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Aries: the art of screaming
The quiet Aries is a dead Aries. See the baby
in the cradle? See daddy take away its toy? Hear the holler of anger
and rage and frustration? That’s the Aries Warrior on his
first excursion into the Cause. See the fists brandishing? Just
wait until those fists are weapons, ready to punch me for not agreeing
that this IS the She who must be obeyed!
Aries is a flame, a burst of raw primordial patriarchal energy that
blazes like a torch in the dark of matriarchal madness. Aries claims
the prerogative of the warrior, to fight to the death for honour
and glory. Not stupid, just focused. Not adverse to love, just languor.
Sex is a challenge, not a goal. Not reasonable, but not beyond reason.
He does not rape – a soldier rapes. The warrior defends, since
he chooses what and whom he defends. Choice is by merit, by virtue,
by test, by torture. He himself undergoes that torture to endure
and toughen the inner iron of which he knows he is made. The fact
that anyone following or loving Aries also must undergo the torture
is simply a fact of loving or hating Aries. It one chooses not to
follow, if one is indifferent, that one is left behind as Aries
blazes a trail to triumph. Companions are those who agree with the
method, the way: Amazons and Argonauts. Anyone else is welcome to
shut up.
Martial arts have a warning yell to freeze the enemy. It's a winner
every time, as every parent knows. For who can stop a baby yell?
A smothering pillow is not allowed. Let the baby grow up, at least
to adult height if not adult brains, and let the baby grab a flag
and run with it ahead of the crowd. First into the fray, whether
it be Gay Pride Day or the Orange Parade, Aries will hold it high
and die to defend the right of The Cause, no matter how right or
wrong The Cause may be.
Aries does not argue: that is a waste of energy needed to fight.
Aries does not listen: that is a waste of ear time. Aries does not
welcome anyone who is not whole- heartedly in agreement and the
rest of the world watch out, because she is coming to fight you
in your complacence, your arrogance, your pocket and your pride.
She also knows pride, but it is the pride of clean battle and swift
sword and flag allegiance. Her heart is simple and true and strong
and her head full of the heroes of old. She will live fast, love
hard, die young and leave a memory that may or may not be beautiful,
depending on whether you agree with Her Cause. But she lived, oh
yes! and at the top of her lungs!
Whom Aries loveth, he testeth. I never noticed anyone except Venus
arguing with him, and their love affair was one long lusty loving
battle. Ah well. Venus gets both the next zodiac sign (Taurus) as
well as the one opposite his (Libra) to outdo and contain him.
She swoops into your life and grabs your presuppositions and torches
them in her scorn. Once she has your attention, she says: "Read
this. It is Truth, and the truth shall set you free." For you
“it” becomes a way of explaining things, one among many
systems inherent in the patterns we humans discern in the chaos
around us. For her it is the beginning and the end, the alpha and
omega of life. No argument. It works, doesn’t it? You agree,
and for a time you two are a team. When you go your separate ways
it is with no regrets, no ties, no grudges since all angers were
already blown out in the open. In the clean dust of her leaving
I kneel and draw her picture: Boadicea. And hear her bloodcurdling
cry as she runs over the horizon to find another battle worthy of
her strength. She is the red-head with a temper to make all other
women seem pale and tame: the black-leather-clad goddess on a Harley.
He lets out a cry that rallies his side but makes enemies tremble.
Fearless, he throws fear at you rather then let it claw into his
courage. He comes at you like Bruce Lee in a trance, certain of
victory, of his right, of his way. No doubts. No chains. No yesterday.
And no tomorrow, for all is on the toss for today, for it is a good
day to die.
When it is over we weep at the warrior’s grave for the loss
of the torch-bearer, then take the path cleared of wilderness by
that flaming wildness.
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