The Divine* Dance
Shiny black and white ceramic figures, inclined toward each other, embracing. Photo by Juliana Murphy.
I’ve ached to connect with the Divine Masculine since I can remember.
As a child, I recognized its warmth in my uncles and cousins while mourning its scarcity in my nuclear family. The protection, the protectiveness, the care, creativity and humor. That Big Papa energy of wanting everyone to be happy and resourced. Laughter and delight. Gentleness and tenderness. This longed-for magic occasionally entered our small orbit via an unexpected source: not my father, stepfather, or brother, but my mom.
Perhaps that explains why I also found myself longing for the Divine Feminine - nurturing care and the radiant power of deep stillness. I longed for wise teachings and guidance about beauty, sensuality, synthesis and surrender, allowing, receptivity. As a primary breadwinner and career-forward trailblazer, this wasn't really my mother's jam.
It’s only been in the past few years that I’ve had a framework to hold all of this. I never understood the point of that other, culturally-dictated form of masculinity. That shadow one that some call toxic: strength for strength’s sake, hatred of “weakness”, cruelty, rigidity, control, obsession with being "right", domination, imperviousness, stoicism, and dreaded seriousness. Not. Attractive.
Equally mystified by the culturally-emphasized form of femininity - helpless, submissive, delicate, ornamental - I actively rejected it. I wore black as my primary clothing color until I was 35, seeking neutrality & mystery. I recoiled when anyone came at me with the color pink. I carried this misunderstanding of the feminine forward into relationships, feeling honored to be "one of the guys" and "not like other girls." Ah, patriarchy.
When I gleefully rejected what I understood to be femininity, I never meant to reject the divine elements. I had few encounters with this whole, healed form, seeing instead the dark shadow formed by the cultural blockage of its light. Same with masculinity. On the rare and wonderful occasions that I came into contact with these healed forms, I soaked them in like monsoon rains, but never made the connection to their cultural counterparts.
Now that I understand what’s going on, I honor and celebrate both the divine feminine and the divine masculine in myself: I revel in beauty and sensuality and stillness, as I gleefully create and take charge, delighting in my own competence and abilities. We all carry the seeds of these elements, and it is a glory to be able to exchange freely with another fully-formed being who has taken the time and care to cultivate these seeds into flourishing fruit. It is a delight to project these human powers and be received lovingly, and it is delightful to lovingly receive the projected creation of another.
I find such peace in the words “projective" and “receptive" (as opposed to “masculine” and “feminine”), in the same way I found peace in dance studios who use the designations "lead/follow" rather than "man/woman". When I leaned to tango, I appreciated that my teachers and studio community were not at all concerned with gender, but with energy. The Lead is responsible for guiding the Follow through the landscape of the dance floor, keeping them safe as they move blindly backwards, guiding their bodies into unexpected beauty. They issue the invitation, choose the path, and communicate all of this without words. The Follow is responsible for maintaining their side of the connection, listening deeply with their body, and deciding whether and how to respond. Always free to decline the invitation, their primary focus is to maintain their own center of gravity and stay balanced on their axis, free and able to respond and move in any direction without capsizing. Strong AND fluid, receptive AND responsive. Always sensing, always allowing the flow of energy to move them into unimagined forms of beauty and grace. There is no choreography in tango, really. There are skills to learn; however, a true tango involves no premeditated plan - only invitation and response. The very best dancers I've encountered have taken the time to learn and embody both energies, and they are able to effortlessly switch roles. Divine Masculine dancing with the Divine Feminine.
Fluid exchange of energy and beauty.
Strength without dominance.
Direction without rigidity.
Wild creativity without competition.
Holiness without hierarchy.
Unbridled delight.
Unrepressed pleasure.
Tenderness instead of toughness.
Protectiveness without posturing.
I treasure all of this in a companion, as I treasure it in myself. I welcome the skillful and seamless switching of roles as energy flows in this divine dance, both sides coming into harmony. As our culture shifts, we have unprecedented opportunities to cultivate and harmonize the projective and receptive within ourselves. On my path, I've encountered so many women making the space for these explorations, but men seem vastly rarer to be found. My prayer is that more and more of our brothers will choose to step out of the shadow of privilege and pain and join us in the dance.
I offer this to all that feel bound by limited cultural measurements of masculinity and femininity, especially those longing to embody the Divine Masculine:
May you know that harmony is available to you.
May you find your gentleness and not label it weakness.
May you connect with tenderness and allow it to touch your heart.
May you embrace your desire to protect as you release your urge to control.
May you celebrate your strength without needing to dominate.
May you revel in your creativity without needing to compare.
May your laughter bubble from delight rather than derision.
May you allow yourself to be seen and received as you open to the flow of sweetness.
May you dance with the Divine. <3
*a note on divinity: The reader is invited to weave whatever meaning resonates most; however, when I use the word "divine", it is my intent to refer to the highest, whole, healed state of a thing rather than any specific religious or theological concept or entity.