By Jack Murphy
How do you like your women? I like mine to be destructively creative – slaves to the power of that which they create. This is the pinnacle of femininity – it is the experience of being afraid of one’s own creativity. All beings experience this. Created things have the unique ability to scare (you can’t be scared of nothing), and when they do – when they scare us completely, and yet we joyfully and endlessly choose to generate them – this is the experience of being at its most feminine. We experience femininity when we find immense joy in our freedom to scare ourselves, because as we do we realise that fear itself is our slave.
We control it, we generate it. Thus in the essence of the feminine goes also the essence of ultimate fearlessness, and in the feminine lies the pinnacle of the mental’s relationship with the subject, as the subject is illuminated by its love for that which it fears – nothing, it realises, can negate me. I can exist beside anything. Woman is the ultimate immortal. The essence of masculinity is the converse – ultimate unity with that which it creates. The masculine is the ultimate dead end, as femininity is the ultimate beginning. Masculinity creates itself, and nothing else.
Where the feminine is epitomised in its freedom to create anything, even that which it fears the most, the masculine is epitomised in its singularity – the precision of its existence, in that it cannot be anything as plural as an experience, no matter how basic – masculinity is what happens when the being becomes the experience itself. The masculine is lost in the art, and the undiluted man is the perfect mortal, where the undiluted woman is the perfect immortal. Man is fated to die as his creation, as woman is fated to outlive hers. As femininity is the ultimate experience, requiring as it does a sense of ultimate separation from the world – ultimate fear – to be overcome, there is no such thing as a masculine experience.
To be masculine is not to be – the masculine is the ultimate object, it is a word which describes the state of being an experience, of being an object. You can no more objectify a man than you can objectify a stone – there is nothing to be objectified that is not already an object. Thus in the masculine lies the pinnacle of the mental’s relationship to the physical. In the masculine, the mental becomes the body, through whatever means – the body transforming, growing, extending, or the mind discovering – either way, the desires of the mind are perfectly enacted by the body, the body is the physical manifestation of the mind, the mind is the mental manifestation of the body. The body dies, and the mind’s desires are shattered, and it dies with the body. The mind dies, and the body’s actions become empty – it is no longer different from the world – and it dies with the mind.
Man is the ultimate mortal.
To me, this is the truth.
When I speak of it, I ascribe to it and believe it completely. In this moment, I am the ultimate masculine. The ultimate object.
Probably shouldn’t mention it too often.
When I present myself as this object to others, they are forced to choose – will they oppose my argument, or agree with it? Will they become one with it, or will they be separate from it? In short – will they experience masculinity or femininity? If they take it on, though, it will not be the complete truth to them, probably, and as such they retain their balance. The danger is that if it is a good argument, then they will be forced to accept it too strongly, or oppose it too violently. Good arguments must be opposed or accepted more strongly by nature. The individual hearing a good argument is forced to step more clearly onto one side of the divide. The irony is, that whilst this action seems unholy by nature (the ultimate masculine and the ultimate feminine are perverse to those in the middle), in both sides lies salvation:
In the ultimate unity of the masculine, there is the ultimate discord of the feminine, in the ultimate discord of the feminine, there is the ultimate unity of the masculine.
The masculine knows that the body, the form it takes on, will die, and therein lies the ultimate fear that sparks the feminine, that fear which the feminine overcomes by nature, to stray again into the ultimate unity of the masculine, the love of fear, but this unity itself will always, inevitably, unspeakably, unbelievably, start itself to die.
Jack Murphy is studying Philosophy at Sussex University. He grew up in Oxford, and likes playing the drums and writing electronic music that he has no ability to actually perform.