By Barb Hauge
We have all heard legends of the mythical Amazons, a race of warrior women who spurned any need for men.
In the Grecian language, Amazon means without a breast, because the right breast was removed to enable women to handle a bow with greater dexterity and accuracy. In Greek history/mythology Amazons were fierce fighters in the Trojan War. Those were the days when gods came down to Earth and involved themselves in the affairs of men, and women. Many had affairs with men and women and there was much begetting; producing offspring half-god and half-human. Amazon women supposedly spurned such nonsense and took no part in human procreation.
The image of a race of women warriors, totally free of male dominance, often appeals to women while scorned and feared by men. There are cultures which deny women certain foods for fear the food will enable them to take power away from men. In ancient times South America was said to have a race of Amazons who operated a bit like a bee colony with a Queen Bee calling the shots. They had to reproduce or become extinct, so captured males were used for breeding and then killed, much as bees dispose of their drones. Male babies, born to Amazon women, lived only until their period of service was over. Thats about as far from motherly instinct as one can get.
The legendary goddess of love (variously named Aphrodite or Venus or Asarte) rose up from the foaming sea, married the homeliest of the gods and then proceeded to have many lovers and children. When the much-married movie goddess Elizabeth Taylor was asked if women need men, her erotic replay was, Yes! Yes! Oh, god, yes! While the sensually beautiful and tragic Marilyn Monroe confessed, I have given myself away, every part of me.
Speaking of gifts, I wrote a poem I call Gifts for my dear husband:
How is it, My Dear, that you love me? How can I count the ways? How many Gifts have you given me through all the nights and days? You gave me the Gift of Love. You gave me so many joys. You gave me the Gift of laughter and four beautiful baby boys!
You call me to watch the sunset and the full moon so big and bright; to listen to a Tennessee Warbler or the Northern Lights in the night. Once, my Christmas stocking held tickets to a New Years dance where the Moms and Dads were playing in Great Falls. What a glorious chance!
And then, when 30 years we were wed my stocking was stuffed once more with tickets to Blue Hawaii; we went twice to that beautiful shore. You never forget that I need you. You usually know how I feel. You are a Master at the Art of Massage and you Know Me, from head to heel!
