The Penetration of Nations
This is our relationship with Mother Earth in 2019.
“We all come from the same Mother. It is this basic fact which unites us and it is this fact that dictates why not only respecting but going above and beyond to tell the stories of women is a key to unlock us from the trap of dominance, exploitation, and other forms of extractive energy that is destroying our only nest.” — Jenny Carrington for Greenpeace USA
I haven’t stopped weeping on and off for several days. The tears remind me that I am a woman. My womb is yearning for a man who has forsaken me time and time again — exploited me sexually and emotionally, verbally abused me. And yet, it is my nature to seek harmony and reproduce with this man relentlessly if even through the cycle of destruction and resurrection in our relationship (or lack thereof).
All of my clothes and gear are wet from the repeated thunderstorms. My lady parts are wet with desire too. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man.
Am I a good feminist? I wonder.
How can I still desire this man? Do I even care about the divine? Do I speak like I care about the divine? Is my earthly rage courageous or cowardly? Can I be a voice for Mother Earth having borne no children myself? Can I feel her needs beneath my feet with each step taken with the intention to restore balance?
My name is Jenny “Meatballs” Carrington, and I am over 1,400 miles into my coast-to-coast hike for climate action, the Earthwalk. From Delaware to Oklahoma so far, with a final destination of California, I am on a quest for radical collaboration for a healthier future. I am documenting the stories and viewpoints of average Americans along the way and spearheading various earth-friendly initiatives ranging from innovate blue/green technology for food security to conscious festivals and plastic reduction strategies.
The hike itself has been simultaneously humbling and empowering. On one hand, I feel invisible. On the other, invincible. I’m weeping because I wish he saw me as invincible too. I wish more than anything that I was not invisible to him. The man, that is.
The man that I love has abused me the way that mankind abuses La Tierra. Gaia. He has drilled deep into my guts, wrenched them out as an energy source and left me with open wounds. No wonder we can permit off-shore drilling and modern-day fracking. Because we do not fully understand the divinity of penetration and the power of healing, restoration, and unconditional love that resides in the feminine.
As a species, we have become indignant. Pig-headed. With a false sense of courage and aggression. Blasting. Exploding. Torturing her womb despite its cries to serve us — and she is starting to fight back. Both womankind and Mother Earth are starting to fight back vehemently — and now we are all confused.
Are we self-righteous enough to believe that we can change the course of nature, or are we conversely neglectful stewards not to try and repair the obvious damage mankind has done? Does Mother Earth need mankind to prosper like a woman needs a man to be a mother?
The penetration of a man’s existence into Mother Earth has been, at times, the creative life force of genius at play. The Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Mayans, Native Americans and many more leaving structural, architectural, and social magnificence. But at what cost? When did things take a turn for the worse?
Are we just now feeling the trauma of man’s footprints hundreds and thousands of years later, or is it the Industrial Revolution to blame?
Does blame do anything anyway? How do we know when we have hurt Mother Earth and when we have protected her? What are the signs and signals?
Does what we do even matter?
I know that, as a woman, my intuition is strong. I know because every time I listen to it, magic happens. I conjure the people and things I need and I avoid potential mishaps. When I hear my intuition like a soft whisper in my psyche but choose not to listen—or, more often, I simply forget, am not present with myself, or am too lazy to listen and prepare accordingly—I often find that my fears manifest into truth. This is my reality almost without fail.
It took me a long time to allow myself the space to hear my own voice over the chatter of everything I was supposed to be. I was supposed to be an A student, a thin ballerina, a sexy flirt (but not a slut). I wasn’t supposed to laugh at rape jokes, but I also wasn’t supposed to be such a hardened feminist that I wasn’t still an adorable sweetheart who was marriage material. I was supposed to deny the sex I wanted and have the sex that was offered from the men who treated me right. But what happens now that I can no longer deny that the nutritious erotica that keeps my creativity flowing is coming from the same vessel that’s abusing me?
This is our relationship with Mother Earth in 2019. Mankind has the power to replenish, revitalize, and restore in conjunction with the natural cycle of penetration in order to be vessels of unlimited creative potential. Instead, we are choking her voice, and calling her activists crazy.
“Why don’t you just stop paying attention to those guys and go after what you want? Stop playing the victim. You can’t heal others until you’ve healed yourself,” one man said to me in a relatively cordial conversation in which he attempted to listen to me but had no desire to empathize with my pain or to take a public stand for violence against women.
“What I want,” I began to reply, “is for men to really, really listen compassionately without doubling down on how a woman who is sharing her story is whining, complaining, playing victim, or otherwise undeserving of the help and healing she requires. What I want is for society at large to really just hear the cries and howls for full and unconditional acceptance of the traumatic emotional, psychological, and financial effects of a patriarchy that devalues us in the workplace, the office, and the bedroom—even if you don’t think you personally are responsible. What I want is for us to develop a culture of nurturance, care, and responsibility for the precious life bearing force of both women and Mother Earth. You don’t need to be “healed” in order to help others. Healing is a dynamic process that occurs within healthy relationships when we are able to understand one another and our stories.”
“Well, If that’s what you’re after, then you better have a damn good story to tell,” he concluded.
“Oh I do. Trust me. We all do — but you have to be ready, open and receptive to being penetrated in return. This is the cycle of life, and this is how we learn love. Perhaps, if we would just let Mother Earth speak through the voices of our women, the moral of the story might be painfully obvious: Without the constant stress, degradation, exploitation, and abuse, she might just give us the abundance, peace, prosperity, and love we seek and desire.”