I have been with my girlfriend for almost three years now. It’s been an extraordinary time. The opportunities to practice love that have arisen in myriad forms along the way have made me a stronger, more committed and more open-hearted man. Before I met Cathrine, I had very little experience with intimate relationship. I was a serious spiritual practitioner, meditating for 1-2 hours every day for many years, but relationships were a whole other ballgame. An experience in Boudhgaya, India at the end of 2006 changed my life. I transitioned then into a time of study the arts of women, love, and relationships. The relationship was the culmination of that work.

I have come to know Cathrine as a healer. Not in the sense that she has warm hands and reads auras – although she *has* warm hands and *can* read auras – but in the sense that I have known deep healing in our relationship together. In serving and being served by Cathrine, I have experienced a kind of inner revolution. In truth, if it weren’t for the dynamic nature of our relationship, the profound love we have shared, and the challenges that her shifting forms of feminine embrace and resistance brought into my life, I would not be half the man I am now. I have learned to love no matter what (well, almost). Most of the time, she has made it very easy for me. Sometimes, she has made it incredibly hard. But I would have it no other way. It has been her gift to me.

The two of us both know that many have expected us to marry and have children. Many of those of you who know us personally have WANTED us to marry and have children. There are many good reasons for that. We have been a great couple. We have shared extraordinary love. And spending the rest of my life with her would be a pretty good way to live. But there is an even deeper recognition – the purpose of my life needs my attention. The work I’m doing is starting to take off. And starting a family now would force me to call off those plans – or at least put them on hold.

My relationship has been in service of my life’s purpose. I would even say that it has *defined* my life’s purpose. But with the dream of children – and the recognition that it is too early for me – we have sensed a shift for a long time now. In fact, we sensed it from the very beginning of our relationship. But our love caused us to ignore that and to plunge into a relationship nevertheless. For as long as I live, there will never be a thought of regret in my mind for that. It is, perhaps, the best choice I ever made. And in many ways, I know she feels the same. But children for me are some years into the future – when the pursuit of my life’s purpose has come into full bloom and I feel that my calling to serve the world in the way closest to my heart has been realized.

I have cried in her arms. She has cried in mine. Sometimes I think we’re crazy. But I believe we are doing the right thing. I don’t expect all of you will understand. For I can in truth say that I don’t always understand myself. But I have learned something about love lately. It has its own intelligence. And it speaks with a silent whisper. And it walks hand in hand with truth. Love seeks truth just as truth seeks love – and together they have decided to take the wheel. So you see – it is, in a sense, not up to us. We merely obey the silent whisper.

I have never known love like I have over these almost three years. And I have never felt stronger. And now it is with sadness, grief, but most of all deep joy, love, appreciation, and gratitude that I give her back to the world. Thanks to those of you out there who have been part of this journey. And to those whose hearts will be broken by this news, I am sorry. Know that we have reached this decision together. Noone has been dumped and there is not a hint of anger or bitterness. I will forever love her. And now, I am moving on. Up ahead, there is a woman waiting for me. And there’s a man waiting for Cathrine. And they will get to know a one whose heart has deep imprints of another. And if they are to so much as qualify – they must understand that this is a good thing. It is our gift to them.

Happy New Year everyone.

Eivind

I’m sure the course will be relaunched soon, but in the meantime, check out these videos from youtube. I really enjoy the way he exposes the immaturity prevalent in the pick up movement. This is something I’ve been thinking for a long time (in fact, my take is that most pick up artists are processing some serious mommy & daddy issues), and it is timely to see another deep and powerful guy state the same thing.

Check it out. About 45 minutes total. Totally worth it!

Note: For the one who is in a hurry, start with video #3 (and skip all the addressing of the pickup community)

Parts 2-4 (videos open in new window)

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The light and dark of Tom and Joey

What I want to know as I stand face to face with Tom Stall is: does he know about Joey? Or did he actually “die” out in the desert as Tom suggests to his wife Edie. Director David Cronenberg suggests the former in the DVD commentary, but Viggo Mortensen’s downplayed portrayal of the personality conflict shows it as being more of an unconscious sliding in and out of two different personalities, oblivious to each other.

If Tom really knew about Joey, he would’ve been playing games of hide and seek with his own and his family’s lives on the line throughout the entire story. This interpretation has him robbing his family of the truth for fear that it may confront him with his past and break the family apart, all the while knowing he is a sinister murderer behind the veils of rural loveliness. The human mind doesn’t work that way. Tom couldn’t be living such a sweet and loving family life if he was constantly totally aware of his past as a gangster and murderer. He could have if he had first accepted society’s, and particularly his family’s, judgment for his actions. But as it is, he would never be in integrity with himself and his role as a family man would be undermined. There is just no way he could look into the eyes of his fragile, darling daughter without fearing his dark side. No way he could serve as an authority figure to his son without being worried that he would tip over into his days of uncontrolled violence. It would create enormous inner conflict in him, and Tom doesn’t seem like a conflicted man.

As I see it, the only sensible interpretation is that Joey is part of Tom, but only subconsciously. Joey is buried deep in his psyche, and is only a faint whisper on the desert winds that he thinks he left behind. We can only wonder what kind of strange magic he must’ve gone through out there for those years. Maybe he went to stay with indians, being healed by shamans, sweat lodging, vision questing etc. Regardless of how total the transformation in the desert was, karma doesn’t forget, and this is a key learning of the movie.

There can be no question that Joey is a wicked DD1 man. Tom, however, is a gentle and loving DD2 man and together with Edie, they have a sweet, sexy, loving relationship. Tom is quite the family man, nurturing and in touch with both his masculine and feminine sides. Edie is strong and directed, yet still very feminine. But the political correctness and reversal of gender roles common for modern relationships seems refreshingly absent, which is probably why they still seem so much in love with each other. So this is a good relationship, perhaps even flirting with great on rare occasions.

There’s an artfully done sex scene where Tom and Edit roleplay teenagers trying to make love without being caught. Edie is quite the goddess, but Tom seems to be holding back just a little bit, not quite ready to take it all the way. And the sinister, unromantic lighting suggests something – or someone – is lurking under the surface. This holding back of Joey is symbolic for what many modern men do. We hold back our fierceness while making love to our partner, and leave her unravished. Satisfied, but not yet completely opened to bliss.

Longing for Cro Magnon

The unveiling of Joey starts when Tom ends up the local hero after defending his diner and the people who work for him from two heartless, fearful outcasts looking for money. Men with no purpose, no conscience and no balls to face up to themselves. Some would describe them as masculine, and they are – but it’s the lowest form of masculine available to mankind, and not the only form which is what feminism seems to think.

It’s very interesting to note that Tom seems pretty ashamed about what he has done. Yet his wife and son Jack are inspired by it: «Are you as sick about hearing about me as I am?,» Tom asks Edie. «In a way, I kind of like it,» she replies, clearly demonstrating that her husband’s capacity to defend her family against bad men is incredibly sexy to her. Jack, on the other hand, feels inspired by the raw power of his father’s masculine capacity to kill in service of those he loves.

Jack and Edie display very primal responses to our Darwinian past, and we must embrace this as part of our humanity lest we suppress it and be controlled by it. There is a darkness in the human psyche that, if harnessed, can be used for much good in the world. Modern men are often characterized by a sort of castration from this power, which makes them less trustworthy in the eyes of both men and women. It is every man’s responsibility to step into the intensity of his own aggressive potential and learn to master it, be it through martial arts, extreme sports, relationship aikido or a skilfully navigated career. No killing necessary! Society’s fear of authentic masculine aggression – which is both grounded, heartfelt and spiritual (a true gift!) – has forced modern men’s authentic self-expression into hiding. From the dark corners of our mind it festers and grows, eating us up from the inside – unless activated in positive and useful ways. We don’t serve anyone by denying our true nature. Psychosis, REAL violence and depression are created in such ways. In fact, I believe it’s a main cause of crime.

The gifts and sins of Joey

As the story develops and mobsters from Joey’s past arrive from Philadelphia, hellbent on setting things straight, Tom starts changing. More and more, we can see Joey come through – by virtue of necessity. Tom can’t defend his family, but Joey can. As Tom yields more and more to Joey, his son Jack starts questioning if he has any idea who his father really is, and becomes extremely conflicted in his perception of him. There is the matter of his identity, perhaps even his soul, to consider. And the safe father who he knew and loved has become someone else – a man who fascinates him deeply, on a primal level, but who also scares him out of his wit. Their developing dynamic has direct implications on Jack’s relationship to high-school bully Bobby who is a pain in Jack’s ass. Bobby is clearly fearful of Jack’s superior intelligence, and when a baseball game fluke has him temporarily outmatch Bobby’s sporting skills as well, Bobby has nothing setting him above Jack in the masculine power-hierarchy anymore – except for the intimidation factor. So he uses that for all that it’s worth. But with Jack’s family now fighting for survival and his father’s evident capacity to splatter people’s brains all over the floor, things are looking a bit different for him. The extreme circumstances free up Jack’s latent masculine power and in the end, he lets Bobby have it and pummels him and his friend. This is obviously not a mature way of dealing with conflict, but given Jack’s situation and Bobby’s character, it gives rise to a very valid question – is it really the worst thing that could happen? This scene gives us the opportunity to pinpoint two key themes of the movie: 1. At what point does violence become a necessity and 2: What amount of violence is within a man’s rights in defense of his honor and his loved ones.

In the first confrontation between Edie and Joey, Edie – having stepped up to protect a family in which Joey rather than Tom is the father of the house – slaps him with all her might and screams “damn you, Joey”. Joey proceeds to assault her, and holds her towards the wall with obvious aggression. It first looks like it’s going to be a rape scene, but it quickly evolves into something much deeper and more nuanced. What becomes clear is that Edie is willing to open up to even the darkness of Joey, and she even likes it. This shames her, but it brings up the question – could any of Joey’s qualities be transformed into gifts, in service of both his family and his wife?

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned

In the end, Tom, who is now equally Joey, returns with his hands tainted by family blood, having whacked both his brother and his useless henchmen back in Philly. The family awaits him, fully aware of their fathers Joey-ness. Tom has resurrected Joey, without losing himself in the process. By whacking all his former mobster compadres, he his fulfilled part of Joey’s karma, and created a truckload new karma for his ever more integrated Tom-Joey identity. He has been found out, the past has caught up with him, and his face reveals he knows the consequences. He has nothing now; no honor, no integrity, no life to speak of. The entire town knows who he is. All that is left is the truth and the faint glimmer of hope that his family won’t reject him.

He enters the kitchen as the alpha man of the flock, but completely broken in every way that matters. The treachery he has committed is so vast that it’s almost inconceivable to his wife. This scene is brilliantly acted out, and has Tom-Joey show extreme vulnerability. Sarah, his precious little daughter steps off her chair, picks up his plate and signals she wants her daddy back.

Conclusion

The History of Violence, the way I’ve chosen to interpret it, is a testament to the importance of integrating our dark side. Tom’s question is how he should integrate Joey in his life and still live as love in the world. By extension, the larger question becomes how we as a society should integrate the dark masculine in our lives, in service of all.

It cuts to the image of a man standing solemnly in a landscape scorched by fire. He is listening, feeling into his surroundings, and there is an air of inevitability about him. The lines on his face show that something big is brewing. As he turns around, a red robin catches his eye, flutters its wings innocently, and shoots off. A subtle, contented smile spreads on the man’s face as his nostrils widen subtly. And then he walks off.

These few, short opening minutes paint a picture of a man at peace with himself, erect with purpose and masculine direction, yet intuitive and sensitive, in tune with the mystery of the vast feminine that surrounds him. He seems to exude qualities just by his presence alone: Trustworthiness, integrity, strength and honour, coupled with a deep love – for what as yet undetermined. This is no ordinary man. He is General Maximus, foremost of Roman generals, father, husband, favoured by the emperor and leader of men.

We find ourselves in the cool lands of northern Europe. It is winter and darkness is near. Rome is on a campaign of war, facing its last battle against the remaining Germanic tribes of the North. As the battlefield unfolds under the watchful gaze of the aging emperor Marcus Aurelius, we bear witness to a testimonial of the superiority of the Roman war machine. This empire, despite its shortcomings, was the “light” of European antiquity, and its unmatched level of civilization gave rise to a war machine that no amount of barbarism, no matter how ferocious, could match.

But something’s afoot behind the drawn carpets of Rome’s marbled halls of power. The senate is fraught with corruption and the emperor is dying. Eager to restore Rome to its past glory, Marcus Aurelius names Maximus protector of Rome until the senate is fit to reign over Rome yet again – as a born again republic.

“Your failings as a son are my failings as a father”

But the emperor’s son Commodus, a scheming and broken man, will have nothing of it. Commodus is suffering intense inner turmoil from what he feels is a lack of acceptance and love from his own father. “Commodus is not a moral man. He cannot rule!,” Aurealius exclaims to Maximus as he tries to convince him of why he must accept “The honor that has been bestowed upon him.” Maximus declines, at which Aurelius insists “that is exactly why you must rule!” Maximus reminds us that  any man who desires power for power’’s sake alone – and not for the sake of a greater calling – will become corrupted and hurt both himself and his surroundings. With heavy heart, Maximus accepts his destiny, and realizes that his reunification with his family – his wife and son for whom he desperately longs – is still far off.

Commodus is living on the hope that he will be named emperor upon his father’’s death. Yet in a key scene, matter of factly, as if it was never in question, he tells him “You will not be emperor.” The long overdue confrontation with his father that he was never brave enough to intitiate thus finally unfolds. Commodus is a Lover archetype, not quite the Emperor-material as Maximus’ King archetype, and has spent all his life hungering for his father’s love and his “warm embrace”. The poor way in which he has handled the lack of it has become the source of his corruption. The emperor, noble as he may be, is as much to blame for what unfolds as his son. He softly acknowledges this, on his knees and with tears in his eyes. Aurelius has heeded that primordial calling that says that any masculine man will have to prioritize his calling over his relationships, lest he will suffer, and by extension those around him will suffer. Aurelius has not managed to balance this well enough, however, and his son’’s resentments are the result. “Why do you hate me so much!”, Commodus wails, with tears in his eyes, before he embraces his father – and kills him, before he had the opportuniy to announce Maximus’ protectorship.

The learning from this scene is that, as Commodus finally gets the love he wants from his father, he has become incapable of receiving it. The love feels so painful and so tainted with bitterness that it becomes the motive for murder. ANY man must be willing to enter a confrontation with his father, lest the corruption of their relationship will remain and not yield to the nobility and immensity of father-son love. Yet Commodus couldn”t, because he was from the outset an emotionally fragile person, wishing just to be held, to be loved. By disconnecting from his true self as a Lover, wishing he could instead be the polar opposite Warrior, he has gone to war with himself, and is no more a free man.

Commodus immediately starts his scheming and plotting, and as Maximus swears no allegiance to the new Emperor, in Commodus’ mind, he is a dead man. Maximus’ second in command Quintus puts loyalty to the concept of Rome higher than his own heart, a sign of his dubious honor, and accepts the burden of executing his friend.

Bread and games

Maximus escapes, only to find his family slaughtered by the vengeful forces of Rome. Emptied of all desire to live, feeling the tempting echoes of eternity, he is picked up by a slave caravan and brought to Zucchabar, where the next part of his journey unfolds. He is to be Gladiator, most unwilling of all. He is after all Maximus, Rome’’s first general, and no mere sewer-dog. Yet fight he must, if live he wishes, and his honor both inside and outside the arena quickly wins him the support and allegiance of his gladiator friends. This reminds us that a man is not at the mercy of his surroundings – he shapes them through his own inner strength and call for expanding love and honor in the world.

Maximus is part of Proximo’s Gladiatorial crew. Proximo is a former slave, who was granted his freedom by Marcus Aurelius himself. He now makes his living from that which he was freed from, but the days of the roaring crowds at the Colosseum have ended, and Gladiator games are not what they used to be.

With Commodus now emperor, bread and games are back, and Maximus soon finds himself the golden boy of the crowds in the mighty Colosseum. Commodus descends deeper and deeper into his own corruption, and his sexual desire for his sister Lucilla grows ever greater as she is the last person in the world with any glimmer of love for him. Any person, man or woman, wishes for love more than anything. Yet for a man with a masculine essence, which Commodus does have, the desire for freedom is greater still. His lack of being loved has become his prison cell, the key for which he rejected when he killed his father. Now the incestuous desire for his own sister and the promise of being loved by his people, are the only things left to live for.

Maximus is an honorable man, erect with purpose, driven by his unshakable love and honor. Even though that has become tainted with thoughts of revenge, his core remains unshaken. He will never become a dishonorable man. This honor soon becomes the very reason why the crowds of the Colosseum love him so. They are a primitive group of people, there only to feed their primal lower-chakra desires of seeing death and rebirth unfold before them. Incidentally, this is much the same as the modern fascination with gory films such as Saw. Just as we are, they are there to vent, taking a break from a life of civility and politeness, and worshiping that masculine fascination with the release of death. Maximus doesn’t fear death (he almost longs for it)  and is stronger than any man or woman cheering him on. In the end, his towering presence and masculine strength of honor cuts through that primal bloodthirstiness of the crowd, and reminds them yet again of what we can aspire for as human beings. He inspires them, spreading echoes of that which could have been – greatness – in the hearts of those who watch. As a Gladiator, Maximus has come to epitomize that which the Roman Empire stands for – glory, strength, honor and love. He cannot die, because the promise of Rome dies with him. This is what brings him such power, as a mere slave. This is the strength of one man’s heart.

“Now we are free”

This strength inevitably brings him his freedom, although at the cost of his life. The masculine always longs for release, be it through victory, fulfilling a calling or dying. The ending provides Maximus with all, and the nobility of his death carries such great emotional weight and the promise of being greater that it has tears roll down the faces of grown men – if they dare stay open – and their hearts expand with purpose. He has proven that the power of one human heart is greater than an empire counting millions, if it is aligned with truth and love. Nobody takes any note of Commodus, lying dead at his side in the arena. Commodus could have been a good man, but he chose not to be, through making one bad decision after another. The only thing separating the two – their moment to moment decisions, truth over lies, love over unlove.

General Maximus – Gladiator, is the ultimate masculine icon, living only to serve, dedicated to his family, making no compromises with his own heart and caring for his people like a father. He represents qualities that aren’t given weight in the raising of young men in today’s world. Yet, just like with the crowds of the Colosseum, he reaches us in such a way that we are reminded that deep inside us, those primordial qualities still exist, desperately longing to be freed from the bondage of modern life, free as forces conducting the future of humanity. This is the destiny of any man. And Commodus reminds us that we ignore it at our own peril.