- Why, they’re my breasts – I’m your baby… and if you let me I’ll suck them ‘til I’m 5 years old.
- No, they’re mine – I’m the soft porn in the ads and the page 3 girls in the daily paper. Those breasts can sell anything!
- No, they’re my breasts – I’m the X rated porn industry, one of the USA’s greatest exports.
- No, they’re mine – I’m the bra manufacturer. With every second person being double breasted we support the big ones and pad out the little ones. We’re on a winner!
- No, they’re my breasts – I’m the cosmetic surgeon; a nip, a tuck, enlargements and reductions… defying gravity is our specialty.
- No, they’re mine – I’m the cancer industry. The only thing I haven’t got for breast cancer is a reason or a cure.
- No, they’re my breasts – I’m the politician who gets to use the ‘breast’ word as many times as I like when I’m talking about breast cancer appeals.
- No, they’re mine – I’m the guys on the construction sites that wolf whistle as you go past – while bravely hiding in the scaffolding.
- No, those are my breasts – I’m the husband or the boyfriend who wants ‘a bit of a grope’ after a night at the pub or watching porn with the boys.
- No, they’re my breasts– I’m the mainstream religions: we don’t own the breasts only, we own the whole woman, who is inferior because god told us so, and he made her out of a spare rib.
Whoa! Hang on a second…
I’m a woman and these breasts are mine…
“Come on lady! Can’t you see there’s a queue? Get in the line.”
I write now, as the father of three beautiful women, from a sense of wonderment and respect for them and their equally beautiful mother. For over a decade now I have observed them as they have surely repaired their relationship with their own bodies and have flowered into the gorgeous, nurturing, loving women they are today; brimming with a joy that is infectious and readily shared on every level with those with whom they make contact.
The preceding list is but an aspect of that which they have overcome, albeit a very important one, for if a woman can be alienated from her very breasts, her divinely endowed centres of the nurturing essence, then she is already far down the path of separation from self, with all the abandonment and strife that surely follows. As it did!
To be graced to witness the glorious unfoldment of these women from the emotional straitjackets which bound them to the rollercoaster of life as we knew it, has provided a joy that I had forgotten I was capable of feeling: it is a joy that confirms that the life soulfully lived can rise up and soar out of the mire of despair that characterizes the ‘veil of tears’.
Universal Medicine is the organisation that dared to go there: the one group that despite ridicule and loathing, identified that major disconnection, then answered the call by presenting the modality (the Esoteric Breast Massage) and training the dedicated female practitioners to begin the process of reconnection and reclamation of the essence of femaleness in form. And this they lovingly do. This pioneering modality will one day be available to women everywhere, until such day as it is no longer required.
By Andy Baldwin, Retail Assistant, Student, Byron Bay