This gets a little adult, and very very strange.
Explosion. Expansion, orgasm.
Explosion. Destruction, death.
Why? I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out. But there's a powerful relationship, at least as a guy, between the two. A sort of catharsis, a transformation from one state to another by means of violent transfer of energy. Key word being violent. It's a pretty dark part of the human psyche, and not one I'm positive I understand, let alone have any control over.
The two lines that start this post, I wrote as part of a freewriting exercise I do most mornings, in which I take a word at random from a dictionary and write about half a page on it. I got Explosion, and that's the first thing that came to mind. An association to sexuality. And if that makes me screwed up, well, it can just get in line behind the other fifty things that do. But something tells me it doesn't, no more than any other male of roughly my age and sexual inclination. One of the core themes of human sexuality is the concept of dominance; it has been and likely always will be. The concept stems from, of course, natural selection, and it's special in that it's one of the few traits that's still rewarded in today's society. The dominant male takes hold of industry, economy, everything, and the submissive female is carried by him to the top, where she can raise and care for her children in peace and security. It's stupid, misogynistic, and completely unnecessary, but it's there. And what better display of dominant power than an explosion?
The strange part is that, in reality, it makes absolutely no sense. And explosion is uncontrolled, unstoppable. That is not good in any situation. I've always envied explosives engineers, the people who shape charges for mining operations and the like, because they seem to have an understanding of power and control that few people share. Meanwhile everyone else stands around and oohs and ahhs because explosions are like, totally awesome. They're a pop culture phenomenon. A movie star is not famous until he/she walks away from one, perhaps pushed slightly by the blast, or donning sunglasses. There is no sign of power and destruction more obvious and complete than an exploding building, or mine, or mountain. And that obsession comes from somewhere. That lack of control that can send massive boulders or walls flying hundreds of feet. Above all, the concept that someone caused it, that the figure currently walking coolly from the wreckage is responsible for that awesome energy. It...excites us. No, I'm not saying that exploding buildings arouse people, at least, not in a purely sexual way. But sex is embedded in a lot more actions than people realize, and I feel that all these weird, dark relationships are not just coincidence.
Sex is an act of creation. I believe that firmly. So why the strange obsession with destruction?
Why the strange obsession with Phoenixes?
They're born by dying. Rising from the ashes, a metaphor that was a cliche before the Phoenix was ever invented. In its most elemental form it's a fire, rising from an ember buried in the ashes of last night's fire. The circle of life. The turning wheel, where what once was will always come around again. And it starts and ends in fire, consuming and creating all at the same time, something that started as an evolutionary instinct and became buried so deep in our subconscious that it has permeated every level of our being. People say that it's language that separated us from animals, or abstract thought, or learning, but I think it's fire. From the start, it was fire, that little microcosm of a life that was radically different from that of any other animal, a life that consumes far too much and yet puts out enormous energy that can be manipulated buy never fully controlled. Sound familiar?
This is just a theory. A complex, meandering theory that contains zero percent hard cited facts. But it feels right, and this is a philosophy blog. I'd be happy to know what people think of this, and a comment, whatever your opinion, would be much obliged.
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