The hexagram currently ruling the psychic differentiation of the human race is 11, STANDSTILL, Heaven over Earth. All beings, on the eve of the disappearance of polarity, rush to secure their own sex. The conjunction of opposites is rapidly becoming obsolete, as all powerful expressions of male and female are annihilated. Heroic struggle is an object of parody, tragic conflict a pretension. Like attracts like. Biological reproduction continues as usual; human beings are born with the bodies of little boys or little girls. But there are no babies born today who possess either a pure masculine or pure feminine charge. Like most of their parents they are neither one nor both. They are not even neutral. They are null.
There are parodies of men conducting business as usual, huffing and puffing and blowing arid life into their progeny of ideas, creations, art. In the past we could always count on men to turn this stuff out as long as women kept creating the life he abstracted. The males reproduced the dust and bones called civilization and the females the flesh and blood called life. Only now all true self-contained representatives of the female sex are gone. The “women” who are not lesbians are merely the props of the great decaying masculine world, women as man thinks they should have been created. Those who retain a vestige of the feminine, the lesbians, have withdrawn from their role in sustaining the old rigamarole. The remaining “men” are left high and dry, parodies of the truly masculine. Acts of homosexuality continue on a grand scale between men and the stiff, not-quite-lifelike creations of men, the so-called women.
We propose a new ruling hexagram for the continued evolution of the human race, 44, COMING TO MEET.
“The maiden is powerful. One should not marry such a maiden. . . . Of its own accord the female principle comes to meet the male.”
Those females who would survive reject man and come forth to meet the inner male, seeking to join the essence of female with the masculine function of consciousness as it might be expressed through them. The source of it all, however, the inexhaustible well, is abandoned in the excitement and fascination with heretofore unexplored regions of the psyche. Tragically, the conscious function is imitated in all the dull and anachronistic styles with which man has endowed it. The essential powers of both male and female are lost.
The lesbians — let it be known! — have the living meat and the glimmering of the Uranian pineal eye. But too many now are practicing their own self-extinction. In aggressively promoting and advertising the female principle via the masculine propaganda principle they have sacrificed raw female power for visibility. They have cut themselves loose from the subterranea which is their privilege to inhabit and risen like scummy male politicians to the surface. They are left with zero sex, the nullification of the possibilities of dramatic tension. The successful lesbian today is a cancelled being, perhaps the equals sign of an uninhabited equation. She comprises the lubricating fluid, but can neither generate nor receive the spark which would renew the sexual flow. God knows and the angels prove that both sexes may inhabit one and the same being, but these lesbians have obliterated both.
There are, however, throughout our community, this suffering a-polar cell, groups of workers so inwardly focused that they are visible only by the way they distort nearby light. In these groups the beings called the New Lesbians are performing their grand polymorphous sexual experiments. Certain adepts have learned to generate small centripetal whirlwinds which they then wield with pinpoint precision, inducing the growth of separate masculine and feminine centers of energy WITHIN THEIR OWN BODIES. Some have awakened as many as seven separate dyads.
In these beings proceeds the revival and restoration of True Sex. They are, in fact, Sex personified. Their appearance signals the imminent decline of the pathetic rubbings and chafings of the depolarized mounds of flesh.
Yes the reproductive instinct survives! The New Lesbians are their own progeny, engaged in continual self-recreation. Even the power of mitosis will soon be theirs — new, dynamic flesh and blood from a single parent, and, like that parent, a being complete unto itself. How sick will the meioting beings around them appear as they frantically divide half into half, half of that into half, and so on, never, by Zeno’s Paradox reaching zero population, but arriving eventually, in some infinitesimal fraction of a dimension, a dry, diminutive, freakish race.
And know this, you who inhabit the land without sex: bare of violent unions and cruel conflict, the tragic distance closed: URANUS entered the sign of the Scorpion on November 21. Sexual activity within those invisible eggs of activity even now rises to a furious pitch, maniacal, vividly pigmented. There sex is not the urge of sniveling one-dimensional bodies whining for what they lack. It is first the self-contained love of a god for its own completeness. And second, the impulse of a god to drive itself crazy with creation, linking with other gods in the single demented desire to squeeze into life all life that has never yet been imagined.
There are at this moment New Lesbians who were once women, and there are New Lesbians who were once men. There are New Lesbians with the bodies of women who love New Lesbians with the bodies of men, New Lesbians with the bodies of women who love those with the bodies of women, and those with the bodies of men who love those with the bodies of men.
There are rumors of unheard-of sexes and bodies as immense as planets. There is the blinking of the pineal eye at the core of the brain soaked with unimagined colors. There is the budding of organs of flight. The faint scent of blood saturated with ghostly light. Nutation of the poles. Mutation of the fittest.