WHY would Power be a mystery, and even potentially, the mystery?
BECAUSE, imagining that Power runs on a line like a train does, I can’t predict when I will encounter a railroad switch: one moment I am in my Power, the next I lost it!
I want to know: what makes it that I would sometimes have “it” and sometimes not? Moreover, how can I ensure that I’d never lose it?
And right here is the bug to my Power program – in my quest for security! I am yet to have the courage to do the hardest thing ever: surrender my “free will” and the illusion of control that comes with it! Come to think of it, Power is another word for “will” — willpower!
“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”― Oscar Wilde
Sex is about Power, because to fully enjoy either of them, I must let go, and accept to be vulnerable. Indeed, when I’m in my head, I can’t get NO satisfaction. I must surrender my will which, all together, is a very scary proposition… What if I did let go, and still failed? And even scarier, what if I were to succeed in my creation?
That’s the railroad switch – when I begin to fear that I won’t be “enough” to deal with a situation. To hide my sense of inadequacy, I now misuse my Power, and get on the wrong “line:” either my words try to control you (e.g.; “you should make more money”), or they try to control me (“I should make more money”).
These Power games I play – of wanting to be a top and dominate “you,” or to be a bottom and submit to “you” – are joy killers (unless, of course, I’d enter them consensually). Joy comes when the battle of sex disappears. When the male and female parts of me melt into each other; the woman is no longer the woman, the man is no longer the man. I forget my own identity, and become just like a yin yang circle, one energy reaching and merging into the other.
I surrender: “not my money, Thy Money be done!” Sex is a Power and a currency (as money is). How curious that I would resist inquiring on the Force that moves me to waste Power, or to give it away. And it makes me wonder… WHY can’t I be like a tree? A tree doesn’t compare itself to other plant life: it neither pushes or pulls…