Asylum IV

I was about to play
with his crotch
when he asked me
to get up and look.
"I'm looking," I said
as I stared into his underpants.
"You're going to miss it,"
he insisted.
So I looked out the window
with him
at the two sun-bathing cats in the yard.
After a while,
he had to get back to work.
I stayed glued to the window
staring at the sunny cats,
nice and high.

Letter from a Nexistentialist

Esteemed fellow Philosophers –

Introduction:

[1] I appear before you today not so much to make a presentation as I am here to extend an invitation.

[2] I invite you to query: What’s next?

[3] I deliberately ask “what is next” instead of “what comes next” because, I believe, what comes next is already here.

[4] Everything that arises is preceded by a seed. (Samkhya[1])

[5] Considering ancient and modern philosophy, what kind of philosophy will the Twenty-First Century breed?

Objective:

[6] Nexistentialist philosophy seeks to capture inherited and timeless truths of what binds us, to guide humanity forward as we exercise our creative expression.
[7] Nexistentialism is a means for humans to explore our creative impulses and bonds (art). 

Question: What inherited wisdom can you think of and how it may guide us forward?

[8] Nexistentialist philosophy also seeks to understand what links exist between phenomena, for example, between the mind, its kin and the universe.

Question: What interrelated phenomena do you perceive in yourself and the world?

[9] Thus, I would like to invite you to inquire with me, what perceptions, on this planet and beyond, guide humanity today and will guide humanity tomorrow?

Question: What do you imagine next after Ancient and Modern Philosophy?

Perception:

[10] Nexistentialism views philosophy as the Art of Perception – amidst other natural arts.

[11] Linked cognitive paths represent webs of meaning,

[12] which create perceptive nets that sustain illusions of

[13] fantasy (what an individual imagines) and

[14] reality (what is shared amongst individuals).

[15] What is the mind designed to do? The mind binds.

[16] Nexus is the act of binding together thus creating information and experiences to perceive.

[17] Nexistentialism is the exploration of what binds humanity and all that surrounds us. For, [18] nothing exists in isolation.

Question: In your view, what binds humanity?

Origin:

[19] Let me tell you how Nexistentialism happened.

[20] At the nexus of nexistential philosophy lies the inquiry of what follows post-existentialist philosophy at the dawn of the twenty-first century.

[21] Existentialism culminates in the twentieth century as an exploration of human existence, which postulates that existence precedes essence. If subjectivity must be the starting point (Sartre) of perception, Nexistentialism asks: what follows?

[22] In the early 2000s, the concept of an Existential Carnival emerged, which included notions of atheism, absurdity, authenticity and ambiguity inspired by existentialist philosophy. I viewed life as a carnival and sought my authentic expression within it.

[23] At first, the word “Nexistentialism” arose as a merging of “next” and “existentialism” combined with the notion of creating a version of existentialism that is authentically my own, as my name starts with an “N” -> N’s existentialism, in the Sartrean spirit of subjectivity being the starting point.

[24] But in 2005, a Washingtonian writer introduced me to the word “nexus”, which gave nexistentialism a new dimension of meaning.

[25] Thus, nexistentialism came to be from the love of existentialist philosophy, the inquiry into what is philosophically next, the search for my own authentic philosophical expression and coming to understand the meaning of the word “nexus” as a foundation of human existence.

[26] In 2008, this blog “Nexistential Carnival” was born.

Question: What would you name a contemporary authentic philosophy and why?

Nexistentialism on the Meaning of Philosophy

[27] Philosophy is an Art of Perception – amidst many other natural arts.
[28] To philosophize requires effort, practice and a devotion to the pursuit of truth.
[29] Sure, philosophy can be understood as a system of thought. But,

[30] Can any system of thought, even an immoral one, be considered philosophy?

[31] Inherent to philosophy, from Greek literally meaning “love of wisdom”, is
[32] a notion of love, characterized by a healthy (balanced) pursuit of
[33] wisdom, an equanimous and blissful existential guide.
[34] Not any form of thought or system of thought can be considered loving and wise.
[35] In the pursuit of philosophy, it is important to ask what characterizes a system of thought as love for wisdom. What is lovely about it? What makes it wise?

Question: Can you think of a philosophy and describe what makes it lovely and wise?

[36] “The fate of philosophy and that of civilization are directly and intimately linked,” according to 20^th century Existentialist philosopher Gabriel Marcel.[2]
[37] At the dawn of the 21^st century, Nexistentialism emerges as a philosophical path that explores the human Art of Perception beyond ancient and modern philosophical orientations.

Question: Given all the human love and wisdom leading up to this present moment, where do we go from here?

[38] Nexistentialism’s orientation lies with Planet Earth as a whole and humanity at large, [36] unlike other place-and-time specific philosophies, like French Existentialism, for example, which Jean-Paul Sartre characterized as atheistic:
[39] “There are two kinds of existentialists; first those who are Christian, among whom I would include Jaspers and Gabriel Marcel, both Catholic; and on the other hand the atheistic existentialists, among whom I class Heidegger, and then the French existentialists and myself. What they have in common is that they think […] existence precedes essence, […] subjectivity must be the starting point.”[3]
[40] Nexistenlism has no particular religious orientation or lack thereof.
[41] For, philosophy applies to everyone, all populations organize information through some form of language, culture, arts and belief systems.
[42] Shared wisdom is characteristic of humankind.

Question: What wisdom did you learn from your family, community, tradition or culture?

[43] Nexus is a center for connection. Not unlike New York City, where humans from the entire world live together, 8.5 million New Yorkers with unique individual backgrounds. Its Mayor Zohran Mamdani beautifully captures the human spirit of co- existing in his inauguration speech:

[44] “That love [of New York] will be our guide as we pursue our agenda. Here, where the language of the New Deal was born. We will return the vast resources of this city to the workers who call it home. Not only will we make it possible for every New Yorker to afford a life they love once again. We will overcome the isolation that too many feel and connect the people of this city to one another. […]
[Our] policies are not simply about the costs we make free but the lives we fill with freedom. For too long in our city, freedom has belonged only to those who can afford to buy it. […]
We will answer to all New Yorkers, not to any billionaire or oligarch who thinks they can buy our democracy. […]
And while we will encourage New Yorkers to demand from those with the great privilege to serve them, we will encourage you to demand more of yourselves as well. The movement we began […] lives on with every battle we will fight together.
Every blizzard and flood we withstand together. […]
Every way we pursue change in working people’s interests rather than at their expense, together.
[…] we will understand victory very simply: something with the power to transform lives, and something that demands effort from each of us, every single day.
What we achieved together will reach across the five boroughs, and it will resonate far beyond.”

[45] Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s speech is a contemporary example of genuine philosophy, characterized by the pursuit of wisdom as collective well-being and through the exercise of love as our common responsibilities.
[46] Wisdom is collective well-being.
[47] By logic, if all are well, the individual is well.
[48] All humans, all creatures and ecosystems deserve a best possible life.
[49] When everyone thrives, the few, too, thrive!
[50] Because a collective includes all individuals, while an individual includes no one else.
[51] Thus, genuine philosophy is a declaration of love, of common responsibilities.
[52] Love is the recognition of a reality that binds us, kindly.
[53] In stark contrast to philosophy stands faux-philosophy, characterized by delusion through the exercise of irresponsibility, ignorance, and afflictions like greed (that faux-favor a few at the cost of the many).
[54] Fake philosophy may appear intelligent but is unwise.
[55] Faux-philosophy is a declaration of indifference.
[56] A historic example of false philosophy is the Friedman doctrine, which espoused profit as the only moral imperative, otherwise indifferent to people and the world.

[57] “In 1970, the so-called Friedman doctrine became the corporate bible of greed. [E]conomist Milton Friedman wrote that the only social responsibility of a business was to increase its profits. Fifty years later, that sentence has done more damage to working people than any law that has ever been passed. Friedman published his essay in the New York Times on September 13th, 1970. He argued that corporations should only serve one master, the shareholder, and that everything else, like paying fair wages or protecting the environment, was a distraction from freedom.
His logic was simple. If businesses focus solely on profit, the market will magically solve everything. But the free market he preached wasn’t freedom. It was deregulation, privatization, and union busting disguised as philosophy. By the Reagan era, Friedman’s doctrine had become corporate gospel. CEOs stopped seeing themselves as employers and started seeing themselves as share price managers. […] Pensions disappeared, wages froze, and they modeled corporate profits at historic highs while the working class’ share of income collapsed. The Friedman doctrine […] rewired capitalism into a one-way pipeline from labor to shareholders.
Just about every modern crisis, climate collapse, healthcare monopolies, mass layoffs, financial crashes, traces back to this idea that profit is the only moral duty. When companies poison water, underpay workers, or automate entire towns out of existence, they can point back to Friedman and say, “we’re doing our job.”
Milton Friedman called that economic freedom. But what he really created was moral bankruptcy, a world where profit isn’t just the goal, it’s always the excuse.”[4]

[58] Could this faux-philosophy have reflected a response to what preceded it?

[59] “Between 1948 and 1973 the United States became very egalitarian.
The distance between the richest person and the poorest person had shrunk and there was enormous wealth in the United States. It was the heyday for the United States economically. It was a 25-year span of time post World War Two. Piketty, the French author who wrote ‘Capital in the Twenty-First Century’, [in his book] he says it’s the only time in human history where you could get a job and work your way to wealth. He said, all the other times in human history you need to either marry into wealth or be born into it or win the lottery.”[5]

[60] The greatest collective prosperity in history, which took place in the United States of America, was a result of president Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal.

[61] “The idea of government regulation and a basic social safety net to permit Americans to live their lives to their fullest potential was a key principle of the New Deal launched by Democratic president Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1933, [which] was born in New York City [where] reform quickly became bipartisan […], where Republicans had their own history of progressivism under Republican president Theodore Roosevelt.”[6]

[62] According to American historian Heather Cox Richardson, “Mamdani’s speech was a declaration of a new kind of modern politics that focuses on ‘freedom to’ rather than ‘freedom from.’ For decades, the Republican Party has called for dismantling the government, arguing that regulations and taxes were destroying Americans’ freedom from constraints. But for most Americans, government regulation and investments in social welfare like education and infrastructure guarantee freedom to build a life that is not cramped by preventable obstacles, including those imposed by the wealthy and powerful.”

[63] On a cold New York Monday, January 5^th, 2026, Attorney General Lititia James thanked her colleagues “for the opportunity to join them as we draw a line in the sand against basically corporate greed and those individuals who put profit ahead of people”[7], before Mayor Zohran Mamdani signed two executive orders[8] to protect New Yorkers against misleading fees and deceptive subscription traps because these are making goods and services less affordable for people.

[64] Alternating points of view, genuine philosophies and fake ones, reflect a world of contradictions.
[65] Notable is the extent to which even faux-philosophies influence the lives of real people, systems of thought that deny the reality of our shared humanity and result in widespread injustice and suffering.

[67] The establishment of the Mayor’s Office of Mass Engagement (OMC) in New York City on Friday, January 2^nd, 2026, aims to bring unprecedented mass-organizing success to City Hall[9] and is a great example of taking into account the shared reality of an entire population. As its Commissioner Tascha Van Auken expressed:
“Knowledge, curiosity and possibility belong to everyone. […] At a time when many people feel cynical, overwhelmed, or isolated, often alone with their phones, we found a way back to one another. […] [The Office of Mass Engagement] is about organizing participation at scale, strengthening feedback loops so public input shapes policy, and building the relationships and systems, human and digital, that make long-term co-governance possible. […] As Commissioner my commitment is simple and serious. To help build a government that works for all New Yorkers, invites them in, and treats their participation as consequential. A government that doesn’t just ask for input but acts on it. And one that helps New Yorkers see themselves not as spectators but as co-creators of our shared future.”

[68] Information is worthless without action. Or, in the spirit of Simone de Beauvoir’s (1908-1986) “Ethics of Ambiguity” (1947), life and thought are inextricably linked, which means that we are what we do.[10]
[69] Throughout the history of philosophy, dialectics (from Greek “to talk”), the logic of contradiction or method of critical and contradiction-informed philosophizing, informed a variety of systems of thought leading to cross-roads. In 1956, French existentialist Marcel Gabriel (1889-1973) wrote:

[70] “Existentialism stands today at a parting of the ways: it is, in the last analysis, obliged either to deny or to transcend itself.
It denies itself simply when it falls to the level of infra-dialectical materialism.
It transcends itself, or tends to transcend itself, when it opens itself out to the experience of the suprahuman, an experience which can hardly be ours in a genuine and lasting way this side of death, but of which reality is attested by mystics.”[11]

[71] Nexistentialism doesn’t deny but it does transcend existentialism.
[72] Dialectical materialism, amongst other things, recognizes the evolution of the natural world, and thus the emergence of new qualities of being human and of human existence.[12]
[73] A nexistential illustration of the dialectics of the time is an exploration of contemporary events (i.e., a new administration in New York City) and historical moments with significant consequences (i.e. the New Deal, the Friedman article).
[74] The juxtaposition of perspectives is a characteristic of philosophy.
[75] Exploring different points of view and possibilities is an important step in the process of making decisions, and it is the responsibility of philosophy to inform particularly collective decisions wisely.
[76] For the philosopher, humility is of the highest order as one who perceives is alone only in appearance.
[77] Philosophy has a collective and universal dimension that transcends any individual perspective.
[78] In the words of existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir, “No existence can be validly fulfilled if it is limited to itself.”

 

 

---

[1] “According to the Sankhya Philosophy, a non-entity can never be made an entity, that is to say, that which has never existed can never be brought into existence […] Thus we find the effect is always […] related to the cause.” The Samkhya Karika of Ishvara Krishna with the Tattva Kaumudi of Sri Vacaspati Mishra by Swami Virupakshananda. 1995, 1^st edition. 2021, 8^th print. Sri Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, Mylapore, Chennai-4, India. page vii.

[2] Dictionary of Existentialism. Compiled and arranged by Ralph B. Winin. 1960. The Wisdom Library, Philosophical Library, New York. Page 80.

[3] Ibidem, p. 33.

[4] Transcribed from Instagram, “The Friedman Doctrine: How Profit Became the Only Moral Imperative” @theepochofshadows (The Epoch of Shadows), posted on Nov. 4th, 2025.

[5] Transcribed from Instagram post “What happened to the United States?”, an excerpt from an interview with Dr. Roy Casagranda @ageofempires_history on December 4^th, 2025.

[6] Heather Cox Richardson, contemporary American historian. “Letters from an American”, January 2^nd, 2026.

[7] Mayor Mamdani Signs Executive Orders to Crack Down on Junk Fees, Save New Yorkers Money - YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-doQOgXjxM @ 10:31 min.

[8] Executive Orders No.9 – Combatting Hidden Junk Fees and No.10 – Fighting Subscription Tricks and Traps.

[9] “On Mayor Mamdani’s campaign, Tascha spearheaded a historic field operation — mobilizing more than 100,000 volunteers, knocking on over 3 million doors, and making more than 4.5 million calls to New York City voters. Now she will bring this experience and approach to City government. The Office of Mass Engagement will revolutionize how City government conducts community engagement. City government functions best when there is a direct line of communication between the Mayor, his team and the people who built this city and keep it running. The Office will transform community engagement to ensure that it reaches New Yorkers where they are, organizes them, and builds long-term participation. It will also serve as a constant drumbeat within City government to ensure that New Yorkers’ needs and perspectives are integrated into all elements of New York City government.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vz55h4gbGuE&t=745s

[10] “Simone’s Existentialist Ethics”,  Anja Steinbauer on Simone de Beauvoir’s Ethics of Ambiguity (2016); Simone’s Existentialist Ethics | Issue 115 | Philosophy Now https://philosophynow.org/issues/115/Simones_Existentialist_Ethics

[11]Dictionary of Existentialism. Compiled and arranged by Ralph B. Winin. 1960. The Wisdom Library, Philosophical Library, New York. Page 32.

[12] Wikipedia

On the Nexus of Sex, Suffering and Sankhya Philosophy (Part II)

 I saw no balls at the ball,
no sacks, no dicks at all.
I only saw tits, big and small.

* * * * *
Female anatomy is the basis for human anatomy.

* * * * *
She was too busy cumming to eat, so he fed her.

 

Depression fogs up the mind. Why am I still mourning my mother? Why is there so much pain attached? Why does living churn up suffering? A Yogini on social media said that:

“[…] the biggest myth is yoga makes you feel very good [but] yoga, if you’re doing it right […] first makes you feel uncomfortable. Makes you see all sorts of […] dirts that are coming from your subconscious mind. […] So yoga and meditation both are actually meant to make you see that first. It will show you the filth inside you and break you so much that it is going to disintegrate you first. And then you will realize, oh my god, all of this I was carrying inside me. And that’s when the […] desire to rise above these enemies comes. It’s not just one hour of practice you do on the mat. It’s consciousness […] always at work. If your Yoga [practice] is making you your shadow and it is disintegrating it, then know that your [practice] is going the right way.
It is not just about taking a deep breath and feeling good; it is the complete inner purification, for it to happen one has to see the dirt settled in all inner layers.
That is why holistic yoga is the way to rebuild oneself into an evolved human being.”
- Greesha Dhingra @gree_yogabhyasi (on Instagram)

My late Mexican mother’s birthday, November 1^st, fell on a Saturday this year, which was the day of the ball. It is also the Day of the Dead. But I exchanged the sensations of suffering for the pursuit of partying joy.

The annual Halloween Erotic Ball took place at a hotel, where many guests booked rooms as well. Why not party all night? The group chat was full of sexy anticipation. Lover and I discussed whether we were open to other partners and decided we weren’t. Two is a wonderful number. I could read jealousy on his face, and excitement. Mine was suppressed. Not the excitement, that I expressed.

In the chat, all passionate party nudists were reminded of the rules. No private parts showing in the public areas. Wardrobe malfunction while dancing? Oh well! I decided to go free breasted with tassels covering the nipples. Honestly, I felt too down to swing them around, but they were fun in other ways. 

I thought it was unfortunate that private parts had to be covered, as I had fantasized about my lover’s package hanging out from his pants all night. But I saw no balls at the ball, no sacks, no dicks at all. I did see tits, big and small. The only pussy I saw was draped in latex at the petting machine station, where an anonymous woman lay on a table buried in a brown plastic blanket, the air sucked out with a vacuum sucker. Many people were touching her. I massaged her right calf and foot. Thus, I participated in the particularities of the ball that was set up like an adult sensory room.

However, all I really care about at a party are the music and the dance floor. Give me good music so I can lose myself dancing, please!

Thankfully, I got into a playful state of mind despite the depression, maybe also thanks to the effect of fun substances. Certainly, the atmosphere was cheerful, festive and fun thanks to creative, colorful and sexy costumes, decorations, a D.J. with a versatile taste in music and lots of people having a good time.

Two women approached me throughout the night wondering about my costume and I responded in the same way to each.

“Let me give you a hint,” I said and reached between my legs to grab the little red velvet bag that hung from my thin yellow belt. I opened the bag and pulled out a large deck of Tarot cards. “You’re a fortune teller!” each woman exclaimed. “Correct!” I praised and then asked whether she would like a quick reading. Each woman said yes. I was bluffing hard, playing the game of make believe. For, believe me, I’m not a professional fortune teller. But I can pretend to be one. So, I promptly shuffled the cards standing up until something fell out. Then, I uttered whatever my mind spat out of my mouth. Twice surprisingly, each woman said that it was exactly what she needed to hear, almost broke into tears and we embraced intensely as if our lives had been changed forever.

I was also approached by two women who were not wondering about my costume but wanted to play with it. That’s when a woman kissed me. And it would have been rude not to kiss her back. But it was neither hot nor cold. It was an equanimous kiss, that’s all.

 She came up to me on the dance floor and asked:

“Do I have your consent to play with your tassels?”
I said, “You do.”

Then, she played with my tits and asked me to play with hers. So, I did. It would have been rude not to. At the end of our catty titty-play, she kissed me and left with her lover, who had watched the whole thing go down. Unfortunately, my lover was gone at that moment. But he was there for the second woman who came up to me and asked:

“Do I have your consent to fondle your boobs?”
I spread my arms out wide, chest lifting, head tilted back, eyes closed and pronounced theatrically and emphatically: “I consent!”

She grabbed on, buried her face in my bosom, shook it around passionately and finished with gentle slapping and patting. Then, she let me know it was my turn. Her long cleavage was the result of two packed large, soft motherly tits tightly tucked into a push-up corset. I grabbed the outside half-cups and shook with all my might. Thank God for muscle strength! The mature lady breasts jiggled with horsepower. It was such a delight! Except, I felt indifferent. Then, I kissed her left breast, presumably her heart, goodbye. It would have been rude not to. My lover laughed gleefully.

“It was the diplomatic thing to do,” I explained to him. Why reject perfectly formulated breast-requests?  

My mother had been a great Ambassador and taught me good diplomacy. Now, I’m not a career diplomat but I can practice party diplomacy when a kind woman kindly offers sensual attention and asks for kind sensual attention in return. I was able to give the two tit-happy women, lovers in tow, my diplomatic validation. Whereas the two single men who approached me had experienced my diplomatic rejection. The women felt like an extension of myself, whereas the men felt foreign.

* * * * *

When my mother was the Mexican Consul General in Salt Lake City, she oversaw the Mexican population of the states of Utah, Idaho, Montana and Wyoming. She advocated for undocumented migrants and fought for them to receive, at least, an identification card, since they pay taxes and work hard. Taxes that fund politicians and police. Mother negotiated, communicated and cooperated with local politicians and law enforcement. It’s what good diplomats do to represent their people in foreign lands with dignity. And she succeeded. I travelled with her and the consular staff to Idaho to set up a temporary weekend office to give Mexicans their IDs. This happened back in the late nineteen-nineties and the early two-thousands. The Mexican people called her Mother Consul, Mamá Cónsul.

Now, one morning on the way to yoga class, several police cars were blocking half the road. From afar it looked like maybe there had been an accident. But there was only one stopped car. I read “Sonora” on the license plate, the name of a Mexican State, and knew the driver was a landsman of mine. Suddenly, I was filled with anxiety as the current political climate is full of xenophobia targeting Latinos. I wondered what my mom would say about the situation, she who had fought for human rights and dignity. “There has always been persecution,” I imagined her saying, “and the negative narratives being pushed about certain people and the institutionalization of these narratives make for a dangerous and very unpleasant atmosphere.”

After yoga class, I cried for my mother and for Mexicans and Latinos at large, who I know are experiencing great distress. I cried and then I had to get myself together when I arrived at the store to get the ingredients for the Mexican chicken soup for my sick child.

* * * * *

All I care about at a party is music and dancing. As soon as the last song was over, all I needed to know was “Where is there still music playing?”

Some room numbers were shared. One room had two floors. A lot of people went there. But they were just standing around and the smartphone music was quiet and unmoving. Lover and I left after only a few minutes. Also, my feet were killing me from wearing black high-heeled boots. Pain that subsided while I danced but became almost intolerable otherwise.

On the way to a more private party, we walked past several rooms with open doors. People lay in beds or stood around them, waiting for company. Lover and waived joyfully as we walked by. We had a very private after-party of two to get to. One that went on for a couple of hours. Sure, I attribute at least some of the flow to the fun substances coursing through our bodies.

Exploring and enduring a variety of positions and sensations – is this not yoga? I wondered as I gave myself to the physical flow of the moment. Like when I was dancing lost in music or playing tits with another woman. I became a witness to myself and the moment as I let go and released all resistance. As Lover and I were tossed around by lust. And the moment was chill, peaced-out and full of bliss. A state of mind perhaps enhanced by the subtle numbness from being tired and intoxicated. A state of mind that transcended the moment with presence, nonetheless. Like in Sankhya Philosophy, where Purusha transcends Prakriti. That which lies beyond all nature, transcends nature by merely observing all that is as it unfolds. Naturally, this is a state beyond distress, beyond doubt and happiness.

Thus, I realized that I was able to let go completely in my body and trust the physical process it was under, regardless of sensations. Perhaps, the sensations in a given context can even stimulate the ability to let go. I remembered this ability to let go during asana practice, which also consists of a flow of positions emitting sensations. Not unlike a prolonged sex act that challenges body and mind. Until you let be and just go with the flow, which in turn can relax body and mind, even if it’s a hell of a workout. Also, not unlike pregnancy and giving birth, which severely challenge the female body and mind. I completely surrendered three times to the physical process of creating human life, which carries with it a lot of pain and suffering. Still, I experienced a state of peace and bliss that transcended all capricious procreating nature. A very Samkhyan thing to do, to witness the calm amidst duress, to release tension from stress.

In the context of sex, letting go was possible thanks to the great amount of trust I have with my lover.

On the yoga mat, I can trust myself, and the wisdom of a teacher.

Because this kind of contemplative confidence does not happen magically – though, perhaps, it could? Given that the opportunity to observe as if removed from a situation, that is, the choice for contemplation is always there.

Blissful trust and confidence are built with the consistent care and genuine effort that establish the safe atmosphere required for complete surrender. Safety through discipline and devotion. The discipline to exercise virtues and a devotion to kindness and truth. Virtues like non-harm, honesty, cleanliness, respect, moderation and all them yogic limbs. A devotion to the truth of forces within and beyond oneself, i.e. another person, shared sensations and natural phenomena like lust, ambition, pleasure and doubt. Virtues and devotion that are observed by a witness to it all, which is the inherent ability to be aware within oneself but also beyond.

To be continued…

On the Nexus of Sex, Suffering and Sankhya Philosophy (Part I)

Stubbornly seeking the next orgasm
To relish in every joyful spasm
Hours upon hours without woes
As pleasure cums and goes
Again and again and again…
Too bad, at some point, it has to end
But she’ll be reborn to cum again
As only women can
With or without men
Maybe once, maybe ten times ten

Philosophy can be understood as a system of thought. But can any system of thought, even an immoral one, be considered philosophy? Inherent to philosophy, from Greek literally meaning “love of wisdom”, is the notion of love, i.e. of a healthy (balanced) pursuit of wisdom, i.e. an equanimous and blissful existential guide. Not any form of thought or system of thought can be considered loving and wise. In the pursuit of philosophy, it is important to ask what characterizes a system of thought as love for wisdom. What is lovely about it? What makes it wise?

* * * * *

Haunted by desire, humans seek joy by having fun. But I sit down reluctantly to capture my impressions of Saturday’s erotic ball, where Lover and I partied hard.

Still, I made it to Mysore yoga class on Monday morning. But yoga only brought out my true state of mind beyond all distractions.

I feel severely depressed as I continue to mourn my mother, 9 years after her passing. On November 1^st, the day of the great Erotic Halloween Ball 2025, she would have turned 78. I celebrated life with other lovers instead of crying. Lovers of wisdom, lovers of sex and lovers of fun.

Still, tears hit me hard as I picked up my serious yoga studies and physically churned the ocean within. I had planned to devote the day to the study of Sankhya philosophy, to typing up my extensive Samkhya Karika notes from 3 years ago. But my youngest child was home sick, and I had to prepare Mexican chicken soup for the healing.

I do wish to get this writing off my chest, no matter how long it takes – it’s been almost fourteen days of distractions, including a full week of illness.

It’s important for me to write this down because, surprisingly, I realized during asana practice that the intoxicated events of the party weekend revealed a useful insight into my ability to be embodied mind, Samkhyan style.

* * * * *

Sankhya Philosophy astutely captures the essence of life (existence), which involves attention, awareness, observation, knowing, that is consciousness.

Life – and existence in a larger, universal sense – is a repetitious revolution of changes full of creatures (including apparently inanimate creations such as rocks, planets, etc.) interacting with the worlds that surround them.

Knowing (awareness of life) creates evolution. A dying gazelle in the grips of a hungry lioness will know what it’s like to succumb. It becomes a witness to its own death as well as a witness for the entire species. This knowledge will be passed on generationally and genetically because food-chain-events happen cyclically and inevitably – certainly in terrestrial terms; we could also consider other chain-events surrounding the physical universe. This knowing will benefit the species at large. Not every gazelle will be devoured by lions.

Furthermore, knowing (information, data) characterizes nature per se. Only what is known can be formed.

“According to the Sankhya Philosophy, a non-entity can never be made an entity, that is to say, that which has never existed can never be brought into existence […] Thus we find the effect is always […] related to the cause.”[1]

Thus, nature and the physical universe are engaged in a perpetual balancing act. Predators will know to pick their prey strategically, perhaps one that was going to die anyway. Canines and felines can smell illness.

Evolution occurs thanks to knowing, which arises through awareness, or perception. The perceptive phenomenon (being aware or observation) is constant. It does not change. What is perceived changes. How it’s perceived changes. But not perception itself.

Perception underlies all that unfolds in nature, which according to Samkhya encompasses the entire universe, whatever there is to perceive, to be known.

Knowing that arises from awareness is essentially yoga. Or, in the words of Sri Tirumalai Krishnamacharya, the Father of Modern Yoga:

“Yoga is an awareness, a type of knowing. Yoga will end in awareness. Yoga is arresting the fluctuations of the mind as said in the Yoga Sutras (of Pantanjali): citta vritti nirodha. When the mind is without movement, maybe for a quarter of an hour, or even a quarter of a minute, you will realize that yoga is of the nature of infinite awareness, infinite knowing. There is no other object there.”[2]

Such knowing can greatly contribute to a better life experience, one that is more balanced and thus more palatable and, perhaps, even blissful. I often wonder about the evolution of the female pleasure organ with the singular function of evoking bliss, albeit temporarily. But it is so specific and powerful that its temporality can be drawn out to great lengths, i.e. seemingly endless “multiple orgasms”. The clitoral complex is a very physical bridge to bliss. My lover has expressed envy at my feminine ability to cum so much for so long. He remains but a witness to my female pleasure that seeks to keep going undisturbed, as he has already exhausted his. I remind him that the female cycle includes the pain and discomfort of the severe bleeding that happens every month as well. Female cumarathons allude to bliss yet don’t encompass it.

Knowing, through mere perception, that we are sensible, sensuous, sensory creatures allows for a blissful pursuit and experience of living. Nature (and the Universe – which maybe is a multi-verse) seeks equilibrium, otherwise it couldn’t function. If the Sun is not at just the right distance of a planet, the conditions for life like we know on Earth will not be met. Which is why there is no life on Earth’s neighbouring planets Venus and Mars though the Sun shines upon them as well. The human species evolved to become bipedal, to walk upright. This greatly affected the position of the hips, which in turn made the act of birthing more difficult and painful. Humanity is also characterized by a reproductive strategy with a moonthly fertility cycle wherein an unmet opportunity to gestate is met with the bloody elimination of the unused reproductive organ, that is in turn remade every cycle anew. Ultimately, both the unused and used uterus be expelled from the female body, an organ that is but a temporary feminine creation with the sole purpose of housing an incoming soul. For the female body to develop a permanent organ with the unique purpose of generating unmeasurable pleasure is nothing short of a most ingenious balancing act of (human) Nature. It is clear that Nature is inherently loving and wise.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I was especially sensitive to my feminine pleasure. I had never given birth, my vulvagina hadn’t been stretched nor torn apart yet. I could only imagine the unbearable and torturous pain of giving birth. Still, I consciously enjoyed every orgasm and leaned into it purposefully and blissfully, aware that an inevitable experience of great suffering was around the corner. The female constitution dictates human form, not merely in terms of generating a baby body within a woman’s womb. For humanity, or any species to even exist, a procreative strategy must be in place. It is the female body that changes and expands with the creation of life. The human body must account for its procreative demands to exist at all. Thus, female anatomy is the basis for human anatomy (“The Female Proposition” – to be expanded and continued).

Knowing is captured by the limbs of yoga, i.e. svadhyaya (self-study), ishvarapranidhana (divine contemplation), asana (postural meditation), pranayama (concentration on the breath), pratyahara (abstract observation), dharana (concentration), dhyana (reflective contemplation) and samadhi (intensified awareness). It all revolves around attention, intentional or passive, around being and becoming aware. Observation and knowledge are inherent to study. Samadhi, complete absorption in the primal act of being aware, beyond even the senses, alludes to constancy beyond change. In a multi-verse where everything is constantly changing, constancy exists in perception per se.

Perception is the witness to all that arises and passes. Furthermore, it is this very awareness, this knowing that enables the changes to unfold, despite lying beyond change as a constant. This is why some human traditions speak of a creative force, such as a Goddess or a God. Sankhya Philosophy is not dualistic in the sense that two separate entities or forces or phenomena coexist. Nature and Perception (awareness of nature, i.e. all that is) inter-are. For, knowing through attention and observation (perception) also feeds evolution as the cyclical wheels of life spin and a universe manifests to the senses that perceive it.

* * * * *

I feel good in the nude. In fact, I feel better naked than dressed. Since the summer, Lover and I have been going to a natural hot spring where a group of nudists meet to soak, party and swim. Mostly, we revel in the freedom of being in the nude. The rules are clear, zero body shaming and absolute consent. This, of course, makes me think of the very first tenet of eight-limbed yoga: ahimsa = non-harm. There is no room for violence amidst the joyful living. Rule Number One: Don’t harm nobody.

Still, at the Thursday swim no cuddling is allowed, as it is not supposed to be an erotic event, which is wonderful because nudity is neither inherently erotic nor strictly sexual. But the intertwining of naked bodies can lead to things…

It is thanks to the nude neutrality at the springs that I experience a great sense of freedom in communion with other nudes. Nakedness fills me with joy in the context of a sensual community who exercises raw acceptance, respect and love. There’s no “body types” in this community, only bodies and no gender only humanness.

I was surprised to find such a community exists in this conservative American state. When we first moved here, I missed Europe’s naked saunas and baths. Soon, I will miss the casual and extravagant sensuality with which the body is celebrated in this wholesome American circle of naked acquaintances, lovers and friends, whose yearly Halloween Erotic Ball is by, of and for the people.

To be continued…

---

[1] The Samkhya Karika of Ishvara Krishna with the Tattva Kaumudi of Sri Vacaspati Mishra by Swami Virupakshananda. 1995, 1^st edition. 2021, 8^th print. Sri Ramakrishna Math Printing Press, Mylapore, Chennai-4, India. page vii.

[2] From an interview as displayed in: “Krishnamacharya His Legacy and Teachings 125^th Anniversary Video narrated by A G Mohan” –  Sep.13, 2014. Sthira Sukham Asanam @ YouTube.com

Philosophically Lovely

The philosopher is a remarkable man. You may not notice by looking at him in a superficial way, but he is one of the most gorgeous men I've ever seen. His spirit lights up when philosophy flows through his lips, radiating an enchanting elegance unparalleled by any contemporary standards of hotness. His appeal is profound. I don't think he knows. His spirit is pure, his intellect polished, and his heart is full of love.

I can only think of another philosophical man, a physical scholar, who rivals the philosopher's loveliness. He is attractive for other reasons. He exhibits a solid intellect and shares great insight. But he also inspires mystery. A genuine warmth concealed by cold facts. Passion, playfulness and existential chaos veiled by spiritual discipline and a devotion to truth. A philosopher at heart, no doubt, a stunning human work of art.

Clearly, these are not men for my day to day. But are meant to be loved and admired in an intimately philosophical way. Of course, I’d wish to spend more time with them to learn more about their thoughtful sway. Irresistible embodiments of philosophical loveliness they are! What an honor to be able to witness these philosophical men alive and in the flesh! How gay!

Thirteen years ago, I wrote a poem full of yearning and lament called “In Love with a Dead Man” (in German: Verliebt in einen Toten). It was about how I imagined interacting with philosophers past, missing them from a future when they’re absent, and I’m a lonely presence full of unfulfillable desire. But I must say, today, loving the living in fleshy philosophical display makes me gay. That’s the beauty of philosophy: Bodies may sway but philosophy will stay.

In Love with a Dead Man

Where was I when you spoke of form,
when you broke with the conventional thinking norm?
When you loved nature
and wandered with her in darkness through the night –
discovering the depths of being,
and beyond the six senses you awakened insight.

Where was I when, proclaiming the truths of life,
you ordered another beer at the bar? Or wine or liquor?
When your hand gave the table a drunken slap,
you turned away from the eyes of your bro
and with new words – your light giving him crap,
you made chaos order’s ho?

Where was I when, smelling the hair of your muse,
your power crawling free from society’s cues,
you forged new paths?
And you admired the fool with silent envy.
And you laughed at yourself, or cried?
When I wanted to tell you that our souls are tied.

Where was I when, a button falling from your liner,
you composed the next primer?
When you lived your humanness
and aspired to reach other levels.
When, bearing the painful aging body-clatter,
you transcribed your splendor into matter.

Where was I when you sank into the current of consciousness?
When, tormented by the passions of the living body-act,
you married beauty with fact?
When the river wet your foot’s crown
and, metamorphosizing, you jumped off the bridge?
With what last thought did you drown?

Where was I, lover, when God kissed your cheek?
When death, joy in your breath did seek?
Waiting was I
lurking in the future
where your absence is pure torture…

Verliebt in einen Toten (2012)

Wo war ich als Du von der Gestalt gesprochen,
als Du die Normen des leitenden Denkens gebrochen?
Als Du die Natur geliebt
und mit ihr bei Dunkelheit durch die Nacht gewandert-
die Tiefen des Daseins entdeckend,
die Sinne über den Sechsten hinaus erweckend.

Wo war ich als Du die Wahrheiten des Lebens preisgebend
an der Theke noch ein Bier bestellt? Oder Wein oder Schnaps?
Als Deine Hand dem Tisch einen trunkenen Klaps gebend,
Dich von den Augen Deines Gesellen wendend
mit erneuten Worten – Dein Licht ihn blendend,
Du Chaos in Ordnung gebracht?

Wo war ich als Du die Haare einer Muse riechend,
Deine Kraft aus gesellschaftsfreien Löchern kriechend,
Du neue Wege geschafft?
Und den Narren mit stillem Neid bewundert.
Und Du über Dich selbst gelacht oder geweint?
Als ich Dir sagen wollt unsere Seelen sind vereint.

Wo war ich als Dir der Knopf vom Mantel niederfallend
Du die nächsten Zeilen verfasst?
Als Du Deine Menschlichkeit gelebt
und nach anderen Ebenen gestrebt.
Als Du die Schmerzen des alternden Körpers tragend
Deinen Glanz in Materie übertragen.

Wo war ich als Du im Strom des Bewusstseins versunken?
Als Dich die Leidenschaft des lebendigen Leibes quälend
Du Schönheit mit Fakt vermählt?
Als der Fluss Deine Füße genässt
und Du metamorphosend von der Brücke gesprungen.
Mit welch letztem Gedanken bist Du ertrunken?

Wo war ich Geliebter als Gott Deine Wange geküsst?
Als der Tod sich langsam an Deinem Atem beglückt?
Wartend war ich
in der Zukunft lauernd
Deine Abwesenheit zutiefst bedauernd...

N.M.P

Wolfsmesch - Humanwolf

 

Are we humans still interested in our destiny?
Have we lost sight of our original path?
As we circle around on a meaningless carousel of blind consumption.
As we turn the world into a carnival.
As we become maimed creatures, odd ducks and dancing shadows.  
(Nexistentialist, 2007)

A quote by Thich Nhat Hahn on Instagram made me feel uncomfortable when I first read it.

“Continue practicing until you see yourself in the most cruel and inhumane political leader, in the most devastatingly tortured prisoner, in the wealthiest man, and in the child starving, all skin and bones. Practice until you recognize your presence in everyone else on the bus, in the subway, in the concentration camp, working in the fields, in a leaf, in a caterpillar, in a ray of sunshine.
Meditate until you see yourself in a speck of dust and in the most distant galaxy.”

I felt put off by the first statements and swiped away without liking, sharing or saving the quote. But it haunted me. Later, I remembered having come to a similar conclusion in my youth. So, I searched through social media to recover the quote. I also searched my house for the old journal, wherein I’d captured my past reflection.

Germany, 2006

I thought I wrote it down in a red or orange ring-bound notebook from when I was studying Cultural Science in Eastern Germany almost twenty years ago. I had captured those thoughts right after I suffered a xenophobic assault, right before we moved to Berlin. I got beat up on a street corner in a small university town with neo-Nazi elements on the Polish border. A town that had gotten beat up bad during the Second World War, as German and Russian troops moved through it back and forth several times. There was an old underground bunker with the most awful vibe, the sheer memory of which makes me shiver. But instead of the red-orange notebook, I found two other items, which I had searched for on another occasion but never found, until now.

Haiti, 2005

The first item is a drawing I deleted from my blog years ago, because I was starting a new chapter. I wanted to leave a Mexican and Haitian part of my life behind, which made me feel uncomfortable. A past that nonetheless managed to resurface during a different phase in Switzerland ten years later, when I wrote the post. Unresolved matters demand dealing. Life is unforgiving. I had pretended to distance myself from a challenging phase in my youth, one that made me feel ashamed. Back then, I had toyed around identifying as a wolf. And I expressed my experiences through a series of comic strips called La Chica Mala la del Barrio, which means “The Bad Gal from the Ghetto.” 
It’s silly, I know. But I feel ashamed no more. For years now, I’ve been looking for this image to restore its presence on that fated blogpost where I wrote about how the human wolf came back to haunt me. Now, it reappeared on its own terms with complete shamelessness to be posted here. Life is funny. The two most controversial comic strips of this series are still missing. They’re not part of the stack of drawings I found. I wouldn’t know where to look for them either! Who knows where I stashed them? I guess they’ll reappear when it’s time, if they choose. Would I want my children to see them though? All the explaining I would have to do! My nine-year-old daughter, who considers herself an artist, was all over the drawings. I could see a slightly disturbed look on her face as she read through the strips. A lot of it wouldn’t make sense to her, of course. Suddenly, she asked:

“Why did you draw a penis?”
“Because nudes are common in art,” I snapped back, “and this is grown lady stuff that you wouldn’t understand so just let it be.”

Then, she went and drew a cat. My older daughter, the avid reader, at one point was very curious about my journals. I told her that she was allowed to read whatever matched her age. So, obviously, as a mother I have responsibilities. Will I hide who I’ve been from my children? No. But I will wait until the time is right to reveal the details of certain stories. They can learn from my strife to avoid some of their own. I hope.

The other item I found turned up in the form of a single question I had jotted down on a random page without a date. Memory of the event related to that question remained in my mind, a strange story I told many times, incompletely, due to the details I was unable to recall, including that very question.

On a cold day in Berlin, I accompanied my friend to a lecture on Greek mythology at the Humboldt University. The lecture hall was large and filled to the brim with students and faculty. An old white man, a beloved German professor went on and on about the Odyssey with a passion that made him seem like a genuine expert on the topic. Something I couldn’t really judge because, I confess, I never read it more than was required for high school assignments. I felt kind of inspired. Perhaps, as a result of the setting, a majestic old university lecture hall, ornate and stony. I felt a question bubbling up inside of me that I couldn’t help but ask. But there was only silence, and no one even moved an inch, all eyes fixed on the lecturer. The lack of participation seemed odd to me for a classroom, especially in the context of “higher learning”.

Perhaps, in patriarchal, pseudo-authoritative traditions professors like to narrate unquestioned. But I couldn’t remain quiet and raised my hand, the only one in a sea of heads, stretched up with determination to catch the lecturer’s attention. A feminist arm pulled by the old man’s narrative. To my surprise, the professor called on me. Sadly, he was so offended by my question, which he was unable to answer clearly, that he made a point to prohibit any further questions from being asked in a loud voice that echoed through the large stone-walled lecture hall. There was some shuffling and a few heads turned with frowny faces before we returned to the silence that would shield the moody man’s words. It felt odd that a seasoned expert at a school of higher learning would be put off by student participation. But young as I was, I felt self-conscious about not having carefully read the Odyssey. Could my intuitive questioning be warranted in the face of “expertise”? True, I know little about Greek mythology. But I know a lot about being a woman.

* * * * *

TriversX 10 - Patriarchal Angst (A) 

She flipped him off.
Then, shoved the finger up his ass.
And he liked it.

Sie zeigte ihm den Mittelfinger.
Dann steckte sie ihn ihm in den Arsch.
Und es gefiel ihm.

Le enseñó el dedo.
Luego se lo metió al culo.
Y le gustó.

* * * * *

Outside the building, book sellers were selling used books spread out on wooden tables. I went up to a book man and asked:

“Do you by chance have the book the Odyssey?”

He stared at me madly and began to yell:

“By chance!!!?? Nothing happens by chance!!!”

I was startled. The second man I managed to offend in a matter of an hour by merely asking a question.

 “So, you don’t have it?” I insisted, as I glanced over his collection of old books. He just continued to shout at me:

“Nothing happens by chance! Foolish verbiage of yours!”

He wouldn’t stop. My friend managed to buy a book from the neighbouring seller. We looked at each other with big eyes, slowly unlocked our bikes and walked away. I kept turning back as I climbed onto my bike careful not to fall off, hypnotized by his ferocious face. He continued to yell at me all the way to the end of the block, where I stood for one moment more, before turning the corner, to gaze at him as he screamed:

“Nothing happens by chance!!! Verbiage, nothing but verbiage!!!”

To be honest, I did not understand the German word he used for “verbiage” then, which is Floskeln, that is, expressions without meaning. I felt too embarrassed to ask my friend, who had witnessed me being made a fool twice already. It wasn’t until much later that I felt comfortable enough to ask another German university friend about the meaning of the word.

The two angry men insulted by my inquiry wouldn’t be the last. I have yet to read the yoga teacher’s letter after we fell out months ago because I annoyed him with my questions.  Who knows if and when the time might come? Life rarely leaves matters unresolved, I’ve learned. However, the hurt of humiliation stings deep. My daughter, protective as she is of me, read the letter immediately, but didn’t tell me what it said and insists that I must read it myself. Unfortunately, because the teacher was no stranger but so very dear to me, my heart became draped in protective pride. I don’t remember if I cried.

* * * * *

“If he already felt attracted to her, why would she have to seduce him?”

Is the question I jotted down in cursive blue ink back in 2006 or 2007. The question I asked the German professor of Greek mythology as he went on and on about a “profoundly erotic” scene in the Odyssey. Unfortunately, he made the dynamic between man and woman sound a whole lot like the old sexual assault cop-out: “Well, she shouldn’t have been wearing a mini skirt.” As if a man’s sexuality is somehow a woman’s responsibility. Hell to the no! A man’s sexuality is his own responsibility and a woman’s sexuality is hers. Both seduction and intercourse are inherently a matter of mutual respect and joint responsibility. The mythology professor’s unfair interpretation of the female triggered the feminist in me to speak out. My demand for male accountability pissed him off and he couldn’t answer properly, stuck as he was in his “unconscious” sexist and chauvinistic bias. As so many men still are. The truth is that I made a fool out of him that day. Because I may be ignorant of Greek mythology, but I know what it means to be a woman. And women, whether real or mythological, deserve proper recognition and respect.

* * * * *

Man-erism / Patriarchal Angst (B) *

He regarded her with curiosity, unsure about whether to consider her beautiful, as so many of her features did not correspond with the beauty standards he’d come to adopt. For one, she was no youth. He liked them young and skinny. Even though he was himself no longer young nor skinny. Nevertheless, his sense of beauty was as immature as the days when he would jack off to cheap porn, a realization that made him uncomfortable. As a result, he questioned the beauty of the magnificent matron radiating before him even more. Because it made him question himself, those parts he neglected in silence, afraid of growing up, of being the man he actually was.

* * * * *

I never found the red notebook, because it no longer exists. But I found a stack of pages from it that I ripped out. It is not unusual for me to leave unfinished business. Luckily, I also leave clues for future learning that will, hopefully, make sense later. I am a detective of my own thoughts, a seeker of my own philosophy. In the case of notebooks, sometimes I rip out the pages I wrote on and give the rest to my children. Thus, I found the reflection the Thich Nhat Hahn quote made me think of.

[As a human being] I live with being a criminal, abuser and adulterer. I’m also a child of fortune and a player, sometimes a swindler and a scoundrel. Sometimes I’m an observer, sometimes I’m the show. I love the existential carnival and want more. I also hate it and want to return to my mother’s womb.

Thus, I concluded that as a human being I cannot escape my kin. I am what they are, and they are what I am. In the meantime, I understand that beyond being merely human I am also biological, organic, terrestrial and cosmic. Now what?

* Hombrismo

La miraba con curiosidad. No estaba seguro si la consideraba bella, ya que tantos rasgos suyos no correspondían al estándar de belleza que él había adoptado. Para empezar, ella no era joven. A él le gustaban jóvenes y flaquitas. Aunque él ya ni estaba joven ni delgado. Por alguna razón su sentido de belleza seguía siendo tan inmaduro como en los días que se masturbaba viendo pornografía barata. Este reconocimiento lo incomodó y lo hizo cuestionar aún más la belleza de la magnífica matrona que irradiaba presencia ante él. Porque lo hacía cuestionarse a sí mismo, aquellas partes que había descuidado en silencio, temeroso de madurar, de ser el hombre que era en realidad.

Mannsbild 

Er hat sie neugierig betrachtet. War sich iher Schönheit nicht sicher. Viele ihrer Merkmale entsprachen nicht dem Schönheitsideal das er sich angeeignet hatte. Zum einen war sie nicht jung. Er mochte sie jung und dünn, obwohl er selber weder jung noch schlank war. Irgendwie war sein Schönheitssinn noch genauso unreif wir in den Tagen als er sich mit billigem Porno einen runterholte. Diese Einsicht beunruhigte ihn. Deswegen hinterfragte er um so mehr die Schöneit der herrlichen Matrone die prächtig vor ihm strahlte. Weil ihre Gegenwart ihn dazu herausforderte sich selbst zu hinterfragen, die eigenen Züge die er im Stillen vernachässigt hatte, die Angst vor dem Reifsein, davor ein wahrhaftiger Mann zu sein.