The 7 men for her protection became, self-perfection. An intoxicated reflection on the perfect man.
(Recordings 2010 – re-written 2024)
Extraction of the book: "Sleeping Flowers" - Author Brigitte Gouwy (alias Mata)
One intoxicated night, she sat and talked. Independent and strong, longing for her prince, she reflected on her perfect man to join her in the forest wild and free. She concluded: “I need seven men”. Her Owl-friend captured how she balked, laughed and called her talk: “Snow-white with her seven dwarfs.”
The first man her “Off-road Explorer”, adventurous as he is, he never fears to change course, accept challenges and goes for the unexplored. Crossing fences, fearless of being caught. No, do not mistake him for the adrenaline freak running after his endorphins, like the insane rock climber, free-ride surfer, or paraglider.
This obsessive nature, classifies under the passionate artist. They kindle their fire in their foolishness. They challenge life, do not understand consequences nor do they consider anything as being dangerous. No the off-road explorer, he could be seen as a Steve Irwin or a Dian Fossey, simple fully in peace being tuned in to the rural side of life, running in jungles wild.
The second man, the “Passionate Artist”, the one diving into his creations, taking me into a world filled with pleasures and hallucid dance curations. He’s the uncontrollable fashionista, music load, dance parties wild, unseen he becomes the egocentric queen.
Our third, our “Household Bird” the perfect stabiliser and responsible family ignitor (happy family man). Driven by his inner force he joyful raising his offspring’s, with his childlike wisdom, entertaining and challenging them with competitive games.
“Mr. Romantic,” number four comes with (un)wanted roses at your door. He understands and embraces your womanly needs, adorns your wholeness, venerability and sensual sweet. Observant to your changing nature, taking care of all, giving you warmth, comfort, accepting including your bittersweet bawl.
After that warm embrace comes “the Boring Finance-dude”. Non-responsive as he is, always calculating, analysing, polished shoes, exclusive dinners and dating. We need his mind’s sharpness to circulate to succeed an intellectual tool not left out indeed.
Of course as the independent woman we are, we cannot quite be multi-skilled at all. As much as she tried, she knew nothing about the car, little she understood about electronics, nor could all her force handle the heavy bar. There came the “handsome handyman” to balance the unpolished with eagle eyes and physical strength in disguise.
At last, there was the last? By now, Snow-white had no more need as she learned all the bad and the good deeds. The seventh, was just there, in case any of the others would hail. And so the story would end with the perfect awesome friend.
~ Mata ♡, Australia 2010 ~
As life passed, nothing goes as planned and so her 6 men delivered she well canned. Once again she sat, shared her perfect prince story, under the bright moon with her Owl-pet.
The first fulfilled his duties as the perfect father and was too a “handyman”. Tho little he was satisfied always complained never smiled. In search for himself, he engaged with another girl. Finding she was hard to pleased, learning the bittersweet.
The “warm-hearted financer”, came to weep her broken tears. He fled back to his land from bore-dome to become an outdoor surfer not a economic stardom. She followed him across the seas, when he asked her for a child, she awakend figuring out the father would be a tv-bench rider. So she fled to seek, trying to find a perfect fatherfigure and so became a run-away bride without the Ligure* (gemstone).
On the Holi land she danced on the sand when the third came. After that passionate tango untamed she was never the same. The “gypsy-blooded desert man”, eyes wide open, sensed her womeness like a token.
His wizard nature was absorbed by money, gambling, and other play. He called her the love of his life, but a third whom had more wealth became his wife. He excused himself for his nature’s way and she was pleased no longer having to join his obsessive money play.
The sound of bamboo flute pulled her attention like magnet, in the adoration she felt love for a young flute player. When her eyes started to see, she remembered all the keys. Wandering in circles of past existences bringing back all saṃsāras* in consistence. With the sound of his flute, in and out she danced tender sweet in romantic love-dreams. The “wicked musician’s” life was pleasure seeking, to explore with women and bansuri play deepened.
Once you are on a different path, then so comes “mr. Psychopath”. The handy man, illuminated with consciousness in his eyes, had his heart not nearby. His evil manners driven by his own saṃsāras* of assassin depths with millions of deaths. In his house, all sharps things hidden, kitchen knives forbidden. He had warned her for his Japanese badness and indeed, he left her with a death born child insulting her for impure in madness.
Thereafter she started to pray to remove all sins of her men-play. She searched for God, praying in the Holi rivers, as she threw her wedding ring a Holi man came, giving her a shiver. Ignoring all her attention, here too the great illusion came, when she found out mr Romantic, was more frantic. He captivated her soul obsessively, believing only in his holy books successively. The hardship she received from the “narcissist yogi”, the scriptures his only believe.
After all the play of Earthly desires, all her sensors burned in fires. She returned to the Universal prayer, that which is the only way. And perhaps one day a good friend may come to make the perfect end but until that day, her dreams all fade.
~ Mata, 2024 ~
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