All desires that have been created by it within the body and that have no inherent rights within the spiritual world must be rooted out. Just as an object takes fire and is consumed, so is the world of desires consumed and destroyed after death. All desires of a sensual nature, in which the sensual is not an expression of the spirit, are seized upon by this “fire.” ~ Rudolf Steiner
The common view is that memory has something to do with the past, as when friends or family get together to relive their common nostalgic moments. Phenomenologically memory is bringing the past into the present. Or to put it another way, the seemingly disparate and unrelated events of life cannot be understood as merely temporal succession. As Rene Guenon expressed the goal in Oriental Metaphysics:
The person is freed from time and the apparent succession of things is transformed for him into simultaneity; he consciously possesses the “sense of eternity.” This is of extreme importance, for whoever is unable to leave the viewpoint of temporal succession and see everything in simultaneity is incapable of the least conception of the metaphysical order.
The exercise in remembering should lead to seeing one’s life in its simultaneity. The events in their totality suddenly reveal a hidden meaning to life. This meaning is constant, eternal, and above time. What follows are some notes from this exercise. Keep in mind that there are four levels of memory of increasing depth:
- Intellectual memory. The unadorned memory of a past event.
- Emotional memory. A memory that elicits an emotional reaction.
- Volitional memory. A memory that incites to action.
- Moral memory. A moral aspect is added to the memory.
Forgetting is analogous to death so remembering is life giving. Some memories arise spontaneously. Others take some effort. One should not stop at intellectual memory. It may take more effort to expand that memory to deeper levels. This essay has been some time in planning. The events mean nothing to you, but each time I’ve relived them, there is more intensity. Humor may be used to hide it. Nevertheless, over time, a common thread has been revealing itself to me.
You can avoid remembering now, but your entire life will be exposed at death. There is no point in evading the inevitable.
Kindergarten Kapers
For dance time, the boys would form a circumference of a circle with the girls inside. At a signal from the teacher, the girls would rush to choose a partner. On one occasion, two girls chose me, which ended up in a shoving match between them. One was thrown to the floor. That was my first experience of the law of attraction. It led to a certain kind of passivity as I realized that women would fight for me. So I seldom bothered to pursue the woman I desired.
Crushed by a Crush
In High School I had a crush on a cute blonde, whose name I’ve forgotten, but I can still recall what she looked like. We met in the French Club when we did a short skit together for parents’ night. I never let her know. A few weeks later I overheard a boy laughingly describe his date with her in the back seat of the car. “I had her down to nothing,” he said. That vulgar colloquialism haunts me still and I then felt about her the way Jonathan Swift felt about Celia. I wanted to accomplish a great deed for her, but she would not wait for me to speak up.
Beach Blanket Bingo in Bermuda
For junior year spring break, my roommate and I went to Bermuda. I envisioned meeting a pretty coed. We would tour the island on our scooters, make love on the beach at night. When we had to part, we would promise to write each other, even though we knew we never would.
On the beach, some cute girls were selling tickets to an all night beach party, which we eagerly purchased. The location was a small cove with just one barrel of beer. Within an hour, the tide started coming in, forcing us onto higher ground. So much for my dream.
I spent the rest of the week alone, living with a bunch of guys in a sort of dorm. Several went out at night. I realized that they had more skills than I, which I would have to learn. But I was just too brainy to do well at beach blanket bingo; there had to be a better way.
Nassau Nights
In the olden days when authors vied to be “banned in Boston”, e.g., Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. So everyone ran out to buy it and thought they were radical for having done so. The real radicals tried to live Miller’s lifestyle. Some of us survived.
When I was living in Miami, I gave it a whirl: A trendy leftism mixed with Theosophy as a cover for sex and alcohol. A friend an I decided to go to Nassau for the weekend. With little money, we stayed in a room in a woman’s basement which had two bunk beds and two surly German tourists.
Before going to a local night club, we sought out some uplifting herbs. One fellow we met on the street promised to come back with a bag if we gave him some money in advance. That offer was refused. At a pharmacy, I noticed a roll of about 10 aspirins packaged like Life Saver candies. Since they were enhanced with codeine, I bought a roll thinking it might give me a buzz. Later that night I took a few, but felt nothing. So little by little I ate all ten. Still no buzz, but I learned that so many aspirins make you feel really bad. I spent two hours, sick to my stomach, in the restroom at a cheap night club in paradise.
What was I thinking? Did I really expect to bring a girl back to that crummy room, and then convince her to climb up to the top of a bunk bed with three other guys watching? Apparently I did.
Sea Nymphs of Miami Beach
On a flight from Boston to Miami, I met a coed flying south for spring break. I chatted her up and got her motel information and made arrangements for a date the next night. But, alas, there was a condition: she was traveling with four friends who also wanted to party.
So the next afternoon, I had to round up four other guys to come with me to Miami Beach. On the trip over the causeway, I was envisaging five naked sea nymphs frolicking in the waves, eagerly awaiting my arrival. But the nymphs had other plans.
I walked into the room and saw five girls sprawled out on the beds, sunburned to a crisp. One was eating spaghetti our of a can. I never knew that girls could be so messy. Clothes everywhere, empty cans, luggage in disarray. Obviously, to touch them in their condition would cause them intense pain. Since my plan involved prolonged mutual touching at the end of the night, I decided to leave, bringing the four other guys with me.
Barstool Blues
The first time I tried to pick up a girl at a bar, I was intensely nervous. I picked one out and my friends challenged me to convince her to come with me back to my side of the bar. Shaking all the way, I started talking to her, although she wouldn’t budge. Can’t blame her as that was a stupid challenge. I should have ignored my friends and just remained with her.
It got easier, especially once it dawned on me that she was probably more nervous than I. So I got a number and called her a few days later. I heard a baby crying in the background, which raised an alarm. When I asked her out, she asked me “are you serious?” Not so serious to be a daddy to some other dude’s child, so I said good bye. I realized that a number alone was insufficient. There was a real person behind that number, so some probing was not only necessary, but fair.
In Fort Lauderdale, there was different situation due to all the tourists looking for a diversion. So I passed myself off as an underwater salvage diver, since it seemed manly and exciting. The last time, I was grooming a woman visiting from Ohio for a couple of hours. As the bar was closing, I was taking her home with me. Suddenly here friend accosted me tearfully, begging me not to do it. The woman had a husband and two children back home, they were having problems, and I could only make things worse. I let her go, and decided to give up that hobby.
Backgammon by the Book
During the disco years, many bars had a backgammon tournament early in the night. Since I was good at it, and no one else was, I often picked up $50 or $100 dollars. In those days, that would pay for one heck of a party.
Sometimes I would enter a real tournament with good players. At one match against a retiree, I found myself in an untenable position. She was taking backgammon lessons at the condo culture center, so she knew all the correct moves for any situation. But so did I, but the experts aren’t always right. I made an unconventional move, rolled boxcars and won the game.
She was quite upset and told me I made the wrong move, although I won. A woman likes to follow rules. A man knows when to follow rules and when to break them.
The Zucchini Contest
A young man tried to impress me with his sophistication. He told me about his experience with web cam girls, whom he would ask to stick a zucchini up her ass. I know how to play one upmanship, so I calmly told him that I can convince a live woman to stick a zucchini up her ass. That really flustered him as he realized he would have to up his game.
Now I make a nice dish out of zucchini, garlic, olive oil, and bucatini, but I wouldn’t send that woman out to pick up the groceries.
Reading Signals
We are trying to decode signals from extraterrestrials, but most men have trouble reading signals from women. Read all the body language books you want, but even women can’t read other women’s signals. I get that question a lot, so I say that if you can’t read the signal, she is probably not that into you. She might settle for you if you hang around, once she realizes she can’t do any better.
In my experience, women are quite aggressive. If she unbuckles your belt, that is a really good signal. Yes, it can happen to you. Some signals are slower developing. At a single parents meeting I attended, there was a really cute petite blonde from Texas, wearing short shorts and a tight blouse. She looked so lost, that a knight had to step in, but you need to take care not to scare the cats away.
I volunteered to head the committee to create and mail flyers. Within seconds, the blonde enthusiastically waved her hand and asked to be on that committee. Game, set, match … the end was known even before it began. It was a cinch to close that deal.
The Sicilian Connection
I figured out that my best options were self help meetings, art shows, and the like. The women would be of above average intelligence. If they were into self help, they likely exercised, watched their diet, and made an effort to look nice. The success rate was much better than bars.
At one such event I was paired up with a woman for some psychological exercise. She was cute enough and she was chatty. We shared our backgrounds including family heritage. When she heard mine, she giggled as she asked me, in faux innocence, “Are you connected?”
I suddenly grew serious, looked her in the eyes, and asked, “Do you need a favor?”
She immediately blurted out, “no, no”, put her head down and was quiet the rest of the night.
Baby Don’t Go
Better than self help groups, I became the leader of a public speaking group. I would greet new members and get their names and phone numbers. Now it is not likely that a woman would get all dressed up and go to a meeting hoping to become a great orator. I called one of them a few days after the meeting and she readily agreed to a date.
Turns out she was Turkish, despite her French name. Her father was a secularist in the mold of Ataturk, and insisted on a European name. She was really sweet and easy going and never got into fights. Surprisingly for this day and age, she was quite inexperienced. I did coax her to belly dance for me, which she quite enjoyed. I suspect that many Turkish girls have a fantasy about dancing for a man.
So I had to teach her quite a bit. She was quite intelligent and always willing. Women are fortunate to have so many pleasure spots; I only have one.
At a certain point, she decided to go for a job interview in Seattle, making me drop her off at the airport and pick her up. I knew the game. I was supposed to cry out, “Baby please don’t go!” and beg her to stay. I just could not do it. Although she never took the job, it had to end at that point. She deserved better.
Party in Paris
I met her online. She was an American in Paris. I spent one night with her in the states, when she was back in Washington; she managed a brief stop in Florida on the fight back. She invited me to stay 10 days at her flat in Paris before she was transferred. What could go wrong spending time with a virtual stranger in Paris? Actually nothing, so I immediately made plans.
She would go to the bakery every morning to pick up pastries and croissants for breakfast. Then we would spend all day sightseeing. In the evenings she would rub my sore feet that were unaccustomed to walking on those hard uneven surfaces.
Our last night together, as we were making love, she said repeatedly with some force, “Say it, say it, say it.” Now I knew perfectly well what she wanted me to say, but I just couldn’t say it. I was her one and only love but she was just one of many to me.
Tant pis pour elle. How much pain has unrestrained desire caused in the world? And why does it have to feel so good?
The Kept Promise and Denouement
A friend recently came to me with a rather odd story. Like Durtal, in the novel La Bas, he decided to give up his social life. But a mysterious woman began to send him provocative emails. Intrigued, he was able to identify her as a very attractive younger woman, whom he knew but only in a social setting. She seemed distraught, so he wrote back and eventually they began speaking. Although he was not intending a romantic relationship, she pushed it in that direction.
Me: I know you pretty well. Why would you succumb to that?
He: She seemed to be all I was looking for in so many failed relationships. She was remarkably intelligent, we read the same books, she had spiritual depth, a delightfully wicked sense of humor, and was just screwy enough to be interesting.
Me: So what could possibly go wrong?
He: Our affair went on for several months. I so looked forward to our conversations that would go on for hours, seldom with repetitions. The sound of her voice was enough to bring me to ecstasy.
Me: That didn’t answer the question.
He: As I hinted, she could be emotionally volatile. Usually I could talk her down. Except for the last one. Something triggered her, totally unrelated to our relationship. I figured there was something going on in her life that I was not aware of.
Me: How did that end up?
He: I got a call from her number, but her husband was on the phone. I could hear her bawling in the background. I was told he was out of the picture. Although he was quite upset, I had to calm him down. I explained that I did not plan to take her away. It only started because of the tough period she was going through. Since he was not around all those months, he accepted that.
Me: God wants her to be with her husband. Did that end it?
He: After her last outburst, I had no desire to put up with that again for the rest of my days. I promised him that I would never contact her again.
Me: That sound right, but it must have been painful.
He: Yes it was, as I missed her terribly. I got to know her entire life history, her plans, her desires, etc. After a week or so, she started calling me again. I loved the sound of her voice, even if it was just to talk about the weather.
Me: How did you handle that.
He: I had to honor the promise I made to her husband. I sent her a harshly worded email telling her I did not want to speak to her ever again. It was probably too harsh, but it worked.
Me: Did you really love her?
He: Yes I do. But I really want the Platonic ideal of beauty, which is unfair to ask of someone else.