difference” with reading, so I read everything in sight. Daddy winked when he found me long after lights out, under my blanket reading with a flashlight. We were different together!

Mom was different too, but it wasn’t the same different. She wanted me to read, but she wanted me to do my chores and learn responsibility. “No reading until your chores are done!” Mom said, and repeated often. Dad was in full agreement…and he winked. We had a secret.

The messages were confusing to me. Now, my wonderful pastime and the secret difference I shared with Daddy had been connected with irresponsibility, even guilt.

Weird things began to happen around our house after my 8^th birthday.  Mom got sick and a “sick room” was set up in our dining room.  A housekeeper was hired to look after Mom, the kids and the household routine while Mom convalesced. Then, just as Mom was regaining her health and managing our home again, Dad got sick.

We three kids were shuttled around between relatives during that strange time. I remember staying with Granny in Illinois. Granny was ALWAYS doing something. Her hands were constantly busy with some job: cooking, serving, cleaning, writing, washing, wringing, mending…embroidery and crocheting when everything else was done. She never rested except to sleep and often repeated “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop!”

“It’s good to be different,” “No reading until your chores are done,” and “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” formed a strange thought-loop in my little girl’s mind. I loved pleasing Dad; I wanted Mom to be proud of me and I adored my kind, giving, wise Granny.  Most certainly, I didn’t want the angry red devil taking over my hands because I was lazy and irresponsible!

Being different took on a whole new meaning after Dad died. I was nine.  None of the kids in my class could understand. Having divorced parents was unknown, but having a dead parent was inconceivable. Fifty years of cultural changes make this statement seem ridiculous, but it was true (at least for me) in 1965.  At the time, I just knew the only other girl who could understand me was Carolyn Kennedy.

Mom loved and adored me, but the Mom I had before Dad died was gone. I was instantly responsible, and now realize it was because I was able to respond and Mom just wasn’t. She was like a ghost. Mom needed my help much more than ever before. My brothers needed looking after. I was a very observant child and a resolute Capricorn, so to the best of my nine-year-old ability, I noticed what needed to be done, and did it.

Reading in my bed at night just made me cry.

“I don’t know what I would do without her,” Mom would say to Granny, my aunts and uncles. My relatives were proud of me. They gave me money, actual folding money, and began to assume that I would watch all the kids at family get-togethers.

Now, being different was unsupported. Sometimes I escaped with a book. I had to really escape to forget being responsible. Leaving the house and family, I ran far enough or climbed high enough to be “lost” for a while. Returning with my book, my cousins would point and laugh, yelling  “bookworm!” or “egghead!” My face would burn. I wanted to scream, “I am a bookworm and you’re an idiot!” but I didn’t, because different was no longer good.

Today, I am a reader of thoughts and a reader of minds. I love words. Inspired words are healing, uplifting, glorious images of infinity. We think in words, describe in words, scream in words – we create words to express everything it is to be human. We can only attempt to express God with words.

Today, I’m really good at detaching my consciousness and floating at will in meditation.  I got started meditating by reading “A Course in Miracles,” so even meditating – listening to God! – can subtly feel like idleness.

My wonderful twin-flame husband has restored support and encouragement to all of my differences. Because of him, reading, writing, thinking and meditating are both my purpose and my work. The old thoughts don’t stop me, but they do slow me down. Maybe that’s good; I don’t know. But I do know that I long to regain the innocent liberty of thought I knew as a little girl, plopped on the floor of the library.

I’ve decided to change the thoughts and sayings.

I am different, and I am good.

No chores until your reading is done!

My hands are God’s to guide.

I’m stumped on “a woman’s work is never done.”

God only knows what will become of the children raised on this:

Hello beloveds -

People often ask me what I think about current events, and especially about documentaries and articles that go against the status quo of the media establishment. Released on Earth Day, ”Sirius” is such a documentary.

For a long time, I have prayed for disclosure. In my mind, the Universe could not allow beings with evil intent to have perfected interstellar travel. I think that’s why humans haven’t figured it out yet. We’re toddlers in a playpen.

But the crop circles and the amazing sightings have been so tantalizing for so long….please enjoy.

Many blessings ~ Libby

 *****

On April 22^nd, I watched “Sirius,” the extraterrestrial ‘disclosure’ movie. It’s a well-produced, fascinating documentary, filled with interesting and devastating facts about the oil industry’s stranglehold on information and inventions that might touch their profit machine. Many of these ideas come from “out there,” and many others that have come from humans, only to be eliminated (idea and human) before they could be implemented.

The movie’s ‘hook’ is the tiny skeletal remains of a small being, reportedly found in the Atacama Desert of Chile, that looks exactly like you’d imagine a tiny little alien being (a grey) to look. You can see photos all over the web. Stanford University scientists agreed to a thorough examination of the little being, all the way to DNA. It isn’t human, but it is human-like. The “deformities” the little being displays do not correspond to the human DNA that would produce such deformities. In other words, the shape of the head is normal to the little beings’ race, but the scientists couldn’t say that. It was quite astounding to hear what the experts DID say, knowing they could well be throwing their professional careers (and even their lives) away.

It’s too early to tell if “Sirius” will have the effect Dr. Stephen Greer hopes it will. I’m afraid he might be eliminated, but I honestly don’t think he would care, so long as the information gets out. Greer says he has had a near-death experience, and I believe that’s what gives him the strength to continually resurrect himself from yet another crucifixion by the powers that be. He is not afraid.

What I loved about the movie was Dr. Greer’s method of ET contact. Greer is teacher and avatar to the worldwide CSETI* membership, and members gather at known power points to call on sightings. The members sit in a circle, meditate, chant ancient Sanskrit mantras and send forth peace-filled thoughts of contact.

They are calling upon the mighty blessing of peace-filled advanced beings from other worlds to help us…and they often appear.

They are not just calling on extra-terrestrials. “Extra” terrestrial doesn’t imply a moral code or empathic nature: an extraterrestrial can be any sort of being from other planet. It could be any of the beings from the bar scene in Star Wars.  What Greer’s group is calling upon are meta-terrestrials (meta = beyond, terrestrial = of the terra, or Earth). Greer and his groups are calling beings of the highest will for all other beings, beyond the stage of planetary existence, beings able to traverse interstellar space at light speed…or even thought speed.

Whether you believe in or care about disclosure, that’s still a beautiful thing, because if you think about it, Jesus is a meta-terrestrial. Angels are meta-terrestrials.

I add my prayer to Greer and CSETI: come all y’all meta-terrestrials. We need you! Come quickly! Amen

March 10, 2013; the first morning of daylight savings time in the first bonus year after the alleged end of the world on December 21, 2012. This Sunday morning my attention was on Jesus. Probably not in the way you’re thinking.

Churches don’t like me much, so it wasn’t at church. I wasn’t dreaming about, praying to, meditating on or envisioning Jesus, although I can personally recommend all of these practices very highly.

I was watching YouTube videos.

YouTube “remembers” what you watch, and based upon your patterns and interests, recommends videos to you. It’s an astonishing feat of algorithm technology that is downright spooky.

I clicked on a video titled “WikiLeaks: Leaked UN [United Nations] Briefing Video on Alien God Arrival.” Who wouldn’t click on that? The “Templar” video began with a strange disclaimer by the “Apostolic Nuncio” and a deep British voice saying “this is an authorized release” as the symbol and crest of “The Holy and Apostolic Order of the Temple” appeared on the screen. It was very official; cold and a little frightening.

The black screen announced:

January 28th, 2011

The world witnessed the Holy Spirit of Lord RayEl

descend from Heaven over Jerusalem

Go to RA-EL.org

Then (of all things!), Megyn Kelly of FOX News appeared, talking about the spectacular UFO over Jerusalem’s Dome of the Rock (sacred to Muslims) on the Temple Mount (sacred to Jews and Christians) on January 28, 2011. The UFO was witnessed by many hundreds of people, and at least four videos captured the event. A brilliant sphere slowly descended until it hovered just over the Dome, and then shot straight into the atmosphere with such speed it was impossible to follow.

Megyn’s question “Is He back?” flashed on the screen. She meant Jesus, of course.

Maybe I should feel guilty, but when I saw the Jerusalem UFO videos back when they happened, I didn’t wonder whether Jesus returned on a spaceship that night. Now, I was just curious about where this video was heading.

At 4:37 the screen boldly proclaimed “THE MESSIAH IS HERE!”

Using New Testament verses, computer-aided Torah code research and bloodline data, evidence was presented connecting the Jerusalem event to a guy from Chicago named Raymond Elwood Lear. It was all quite fascinating, but I was chuckling. I’ve known Midwestern guys named Raymond and Elwood. Think Larry the Cable Guy.

Raymond Elwood Lear was convinced, however, that indeed he was Ray-el (or Ra-el; the video was inconsistent), the Second Coming of Christ, the Son of God returned.

I smelled a rat. The video still had more than an hour to go, so I googled “The Holy and Apostolic Order of the Temple” and found that the video I was watching wasn’t leaked by WikiLeaks or anyone else, but created by “The Holy and Apostolic Order of the Temple” in order to make some rather interesting connections and announce Ray-El’s (or Ra-el’s) coming. Google also revealed Ra-el’s large and growing following.

****

You know how YouTube displays similar content on the sidebar? The next thing I did was click on “Cult Leader Thinks He’s Jesus.” This Jesus founded a utopia in Siberia, deep in Russia’s interior. The videographer was sincerely seeking the truth about Vissarion, called “The Teacher” by his followers. Two thousand of Vissarion’s flock lived out in the wilds of the taiga (boreal forest) near him.

Vissarion definitely had the Jesus look, great hair and deep, serious eyes. Ambitious, he wrote 12 volumes called “The Last Testament.” Vissarion seemed certain about his special sacredness. To follow “The Teacher” meant joyfully awaiting the end of the world, followed by the alien rescue of Vissarions.

The village was idyllic and the people perfectly charming. They were living immersed in the natural world, living a healthy, outdoor vegan lifestyle. Their fresh-faced children bubbled with happiness. The culture was patriarchal; girls and women had their place, supporting the men, and Vissarion was worshipped as God. He lived alone on top of the mountain overlooking the village, regally walking down a winding path to address the throng on certain occasions.

Because of YouTube, Vissarion was also attracting followers from around the globe.

****

After Siberia, I clicked over to Australia and “My name is Alan John Miller, but I’m actually Jesus.” Seriously, the guy introduced himself as Jesus, and his girlfriend as Mary Magdalene. Both were totally convinced of the truth of their identities. Miller maintained that his first remembrance as a small child was having a nail pounded through his ankles.

This Jesus was a tanned, good looking guy with wavy brown hair; a friendly dude-like sort with an amazing mind for manipulation. He was a de-frocked Jehovah’s Witnesses pastor. His introductory class was titled “I’m Jesus. Deal With It.” Miller’s “technique” was to strip people emotionally, supposedly to get to the bottom of whatever behavior was holding them back, whether it was addiction, co-dependency, etc. Miller only smiled as blubbering adults spilled out their childhood angst at the feet of “Jesus.” Afterwards, the people considered themselves healed and forever in Jesus’ debt. Then, Miller would advise the people to make certain they were living in truth. Were you living with your soul mate? If not, you weren’t living in truth. Middle aged women (mostly) from around the globe have decided they are not living with their soul mates, and have sold everything to move to Australia, to Miller’s growing compound in Queensland.

Miller’s “Jesus” frightened me.

Miller was a whole new kind of cult leader; web-savvy, good-looking and naturally charismatic, able to prey upon emotional baggage, the human need for belonging and new-age ideas about the soul-mate reunion like nobody I have ever seen. He didn’t ask for money or followers, and yet his YouTube emoticon appeal was raking in the money and followers.

****

I’m worried about God’s dear people. People everywhere are lonely and profoundly in need of belonging. The collective “we” are hurting; seeking something, seeking someone. The world constantly wants our attention, providing an endless assortment of shiny somethings and someones to chase. Meanwhile, the Jesus of history left us with simple instructions about the something and someone we are truly seeking. Matthew 6:33 (KJV) Jesus said “Seek ye first the kingdom of God…”

And where is the kingdom of God? Luke 17:20-21 Jesus said “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: neither shall they say Lo, here! Or Lo, there! For behold, the kingdom of God is within you.”

Jesus often used words in their broadest sense. For example, when using the word “first” his meaning included both originally, but also primarily. In other words, seeking the kingdom of God within should be our original and primary motivation. Not seek ye first a cool enlightenment seminar, or seek ye first a physical incarnation of Jesus.

I’m worried about spiritual people, because quite often we are the ones who have fruitlessly sought belonging our entire lives. I’ve watched dear people hop from teaching to seminar to guru to preacher to workshop to retreat…going Lo, here! and Lo, there! And yet, they have not found the elusive guaranteed soul mate or the financial abundance repeatedly promised. Some have travelled extensively and spent many thousands of dollars attending seminars and retreats, only to feel hollow and empty when they return to normal life.

****

The late prophet of rock and former Beatle George Harrison wrote some profound lyrics in “Awaiting on You All” that I have found it to be true:

You don’t need no love in
You don’t need no bed pan
You don’t need a horoscope or a microscope
The see the mess that you’re in
If you open up your heart
You will know what I mean
We’ve been polluted so long
Now here’s a way for you to get clean

CHORUS: By chanting the names of the lord and you’ll be free / The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see / Chanting the names of the lord and you’ll be free / The lord is awaiting on you all to awaken and see

You don’t need no church house
And you don’t need no temple
You don’t need no rosary beads or them books to read
Before you can see Jesus
If you open up your heart
You’ll see he’s right there
Always was and will be
He’ll relieve you of your cares

George Harrison, having tasted everything the world had to offer, realized that the kingdom of God required nothing from the outer world: not a teacher, not a book; no person, place or thing. Open up your heart! Look within yourself, REALLY look.

****

The Future Testament, Christ 2:26-34 (emphasis mine)

You will not find fulfillment living your life vicariously through sports figures, movie stars or even Jesus of Nazareth.

You are here to become as he was and is: the Christ, the anointed of Yahweh.

You are here to heal, to inspire, to feed and to resurrect.

You are even here to bear the sins of the world.

This may be startling to you, but be assured: this is simply a return to the Gospel, the good news as it was originally preached:

For us to become like Christ

was Yahweh’s divine plan

from the very beginning.

The notion of vicarious living and atonement is absurd.

For far too long the delusion of vicarious living has prevented Yahweh’s good people from becoming the Christ themselves.

 *****

The Christ is God’s seed, planted in the kingdom of God that lives inside your heart. Look inside yourself; find the Divine Seed within, water and grow the embryonic Christ that is your true nature.

Books can help. The wisdom of others can reveal truth, and there are masters among us. But no person, place or thing can look inside you. That is your function and your purpose…and it’s free.

Seek ye first. Originally. Primarily.

Dear friends and lovers of life,

One of my deepest desires is to empower women and lovers of women to rise up together, in solidarity for peace on Earth, equality and LIBERTY! This post is an extremely relevant chapter from my newly released book “One Becomes One”, available on Amazon.com.

“The Vagina Dialogue” in in honor of V-Day, being celebrated around the world. Halleluja! “On V-Day’s 15th Anniversary, 14 February 2013, we are inviting ONE BILLION women and those who love them to WALK OUT, DANCE, RISE UP, and DEMAND an end to violence against women.” from www.OneBillionRising.org

If you live in Nashville and are either a woman or a lover of women, you can join the dance of life gathering at the Parthenon…details here.

Peace on Earth!  

 “The face that launched a thousand ships is sinking fast – that happens, you know.”  Genesis, from the album “Trick of the Tail”

Sisters, can we talk? Let’s be honest: no face ever launched a thousand ships! Not even the loveliest feminine visage ever caused a man to climb a mountain, swim an ocean or slay a dragon. The face has never been the goal of any heterosexual male – it’s the promise of pussy in the eyes of the face that face! That’s what launched a thousand ships, climbed every mountain, swam every ocean and slayed every dragon.

I’m a girl, a woman, a mother, a grandmother, an author, an ordained minister of God – and I have a vagina. I’ve had it long enough that I have made some realizations about our historical (and hysterical) misuses of the power it contains, and I want to share. The vagina holds such magnificent influence that I believe right use (the real meaning of ‘righteous’) has the power to save the world.

I’m not kidding.

You can learn a lot from daytime television. Most of it, you never wanted to know. An episode of “The Maury Show” is forever burned in my memory. A 17-year-old girl appeared on the show with her three-year-old daughter for the purpose of performing a DNA paternity test on the thirteenth (13^th!) young man, meaning that twelve previous DNA tests had been performed. Mr. 13 wasn’t the lucky winner either. The depravity of “The Maury Show” continued with effusive promises to find the baby daddy, reaping more humiliation, sensationalism and ratings, but I digress.

Mr. 13 cared nothing about the young woman or her child. She was ‘just a neighborhood slut’ and he only ‘did her for a free ride.’ He had nothing but contempt for her. Her vagina was simply an available receptacle for his penis. The young woman told Maury abortion was ‘wrong’…but obviously, unprotected sex with any neighborhood penis was ‘right.’ Did this little sister of ours ever learn anything about birth control or safe sex? Did she have access to a free birth control clinic, or did the abortion haters close the one in her city with bomb threats? Totally twisted, isn’t it?

How did we allow this to happen? What can we do about it?

My dear sisters young and old, the answer lies right between our legs. The answer also includes stuff like responsibility, decency and morality. The answer also means thinking with your own brain, instead of being led around by the horrible examples movie and rock stars offer, by advertising or by what other girls are doing.

Before we go any further, we need to understand some fascinating facts of human biology. First, the largest cell in the human body is the female egg, about 30 microns across, almost large enough to be seen with the naked eye. The smallest cell is the male sperm at less than 3 microns across, making the egg, by volume, nearly 100 times larger than the sperm. The female egg is also the rarest cell. At birth, the average female has about 2 million eggs, but over her lifetime only 300-400 eggs will actually come to maturity to be released during ovulation for potential fertilization.

Think about this situation: the rarest, most precious human cell is the ovum, or egg. And to make the ovum even more precious, it is available for fertilization for just a few hours once a month on a good month, and to make procreation even more complex, the female is often unaware when ovulation occurs.

The smallest cell, the sperm, isn’t the most plentiful cell (skin and blood cells are) but there is no lack of sperm cells in the average human male, who will produce between 100 million and 10 billion sperm cells every day from the average age of 12 until the day he dies.

Biology sets the scene: the ovum, largest and rarest human cell with a window of availability between 24-48 hours a month, compensated by the sperm, smallest human cell, available in overwhelming abundance 24/7, 365 days a year. The male of the species is ready anywhere, anytime, with anyone. It is a fact of biology, God help us all. At least in that way, guys really can’t help it. The fact that they don’t help it with alarming frequency is another matter. But women, the answer to a guys’ inability to keep it in his pants is located right between our legs.

The mere sight of a female arouses the visual cortex of the male and bing! He’s firmly ready for action. This is biology. The biology of male arousal explains how (‘why’ is more complex) society has created Playboy, Penthouse and porn. Just like you’ve always surmised, the male visual cortex is wired directly to his penis! Since he doesn’t know when or if the woman in his sight is fertile, nature made certain he would be ready for the impregnation process at all times.

In the Stone Age and without knowing how, the Neanderthals knew only the female can give life. Neanderthal males were only concerned with their biological desires. Neanderthal females knew they were the ones who would stop bleeding, grow big and round and eventually, after great pain, give birth to a new Neanderthal life.

To the Neanderthal mind, when a female stopped bleeding, a baby began to grow in her belly. The idea ‘blood is life’ had its beginnings. Once the baby was born, something miraculous happened for Neanderthal mother: maternal instinct, the unquenchable desire to hold her baby close to her body, which turned on baby’s instinct to find her life-giving milk. Neanderthal male was out of the picture, because Neanderthal female seemed to be all about this new life thing. Since Neanderthal male didn’t seem to have a role, Neanderthal male was free to roam…and so it continues.

Neanderthal mother and baby, in their position of weakness, needed their strong male to fill the role of protection and provision. The naturally dissimilar roles of male and female are not inherently unequal just because society has chosen to see them that way. We women have lost a lot by embracing equality with males at the expense of being fully female. Adding stress and pressure from the male-dominated work world to the responsibility of child rearing has done little, if anything, toward advancing the female or the family. In the name of equality, we now send our daughters to war so they too can suffer the same indignities, injuries and mental torture as men, against the most basic maternal instincts of life-giving, nurturing and caring…but I digress.

Since women were the life-givers, most early civilizations were matriarchies. Women ruled, because women were in control of survival itself. But about 3,000 BCE, things changed. Observing the animal kingdom brought realization: the male had a vital role in the creation of life! Without the male seed, the female would not reproduce. Man became sword bearer and conqueror, and the patriarchy (male rule) came into being, with freedom to roam intact. So it continues today.

Funny Bible knowledge: Moses, founder of the Jewish religion, the guy who met God in the burning bush and led the Jews out of bondage to Egypt was described by these words when he died: “his vigor had not abated.”* This phrase means that Moses’ liver and bladder might have shut down, but good old Moses could still catch wood. Moses remained a mighty pillar of patriarchy, able to brandish his ‘sword’ to the end.

Women and girls, my sisters everywhere: the truth is, boys will be boys. From deep ancestral memory, aroused by their visual cortex, boys follow their pointing penis – exactly as you suspected. When they’re 12 or so, every day they produce mega-sperm and those sperm cells want OUT. Using any vagina as a sperm receptacle is their preferred method of releasing those dammed-up sperm cells. That’s biology.

You, the vagina carrier, have the power of choice to allow admittance.

Remember, it wasn’t a face that launched a thousand ships – it was the promise of pussy, the golden triangle, the cuckoo’s nest, the scabbard, nature’s tufted treasure! “The Female Member” by Kit Schwartz offers six hundred nicknames men have concocted for the vagina, because guys are perfectly happy seeing you as a vagina (by any name), not a person. We call this the ‘objectification of women,’ where we are seen not as people, but objects or possessions. Female objectification is everywhere in our society. Far too many men are happy to treat women as sperm receptacles because far too many women will let them! Our societies (patriarchies!) foster, sell and almost require girls and women to display the low self-worth that says we have no choice but to allow admittance.

Biologically-rooted ‘thinking’ is callous and immature. We are called by God, male and female, to go above and beyond our biology; beyond ‘survival of the fittest’ and ‘those who have the gold make the rules,’ above and beyond treating each other as objects to be bought and sold, prized and discarded.

Sexual connection feeds a deeper longing and profound need for connection. The male need for the female vagina goes far beyond releasing sperm: men deeply need a sense of home. It is no coincidence that the words ‘home’ ‘om’ ‘amen’ ‘mom’ and ‘womb’ have the same vibration: these are primordial sounds. I have sons and I know this to be true: boys and men often feel lost and terrified. Upon leaving the sanctity of ‘womb’ and facing the cruel world, they often make the wrong decisions, opting for the easy way. And because we let them, guys will ride an endless series of pussies only to have contempt for the free ride. Meanwhile the deepest desire of the male soul for the fulfillment of ‘home’ remains unfulfilled. An impersonal lay brings satisfaction to no one.

Pay attention, because what comes next is the key to saving the world.

Sisters, if we made it our policy that only well-balanced, peace-loving, critically-thinking genius types were allowed to touch our vaginas, we would soon raise up a generation of well-balanced, peace-loving, critically-thinking genius types! But we allow the bad boys, the married men, the dumb jocks, the addict rock stars, the drug dealers, the powerful politicians, the guy who can get us a job, a raise, a promotion: all these guys we have allowed into our vaginas instead. And all these guys treat us with contempt, however subtle. I’m not criticizing any of us, male or female, because that’s our society. I admit to the same mistakes with my vagina.

Most of us girls have been shattered, and that’s why we share ourselves sexually in ways that hurt us. Many of us have been poorly fathered, abandoned, abused, betrayed, neglected and ignored…and we deeply need fathering. We make the mistake of looking to almost any guy for the male nurturing we so profoundly need. For that few minutes of closeness, for the perception of bonding with a male, we risk and sacrifice our most precious treasure.

But we can and must overcome these wrong-headed, immature, biologically-based decisions. I have realized my mistakes and learned their lessons. The beauty of teaching and learning is that you can learn through me, without the mistakes!

How we express our intimate sexuality defines the essence of who we are. My beloved Ahyh and I never even kissed before we were married, and that kind of commitment was the most sacred, beautiful and liberating experience of my life. We are ‘home’ together. Our mutual expression of intimacy leads me to a new kind of liberation that I pray for you.

An ancient gender-based paradigm shapes and controls our society, and we women have the power to change it. The laws of the land and the males who make the rules aren’t going to do the job. Neanderthal biology established the physiological, mammalian truth that males are programmed this way: it’s the system. The one control mechanism in the system is who will let him. Women and girls have the key, the switch and the power to control the system with our loving commitment to real life and liberation (as above) and with our legs (so below).

When he was younger, Ahyh told a joke to his buddies about the kind of woman he was looking for, saying “She’d have to meet my exacting criteria if I’m going to do her.” His exacting criteria? “She’d have to let me!” The guys would guffaw and slap each other on the back when he reached the punch line, “It’s amazing how few are qualified!” But after years of his own mistakes and dead end pathways, finding pussy but no home and longing for the warmth of a sacramental relationship, he changed the criteria into a non-joke, “She’d have to be qualified and worthy.”

Even as intensely spiritual as he is, Ahyh was 45 before he realized that there was more to his life than finding a sperm receptacle.

Sisters, we need to realize our worth earlier in life, for ourselves, our young men and our coming children. Women must employ maturity when it comes to sexuality, because unless your man is spiritually mature, he won’t! When women rise in consciousness and decide they will only mate with men who are intelligent, responsible, honest, hard-working and committed spiritual family men, we will raise up a generation of males and females who are intelligent, responsible, honest, hard-working and committed spiritual family people. The guys who aren’t gettin’ any will want to learn that kind of balance!

Samira Akhmed, a woman, teacher and activist from Sudan, learned the ‘power of the pussy’ from an ancient Greek comedy by Aristophanes. Samira had enough of war in Sudan, so like a heroine in Aristophanes’ play, she decided to employ the power of pussy to protest war. She assembled a veritable army of like-minded women and against the traditional Islam, the women committed to ‘Al-Khair,’ or refusing sex with men, reckoning that their husbands would come to peaceful agreements if they were deprived of sex. Samira declared “This is my duty towards all women who make their best to bring up children in the country ruined by war.”

Women around the globe need to remove all sexual support from sword-fighting conquering ‘heroes.’ From sports stars to street fighters, bad boys to Wall Street tycoons and from philandering self-righteous politicians to war-mongering presidents, we must withdraw our support, because the ancient, biologically-based paradigm shapes them all. Playing smarter and wiser with our vaginas, we won’t have to ‘choose life’ or abort, a terrible choice that destroys souls.

The Maury Show opened a window on a heartbreaking and completely avoidable story. The young woman on her 13^th paternity test at age 17 simply deserved better! Her unworthiness allowed umpteen boys to abuse and forget her. This is not ‘sexual liberation,’ but bondage a thousand times worse than slavery because it was voluntary. Her own baby girl deserves to grow up with a father, not a sperm donor or a money supplier: a loving, caring, hand-holding, bicycle-fixing, dinner-making daddy.

“To all the girls who are in a hurry to have a boyfriend or get married, a piece of Biblical advice: ‘Ruth patiently waited for her mate Boaz.’ While you are waiting for your Boaz, don’t settle for any of his relatives: Broke-az, Po-az, Lyin-az, Cheating-az, Dumb-az, Drunk-az, Cheap-az, Lockedup-az, Goodfornothing-az, Lazy-az, and especially his third cousin Beatinyou-az. Wait on your Boaz and make sure he respects Yoaz.” (author unknown)

Boys will remain boys, as long as we let them. When we no longer let them, we will begin to raise a race of men.

I humbly offer this vagina dialogue as a pathway to liberation.