I am male, outwardly. Inwardly, the distinction is less defined. Certainly there are colorations of this gender, transferences, perhaps, or influences that attempt to direct the inner. The nature of the inner, as opposed to the natural, is to resist such direction. My maleness is part of my interface with the external only. This role, though distinct, is somewhat flexible -- advancing and retreating in accomodation to external cues -- conforming and adjusting to the flux of the unfolding, collective drama. Inwardly, it's more like housekeeping, or fence-mending, or Naboth's own little plot in the midst of all that was Ahab's. Here in the Southwestern US, along the major river valleys of New Mexico, you can see the nature of the inner reflected in the mayordomo, the superintendent of a communal system of acequias. Sort of a lion of the waters.