Our Virgin conceived without sin.

We are used to living in a paradigm developed by someone before us. Of course, in our lives there are attempts to create something new, despite the monumental passivity of mankind, in general, we try to change something, in fact, only supplementing the images created by our ancestors. The question is how well we do it, and whether we do it at all.

We are used to believing numbers, looking closely at symbols on paper, more and more often at pixels on smartphone screens, absorbing information presented to us by others. We are not particularly striving with the desire to verify the reliability of the information we receive.

The pyramid of Djoser is said to have been built for more than 2,500 years BC. The first man’s name was Adam, and for example, there are only 8 planets in our system. So we are told and it is as if we are supposed to believe it. Generally speaking, we do. But not all of us. Why? Because the date of foundation of the most ancient pyramids of Egypt was shifted deep into the darkness of centuries not once, there are a great many variations of the name of the first man and they are extremely dependent on the religious interpretation, well and the eight planets in the solar system… Is there even a solar system? I dare to remind you that one of the main illusions of the so-called “Maya” within which you and I exist is the existence of separation. The division into before and after, into mine and yours, into I and everything else. Many years ago I was shown a topographical picture of our Earth with a projection of the absence of water on its entire plane. And do you know what I saw? Or rather, what I didn’t see? I didn’t see continents, borders between countries and so-called territories, instead, I saw unity, a space without beginning or end called Earth. One planet on which you and I live as in a dream, believing that there are borders between us, that we are divided by something and someone. That’s the way it is. And in fact, the illusion will be discussed today. What is a Woman, how does She interact with us, what is the essence of all this and how to deal with it? A woman is our Virgin. And She is said to have conceived without sin. Let’s go.

Thoughts aloud.

I touch the rough surface of a tall Sequoia tree in the Buçaco relict forest with my hand. I touch it and think of nothing. I look up and feel as if I am lost in the size of this giant. How old are you, again, I mentally ask the question. “A lot” I receive an immediate answer. Not far from me lies the fallen trunk of another Sequoia damaged by a hurricane five years ago. The massive roots ripped out of the ground are a reminder of how superficially we observe the world, guided only by what we see. I look at this picture, and I think, why am I here, what’s the sense in knowing, they say that it’s easier and probably even better not to know, not to get involved, not to seek answers to questions that in general do not involve any answers. In emptiness, you should enjoy the emptiness, and not plant confusion in the hope of gaining a long-awaited comfort zone.

Revelation.

I love Woman infinitely. In all her manifestations. Feminine or masculine. Vulnerable and tender, or hard as a stone. Yearning for her natural element or losing herself in the search for masculinity. When I look at Woman, I do not see these little things, I do not delve into the subtleties, I do not focus my attention on the labels that men and sometimes Women, put on themselves. When I look at Her, I see Nature. A progenitor in the literal sense of the word. The keeper of the hearth, not the hearth of home in the sense of matter, but the hearth of the home from which each of us came. A dark house, filled with love and warmth, the exit from which is always and for all traumatic.

A Woman is a dearest, most important, most beautiful thing we have. Her long hair, tucked into a ponytail or dishevelled by the spring wind, Her smell. A Woman smells like spring, no matter who She is, if you love a Woman, each one of them will smell like love to you. And love, for me personally, smells like spring.

Hidden from us by an imposed religion, a religion in which Woman is presented as fallen, sinful, available. A religion in which a Woman is holy only if she has had no physical connection with a man, a religion which has absorbed everything that came before it, which has given new names but has left the rituals untouched. Why? Why, and who would want to distance Woman from us to a distance of inaccessibility, a distance that has turned many centuries into a living hell for these beautiful creatures.

I close my eyes again and see the bonfires. Fires burning in the middle of the woods, against the lights of a big city in the distance. A city that could have any name in my vision. Paris, Rome, quite possibly London, or even Lisbon.

I want to open my eyes, but I can’t. A female, a Woman of insane beauty, is drawn to me. Clearly, not a girl, her breasts as well as all the other beautiful parts of the body are bare and in the light of the flames, I can determine her maturity. I cannot make out the colour of her hair, but it seems to be canonical red, I cannot see Her eyes, but I imagine them to be light, almost bright green. She is calm. She stares intently into the woods, into the darkness, into the emptiness, from which I watch with bated breath not only at Her but also at Her executioners, who are standing a few meters away from this infernal fire.

A woman is the Moon. La Luna. The dark side of nature’s beginnings, a sneaking tigress ready to attack from behind at any moment. Eros, the principle of occult forces, inexplicable, unmitigated and hostile to the Sun, the male Logos.

Snippets of books, articles, materials I’ve read run through my head. Why do men so passionately belittle Women? So passionately that at some point in history it has almost turned into extermination, extermination according to the principle of beauty, a principle-based on a primordial fear of Woman. Where did the brave warrior of the Logos get such a pronounced panic attack before the immensely attracting Eros? In the process of thought analysis, the answer is born in me. Fear. Fear drives a man both when he puts the Woman in the background and when he feels strongly dominated by Logos. Fear and nothing more. Banality.

Eros captivates, turns heads, penetrates a man without asking permission, invades his cells and twists the male Anima into an unimaginably complex knot. The man who humiliated the Woman, who tries to dominate her, or who dares to subjugate her, is the man who has not seen the Woman in himself. A blind man who does not know a simple truth that we all have two natures, the masculine and the feminine. There is no uniformity in nature; everything has facets, features, sides after all.

Portuguesa.

I opened my eyes and finally, the image of the beauty disappearing into the flames was replaced by another, softer, calmer one. Lisbon. One of my favourite parts of the city, Principe Real. Through the dust-covered window of a small café, I notice a Portuguese woman. She is very short and thus beautiful in her tininess, her long and strong brown hair runs in straight lines down her back, almost touching her incredibly narrow waist. A waist that transitions into something utterly beautiful, crafted by the Creator with such love that neither I nor anyone else can describe the beauty of this almost intimate part of a woman’s body. She stops in front of the crossing, looks around, and notices my gaze smiles slightly, barely noticeable, so barely that I can safely say that I am imagining it.

Steadily, but surely, her strong little legs tapping with their heels, something very familiar to me, that rhythm is like a melody. Passion ignites within me and I understand that this Portuguese woman does not need anything to enslave my Logos, it is enough for her to pass by, separated from my physical reality by the glass and a dozen meters. It is enough to make me forget not only the world around me but also myself. Fear. Hence this fear in a man of a woman.

I Feel You.

An empty bar and a red neon sign on a white tiled wall. “I Feel You” floods the space with a steady light. I’m the last customer, outside the window it’s raining, promised and prolonged, rain that will pour until Tuesday. Reality fades as soon as I squeeze my eyes open and the red neon turns to flame. A flame from that forest shrouded in Feminine tranquillity on the border of unimaginable misery. I also think of the signs. Signs that are everywhere and always with me. And not just with me, with all living things. I am sure that animals receive signs from our Creator, as do plants, as do we humans. And even minerals are likely to receive signs.

I move away from my thoughts, dismissing them as something extraneous, unnecessary and not desired by me. I walk last out of the silent bar, proudly, into the confined space of Lisbon’s streets and alleys. I smell damp and something remotely resembling home-cooked food. Slowly I move my body toward home while thinking about what I wrote today. Did I say something important? Have I discovered something new for myself or for those who will read my words, or have I simply poured out some heresy… Heresy, something that goes against what others think. Heresy. What a familiar word, I have encountered it in all my incarnations.

It’s only ten minutes from my destination, so I try to stretch it out, but when I look at my watch, I realize that time is not rubbery, and even if it were, it’s out of my control. I obey and speed up my pace to make it in time for dinner. She is waiting for me at home. The same Woman for whose sake it was all said, the same Woman for whose sake they created and destroyed, whom they worshipped in awe and killed in fear. Caring and warm, kind and strong, my dear Woman.

I will show her all that is written and it is already enough to say to myself — it was not in vain. And I will also tell her that in this time interval of our short-lived continuum, no one will offend Women as it was in the times of the villainous Inquisitors. No one will offend, because we will not allow it. Men who owe everything to their Women. Mothers, sisters, daughters, grandmothers and wives. I will say to her one more time before I go to sleep, “Thank you, my dear, for what you are. And I’ll fall asleep holding her close to me. And when I fall asleep, I will imagine hugging the Universe itself, with all its myriad stars, planets, and countless creatures. I embrace it tightly and I feel very calm because I know exactly, the ancients were right — the whole world is in a Woman. And this world is safe in my arms.

See you tomorrow.

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Moustache and Glasses street photography crew. Uncommon Tours x Portugal founder. PhD Religion Historian. I keep the Knowledge🧙🏻‍♂️🌱

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Nikita Stupin

Nikita Stupin

Moustache and Glasses street photography crew. Uncommon Tours x Portugal founder. PhD Religion Historian. I keep the Knowledge🧙🏻‍♂️🌱

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