I see you there. Sitting quietly underneath your protective armor of chaotic societal screams.

Veins popping out of its monstrous black, slimy neck;

like every moment is a-kill-or-be-killed battle

and yelling with vampiric fangs on display:

“Be tough.”

“Don’t ever let me see you cry because tough men don’t cry.”

“Did you f*ck her yet?“

“Grow some balls and get over it.“

“Just transcend above it.”

Oh, the heavy sounds of treachery.

But I see you.

I see you, divine masculine man in training.

The cute-as-a-button, soft, little boy just wanting love and compassionate attention from his mother, but instead, he gets shoved in the corner with an, “Uh, just play with this; you’re too needy” as his female role model throws him a box of missing lego.

He doesn’t know it at the time, but this sets up his pretty little mind for subconscious childhood patterning. Playing out every single one of his failed future relationships with women.

I see you, divine masculine man in training.

The shy and afraid, little boy just longing for his father’s approval as he races to find him to show him a treehouse he just built.

Instead, little does this boy know that his solar plexus chakra is being ripped to shreds and diminishing spark by a golden spark as his father dismisses him telling him he has work to do.

In this moment, the mantra “I am not good enough” is programmed into his gorgeous growing mind.

I see you, divine masculine man in training.

The acne painted, insecure teenager who stood up from his desk to write the answer on the chalkboard with an unexpected boner as his classmates around him point fingers and laugh ferociously.

Extreme shame has been inserted and bedded down right in the corridors of his sacral chakra.

I see you, divine masculine man in training.

The shattered but masked 10,000 heartstrings mirroring his torn and shattered bedsheets from a puppeted empty f*ck, manifested from a subconscious porn addiction and traced back to childhood wounds.

Oh, beautiful masculine man in training, you wear thoughts of icy loneliness and fears of catastrophic abandonment just like we do—the divine feminine woman in training.

Your deep urge of surrender colored in buckets of hidden, shameful sobs almost suffocates you at times.

Yet, sometimes, in your vehicle and sometimes, when there’s no one around,

you let a tear fall;

maybe two.

For you to know there is better,

you know there is so much more,

and you are ready to get there.

Just like your earthly women, 

we are here to remind you that it is safe,

and you are f*cking courageous.

You are courage defined and courage embodied; dipped in juicy flesh, wild hair, and strong, loving cocks.

We need you, masculine man.

So if we walk this treacherous hurricane of illusioned society and outdated, false narratives of men are supposed to be this way and women are supposed to be that way, then together, we will come out dripping in golden, thick divinity.

Heads held high and walking tall like panoramic mountain ranges.

Steady, grounded, embodied, and with soul purpose.

We are here, divine masculine man in training, to show you that your emotions are absolutely valid, and we find that f*cking sexy.

We are here to remind you of your gentle side and your rich Tantra lover side filled with pure, unconditional loving ecstasy from the divine heights.

And just like us, you are here to remind the divine feminine woman in training that it is okay now and safe to rise up and take action and to reclaim our voices because we now know it is safe to have a voice.

You’re here to remind us to acknowledge discipline and gently craft it to serve us for our highest and best.

It is not one against the other, dear men, for we are all trying to find our way back.

Back to our soul selves.

Back to divinity, embodied as the gorgeous humans of the earth that we are and that we came here to be.

So I see you, darling man.

Keep going.

Keep going.

All is not lost.

Keep going.

Throw a f*cking punch or two at the wall

and keep going.

~