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Not my way of salvation, The Sacred Whore: Only golden leaves remain from the harvest. Caught between the last light of heaven and the dark of the Earth, they hang, fragile and tenuous. Cornucopias of fruits have been condensed and put away, ready to nourish us while the land sleeps. The first fall frost creeps up the valley, laying ghostly hands on all remaining blossoms. Everything shudders from the mist, the fog, the onset of cold. Fat and sleek, plumped up with sweet fruit and honey, we prepare for our long winter nap, our time of sluggishness, our days of communal holidays, our nights of endless dreams. Touching, drifting, inward thinking mark the season. 'Tis now the time of Scorpio, love, lust, heavy blankets and heavy breathing. Does making sex sacred remove all lust, all carnality, all passion? Is making Sacred Sex and making sex sacred the same thing? Does ritualization of sex diminish the appetite -- that hot, smelly, sweaty, crazed itch that only passionate sex will scratch? Why is it common for a husband to become uncomfortable about having sex with his wife once she has had a child -- the Madonna/Whore complex so well-studied in psychological circles? Why is the hooker business so profitable? What makes a whore a whore? Is sex with a prostitute different? How? Why? Join us as we explore Mary Magdalene and Sacred Sex for our November issue. The articles are listed on the homepage and at What's New, below. |
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