I am no anthropologist but even in my rudimentary studies of human culture, it seems clear to me that humankind has venerated more goddesses than gods, and worshipped deity as female far longer than male.
The triumph of the jealous Judeo-Christian-Islam father-god is but a mere moment, by no means universal, by no means eternal.
It only makes sense. As a primitive man, I might bow down to a male god out of fear of his masculine wrath, his power to stir up the seas and burn the earth. But in the softness of sun-warmed spring soil, in the dew upon the fields, in the beauty of the flowers opening their petals, the ripening of the fruits upon the trees, and the whisper of a breeze as it slips past me, certainly in a baby’s cry, in life itself, I know that I would see Woman.
What divine pleasures for the senses woman offers! The lullaby of her loving voice, the warmth of her hands, the softness of her form, the taste of her lips and the profound joy that a man gets out of intimately knowing and serving her – who can describe it!
She is valley and mountain, moon and star, ocean and stream, bird and butterfly. She is storm and calm, spring and summer, fall and winter.
Each mortal woman is a reflection of the universe, a jewel from the cosmic treasury, sparkling for a brief moment like a drop of water tossed up by the waves of the sea, before returning to her holy origin.
