Venus and Her Lover: Transforming Myth, Sexuality, & Ourselves
by Becca Tzigany
www.venusandherlover.com
Copyright © 2018 by Becca Tzigany
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the website below.
Except for the artwork of JG Bertrand and Becca Tzigany, all images are in the Public Domain and/or fall under the doctrine of Fair Use. To dispute the copyright of any of the reproduced images, please contact venusandherlover.com
Author photo credit: Peaceful
ISBN 13: 978-0-9743138-3-2 (paperback)
ISBN 13: 978-0-9743138-6-3 (hardcover)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018910917
Published by Yab/Yum Original Tantric Art
In association with Identity Publications
Table of Contents
PREFACE to Volume II
HAWAI’I
BETWEEN TRAPEZES ON PELE’S ISLAND
ALIGNED WITH VENUS
THE DANCE OF THE ETERNAL COUPLE
SEX IN THE LAND OF THE FREE
THE PASSION OF PELE
HONORING THE ‘AINA
ALOHA ‘OE! A HUI HO!
NEW MEXICO
WANDERING IN THE DESERT
MOHAMMED MEETS KUAN YIN AS CRONE
THE TAO OF TAOS
THE COTERIE
WORLD MOUNTAIN
REAL VALENTINES
IN THE PALM OF HER HAND
NUESTRA SEÑORA AND THE LORDS OF TIME
THE GRAND UNVEILING
WITHIN THE SILENCE OF CHACO
LA QUERENCIA
INDIA
SALVATION IN THE LAND OF THE FREE
HIMALAYAN HIGH
AT THE FEET OF THE GURU
WHAT HAPPENED TO SHAKTI
KAMA
DARK VENUS
IN THE SHADOW OF ISHTAR
THE ROAD TO AGUADA REDUX
EPILOGUE
ETHEREAL EPILOGUE
APPENDICES
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BIBLIOGRAPHY
GLOSSARY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Endnotes
Index
PREFACE to Volume II
What is the second maxim of Tantra? I would say it is this:
Experience the Two as One.
From the moment we perceive polar opposites – Masculine and Feminine, black and white, expansion and contraction – and go on to experience the many and myriad phenomena of the world, there is an inner longing to find our way back to Unity, to the One.
In Volume I of this story, I describe the man-woman attraction I shared with my beloved, James, and how our calling as artists prodded us to resolve the twofoldness of life into the oneness of eternity. In a world of duality, we learn by contrast, so James and I learned further by facing the unloved and dastardly parts of ourselves and our world. Without diving into the Shadow, we cannot be whole. This is true for each of us individually, as well as for collective humanity.
Venus and Her Lover – Transforming Myth, Sexuality, and Ourselves describes ten years of the globetrotting Tantric adventures of two artistic lovers – James a painter, and me a writer – as we careened our way toward an alluring center – the essential nature of the Self, the Other, and the All That Is. While James created the erotic paintings and I wrote poetry to them, it was a journey of liberation for us both. We discovered secrets and clues to a much wider liberation, which I offer up to you through these tomes.
This is a true story. Herein I have written my experience of events that really happened, even though they may sound magical or multidimensional or downright unbelievable. Details of certain characters and situations have been changed, according to their wishes and the requirements of proper storytelling.
Recap of Key Concepts and Contexts from Volume I
James and I kept a happy household with son Alex, while living a Caribbean lifestyle on the beach in Puerto Rico. Upon embarking on a Tantric art project, we unconsciously invoked archetypes – notably Venus, Goddess of Love, and Mars, God of War – who lured us to uncover the seeds of conflict between Woman and Man throughout history. “What started the War between the Sexes?” was a question that dogged us. As we followed a trail of clues, we discerned dynamic as well as sinister patterns. Many of the messages we received came through the artistic process of creating paintings and poetry based on erotic encounters between us as lovers and with others.
What we learned up to this point in the story:
Most of the human race is organized under a Dominator System, with the elites at the top of a pyramid of power taking advantage of those below.
The dynamic of master-slave/predator-prey/perpetrator-victim even permeates the relationships between lovers.
For the past millennia, since men (with God at the top) have largely ruled over others, it has been called the Patriarchy. However, the Dominator System requires the compliance of both women and men. In an effort to attain more balance, recent times have seen the rise of the Divine Feminine, with focus on the Goddess.
These mythological characters (gods and goddesses) give a “face” to archetypal energies that are always at play in our reality, whether we recognize them or not. They are energies within us all. James and I gradually got wise to invoking them more consciously.
We are at a Change of an Age. The balance of power is shifting. Which ways it goes depends on our participation.
Tantra is a spiritual path that encourages practice at balancing and unifying the polarities. In the physical, we can practice Sacred Sexuality. While there are sexual techniques one can practice, it is principally an internal alchemy that anyone can pursue.
The sexual union of the Feminine and the Masculine creates a synergy that is so powerful, it stokes our potential for enormous transformation – within ourselves and our society.
Such potential is a threat to the Dominator System, and has been suppressed through the ages by making Sacred Sexuality dirty, shameful, and dangerous. This campaign has been carried out principally through religion.
Driven by the enormity of our undertaking, James and I surrendered our personal ideas of how our lives should be. We left behind our Caribbean home when we responded to the call to move to Italy, the “birthplace” of the art project’s protagonists, Venus and Mars.
After three years of producing art and enjoying an idyllic life in a mountaintop Tuscan village, we were lured to the other side of the world – to the island of Hawai’i. Our family pulled up roots again, to continue the adventure.
What started the War Between the Sexes? Why were we so obsessed with finding out? These questions and more would be answered for us in most personal ways, which I reveal here in Volume II of Venus and Her Lover – Transforming Myth, Sexuality, and Ourselves.
Becca Tzigany
Vilcabamba
March 2018
HAWAI’I
Element
of FIRE
BETWEEN TRAPEZES ON PELE’S ISLAND
Being on the tightrope is living; everything else is waiting.
~ Karl Wallenda
&nb
sp; Few places have I been where an ancient goddess still holds court. In Mexico, perhaps, where the indigenous goddess blazes forth in a yonic halo in the form of the Christian la Virgen de Guadalupe, and in the Caribbean islands, where Oshun comes dancing alive in Santería and Voudoun ceremonies. In Hawai’i,86 the pagan volcano goddess Pele is, without a doubt, a palpable force to be reckoned with. And nowhere in the islands is her presence more strongly felt than on the Big Island, the island of Hawai’i, for which the whole state is named. Some say she still tends the fires of the Kilauea volcano on the south end of the island. Like most people call NOAA for a weather update, we could call the Volcano National Park for an eruption update. Natives seem keenly aware that Pele is the Creatress and that wherever you step on Hawai’i is Pele’s handiwork. Legend has it that Pele considers all the volcanic rocks her children, and expects them to be left at home. Countless tourists have picked up pieces of lava and taken them back with them, only to frantically return them to park rangers and hotel workers, recounting tales of bad luck and mishaps and pleading that they please return the rocks to their place of origin. The Hawaiian rangers and hoteliers comply, ceremonially replacing the rocks that routinely arrive in the mail.
One of my favorite experiences on Hawai’i was coming upon makeshift altars – on the beach, on a hiking trail, at a heiau (ancient temple site) – coral and lava rocks arranged geometrically with a plumeria blossom in the middle, a lei of orchids with a bottle of gin, leaves stuck in the ground around an unusual stone. I understood and honored these shrines, and often built my own while chanting my personal prayers. These places would be considered strong in mana, which is a Pacific Islander concept of spiritual power. The authority of the kahunas (masters of their craft; in this case, spirituality and sorcery) is based on the mana they hold. Places, people, and animals can build up – as well as lose! – mana, which can be directed toward healing and manifestation. Interestingly, it was believed that the two main paths to acquiring mana were through the righteous and courageous actions of the Warrior, or the irresistible sexual actions of the Lover.
Ancient Hawaiians, by indigenous necessity, loved and lived connected with the land. Aloha ‘a-ina (loving the land) was their code of ethics. They felt an authentic kinship with the natural world, believing that plants and animals had consciousness and that humans were descended, via evolution, from a coral polyp (according to the Kumulipo creation chant). So their ancestral spirits live(d) within the earth, sea, and cosmos. Even today, the state motto says, “Ua mau ke ea o ka ‘a-ina i ka pono” (“The life of the land is preserved in righteousness”).
Within a month of arriving on the Big Island, James and I traveled south to hike into the lava fields, where we burned a Giclée print of “Pele and the Prince” – our own artistic offering to the goddess. “Please, Madame Pele, receive our offering,” I intoned. “Please let us stay here.” At first the print would not catch fire, but then it blazed, and I felt relieved. For we had heard many stories about what a harsh mistress this goddess could be. “If you do not please her, she kicks you off the island,” we were told. “If you last a year, you can probably stay, but many don’t make that first year,” we were warned. “Sometimes Pele just gives you the lesson you need, and then you can move on.”
Being a “cunning linguist,” I began studying the Hawaiian language. I was fascinated with the round Polynesian sounds; most words were jam-packed with vowels. Maybe Pele would appreciate my budding efforts with traditional Hawaiian chants. I loved their musicality. This practice helped me tune in to our new home on the Kona side of the island.
According to a New Age interpretation, the seven Hawaiian Islands represent the seven chakras. The Big Island of Hawai’i, being the southernmost one, has first-chakra associations with survival, sexuality, Earth, the color red, and kundalini energy. Pele’s fire and earth and our campaign to beat the drum for conscious sexuality were destined to tangle on her island. Could we survive here? Would she support us in our work?
As soon as we began unpacking, James set up his studio in our carport, a pebble’s throw from the house: not ideal conditions for his painting space, but with the high rent, we figured we would make do. “I want to get going painting,” he said.
“Not quite yet, James,” I told him. “Our first priority is to build our website.” So we did. It took months, but we made our presence on the World Wide Web. James acquiesced; since he had gotten off painkillers, his knees had been hurting, so he was not up to standing at the canvas yet anyway. While searching for an affordable doctor, we began dietary and other alternative strategies for his knees. Gradually his pain began to subside.
It was a work-intensive time – setting up a new household, getting our son settled in a new school, adjusting to living in the United States, and creating our website – but we sustained ourselves with our swims in the bays. Spinner dolphins often came close to shore, and as we learned how to swim with them, we were awed by their playful intelligence. The whole area was an informal campus of human-cetacean interaction, lightheartedly called “Dolphinville.” Whereas Italians gathered in cafés, this community met at the beach and on the black lava flows at ocean’s edge.
Since swimming was an activity James could handle, we often began our days in the sea. Snorkeling was as natural to me as walking, and I thrilled to be among the colorful coral reef once again. One sunny day as I bobbed in the deep blue water beholding how Mauna Loa volcano reclines into the sea, I peered at the scene before me: the gradual slope of the land, the palm trees shimmering against the blue sky, the carved wooden tikis and steep thatched roof of Hale o Keawe, the waves splashing against the black lava rock. This was Pu’uhonua o Hõnaunau, the old Hawaiian royal grounds and “city of refuge.” It seemed so familiar to me... where had I seen it before? Could it be...? When I got home, I looked at James’ painting, “Pele and the Prince,” the background of which was after a Herb Kawainui Kane painting. Thumbing through Kane’s book, Voyagers, I spotted the painting James had used for inspiration: “Honaunau Bay.” So James had painted our way to Hawai’i! Unconsciously following that image to the other side of the world, we now found ourselves living within sight of Honaunau Bay.
“I’m thinking about painting,” he told me in the spring.
“Yes, of course,” I told him. “But we have so much to do to market The Pillow Deck.” And we did: placing ads, researching outlets, daily phone calls and emails. I was keenly aware of our monthly bills in Hawai’i; we needed to generate income, and we had an oracle deck to sell.
The rains of summer began. “I have to paint!” James declared.
“Go paint!” I told him. “But please complete the poster for our show first, and work out these numbers on our Opportunity Summary.”
With Pillow Deck sales not enough to sustain us, we decided to seek funding for our work. This was not a farfetched idea. The Renaissance happened largely because the Medicis of Florence and the Sforzas of Milan commissioned Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci to create art. And without the monthly checks from his brother Theo, Vincent van Gogh could not have kept himself in canvas and paints. There were rich people in Hawai’i. The upscale building boom was contributing to the tight housing market, consequently shooting up rents and pushing native Hawaiians and the poor into more remote enclaves. Maybe the rich sensed destabilizing Earth changes, and were going to make Hawai’i their castle, with a vast moat around it.
The flip side of such unfortunate consequences was that there was money on the Big Island. Our friends Nassim and Amber had moved here and found funding. Nassim was being supported so that he could collaborate with physicist Elizabeth Rauscher and finish his physics papers on their unified field theory, with promises of financing to build his lab.
We followed Nassim’s progress, and a group of friends who lived on the Kona side of the island met at least monthly as a support group for all of our ventures. In May, we feted each other over my birthday cake
, a chocolate almond cake with mango/coconut/banana/macadamia nut filling exquisitely baked by our “dessert oracle” Ann. Of the dozen people there, we realized we were all “black sheep” in our families – the travelers, artists, healers, visionaries, and scientist who had left behind the alleged security of traditional lifestyles and now found ourselves on this newest land, Pele’s island.
“To the black sheep!” we toasted our shot glasses of homemade lychee liquor.
“No! We are the Black WHole Sheep!” James cheered. This referred to Nassim’s theory about black holes being at the center of galaxies and stars.
More clanging of glasses…” Because we are so ba-a-a-ad!” And we laughed till we cried at the cutting truth of our shared isolation from the conventional world. Thus was born our moniker, Ohana Black WHole Sheep, for we truly felt we were ohana (“family” in Hawaiian).
One of the Ohana Black WHole Sheep was Amalia Camateros, author of the book, Spirit of the Stones - A Retrieval of Earth Wisdom. She had left her husband, her naturopathic medical clinic, and an established life in Australia because she heard the rocks of the Earth calling. Looks like Alex wasn’t the only one listening to rocks! Her vision quest led her through Mexico, the American Southwest, and now Hawai’i. While living in Sedona, she got fed up with the travails of being a visionary on a budget. “I was sick and tired of driving a car that always broke down, and just the whole struggle. So I went to the red rocks, and sank into my shamanic powers. I danced around a fire, invoking my next car: wouldn’t I love to be driving a BMW? And then I thought, ‘why stop at the car?’ and danced my financial support...”
Sure enough, once she was on the Big Island, a wealthy couple witnessed one of her shamanic dances and was so intrigued, they ended up becoming her benefactors. They gave her enough to cover living expenses until she finished writing her book. Hawaiian living expenses being what they are, she conserved her money by living in a luxury tent. And her car? Her benefactor gave her a car as a gift: a BMW.
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