The Divine Mr. M (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nebris) wrote2025-08-16 04:23 am
nebris) wrote2025-08-16 04:23 am
The Divine Mr. M (nebris) wrote2025-08-11 04:32 pm
nebris) wrote2025-08-11 04:32 pmIt wasn’t just hate. Fascism offered robust social welfare
An analogy is haunting the United States – the analogy of fascism. It is virtually impossible (outside certain parts of the Right-wing itself) to try to understand the resurgent Right without hearing it described as – or compared with – 20th-century interwar fascism. Like fascism, the resurgent Right is irrational, close-minded, violent and racist. So goes the analogy, and there’s truth to it. But fascism did not become powerful simply by appealing to citizens’ darkest instincts. Fascism also, crucially, spoke to the social and psychological needs of citizens to be protected from the ravages of capitalism at a time when other political actors were offering little help.
The origins of fascism lay in a promise to protect people. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a rush of globalisation destroyed communities, professions and cultural norms while generating a wave of immigration. Right-wing nationalist movements promising to protect people from the pernicious influence of foreigners and markets arose, and frightened, disoriented and displaced people responded. These early fascist movements disrupted political life in some countries, but they percolated along at a relatively low simmer until the Second World War.
The First World War had devastated Europe, killing 16 million people, maiming another 20 million, crushing economies and sowing turmoil. In Italy, for example, the postwar period saw high inflation and unemployment, as well as strikes, factory occupations, land seizures and other forms of social unrest and violence. The Liberal Italian governments of the postwar era failed to adequately address these problems. The Liberals’ constituencies – businessmen, landowners, members of the middle class – abandoned them. The country’s two largest opposition parties – the socialist PSI and the Catholic PPI – also offered little effective redress to these basic social problems.
Benito Mussolini and his National Fascist Party (PNF) stepped into the breach, taking advantage of the failure or ineffectiveness of existing institutions, parties and elites, and offering a mixture of ‘national’ and ‘social’ policies. Fascists promised to foster national unity, prioritise the interests of the nation above those of any particular group, and promote Italy’s stature internationally. The fascists also appealed to Italians’ desire for social security, solidarity and protection from capitalist crises. They promised therefore to restore order, protect private property and promote prosperity but also to shield society from economic downturns and disruption. Fascists stressed that wealth entailed responsibilities as well as privileges, and should be administered for the benefits of the nation.
These appeals enabled the fascists to garner support from almost all socioeconomic groups. Italy was a young country (formed in the 1860s), plagued by deep regional and social divisions. By claiming to serve the best interests of the entire national community, it was in fact the fascists who became Italy’s first true ‘people’s party’.
After coming to power, the Italian fascists created recreational circles, student and youth groups, sports and excursion activities. These organisations all furthered the fascists’ goals of fostering a truly national community. The desire to strengthen (a fascist) national identity also compelled the regime to extraordinary cultural measures. They promoted striking public architecture, art exhibitions, and film and radio productions. The regime intervened extensively in the economy. As one fascist put it: ‘There cannot be any single economic interests which are above the general economic interests of the state, no individual, economic initiatives which do not fall under the supervision and regulation of the state, no relationships of the various classes of the nation which are not the concern of the state.’ Such policies kept fascism popular until the late 1930s, when Mussolini threw his lot in with Hitler. It was only the country’s involvement in the Second World War, and the Italian regime’s turn to a more overtly ‘racialist’ understanding of fascism, that began to make Italian fascism unpopular.
Italian fascism differed from its German counterpart in important ways. Most notably, perhaps, anti-Semitism and racism were more innate in the German version. But Italian and German fascism also shared important similarities. Like Italy, Germany was a ‘new’ nation (formed in 1871) plagued by deep divisions. After the First World War, Germany had found itself saddled with punitive peace terms. During the 1920s, it experienced violent uprisings, political assassinations, foreign invasion and a notorious Great Inflation. Then the Great Depression hit, causing immense suffering in Germany. The response of the government, and other political actors, however, must also be remembered. For different reasons, both the era’s conservative governments and their socialist opponents primarily favoured austerity as a response to the crisis. Thus came a golden opportunity for fascism.
Hitler’s National Socialist German Workers’ Party (NSDAP) promised to serve the entire German people, but the German fascist vision of ‘the people’ did not include Jews and other ‘undesirables’. They promised to create a ‘people’s community’ (Volksgemeinschaft) that would overcome the country’s divisions. The fascists also pledged to fight the Depression and contrasted its activism on behalf of the people’s welfare with the meekness and austerity of the government and the socialists. By the 1932 elections, these appeals to protect the German people helped the Nazis become the largest political party, and the one with the broadest socioeconomic base.
When, in January 1933, Hitler became chancellor, the Nazis quickly began work-creation and infrastructure programmes. They exhorted business to take on workers, and doled out credit. Germany’s economy rebounded and unemployment figures improved dramatically: German unemployment fell from almost 6 million in early 1933 to 2.4 million by the end of 1934; by 1938, Germany essentially enjoyed full employment. By the end of the 1930s, the government was controlling decisions about economic production, investment, wages and prices. Public spending was growing spectacularly.
Nazi Germany remained capitalist. But it had also undertaken state intervention in the economy unprecedented in capitalist societies. The Nazis also supported an extensive welfare state (of course, for ‘ethnically pure’ Germans). It included free higher education, family and child support, pensions, health insurance and an array of publically supported entertainment and vacation options. All spheres of life, economy included, had to be subordinated to the ‘national interest’ (Gemeinnutz geht vor Eigennutz), and the fascist commitment to foster social equality and mobility. Radical meritocratic reforms are not usually thought of as signature Nazi measures, but, as Hitler once noted, the Third Reich has ‘opened the way for every qualified individual – whatever his origins – to reach the top if he is qualified, dynamic, industrious and resolute’.
Largely for these reasons, up till 1939, most Germans’ experience with the Nazi regime was probably positive. The Nazis had seemingly conquered the Depression and restored economic and political stability. As long as they could prove their ethnic ‘purity’ and stayed away from overt shows of disloyalty, Germans typically experienced National Socialism not as a tyranny and terror, but as a regime of social reform and warmth.
There can be no question that violence and racism were essential traits of fascism. But for most Italians, Germans and other European fascists, the appeal was based not on racism, much less ethnic cleansing, but on the fascists’ ability to respond effectively to crises of capitalism when other political actors were not. Fascists insisted that states could and should control capitalism, that the state should and could promote social welfare, and that national communities needed to be cultivated. The fascist solution ultimately was, of course, worse than the problem. In response to the horror of fascism, in part, New Deal Democrats in the United States, and social democratic parties in Europe, also moved to re-negotiate the social contract. They promised citizens that they would control capitalism and provide social welfare policies and undertake other measures to strengthen national solidarity – but without the loss of freedom and democracy that fascism entailed.
The lesson for the present is clear: you can’t beat something with nothing. If other political actors don’t come up with more compelling solutions to the problems of capitalism, the popular appeal of the resurgent Right-wing will continue. And then the analogy with fascism and democratic collapse of the interwar years might prove even more relevant than it is now.
https://aeon.co/ideas/fascism-was-a-right-wing-anti-capitalist-movement
The origins of fascism lay in a promise to protect people. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a rush of globalisation destroyed communities, professions and cultural norms while generating a wave of immigration. Right-wing nationalist movements promising to protect people from the pernicious influence of foreigners and markets arose, and frightened, disoriented and displaced people responded. These early fascist movements disrupted political life in some countries, but they percolated along at a relatively low simmer until the Second World War.
The First World War had devastated Europe, killing 16 million people, maiming another 20 million, crushing economies and sowing turmoil. In Italy, for example, the postwar period saw high inflation and unemployment, as well as strikes, factory occupations, land seizures and other forms of social unrest and violence. The Liberal Italian governments of the postwar era failed to adequately address these problems. The Liberals’ constituencies – businessmen, landowners, members of the middle class – abandoned them. The country’s two largest opposition parties – the socialist PSI and the Catholic PPI – also offered little effective redress to these basic social problems.
Benito Mussolini and his National Fascist Party (PNF) stepped into the breach, taking advantage of the failure or ineffectiveness of existing institutions, parties and elites, and offering a mixture of ‘national’ and ‘social’ policies. Fascists promised to foster national unity, prioritise the interests of the nation above those of any particular group, and promote Italy’s stature internationally. The fascists also appealed to Italians’ desire for social security, solidarity and protection from capitalist crises. They promised therefore to restore order, protect private property and promote prosperity but also to shield society from economic downturns and disruption. Fascists stressed that wealth entailed responsibilities as well as privileges, and should be administered for the benefits of the nation.
These appeals enabled the fascists to garner support from almost all socioeconomic groups. Italy was a young country (formed in the 1860s), plagued by deep regional and social divisions. By claiming to serve the best interests of the entire national community, it was in fact the fascists who became Italy’s first true ‘people’s party’.
After coming to power, the Italian fascists created recreational circles, student and youth groups, sports and excursion activities. These organisations all furthered the fascists’ goals of fostering a truly national community. The desire to strengthen (a fascist) national identity also compelled the regime to extraordinary cultural measures. They promoted striking public architecture, art exhibitions, and film and radio productions. The regime intervened extensively in the economy. As one fascist put it: ‘There cannot be any single economic interests which are above the general economic interests of the state, no individual, economic initiatives which do not fall under the supervision and regulation of the state, no relationships of the various classes of the nation which are not the concern of the state.’ Such policies kept fascism popular until the late 1930s, when Mussolini threw his lot in with Hitler. It was only the country’s involvement in the Second World War, and the Italian regime’s turn to a more overtly ‘racialist’ understanding of fascism, that began to make Italian fascism unpopular.
Italian fascism differed from its German counterpart in important ways. Most notably, perhaps, anti-Semitism and racism were more innate in the German version. But Italian and German fascism also shared important similarities. Like Italy, Germany was a ‘new’ nation (formed in 1871) plagued by deep divisions. After the First World War, Germany had found itself saddled with punitive peace terms. During the 1920s, it experienced violent uprisings, political assassinations, foreign invasion and a notorious Great Inflation. Then the Great Depression hit, causing immense suffering in Germany. The response of the government, and other political actors, however, must also be remembered. For different reasons, both the era’s conservative governments and their socialist opponents primarily favoured austerity as a response to the crisis. Thus came a golden opportunity for fascism.
Hitler’s National Socialist German Workers’ Party (NSDAP) promised to serve the entire German people, but the German fascist vision of ‘the people’ did not include Jews and other ‘undesirables’. They promised to create a ‘people’s community’ (Volksgemeinschaft) that would overcome the country’s divisions. The fascists also pledged to fight the Depression and contrasted its activism on behalf of the people’s welfare with the meekness and austerity of the government and the socialists. By the 1932 elections, these appeals to protect the German people helped the Nazis become the largest political party, and the one with the broadest socioeconomic base.
When, in January 1933, Hitler became chancellor, the Nazis quickly began work-creation and infrastructure programmes. They exhorted business to take on workers, and doled out credit. Germany’s economy rebounded and unemployment figures improved dramatically: German unemployment fell from almost 6 million in early 1933 to 2.4 million by the end of 1934; by 1938, Germany essentially enjoyed full employment. By the end of the 1930s, the government was controlling decisions about economic production, investment, wages and prices. Public spending was growing spectacularly.
Nazi Germany remained capitalist. But it had also undertaken state intervention in the economy unprecedented in capitalist societies. The Nazis also supported an extensive welfare state (of course, for ‘ethnically pure’ Germans). It included free higher education, family and child support, pensions, health insurance and an array of publically supported entertainment and vacation options. All spheres of life, economy included, had to be subordinated to the ‘national interest’ (Gemeinnutz geht vor Eigennutz), and the fascist commitment to foster social equality and mobility. Radical meritocratic reforms are not usually thought of as signature Nazi measures, but, as Hitler once noted, the Third Reich has ‘opened the way for every qualified individual – whatever his origins – to reach the top if he is qualified, dynamic, industrious and resolute’.
Largely for these reasons, up till 1939, most Germans’ experience with the Nazi regime was probably positive. The Nazis had seemingly conquered the Depression and restored economic and political stability. As long as they could prove their ethnic ‘purity’ and stayed away from overt shows of disloyalty, Germans typically experienced National Socialism not as a tyranny and terror, but as a regime of social reform and warmth.
There can be no question that violence and racism were essential traits of fascism. But for most Italians, Germans and other European fascists, the appeal was based not on racism, much less ethnic cleansing, but on the fascists’ ability to respond effectively to crises of capitalism when other political actors were not. Fascists insisted that states could and should control capitalism, that the state should and could promote social welfare, and that national communities needed to be cultivated. The fascist solution ultimately was, of course, worse than the problem. In response to the horror of fascism, in part, New Deal Democrats in the United States, and social democratic parties in Europe, also moved to re-negotiate the social contract. They promised citizens that they would control capitalism and provide social welfare policies and undertake other measures to strengthen national solidarity – but without the loss of freedom and democracy that fascism entailed.
The lesson for the present is clear: you can’t beat something with nothing. If other political actors don’t come up with more compelling solutions to the problems of capitalism, the popular appeal of the resurgent Right-wing will continue. And then the analogy with fascism and democratic collapse of the interwar years might prove even more relevant than it is now.
https://aeon.co/ideas/fascism-was-a-right-wing-anti-capitalist-movement
The Divine Mr. M (nebris) wrote2025-08-09 03:50 pm
nebris) wrote2025-08-09 03:50 pm(no subject)
"The Trump-Putin meeting in Alaska, with Ukraine and Europe sidelined, is a product of imperial decline - secondary to democratic decline. Democratic decline creates foreign policy incapacity - and even farce.
Democratic decline affects Europe too, and what we’ve seen is Europe spectacularly unable to act, and spectacularly unable to understand how to act - namely, by leading and proposing its own table of politics, rather than lamentably trying to influence Trump.
In Europe, this kind of weakness may soon be washed away at the polling booth, and replaced with a new bogus version of strength - our own home grown Trumpism and Putinism. This too is an embarrassing lesson for Europe: failing to see how much Trump and Putin are in the same ideological camp - calamities generated by a global wash of revolutionary monarchism." ~Vlad Vexler
Democratic decline affects Europe too, and what we’ve seen is Europe spectacularly unable to act, and spectacularly unable to understand how to act - namely, by leading and proposing its own table of politics, rather than lamentably trying to influence Trump.
In Europe, this kind of weakness may soon be washed away at the polling booth, and replaced with a new bogus version of strength - our own home grown Trumpism and Putinism. This too is an embarrassing lesson for Europe: failing to see how much Trump and Putin are in the same ideological camp - calamities generated by a global wash of revolutionary monarchism." ~Vlad Vexler
The Divine Mr. M (nebris) wrote2025-08-08 12:59 pm
nebris) wrote2025-08-08 12:59 pmEntry tags:
What is Financial Domination?
Financial Domination comes from a deep need for a loss of control. Financial Domination can be played in a myriad of ways but the main idea is a dominant woman seductively or harshly manipulating money from a submissive male.
For the submissive the idea of having a woman take money from him or manipulate him into a state of wanting to give money to her is incredibly erotic. In some cases the submissive male even dreams of complete financial ruination. This is extreme but has been done by many femme dommes in the past. Usually Financial Domination just involves the taking or giving of money either on a scheduled basis, through coercion or blackmail, or just out of an intense need to give.
Now for those of you who are reading this thinking, “you’d have to be nuts to get off on that,” let me remind you that everyone has their own erotic fantasies however if you’ve ever taken a woman on a date, you’ve been financially dominated. If you’ve ever been screwed over in a divorce, you’ve been financially dominated. So don’t be too quick to judge. For some it’s painful, for others it’s very hot.
This is another fetish that has an underlying current of humiliation as well, but again it depends on the individual. To hear a woman laughing and telling you what a sucker you are can be very arousing.
Financial Domination can be done by phone, mail, live sessions or just about any way that’s imaginable. Being a Sugar Daddy is a more controlled form of Financial Domination but usually involving sex. The true fetish doesn’t involve sex at all because the dominant female wouldn’t dream of having sex with an unworthy submissive. The fact that he’s giving to her is simply because he feels that he isn’t worthy of the money but she, being more powerful and beautiful, should be made to enjoy her life with his money but without any tangible benefit to him. The mere fact that he has given the money is the benefit to him.
I use this metaphor a lot when I’m describing the feelings of the submissive in Financial Domination. When you go to a Christian church there is a time in the service where the plate is passed around and every one gives money to help keep the church running.
No one there expects anything from that offering. They certainly don’t expect the pastor to get down and say blow the congregation in gratitude. (Lol that’s probably a whole other fetish.)
No, in fact you give because you WANT to, you want to make sure your church is there for you next week, that the pastor can eat for the week and the bills can be paid. It’s the exact same thing with submissive men.
If it’s done correctly they look at the woman as a goddess, a deity. To offer up money to their goddess is just the right thing to do. Her life is ALL that matters. As a submissive male you want to eat, sleep and breathe this woman. She IS your religion.
https://thedrsuereview.com/what-is-financial-domination/
For the submissive the idea of having a woman take money from him or manipulate him into a state of wanting to give money to her is incredibly erotic. In some cases the submissive male even dreams of complete financial ruination. This is extreme but has been done by many femme dommes in the past. Usually Financial Domination just involves the taking or giving of money either on a scheduled basis, through coercion or blackmail, or just out of an intense need to give.
Now for those of you who are reading this thinking, “you’d have to be nuts to get off on that,” let me remind you that everyone has their own erotic fantasies however if you’ve ever taken a woman on a date, you’ve been financially dominated. If you’ve ever been screwed over in a divorce, you’ve been financially dominated. So don’t be too quick to judge. For some it’s painful, for others it’s very hot.
This is another fetish that has an underlying current of humiliation as well, but again it depends on the individual. To hear a woman laughing and telling you what a sucker you are can be very arousing.
Financial Domination can be done by phone, mail, live sessions or just about any way that’s imaginable. Being a Sugar Daddy is a more controlled form of Financial Domination but usually involving sex. The true fetish doesn’t involve sex at all because the dominant female wouldn’t dream of having sex with an unworthy submissive. The fact that he’s giving to her is simply because he feels that he isn’t worthy of the money but she, being more powerful and beautiful, should be made to enjoy her life with his money but without any tangible benefit to him. The mere fact that he has given the money is the benefit to him.
I use this metaphor a lot when I’m describing the feelings of the submissive in Financial Domination. When you go to a Christian church there is a time in the service where the plate is passed around and every one gives money to help keep the church running.
No one there expects anything from that offering. They certainly don’t expect the pastor to get down and say blow the congregation in gratitude. (Lol that’s probably a whole other fetish.)
No, in fact you give because you WANT to, you want to make sure your church is there for you next week, that the pastor can eat for the week and the bills can be paid. It’s the exact same thing with submissive men.
If it’s done correctly they look at the woman as a goddess, a deity. To offer up money to their goddess is just the right thing to do. Her life is ALL that matters. As a submissive male you want to eat, sleep and breathe this woman. She IS your religion.
https://thedrsuereview.com/what-is-financial-domination/
The Divine Mr. M (nebris) wrote2025-08-08 11:59 am
nebris) wrote2025-08-08 11:59 amEntry tags:
The Fate of Men: Part 1
...originally posted on Oct 3rd, 2001..I'd been on LJ about a week or so...
These will be ramblings about, well, The Fate of Men. I reserve the right to change my mind about what I say. [My Feminine Aspect ;) ]
The thought that first comes to mind is that Men have built a Civilization, a Social Order where they can no longer be authentically 'Male'. The main thing I love about "Fight Club" is how it so clearly demonstrates this dilemma. I love to be aggressive, to have physical fights, not to the death, just the "Hey, fuck you!" kind of 'punch up's' I used to have back in NYC when I was a teenager. Try that now, you get your fucking ass shot off!
When I ran anti-war demonstrations back in the late 60's (using techniques I had learned as a National Socialist. Hectic, eh?) after the cops would come and 'break skulls', me and my girlfriend would run back to my house and have the best sex in the fucking world. We even got into this thing of having physical fights, and then having sex, because we loved how the sex felt 'after battle'.
Joanne was a big (5'10/ 155lbs) Italian girl from Redhook, a very tough neighborhood in Brooklyn, and brilliant graphic artist. She owned her 'Masculine Aspect' simply by virtue of being bigger than her longshoremen father, a mean, bandy little Dago. He hit her until she outgrew him, then she started to hit back. I don't believe he ever stopped, he would just 'take his hits'.
She and I went to Art an Design HS in NYC. [That's where I ran the demonstrations. "Nazi" techniques and leftist art students. 'Balance'.] But I saw in Joanne the ability to shift back and forth from 'Masculine' and 'Feminine' that I did not perceive in myself at that time. I have achieved it now after a lot of work both as a poet and through sleeping with men.
But that combination is not practically available to the vast majority of men. Sex with each other, yes. The transcendent experience of poetry, well, not really. Now I'm not talking about a homosexual life style. I connect with women in ways that I never will with men. There is a Spiritual component that shifts my whole being. I can write poetry for a woman with ease. I have tried to write poetry for men, but it will not manifest, not even frankly pornographic poems.
Sex with [and for] men is largely a physical event, with minimal emotional exchange. And that is more common than most people, especially women realize. Go on the 'gay' sex phone lines. Those are mostly married men out there, getting a uncommitted form of fucking that they can't ever get with women. I'm not sure women can do that without suffering some serious psychic damage. We men get some damage, too, but nowhere near the same. We are always about 'becoming', so the hunt for random sex partners is more 'organic' to us.
But in this hunt there is the dominance issue. Who is "Top" and who is "Bottom". This is a sublimation of Men's True Nature in this narrow sexual arena. Because, out in "The World" all males are repressed. [Except at the very top, and the very bottom, of society.] You have to be 'nice'. You have to 'get along'. Struggle is 'feminized' into emotionalist constructs that have no room for overt aggression, which a male needs to be 'masculine'.
This 'be nice' construct does not serve women all that well, either, but they are more suited for it in their 'Feminine Aspect'. "Title IX" has helped somewhat in this regard, (team sports, ect) but most women are still "Good Girls" i.e. 'slaves'. Women need learn to shoot and fence and fight hand-to-hand, to 'internalize' Xena, not merely watch her. I shall say more on this. .
The talent for poetry is something else entirely. That allows me as a man to explore Mystery in a way that is 'Feminine' without repressing me. But I am a small minority. That is not ego. I do not own the talent that I have. It is a Gift that I am responsible for. I shall say more on this, as well.
...I have refined my thoughts upon this over they years, but some of the above has a raw clarity that I some times worry I have lost...
These will be ramblings about, well, The Fate of Men. I reserve the right to change my mind about what I say. [My Feminine Aspect ;) ]
The thought that first comes to mind is that Men have built a Civilization, a Social Order where they can no longer be authentically 'Male'. The main thing I love about "Fight Club" is how it so clearly demonstrates this dilemma. I love to be aggressive, to have physical fights, not to the death, just the "Hey, fuck you!" kind of 'punch up's' I used to have back in NYC when I was a teenager. Try that now, you get your fucking ass shot off!
When I ran anti-war demonstrations back in the late 60's (using techniques I had learned as a National Socialist. Hectic, eh?) after the cops would come and 'break skulls', me and my girlfriend would run back to my house and have the best sex in the fucking world. We even got into this thing of having physical fights, and then having sex, because we loved how the sex felt 'after battle'.
Joanne was a big (5'10/ 155lbs) Italian girl from Redhook, a very tough neighborhood in Brooklyn, and brilliant graphic artist. She owned her 'Masculine Aspect' simply by virtue of being bigger than her longshoremen father, a mean, bandy little Dago. He hit her until she outgrew him, then she started to hit back. I don't believe he ever stopped, he would just 'take his hits'.
She and I went to Art an Design HS in NYC. [That's where I ran the demonstrations. "Nazi" techniques and leftist art students. 'Balance'.] But I saw in Joanne the ability to shift back and forth from 'Masculine' and 'Feminine' that I did not perceive in myself at that time. I have achieved it now after a lot of work both as a poet and through sleeping with men.
But that combination is not practically available to the vast majority of men. Sex with each other, yes. The transcendent experience of poetry, well, not really. Now I'm not talking about a homosexual life style. I connect with women in ways that I never will with men. There is a Spiritual component that shifts my whole being. I can write poetry for a woman with ease. I have tried to write poetry for men, but it will not manifest, not even frankly pornographic poems.
Sex with [and for] men is largely a physical event, with minimal emotional exchange. And that is more common than most people, especially women realize. Go on the 'gay' sex phone lines. Those are mostly married men out there, getting a uncommitted form of fucking that they can't ever get with women. I'm not sure women can do that without suffering some serious psychic damage. We men get some damage, too, but nowhere near the same. We are always about 'becoming', so the hunt for random sex partners is more 'organic' to us.
But in this hunt there is the dominance issue. Who is "Top" and who is "Bottom". This is a sublimation of Men's True Nature in this narrow sexual arena. Because, out in "The World" all males are repressed. [Except at the very top, and the very bottom, of society.] You have to be 'nice'. You have to 'get along'. Struggle is 'feminized' into emotionalist constructs that have no room for overt aggression, which a male needs to be 'masculine'.
This 'be nice' construct does not serve women all that well, either, but they are more suited for it in their 'Feminine Aspect'. "Title IX" has helped somewhat in this regard, (team sports, ect) but most women are still "Good Girls" i.e. 'slaves'. Women need learn to shoot and fence and fight hand-to-hand, to 'internalize' Xena, not merely watch her. I shall say more on this. .
The talent for poetry is something else entirely. That allows me as a man to explore Mystery in a way that is 'Feminine' without repressing me. But I am a small minority. That is not ego. I do not own the talent that I have. It is a Gift that I am responsible for. I shall say more on this, as well.
...I have refined my thoughts upon this over they years, but some of the above has a raw clarity that I some times worry I have lost...
The Divine Mr. M (nebris) wrote2025-08-08 11:51 am
nebris) wrote2025-08-08 11:51 amEntry tags:
My Third 'Official Channeling' Post
...reposted from Jun. 7th, 2002 at 6:16 AM with a few edits...
~This fall it will be [fifty three] years since I journeyed to Mexico. I'm not talking about a day trip to TJ. I went all the way down to Chiapas, down by the Guatemalan border.
1972 had been a rough year. My draft lottery number had come up 39 the previous year, which meant there was a very good chance that I was going to Viet Nam. I was torn over this. Military service is part of my heritage. On one side of my family, the men had served as career NCO's in the British army as far back as the War of the League of Augsberg in the 1680's. On the other side, they had ridden with Bobby Lee as officers in the Army of Northern Virginia during the American Civil War.
But by 1971 it was obvious to nearly everyone that Viet Nam was a disaster. I had studied the war extensively: read books and reports, talked with over a hundred returning Viet Nam veterans, etc. I knew without a doubt that we were done. But I still felt the pull.
My step father got completely hysterical at any mention of my doing military service. As a child of Eastern European Jews, the military was still seen as an instrument of racial oppression [Czarist Russia drafted Jews to 'assimilate' them.]. Plus his own control issues were raised by the thought of my becoming a soldier of any kind. My father was in the Air Force in the UK when he met my mother, so all this challenged my step father on several levels.
As usual, the issue was resolved with an over expenditure of time, money, and energy that left all concerned emotional drained. If I had just said, "I'm gay" it would have been over in an instant. As it was, I told that lie, along with several others, and that is what finally ended the whole exercise.
Afterward, I needed to escape. It would be a quarter of a century before a past life regression lifted the pain and allowed me some peace about my actions to avoid military service. In the meantime, I desperately required some sort of 'passage' into manhood. Fate made a trip to Mexico available to me.
In the fall of '72, I left New York with a rather motley group. Bobby Hall, who put the trip together, was someone I knew from high school. A mutual friend, Kevin Cooke, had been Bobby's dealing partner in New York. They both felt it was time to get out of town for a while. The rest are not worth mentioning. Except for Danny, who we picked up in Memphis. He was a Viet Nam vet from Blue Mountain, Mississippi and a former Hell's Angel. We talked small arms and biker club social structure and became friends.
It took us a week to drive to Mexico City, where we stayed with Bobby's sister for two weeks. She had married a wealthy Mexican industrialist. Funny thing is, he was a Jew who originally came from Poland, but had grown up in Mexico. We got along because I could already speak a fair amount of Yiddish even then.
The drive to Chiapas took another week. After a few days of messing around in San Cristobal, the regional capital, Danny and I decided to hitch hike to Comitan, which was supposed to our jumping off point into the jungle. [Bobby's plan was to build a research center in the Usumacinta River valley.] We got there in a day. The rest followed two days later.
Danny told me that the rest of them were fuck ups and that Bobby's plan wasn't going to happen, but that I should stick it out unless it became too dangerous. He said I could use the 'seasoning'.
We headed into the jungle to a village called Tziscao. These people were [and still are] pure Mayan. We erected up a large tent by the side of a lake and settled in. After a week, Danny left, wishing me well. After a month, Kevin, with Sal from Brooklyn, took off in the car and never came back. We got a letter saying then had wrecked it and split the country. Bobby's fiance, Nancy came down to stay with us. Ray, who I despised, left soon after. So, it was just the three of us. All this in two months.
My mother wired me $200.00 every two weeks. That was a lot of money down there, back then. That is what we lived on. And fairly well, too. Every two weeks, on a Friday, I would go into town and pick up the money from the bank. I would get a hotel room, go out to dinner and go to the movies. Saturday morning, I would take the bus up to San Cristobal to see my friend Enoch. [He had helped get me out of jail. That's another story.]
I was reading a lot of books on the occult and psychic phenomenon. One Saturday morning I got on the bus to head north. I had a copy of "Psychic Discoveries Behind The Iron Curtain" with me. I was half way through it. I wasn't a 'morning person' even back then. Through my grogginess I heard a voice that sounded like wind chimes, "Come sit by me," it whispered. I looked around the bus, which had seemed empty a moment ago. And I saw her sitting toward the back, right where I would usually sit. She smiled.
As I sat next to her I saw a slim, attractive woman in her mid thirties with wide blue eyes, weathered from an outdoor life, but still pretty good looking. Her name was Zora Lita Chavez and she said she originally came from Montreal, but had lived in Los Angeles with her mother for the last few years. She was fascinated by my book. I told about some of what I had read so far, my favorite story being Mrs Mikailova of Leningrad. She could move a glass of milk across a table telekinetically. But only milk. And she would lose two or three pounds and have blurry vision for an or so afterward.
Zora Lita told me that she was a witch. I told her about how my high school sweetheart Kathy and I had planned to make a Hand of Glory three years earlier. We were going to chop off the hand of a Bowery bum and dry it during the Dog Days. The Hand of Glory is a very potent Majikal tool. But we didn't have the nerve to go through with it.
I was surprised that I told her that. But she laughed and said it was just as well that we didn't, because only a truly experienced practitioner could handle such a powerful tool.
Then, she spoke to me about her trip. She was returning from Guatemala. She had been recuperating from a Majikal journey in Oaxaca. She had danced with Mescalito and traveled 'up' several levels, until she had encountered a creature she could only describe as a 'vampire', though not what we would recognize as one. 'He' was a creature of energy and he was going to eat her soul and occupy her body. She knew that she was not strong enough to resist him, so she 'came down' and fled to the south. There a shaman she knew stood guard over her while she slept and regained her 'self'.
As she is telling me this, my memory of the event, the two of us sitting on that bus, surrounded by the locals, mostly Indians, is that we were in a small pocket of light in the middle of shadow. And her face started to become younger and brighter, glowing from within. She had shielded us and revealed herself to me. Then, she began to tell of her encounter with The Goddess.
A half dozen years earlier, she had dropped acid in the Central Valley of California. It was good, clean acid, made by people with clear energy. An artifact of the Sixties. As she peaked, she was surrounded by Monarch butterflies. When they parted, like a curtain, she saw a large elaborate stone temple in what had been an empty field. She 'knew' that it was a Temple of The Goddess.
She ran up its stairs and inside found a cauldron filled with swirling fire. She leaped into the fire and was 'transformed'. Then, she found herself, once again, outside the temple, which had subtly changed. Once more, she ran up the stairs and this time found the cauldron filled with swirling water. She leaped in and was 'transformed' once more. Again, she found herself outside the temple. Again, it had 'shifted' in appearance. She ran up the stairs and found the cauldron filled with swirling air, like clouds, she said. She leaped in and was 'transformed'. This time, she found herself in an empty field. But she could feel those three temples inside of her Spirit.
At this point, the 'shadow' began to fade and we were coming into San Christobal. She once again looked like the woman I had first met only a few hours ago, though it seemed years. When we got off the bus, she gave me her phone number in LA and drew three Majikal symbols in my address book. She looked at me as if to say, "Would you like to be my lover tonight?" I was twenty and strong and handsome and full of vitality. But, I was in a trance and could not respond. She smiled wistfully at me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and disappeared into the crowd. I never saw her again.
Five months later, I was in LA. I called and got her mother. She told me that Zora Lita was in the south of France, at a Sufi encampment. I left a message, but I never heard back from her.
I have thought of Zora Lita on and off over the years. But it wasn't until the summer of '96 when I was telling someone about Megan and how she was one of a group of women [there would be one more: Sarah] who had lead me to, and upon, The Left Hand Path, that the meaning of that encounter hit me. Zora Lita had started me on a twenty two year cycle to that place I found that year. And it was Sarah, who I met two months later, who would help me open The Door through which my Spirit Guide E would enter my life.
...and most of you know what that event has led to...
~This fall it will be [fifty three] years since I journeyed to Mexico. I'm not talking about a day trip to TJ. I went all the way down to Chiapas, down by the Guatemalan border.
1972 had been a rough year. My draft lottery number had come up 39 the previous year, which meant there was a very good chance that I was going to Viet Nam. I was torn over this. Military service is part of my heritage. On one side of my family, the men had served as career NCO's in the British army as far back as the War of the League of Augsberg in the 1680's. On the other side, they had ridden with Bobby Lee as officers in the Army of Northern Virginia during the American Civil War.
But by 1971 it was obvious to nearly everyone that Viet Nam was a disaster. I had studied the war extensively: read books and reports, talked with over a hundred returning Viet Nam veterans, etc. I knew without a doubt that we were done. But I still felt the pull.
My step father got completely hysterical at any mention of my doing military service. As a child of Eastern European Jews, the military was still seen as an instrument of racial oppression [Czarist Russia drafted Jews to 'assimilate' them.]. Plus his own control issues were raised by the thought of my becoming a soldier of any kind. My father was in the Air Force in the UK when he met my mother, so all this challenged my step father on several levels.
As usual, the issue was resolved with an over expenditure of time, money, and energy that left all concerned emotional drained. If I had just said, "I'm gay" it would have been over in an instant. As it was, I told that lie, along with several others, and that is what finally ended the whole exercise.
Afterward, I needed to escape. It would be a quarter of a century before a past life regression lifted the pain and allowed me some peace about my actions to avoid military service. In the meantime, I desperately required some sort of 'passage' into manhood. Fate made a trip to Mexico available to me.
In the fall of '72, I left New York with a rather motley group. Bobby Hall, who put the trip together, was someone I knew from high school. A mutual friend, Kevin Cooke, had been Bobby's dealing partner in New York. They both felt it was time to get out of town for a while. The rest are not worth mentioning. Except for Danny, who we picked up in Memphis. He was a Viet Nam vet from Blue Mountain, Mississippi and a former Hell's Angel. We talked small arms and biker club social structure and became friends.
It took us a week to drive to Mexico City, where we stayed with Bobby's sister for two weeks. She had married a wealthy Mexican industrialist. Funny thing is, he was a Jew who originally came from Poland, but had grown up in Mexico. We got along because I could already speak a fair amount of Yiddish even then.
The drive to Chiapas took another week. After a few days of messing around in San Cristobal, the regional capital, Danny and I decided to hitch hike to Comitan, which was supposed to our jumping off point into the jungle. [Bobby's plan was to build a research center in the Usumacinta River valley.] We got there in a day. The rest followed two days later.
Danny told me that the rest of them were fuck ups and that Bobby's plan wasn't going to happen, but that I should stick it out unless it became too dangerous. He said I could use the 'seasoning'.
We headed into the jungle to a village called Tziscao. These people were [and still are] pure Mayan. We erected up a large tent by the side of a lake and settled in. After a week, Danny left, wishing me well. After a month, Kevin, with Sal from Brooklyn, took off in the car and never came back. We got a letter saying then had wrecked it and split the country. Bobby's fiance, Nancy came down to stay with us. Ray, who I despised, left soon after. So, it was just the three of us. All this in two months.
My mother wired me $200.00 every two weeks. That was a lot of money down there, back then. That is what we lived on. And fairly well, too. Every two weeks, on a Friday, I would go into town and pick up the money from the bank. I would get a hotel room, go out to dinner and go to the movies. Saturday morning, I would take the bus up to San Cristobal to see my friend Enoch. [He had helped get me out of jail. That's another story.]
I was reading a lot of books on the occult and psychic phenomenon. One Saturday morning I got on the bus to head north. I had a copy of "Psychic Discoveries Behind The Iron Curtain" with me. I was half way through it. I wasn't a 'morning person' even back then. Through my grogginess I heard a voice that sounded like wind chimes, "Come sit by me," it whispered. I looked around the bus, which had seemed empty a moment ago. And I saw her sitting toward the back, right where I would usually sit. She smiled.
As I sat next to her I saw a slim, attractive woman in her mid thirties with wide blue eyes, weathered from an outdoor life, but still pretty good looking. Her name was Zora Lita Chavez and she said she originally came from Montreal, but had lived in Los Angeles with her mother for the last few years. She was fascinated by my book. I told about some of what I had read so far, my favorite story being Mrs Mikailova of Leningrad. She could move a glass of milk across a table telekinetically. But only milk. And she would lose two or three pounds and have blurry vision for an or so afterward.
Zora Lita told me that she was a witch. I told her about how my high school sweetheart Kathy and I had planned to make a Hand of Glory three years earlier. We were going to chop off the hand of a Bowery bum and dry it during the Dog Days. The Hand of Glory is a very potent Majikal tool. But we didn't have the nerve to go through with it.
I was surprised that I told her that. But she laughed and said it was just as well that we didn't, because only a truly experienced practitioner could handle such a powerful tool.
Then, she spoke to me about her trip. She was returning from Guatemala. She had been recuperating from a Majikal journey in Oaxaca. She had danced with Mescalito and traveled 'up' several levels, until she had encountered a creature she could only describe as a 'vampire', though not what we would recognize as one. 'He' was a creature of energy and he was going to eat her soul and occupy her body. She knew that she was not strong enough to resist him, so she 'came down' and fled to the south. There a shaman she knew stood guard over her while she slept and regained her 'self'.
As she is telling me this, my memory of the event, the two of us sitting on that bus, surrounded by the locals, mostly Indians, is that we were in a small pocket of light in the middle of shadow. And her face started to become younger and brighter, glowing from within. She had shielded us and revealed herself to me. Then, she began to tell of her encounter with The Goddess.
A half dozen years earlier, she had dropped acid in the Central Valley of California. It was good, clean acid, made by people with clear energy. An artifact of the Sixties. As she peaked, she was surrounded by Monarch butterflies. When they parted, like a curtain, she saw a large elaborate stone temple in what had been an empty field. She 'knew' that it was a Temple of The Goddess.
She ran up its stairs and inside found a cauldron filled with swirling fire. She leaped into the fire and was 'transformed'. Then, she found herself, once again, outside the temple, which had subtly changed. Once more, she ran up the stairs and this time found the cauldron filled with swirling water. She leaped in and was 'transformed' once more. Again, she found herself outside the temple. Again, it had 'shifted' in appearance. She ran up the stairs and found the cauldron filled with swirling air, like clouds, she said. She leaped in and was 'transformed'. This time, she found herself in an empty field. But she could feel those three temples inside of her Spirit.
At this point, the 'shadow' began to fade and we were coming into San Christobal. She once again looked like the woman I had first met only a few hours ago, though it seemed years. When we got off the bus, she gave me her phone number in LA and drew three Majikal symbols in my address book. She looked at me as if to say, "Would you like to be my lover tonight?" I was twenty and strong and handsome and full of vitality. But, I was in a trance and could not respond. She smiled wistfully at me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and disappeared into the crowd. I never saw her again.
Five months later, I was in LA. I called and got her mother. She told me that Zora Lita was in the south of France, at a Sufi encampment. I left a message, but I never heard back from her.
I have thought of Zora Lita on and off over the years. But it wasn't until the summer of '96 when I was telling someone about Megan and how she was one of a group of women [there would be one more: Sarah] who had lead me to, and upon, The Left Hand Path, that the meaning of that encounter hit me. Zora Lita had started me on a twenty two year cycle to that place I found that year. And it was Sarah, who I met two months later, who would help me open The Door through which my Spirit Guide E would enter my life.
...and most of you know what that event has led to...