ODE TO THE MURDERED BELLO TREES
(Bello is the shortened form of 'Bellingen' - the town I live in.
​This is what it looked like BEFORE the trees were cut down.)
 
Tonight I sit with tears pouring down my face,
burning deeper lines in my weary face.
 
Today our town square trees were killed.
The heart and soul and breath of our town was slowly decimated – limb by limb
till they gave their last life-giving breath.
Razed to the ground.
 
Ever since I was a child,
I looked at humanity with shocked awe,
the insensitivity, the stupidity,
the disconnection, the barbarity.
 
Did they not know that there is a divine order in the Universe
That Mother Earth comes first
Always first.
That humans, and any other entity’s
puny needs must always come second.
There is NOTHING if we do not have our Mother.
 
To think I have to shout this to the sky,
seems like the ultimate absurdity.
 
I returned back to this town after 17 years
 of the wilderness in the city
 to the womb and safety of community.
But the corporate tentacles have made their way here too.
 
When I cry out in consternation
at why, why, why?....
Follow the money – always follow the money.
The best and most well-meaning hearts
forced into the narrow confines of the
Hegelian Dialectic – the us and them
the false dichotomising.
 
Their outcome achieved,
not only the heart ripped from our center,
but also a community satisfactorily divided, separated,
unable to join to fight the real shadows
playing with our hearts and minds.
 
Surely a win-win could have been created?
If we had been give the opportunity to truly Listen to each other’s hearts and minds?
 
There is always a way if we value what is sacred.
But never again to feel those cool branches,
Or the ancient silent protection underneath our feet.
Home to insects, birds, and the homeless.
 
So what can we do but continue with weary hearts,
hoping against hope that one day
we will be able to create the world
to which we all actually yearn to belong.
 
To me, there is no other journey worth living
To remind myself and us all
That it is possible, that we can do it.
We CAN WAKE UP NOW
Because later…. may be too late.
​

​The Chrysalis had been curled up in that cocoon for what seemed like an eternity.
Waiting, waiting in the dark
Knowing, knowing and hoping
But not really knowing
That a whole new, never-before-seen world awaited her
 
 In that endless darkness,
as she grew and expanded and evolved,
glimmerings of awareness and rememberings
showed her the roadmap.
 
Bit by bit, the pieces of the puzzle slowly began
to flow together into one coherent whole.
Some parts… clear as a bell
And others…shadowy, still forming
 
It had been hard becoming a ‘nothing’.
All vestiges of her old self, her old life…
some amazing, much quite mediocre.
But still it was some form of a life…
Slowly disappeared, as step by step
Anything that resembled a functioning being
was inexorably, unfairly, inexplicably taken away.
 
And over time, as she dissolved into nothingness,
The quiet disquiet, the puzzlement, the confusion
Was replaced by a silent surrender to something greater,
Something wordlessly unseen…
in the very, very back of her consciousness,
the potent seed, the potentiality, the vision remained.
The vision for the New Earth
 
Because you see, as she was disappearing,
So too was the Old Earth… the tired, ravaged Old Earth.
Mother…Mother Gaia
She had become tired of the dark ones ravaging her oceans, soil and air
Of the endless wars and political bickering
Of the dastardly mass mind control.
Of the endless attempts to eradicate in the millions,
​her beloved unique special humans
 
She had had enough
It was time for her to blossom –
to flourish, to evolve, to share her bounty
with the magnificent, innocent beings living upon her.
​
And in order to do that, she had to throw off the dark ones
Like fleas on a cat.
 
And how did she do that??
 
Well, that’s a whole other story…
A story to be told around winter fires
With wide eyed children listening rapturously to the stories told by the wise elders
Not the sleepers,
But the ones who had the courage to know what was going on
To question, to fight, to refuse to comply.
The Light-Lovers who refused to give in to the dark
Who, looking around that fire circle
As they now see the glowing potential of those children becoming truly possible
They know …that it was ALL worth it.
So many heroic stories of death, destruction and delight
 
… but back to Madame Chrysalis.
 
As everything was taken away from her…
Friends, family, work, money, achievement, health, youth
All the subtle and not so subtle signals of some-bodiness
Any vestiges of egoic existence dissipated into the crystalline slime
 
But somewhere in that cocooned darkness, the blueprint remained.
She knew that she was not just destined to be a butterfly flutterbying beautifully
But also a Crystalline Creator of the New Earth
A designer, an ambassador, a seed holder, a visionary, a poet.
 
 She saw it clearly… but like layers within layers…quantum fractals…
 Like a quantum cauliflower, endlessly repeating the same patterns
She knew that all that endless waiting and destruction of her some-body-ness
Was the essential shaping of a new all that Is-ness.
A truly freed creator being
Ready to burst forth like a seed unable to hold itself back any more
The All that is necessary, the warmth, the moisture,
the unstoppable blueprint of that
which so many have yearned for in every cell of their being.
 
Our Crystal Chrysalis found herself breaking free
from the last confines of her seemingly endless prison.
Burst forth with love and skill and powerful intent
To at last, do and be what she was designed to do and be.
Living the full potential of her divine blueprint.
 
And as the many needed changes began to proliferate across the planet,
As the darkness disappeared…
The people of Gaia breathed a sigh of relief
As at last, after billions of years of pain and suffering and pointless wars and disagreements
Peace and Abundance and Creativity engulfed,
mesmerised and delighted the people of Mother Earth.
 
And now it begins.

The most important lesson a male needs to learn to retain membership of the Man Box is:
Don’t be a Girl.

Whatever you do, under all circumstances, no matter what…
Don’t be a girl

​Don’t look like a girl – don’t smell like a girl – don’t wear girl clothes – don’t do girl things like dance or like ballet – don’t do a girl job – don’t feel – don’t empathise - don’t cry – don’t negotiate (especially with a girl)  – don’t go to the doctor till the last minute – don’t lose -  don’t fail.
 
If you do, you will be shamed, and abused… and even violenced
till you learn to get back in that box.
 
And if you rebel or just don’t get it,
And wear pink or purple or polka dots to the building site one day…
the rejection from the Man Club is often too great to bear.
Its better to be dead.
 
And who does this shaming and abusing?
Other men.
Women do their fair share.
But mostly, its men.
 
All those girly qualities rejected again and again.
And then you spend your whole life trying to get back into that womb,
to get even a taste of that feminine.
You want it so bad, like an addict, you think about it day and night,
you will take it, you will spend lots of money to get it, you will destroy your marriage for it, lose your kids, you will rape it, you will kill for it.
 
But that normal softer part of you, that society mistakenly calls ‘feminine’,
Is an integral part of you.
 
But you have to cut it off, truncate it, squash and distort it
Till all that is left, is a cartoonish empty caricature of ‘what it means to be a ‘real man’.
 
You are caught in the most horrifying paradox of all
Don’t be a girl – but you got to have the girl.
 
This endless impossible quest rips you apart internally.
And as you rip those muscles at the gym, mistakenly thinking that the girl
(who you unconsciously despise) will want you more when you look that way,
You are filled with an unspeakable rage at the unfairness,
the confusion, the overwhelming difficulty of the task.
 
To keep the girl, to get the sex, to fill the emptiness,
You have to understand what makes her tick,
What she wants, what turns her on…
This being that you have been taught again and again and again
To despise
To despise most every quality that she embodies
 
And yet you can’t get enough…
The emptiness calls
 
And if she opens her mouth to express anything
that doesn’t fit into your picture of how she should be,
if she’s not totally grateful for all the effort you put in
To toil endless hours at that job
Build that house,
Mow that lawn
 
And if she won’t ‘give’ you sex, the sex that you deserve, that you are owed
For having to spend a lifetime crushing that girl part.
Then you have every right to get it elsewhere, in whatever way you can
And at whatever cost.
 
Because deep down, you suspect you may be nothing without that girl part
 
That if you cant fill yourself from that girl cup,
You are starved and empty and worthless
And life is meaningless
So, you feel that righteous anger rise within you.
The anger that comes from deep, deep powerlessness
The powerlessness that comes from
you don’t know that you don’t know that you don’t know
 
And so, you take it out on them.
After all, they are weaker.
It’s not so hard when they don’t fight back.
Crush that bitch, crush her as hard as you have crushed yourself.
As hard as your father or teacher or boss or friend
Crushed the aliveness, the creativity, the joy, the soft squishiness of you
The you that lives in the straightjacket, the suffocating confines of that ManBox
The ManBox that you might not have known even existed.
 
Until now...

​Copywrite Frances Amaroux  2019   

And here is Justin Baldoni - actor - beautifully expressing the same idea.
WHY I'M DONE TRYING TO BE "MAN ENOUGH"

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