A Controversial Issue, Close to My Heart - My Personal Comment...

(29 December 2007)


Some consideration through a comparison of extracts taken from different literature sources that I’ve been reading during my Christmas vacation, where they make reference (advertently or inadvertently) to different cultures, that seem to highlight the comment of the author’s theme of the text ...... that perhaps the forgetting of the importance of the women species on this planet is a reflection of man, man’s religions, rules and cultures, man’s politics, having forgotten the feminine force of the Divinity as standing side by side, in equality and respect with, and in the same light of honour as the masculine force of the Divine. Man has forgotten that he too carries the face and essence of womanliness in him, just as woman carries the essence and face of manliness in her. But where she embraces him in her, he scorns her presence in him, unable to accept and embrace her. Why? I wonder. From the texts I have read below the conclusion I keep coming to time and again is pride, ego. Where the strength of woman lies in her will and strength, her ability to feel and empathise, and so have compassion for humanity, her challenge lies in accepting her lesser physical strength, and rather allowing her physical lesser weakness to act as assistant to her more superior strength in will and wisdom – hence the physical strain of having to give birth to a child at first, only to then make use of her inherent intuitive and instinctual nature / knowledge to rare this child into an individual conscious existence of its own. (Strange how, biblically, wisdom is referred to as “she”? Wasn’t that a great act of humility and liberty, or was it sympathy, on the part of the patriarchal “publishers” of the time?.... excuse my hint of sarcasm...it creeps in every so often, and no it is not justified – not in light of my purpose of this article, my asking for the other to consider a new way of being. Please then, allow me just this one textual slip of venting, as I find the irony of this sardoncially humorous.) On the side of the man, it is his will and heart that lack in strength, and his physical constitution that harbours this place of superiority, hence the ability to act quickly and focused, but not intuitively, compassionately, empathically. Only, where woman does not take out her possible feelings of inferiority out on her partner sex, he has, and does. And still he does not appear to be mastering his will, his heart, his soul.

What does this say to me? I am not one that wants to give up on the male spirit and a man’s capacity to be all he can and all he wants to be, please NO! I want to learn my weaknesses through the mirror of a man’s presence in my life, but then I need him to be living his life as consciously of the other, as aware of his choices and their impact on the world around him, as I am trying to. I also realise the incredible challenge of having to stand against centuries worth of indoctrination, dogma, cultural traditions, religious orders. Does a man have the strength of will to start a journey to the heart of himself and discover what HE thinks and believes from within, and not what has been handed to him from without? Man has lived in a world, and continues to do so where it is comfortable and easy for him, where his mistakes are overlooked and the woman gets to play scapegoat on his behalf, where he makes decisions that mortally make his life easier and his positioning socially more superior so that he need not take responsibility for his actions, his thoughts, his decisions, the colour of his heart, because he chooses to continue to allow himself to do this – but does not admit that it is he making his own decisions, that it is he perpetuating the state of human existence to be and continue as it is now and has been for too long. To see myself in the man I see around me in my day to day life is an insult, because it undermines who I am for myself in my life now and what it is I stand for. But worse, I cannot find a role model, a wise man, to guide the daughters of the world. And that saddens me.....deeply. It is mostly for this reason that I write this now. It must be said, and I have a duty to say it, as woman. For if this is not expressed from one of the young woman generation of now, then how can woman (and that includes me) complain about their position of perpetual inferiority in this world. I have a responsibility, and I embrace it, and I own it..... For me, a man, would be considered a true man, who accepts the Divine as both feminine and masculine in presence and nature, both forces equally and complementary constituting the nature of the Divine). A man would find a way to stand against his space of comfort he has created along with his fellow man, to stand against what he has done and chosen, have the humility to face his old ways and start a journey to discover a new way of choosing, acting, being. It would mean facing his culture, his religion, the symbol for which his gender has come to stand for, and renounce all of it, in the process seeking out the unwritten times of the ancients where man and woman stood side by side, both in awe and honour of the other..... Is it wrong for a man to know the patterns, cycles, ways and thoughts of a woman? Is it wrong for a woman to get to know and come to understand the same of a man? And so I ask: As a man, how strong are you? Where does your strength lie? ..... I leave the extracts to follow....


The Swallows of Kabul
By Yasmina Khadra (nom de plume of the Algerian army officer, Mohammed Moulessehoul.)

‘......”God alone has power over life and death. You were wounded while fighting for His glory. Since He couldn’t send Gabriel, He put this woman in your way. She took care of you by the will of God. She did nothing but submit to His will. What you did for her was a hundred more time more valuable: You married her. What more could she hope for? She was three years older than you, already an old maid, with no vitality and no appeal. Can there be any greater generosity to a woman than to offer her a roof, protection, honour, and a name? You don’t owe her anything. She’s the one who should bow down before you, Atiq, and kiss the toes of your feet, one by one, every time you take off your shoes. She has little significance outside of what you represent for her. She’s only a subordinate. Furthermore, it’s an error to believe that any man owes anything at all to a woman. The misfortune of the world comes from this misperception.” Mirza suddenly frowns. “You don’t mean to tell me you’re crazy enough to love her?” ....... “It’s not a question of love.” “In that case, what are you waiting for? Kick her out. Divorce her and get yourself a strong, healthy virgin who knows how to shut up and serve her master without making any noise.” ....’


The Swallows of Kabul
By Yasmina Khadra

“Though scandalized, Mirza restrains himself and tries to go easy on his misguided friend of his childhood. “My poor Atiq, I live with four women. I married the first one twenty-five years ago, and the last one nine months ago. I feel nothing but suspicion for the lot of them, because I have never for a single moment had the impression that I understood anything at all about the way things work in their heads. I’m convinced that I’ll never fully grasp how women think. It’s as thought their thought processes move counterclockwise. Whether you live one year or a century with a concubine, a mother, or your own daughter, you’ll always feel that there’s a gap somewhere, like an insidious ditch gradually cutting you off in order to expose you better to the hazards of your inattention. These creatures are intrinsically hypocritical and fundamentally unpredictable, and the more you think you’re going to tame them, the less chance you have of breaking their evil spell. You can warm a viper in your bosom, but that won’t make you immune to its poison. As to the number of years, however high, it can bring no peace to a household where the love of woman betrays the weakness of man.”


The Swallows of Kabul
By Yasmina Khadra

“[Mohsen] ‘This isn’t our home Zunaira. Our house, the place where we created our own world is gone. A shell blew it away. What we have is just a refuge. I don’t want it to become our tomb. We’ve lost our fortunes; let’s not lose our way of life altogether... We can’t accept being treated like cattle.’
‘Isn’t that what we’ve become?’
‘I’m not sure the Taliban have taken advantage of a period of uncertainty. They’ve dealt a terrible blow to people who were already defeated. But they haven’t finished us off, not yet. Our duty is to convince ourselves of that fact.’
‘How?’
‘By thumbing our noses at their decrees. We’re going out. You and me. Sure, we’re not going to hold hands, but there’s nothing to prevent us walking side by side.’
Zunaira shakes her head. ‘I don’t feel like coming home heartsick, Mohsen. The things that go on in the streets will just ruin my day, to no purpose. I can’t come face-to-face with horrors and just keep on walking s if nothing’s happened. Furthermore, I refuse to wear a burqa. Of all the burden’s they’ve put on us, that’s the most degrading. The Shirt of Nessus wouldn’t do as much damage to my dignity as that wretched getup. It cancels my face and takes away my identity and turns me into an object. Here, at least, I’m me, Zunaira, Mohsen Ramat’s wife, age thirty-two, former magistrate, dismissed by obscurantists without a hearing and without compensation but with enough self-respect left to brush hair everyday and pay attention to my clothes. If I put that damned veil on, I’m neither e human being nor an animal, I’m just an affront, a disgrace, a blemish that has to be hidden. That’s too hard to deal with. Especially for someone who was a lawyer, who worked for women’s rights. Please, I don’t want you to think for a minute that I’m putting on some sort of act. I’d like to, you know, but unfortunately my heart’s not in it anymore. Don’t ask me to give up my name, my features, the colour of my eyes, and the shape of my lips so I can take a walk through squalor and desolation. Don’t ask me to become something less than a shadow, an anonymous thing rustling around in a hostile place. You know how thin-skinned I am, Mohsen. I’d be angry at myself for being angry at you when you were only trying to please me.”


The Zahir
By Paulo Coehlo

‘....”Later on, we’ll talk a bit about Tengri, the culture of the steppes,” Dos went on. “But now that you’re seeing this, let me just explain something very important. Here, in this land, the woman is in charge. She comes first. In the event of a divorce, she receives half the dowry back even if she’s the one who wants the divorce. Whenever a man sees a woman wearing a white turban, that means she’s a mother, and we, as men, must place our hand on our heart and bow our head as a sign of respect.” ..... “The second question will seem even more idiotic: is the village at the foot of the mountains where my wife is living?” Dos nodded. “If we’re only two hours away, why don’t we sleep there? It’ll be a while yet before it gets dark.” “You’re right, we are only two hours away, and there are two reasons why we’re stopping here for the night. First, even if Nina hadn’t come out here, someone would already have seen us and would have gone to tell Esther that we were coming. This way, she can decide whether or not she wants to see us, or if she would prefer to go to another village for a few days. If she did that, we wouldn’t follow her.” My heart contracted. “Even after all I’ve been through to get here?” “If that’s how you feel, then you have understood nothing. What makes you think that your efforts should be rewarded with the submission, gratitude, and recognition of the person you love? You came here because this is the word you must follow, not in order to buy your wife’s love.”
....“It’s only a two-hour ride to the village. We’ll be there before the sun is at its highest point.” “I need a bath. I need to change my clothes.” “That’s impossible. You’re in the middle of the steppes. Put the oil in the pan, but first offer it up to the Lady....”........
“What is Tengri?” “The word means ‘sky worship’; it’s kind of religion without religion. Everyone has passed through here – Buddhists, Hindus, Catholics, Muslims, different sects with their beliefs and superstitions. The nomads became converts to avoid being killed, but they continued and continue to profess the idea that the Divinity everywhere all the time. You can’t take the Divinity out of nature and put it in a book or between four walls....”


Zen: Zest, Zip, Zang and Zing
By Osho

“That’s the trouble: if they are well-cultured, that means they are well-repressed! What is culture? – a device of repression. If they had been a little less cultured they would have been more innocent. If they had been a little less cultured they would have seen things more clearly. The cultured person cannot see things as they are; he has his ideas of how things should be, and if they do not go according to his ideas then they are wrong.
And you say they are well-behaved. They must be being forced to be well-behaved. And my own experience is that the well-behaved children, the obedient children, are not really alive people.
The alive children are bound to be rebellious, they will be disobedient. Out of disobedience, intelligence becomes sharper. Out of disobedience one starts being an individual. One has to learn to say no, only then does saying yes have any meaning. The yes of the person who cannot say no and says yes is impotent. Well-behaved people are impotent as far as intelligence is concerned, well-cultured people are phony, pseudo; they are not authentic.”

“Religions are always postponing life: they are giving you beautiful illusions about life somewhere in the future, far away, beyond death. That is a strategy to divert and distract you from the realities of life. That is pure cowardice. It is also a rationalisation so that you can be consoled: ‘if life is miserable today there is nothing to be worried about, tomorrow everything is going to be well. In fact, to suffer life today is a preparation for enjoying life tomorrow, so the more you suffer the better. There is no reason to complain, no reason to rebel, no reason to revolt against all those things which are causing misery.’
Religion protects the establishment and the vested interests. It is a very subtle strategy – so subtle that for thousands of years man has lived under its weight without ever becoming aware of what is being done to him. Karl Marx is almost right: that religion is nothing but opium for the people. It keeps you drugged, it keeps you hoping, waiting – and the tomorrow never comes. Desiring, fantasizing about life after death is a shere waste of time, energy, and also it keeps you stupid. Life is herenow – there is no other life. Life knows no past, no future, it knows only the present.”



..... this leads into my next excerpt, or rather set of extracts, where Osho takes his comments further by defining the difference between intelligence and intellect - and education.