BOOK CATALOG
The catalog of books on this website are offered as free monthly installments on request by contributors of the conscious transformation movement, or, are for sale as complete books. They are not available in bookstores.Each book is related to the subject matter of the primary book, Of Love and Wisdom, and to the conscious transformation movement in general.
Each book is professionally desktop published, is of 8½ by 11 page size, and is spiral-bound with cardboard stock cover.
All books are authored by Joseph Sgugna, unless otherwise noted.
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BOOK LIST
1. Of Love and Wisdom (345 pp)
BOOK SAMPLE
THE EROTIC SPELL
[A Soul-Struggle]
INTRODUCTORY NOTES
Since erotic love is the life force of Love which “turns our world round,” so to speak, this aspect of love is analyzed from two main perspectives: self-destruction and self-transcendence. This book of the ascendancy concentrates on the self-destructive aspect of erotic love in which the attraction between the man and woman is unbalanced, inappropriate; and so detrimental to one or both of them. [Contrast the self-transcendent aspect of erotic love BOOK 4, In Beauty and Passion.]
Considering this vital purpose of this life-force, it is no awakening, then, to understand how dominating the attraction of the sexes, in all its subtle and not-too-subtle manifestations, is to human life. It is love at its most primal, basic, erotic phase. In one way or another, it takes up nearly all of our energy, attention, and interest throughout the prime of our lives, however seemingly diverted we seem to be at times by our work and other interests. As Herman Hesse put it, from the perspective of men that all that men do they do for women -- and vice versa, I might add.
It is this erotic truth that takes the reader into the white heat of the man-woman attraction as presented in my book, The Erotic Spell. It is a true account of a middle-aged man (37 years old)) who falls into the throes, the spell, of infatuation for his 18-year-old student. It is love turned upside down, so to speak, love gone awry; yet blinded to its purpose. The work records the day-to-day turmoil that this man undergoes in struggling to resist, to overcome, this infatuation that he knows is not only wrong, but destructive to his well-being.
The point, or theme, of the work is to pinpoint the almost insurmountable frenzy of this entrapment; and how giving in to it, can ruin everything for an individual. This can be summed up in one of my aphorisms that says “Sex may be the one life force, yes; but no, it is not all of life's worth."
____________
FORWARD
This forward is being written 18 years after the fact. And fact this chronicle was.
Eighteen years ago, I fell into an infatuated swirl with one of my senior high school students from which I almost never recovered. Being a writer, and accustomed to observing my thoughts and feelings, it was natural for me to record the event as it happened day by day. This probably turned out to be my saving grace, since it provided an outlet to channel the tumultuous struggle I was undergoing at the time.
I learned and grew from the ordeal; for it humbled me dramatically to the full force of the erotic in me which I had up to then underestimated by all my psychological defenses and transcendent yearnings.
As for my emotional and sentimental effusions while under this erotic spell, they are not exaggerated; they are recorded as they occurred, and I need not apologize for them. I am not normally an emotionally charged person; yet as I came to see, somehow when my depths are plumbed, these emotions emerge, or more to the point: erupt - But isn't that what erotic love is all about: that we mere mortals have not a chance in a million against its purpose when it's on us? We all know how erotic - not merely sexual love - can blind us, can hurl us, into impulsiveness that jeopardizes friendships, marriages, careers, and who knows what else. And do we not justify this enflamement as "the way of all flesh."
Well, this is what nearly happened to me. The same age-old scenario. What this work clearly demonstrates, however, is the intense vital, moral, struggle to keep the integrity of my being, of my well-being, intact. There is clearly a transcendent factor involved here; and not simply a matter of bio-psychology -- "I'm infatuated now, so I'm going to have to suspend my better judgment whatever the consequences. I'm just a pawn of the life force, as everyone else is; so what more need be said."
What this work shows, if nothing else, is that "giving in" to the life-force is not as simple as that rationale for my type of person, who are in vast numbers, I'm sure. If this work accomplishes nothing more, it shows that a fierce inner (sou struggle wages between the human and the transcendent in us when the equilibrium between the two is off; and shows the nature of that struggle to maintain one's balance and integrity, one's commitments, one's fidelity, one's friendships, one's whole way of life, rather than to passively submit to the "inevitable." And probably my reason for not writing this experience down in diary form, but rather as letters to a fictional friend, was the realization that a person in such a cauldron desperately needs a sympathetic confidant to help ease his struggle, calm his turmoil, give him the proper perspective. This alone I think justifies not only the work, but writing to a fictional friend; whom, because I didn't have one at the time, I created. I was unburdening myself to another "person" in writing my letters, instead of just recording my day-to-day experiences in diary form. And we all know that in writing a letter to a friend, we can be much more intimately ourselves, than when we are face to face, which makes it more difficult to articulate our thoughts and feelings.
As the intensity of my infatuation, lessened, I gradually came to a beginning understanding of the meaning of love, not only in its erotic heat, but in its broader human unity; to which previously I was fairly much oblivious to while my search for Truth, or call it what you will, prevailed. Truth, I have come to learn is Love at its core.
As emotionally and erotically, charged as this chronicle is, its main purpose, however, is the mollification of this vital side of us in preparation to a more expansive wisdom.
In hindsight, I would say that the theme of this work is one man's dubious victory, over the most powerful life force when it strikes the wrong two people.
====================
PHASE ONE
June 1st
I'm struck, Edmund! -- A woman again....and I'm hurting! Can you believe it of me with all my defenses: my dedication to knowledge and wisdom, to my writing, to my precious life with Celeste. And all along I thought it was the idea of love that fascinated me; not a chance, Edmund; she's the one who fascinates me! And what a devastating way and look about her! Not particularly beautiful, but pretty. And her eyes! God, how they mesmerize me. In their depths I see the Eternal-in-Woman of which Goethe and others write. Her soul seems to emanate through them as though beckoning me into the mystery of her being. Nothing physical about my attraction to her at all; it's her soul that draws me. . . or at least so I imagine; and this is the magic word, isn't it: imagine! Everything is in the imagination. Without it there exist not man and woman, but male and female; not love, but sexual mating. But with the imagination, ah, then, chemical transformations alchemize into spiritual affinities; physical features etherealize into angelic contours; natural movements, expressions, mannerisms, metamorphose into goddess-like graces; "making the beast with two backs" transmute into nothing less than Man and Woman embraced in beauty. I marvel at how nature has generated such an incredibly complex design to draw men and women together. What a miracle! If there is any reason for believing in an intelligent order underlying reality, this is it as far as I'm concerned.
I'm certainly being uncharacteristically romantic, aren't I? I don't know what's come over me; I feel like a love-sick adolescent -- me, a 37 year-old "mature" man who claims to be seeking higher, deeper, realities of life. Wisdom, knowledge, beauty, justice, transcendence, were-note the past tense here -- to be my life's ideals. And now look at me, enmeshed in the web of erotic captivation again. I don't know what went wrong. I thought for sure that the nature of my pursuits, my "higher calling," as it were, secured me from the bidding of that little fellow - that devil-god, rather! -- Eros. But no such luck, as it's turned out.... God, Edmund, what am I to do?! I want her more than anything; yet I know I can't have her; not because she's necessarily unobtainable, but because for some reason I dare not let myself go: become the romantic wooer. Everything I stand for seems to belie romance, especially with this darling girl -- and I mean "girl"; she's only seventeen, twenty years my junior! I realize that this age difference is not always so serious a discrepancy; but in my case, it is, and I know it. She is simply too naive and immature for me, and that is the fact of the matter....Yet the thought that I can't have her tears at me. All I have are my fantasies. My emotions are like exposed nerve ends, like raw, open sores. A deep ache disorients me. I can't, nor do I really want to, stop thinking of her. When by myself, all I seem to do is sit hour upon hour musing over her: entranced by her smile, her voice, her words, her expressions, her gestures, her walk. I replay over and over again everything I remember about her, project myself into various situations with her: emotional, intellectual and physical intimacies, marriage, family.
I have to stop here, Edmund; I'm quite embarrassed by all this. I feel like a comic figure. Please don't think any the less of me for my folly. I'm simply not the overman I fancied myself. As a matter of fact, this whole idiotic notion of Nietzsche's overman has no more reality than a unicorn.
I'll write you in a day or two once my glands have settled down a bit -- if they do; since I'll be seeing her tomorrow.
I'm suddenly reminded of Romeo's lines, "hang up philosophy! Unless philosophy can make me a Juliet." Precisely my sentiments at this moment.
Evening
I was about to mail this letter when I realized how thoroughly disconnected it was. Not like me at all. I simply plunged in without giving you any details of the matter, such as, her name -- Marianna. Ah, that name! - where I met her, how I became infatuated with her, what she feels about me, and other such particulars. I'm too wrought up to write anything more this evening; I'll be more consistent in my next letter.
I hope you won't mind my unburdening myself to you like this, but I have no where else to turn to relieve my confused and troubled mind. If you consent to reading my outpourings, please don't feel obligated to answer all, or even most, of my letters. There's no need to. I just have to write these emotions out of myself whether you answer them or not. But of course whatever consolation or advice you might have to offer will be more than welcome-though I can't guarantee to follow good advice in my present condition. I'll wait to hear from you. -- Don't be long!
June 4th
Received your letter this morning, and appreciate immensely your understanding -- and believe me, I need it! - and your willingness to follow me through this tempest, whatever happens. I'm undergoing so many rushing thoughts, so many subtle feelings, such searing emotion -- so much suffering, that have been lying dormant for the past seven years. Not to say that I haven't been attracted to this woman or that, or have not entertained the thought of an affair or two; but I truly believed that my higher leanings, and my loving companionship with Celeste were enough to keep me insulated from the surge of my erotic emotions. My first defense, so I thought, was the attitude: I don't have time for love -- but I have since found the time, Edmund, my friend!
So, armed with these "rock" defenses, what then went wrong? How did the unforeseen happen? How did this bewitching young woman wrench me from my purpose, usurp my quiet pattern of life? Quite unexpectedly, I can assure you. I had no intention of pursuing her, nor did I invite her attentions. . .well, not much any way; nor did I even give her a second thought. She meant no more to me than any other passing woman...But I'm getting ahead of myself; let me explain how I came to know her. It's very simple; she's one of my senior high school students. There's nothing exceptional about her academically for me to have taken special notice of her. But slowly, imperceptibly, she grew on me-in me, would be more to the point-as the academic year progressed; until now she has practically engrossed my entire consciousness and physiology. And, as any one who has experienced this knows, I can truly say, "I didn't know what hit me." From nowhere came that fatal shaft of love that struck me silly and jolted her into my being. At that moment my emotional equilibrium was shaken from its seven-year slumber. Suddenly she meant something vital to me. Here was a woman to be won!
Let me describe to you the trauma of that moment. The class hadn't begun, and she was present with two or three other students. Quite casually I happened to ask her if she were going on to college, but she didn't answer me. Her eyes were off in a distance, in an aloof, enigmatic expression as though she didn't hear, nor care to, hear me. But I knew she did; I felt it. That was the instant she claimed me! Pain of rejection shot through me like a bolt. I couldn't believe what had happened to me. My whole being erupted. I immediately collected myself, as though her attitude meant nothing to me...but it did, Edmund, it did! Although quivering inside, I managed to pull myself through the period fairly well. But since that initial jolt, I've not been the man you know so well; I am now Everyman.
I don't mean for you to think that my infatuation -- I suppose that's what it is -- began precisely at that moment of impact; we know that nothing of such eruptive magnitude happens without some preliminary build-up. There had been for about two months previously a number of small nuances of attraction between us. You know what I mean: casual, though meaningful glances, smiles, and expressions; subtle innuendoes, a mutual sense of being kindred spirits. I began to look at her especially, to look for her, to anticipate seeing her in class. I observed her walk, her dress, her mannerisms-and of course her enchanting smile! (I punctuate this point strongly, because it is so much a woman's smile that wins a man). I saw in her a gentleness; a simple, though profound soul, a woman of the earth; and, in seductive contrast to her seeming innocence and melting passivity, I recognized a pert insolence about her: what I interpreted as the female instinct (if I may call it that) to be dominated by the force of a man's character; and heaven help the man who does not measure up to it! I read somewhere that a man's weakness is a threat to a woman's well-being, and I have always believed it; and I see in Marianna this primitive need for a man's strength to the nth degree. And, do you know, Edmund, I'm almost certain that it is this consciousness of the female in her that magnetizes me so urgently to her; because I notice of myself that my masculine protective elements have been roused to a pitch -- ready for action.
We men complain about the wiles of women; but I wonder, would we honestly want them any other way, even though they drive us to distraction at times? What would there be to win and "rein" were women as gentle and innocent as we idealize them? Women are far more incisive in these mating matters; they know (consciously or unconsciously) that men require challenge, adventure, uncertainty, conquest, in order to feel their manhood, their existence; and women furnish us these freely in their quiet, unarming submissive ways. And normally we haven't the faintest idea of what they're about; we attribute their "mysterious- ness" to the so-called feminine mystique. To give you an instance of their subtlety, a woman once told me that she had to learn early in her marriage to let her husband permit her to do what she was going to do anyway! I tell you, Edmund, this "weaker" sex has it all over us; and we think we are "in charge." At this moment I am convinced that it is women, not men, who ultimately control events given their inborn resourcefulness, and their sway over men, especially in the first raptures of love; and thank the gods this rapture subsides, otherwise we'd never return to our senses. Still, even when we do, a woman wise in her ways will have her man well grounded and attached if only by domestic routine, not to mention commitment, responsibilities, her support. And should he lean toward activities not in her best interests or threatening to her security, she easily goes to work on his conscience (if he has one), on his vulnerabilities, until he comes around to the "practical" side of things. And gradually she has him realize that he can't live without her, that she is indispensable to his well-being. And if all that doesn't work, or no longer works, then she inversely tackles the situation by subtly impressing upon him through various moods, charms, innuendoes, susceptibilities, that she cannot live without him, that her well-being, and yes, even her emotional stability, her life, depend upon him. I don't think women as a whole are ever going to relinquish these "submissive" powers over men regardless of all the aggressive rhetoric of the feminists.
You see, Edmund, I'm not so naive when it comes to women. I certainly don't have the complete picture; though I do have considerable insight into their psyche.... But, so what! I want that woman regardless of my insight.
June 6th
I agree, Edmund, I shouldn't feel embarrassed by these most natural feelings. I appreciate your reassurance. And after all, as you said, I'm still young enough to be very much in the mainstream of love and lust -- don't I know it! Lust (my wild dog) is ever present in me, lurking behind my dignified calm. But romantic (or "erotic" -- I don't know which it is) love I had forgotten; had (so I thought) sublimated it for the intellectual life; and here I am right in the middle of it again!...though I do have to confess, Edmund, that despite the pain, it's rather exciting to be reeling in these emotions once again; they assure me that I'm still flesh and blood, am not a mere intellectual abstraction. Once more I'm feeling the heat and force of my manhood; am down to my fundamental self, am desiring a woman erotically, -- with my whole being; and so know that I'm still normal. I want to be normal! I dread the thought of ever be coming a walking shell of a man viewing everything as a concept, or as a proposition for analysis. As it is now, dear friend, my blood has not yet turned into writer's ink. I'm not yet dead to the throb of life. Who knows what tomorrow will bring!
As a passing remark, I notice that for some reason I'm relating loving a woman erotically to loving her soul - by "soul," I mean that which animates her being as this woman. Don't we normally attribute sex to the erotic and not to the soul? There seems to be a discrepancy here somewhere, but I can't put my finger on it. . .or maybe there isn't a discrepancy; I don't know. Well, I'm in no condition now to make fine distinctions; so I'll leave it and perhaps consider the question at another time.
June 7
She came to class today, smiled at me on the way in, and sent me for a spin. She looked so enchantingly feminine, her hair tossed up in back with full bangs over her forehead, which has always appealed to me in the fair sex -- "fair sex" -- I'm certainly waxing poetic these days, aren't I.
Strange! I was at her desk helping her with a problem, and deliberately brushed her hand slightly. . .but nothing miraculous happened: no rapturously tingling sensations stirred me. To be sure, the anticipation of the contact was thrilling enough, but the actual touch itself-scarcely anything (!?). At the same time, I noticed how unattractively small her hands were; and that her dark complexion clashed with the delicate milk-white texture I find so sensuously appealing in women. You would think that in the throes of my attraction, even these slight detractions would be appealing to me; but paradoxically, I actually hoped to discover more -- enough so that I might lose interest in her! Could this be an unconscious defense mechanism resisting my impulse to love her? If so, then truly the unconscious is a marvel.
But physical features aside, what disarm me are her soft voice, her halting words, her shy reserve as though frightened to speak; and I'm sure these aren't a deliberate ploy, since she's no match against the other students who dominate the discussions. I realize, of course, that her timidity in class in no way means that she is the same in her own circle of friends and family; she might very well be a tigress with them. All the same, since I'm presently being swayed by appearances, her shyness radiates to me a helplessness that does not fail to stir my sympathy. Could my attraction to her then be merely sympathetic? No, I don't think so. I'm sure she doesn't need my sympathy; because, believe me, she is strong in her weakness! What is it about her, then, if my attraction is neither predominantly physical nor sympathetic? Might I want to be a father figure to her? No, I'm sure not; my blood is too heated for that. Well, whatever the reason, I have a strong desire to know her; to hear of her ideas on life and love and marriage and family, of her daily activities, of her future plans.
I feel a deep tenderness for her, Edmund; and on that thought, I'll close this letter.
June 8th
I hope you don't mind my writing so frequently, Edmund, but I have to give these surging emotions an outlet, otherwise I'll burst. So be prepared for some heavy reading.
As you know, the school year is near its end, and classes have all but come to a standstill since final examinations are over. Marianna won't be attending school with any regularity this week, as she's rehearsing for graduation exercises.
Tonight is the annual school dinner, and I'm hoping-"hoping" is too mild a word for what I really feel - to see and speak with her.
You can imagine the ferment churning in me, Edmund; and yet not for a moment can I let it show, to her, or to anyone else. As always, I'm to be composed and in control -- my self-respect, you know! Evening
I didn't see her at the dinner. ... An empty and frustrating evening.
June IOth
Let me tell you something else she said, and with which the other two girls agreed. Apparently, she believes that it isn't a husband's occasional sexual foray that makes him unfaithful to his marriage, but only a love affair; since that involves emotional intimacy. And as it is this very intimacy which binds a marriage, he would betray it by sharing with another woman what he pledged exclusively to his wife. -- (As a side remark, one might ask if a husband would be betraying his marriage if this emotional intimacy no longer existed between him and his wife; and as this occurs in so many marriages, one might further question the validity or value of taking marriage vows. You can't pledge emotion- al intimacy. Well, it's something to consider.)
But back to Marianna. Quite a progressive young woman, isn't she. I hadn't considered this piece of feminine psychology before. But there it is. I'm sure this is not the attitude of most women (certainly not Celeste's, I'm sure), even though I realize the various circumstances that would force a wife to tolerate her husband's extra-marital dalliances. Nor do I think it would be a pleasant prospect for a sensitive wife to accept regardless of how open-minded she might be. Even Marianna conceded that, despite her resignation to men's promiscuity, she nevertheless wouldn't prefer her husband that way. I suppose the most a woman (or man) can do is to continually foster the emotional intimacy between them.
And I might add that I don't agree that all. or even nearly all, men are sexually promiscuous; whether a man is or not depends in large part on his basic moral character and sympathetic sensibility (both essentially related, I believe), two traits which, if they are relatively strong in a man, would make it difficult for him to hurt his wife unfairly no matter how inciting the sexual attraction. Still, I do admit that nearly all men can be enticed by an attractive woman (that "certain" smile, gesture, interest, will often do it); but that is not the same as promiscuity, but rather a matter of male susceptibility. I think, in general, wives know this of men, and so are considerably tolerant of this susceptibility. So, given a man's love of wife and family, his sense of fairness toward her; and fortunate circumstances so that his love and fairness are not put to proof unremittingly, this susceptibility remains mostly in the fantasy stage.
This has been more a tract than a letter, hasn't it. I'll stop here.
Evening
Before mailing this letter, I'd like to mention a couple of other matters. She told me today that she saw me at the annual dinner the other night. I melted at that, and responded that regretfully I hadn't seen her. I was moved because she sounded as though she had made it a point to see me,-which of course can't be conveyed in these matter-of-fact words I'm writing you. But if you had heard the way she said, "I saw you at the dinner the other night," you too would have heard something endearingly intimate about her intonation. The meaning I sensed behind her words wafted a magic that drew me even closer to her. This was the first direct suggestion that she cared; and you know, Edmund, what that can do to a man.
A little innocent scheme I had in mind will give you another indication of how far gone I am. I lent her a textbook about a month ago in place of one she had lost. She hadn't returned it; and since I wasn't expecting to see her in class anymore, I assumed that she had forgotten about it (if only she had deliberately forgotten!). So-o-o, I figured I had the perfect excuse to call her at home and offer to drop by and pick up the book, thereby saving her a trip to school - how very considerate of me! If my plan worked, I would be with her in her own surroundings; and who knows what might happen from there....You can imagine how my expectations collapsed when she returned the book today. But then, she did remember; which means that she thought of me. . .and what did she think, I wonder?!
Just before the period ended, she suddenly looked up at me and asked if I were going to the graduation ceremony - and so meaningfully, Edmund! Another sign that she cares....Of course I'm going, dear girl; you're going to be there, aren't you!
June IIth
When Celeste and I arrived at the ceremonies this evening, I immediately began looking for her, but she hadn't arrived yet. Despair gripped me at the thought that I wouldn't see or speak to her before the exercises commenced, because I knew it wouldn't be likely that I'd have the opportunity to speak to her afterwards. I moved about, socializing for awhile, though no more interested in what was being said than I was in seeing anyone but her. Finally I spotted her. When she saw me, she smiled and came to me. At last!...we were together outside of class. At once I began inquiring about her: how she felt about her graduation, what her plans were for the summer. . .but before we got very far, she was called away. And as thwarted as I felt, I nonetheless savored those few minutes together. They would suffice for now, I thought. And I consoled myself that there would be other opportunities.
During the ceremony, I was seated in such a position that I could see only her back except when she occasionally turned her face sideways and presented her lovely profile to my feasting eyes. At one point, she casually raised her finger to lightly scratch her cheek, and do you know what I thought, Edmund?-don't think me ridiculous, but here it is: "Imagine, she scratches her cheek too!"- I have her in my mind as demigoddess! What's become of me? And she did it so gracefully that I idealized this insignificant, natural gesture into a celestial touch. I then proceeded to picture her eating, dressing, sleeping, combing her hair; and I wanted so much to be with her in these intimacies. Do you see to what extremes I've been reduced-or increased, as the case may be. I know better, but I can't help myself; these thoughts happen with no volition of my own. I have no idea where they come from. . . Yes, I do! From Mother Nature, that's where!
Ah, my friend, I feel so empty without her presence, so uninterested in any thing except her. My intellectual activities have stagnated, and all I'm able to write are these "love" letters. An old, old story all this love-mooning, isn't it, Edmund. I'm reminded of a phrase of yours that sums up life so succinctly, "ever ending, never ending." Life goes its way, and has its way; and all we poor mortals can do is succumb. I have to laugh at the free will proponents who think we're in control of our actions. "It's your choice," they declaim, as though they have the omniscience to witness, or intuit, the chain of events that lead to any person's behavioral patterns. Illusionists, the lot of them!
June I2th
Nothing. A blank, flat, stale day. No classes, and no Marianna. I expect- rather I pray-to see her tomorrow, the last day of school when the seniors come for their report cards. Need I tell you that before tomorrow arrives an eternity will have passed!
Ah, what a fool I am, Edmund. What am I doing sighing for a 17 year-old girl? Have I lost my senses? Don't I realize the consequences of such folly? What about Celeste? My direction in life? The unalloyed joy I find in my mental world? Am I to turn my back on all this for the fever of infatuation? I tell you, Edmund, it's as though she has awakened a sleeping giant in me. Every thing mental is now sterile and insipid compared to my romantic musings. I'm in a delirious cauldron! I feel like Faust now, about to sell my soul for the thrall of the senses.
June 13th
A day that has run me ragged. A day of victory, a day of defeat, a day of torment, a day of euphoria; a day of hope, a day of despair-the day I left my wits behind.
As I describe my little episode, you'll clearly see what a madcap I've turned into; not at all like the reclusive "scholar" you once knew.
================================================
BOOK SAMPLE
IN BEAUTY AND PASSION
INTRODUCTORY NOTES
Since erotic love is the life force of Love which “turns our world round,” so to speak, this aspect of love is analyzed from two main perspectives: self-destruction and self-transcendence. This book of the ascendancy concentrates on the self-transcendent aspect of erotic love in which the attraction between the man and woman is balanced appropriately; and so beneficial to them both.
[Contrast the self-destructive aspect of erotic love BOOK 3, The Erotic Spell.]
FORWARD
This part, In Beauty and Passion, reveals the intimate details of being in love in the deepest, most intense, most complete, sense of the phrase, from the beginning through the birth of our first child.
This book takes this theme of erotic love one step further beyond The Erotic Spell into the realm of beauty and passion; hence, the title of the work In Beauty and Passion. This book records the same man (myself) falling in love, but this time with the right woman and in the right circumstances. It is an almost daily account recorded on audiotape of the thoughts and feelings and response that go into falling in love, being in love, and right through to the birth of their first child. This all takes place within a period of two years.
The theme of the work is to reveal the beauty and passion involved in love in its transcendence as well as its humanness; and that it is surely the most powerful power in life, as life; and its fulfillment for human beings, beyond it underlying biological purpose.
These details (recorded on cassette tape) capture the beauty and passion of a man and woman so deeply in love - and still are, 21 years later - that the work stands in a class of its own as a glory to erotic love in its full human and transcendent array. It covers the whole range of erotic love - the sexual, the sensual, the sensuous, offspring, passion, compassion, lust, jealousy, rage, possessiveness, obsession - and the transcendence of this love that balanced and guided the extremes of this love through the straits of personal and interpersonal growth and closeness.
The enclosed pages are a sample of an approximately 300-page manuscript titled In Beauty and Passion. It is a true, intimate, spontaneous account of a dramatic love between my wife and me as written and recorded on audio tape as it happened from falling in love, through marriage, to the birth of our first child. The time span ranges from September 1982 through September 1984.
The contents of this works comprises thoughts, feelings, discussions, and experiences of the psychology and transcendence of man-woman sexuality and relationship.
The main theme, that is expressed throughout the work is the experience of erotic love as transcendence; or, more particularly, of the sacredness of love as experienced through sex in its orgasmic, primal explosion coursing through human consciousness as idealism, or transcendence.
The purpose of publishing this work is to make an inspiring contribution to freeing the minds of men and women from psychological and sexual repression, fear and ignorance that bar them from a broader, more expansive, panorama of man-woman love.
The work is sometimes very graphic in matters of our sexual acts and talks -- yet always in keeping with the aesthetics of our purpose; and highly controversial in ideas and beliefs -- yet always in keeping with what we believed to be true about us and human nature. There was little or no holding back on our parts; we had agreed to that from the beginning. It came very naturally for us to speak our minds from their depths, however consciously and unconsciously inhibited we might have been by our natural human limitations and insecurities.
My wife and I are convinced that this work, as controversial, and disturbing as it is, will contribute to the ongoing intuitive understanding of human consciousness, and so of human relationships. We are both willing to weather the consequences that this work is likely to generate-to some extent.
=====================
THE BEGINNING
September 1, 1982
She's back from England!
Went to lunch together, sat closely, our knees just barely touching. Talked mostly about her trip and our tutoring school. Mild transports of joy suffuse me.
September, 7
Went to lunch with her again. We talked of each other, revealing this and that, and ever so subtly, our growing mutual feeling. She is receptive (I think). I am receptive (I know).
Afterwards in her car outside my home. We both reveal further in disguise -- but in such obvious disguise - our feelings for each other. I can't help but declare myself to her, and speak of myself as a man, and no mere intellectual, as she knows me to be. She responds so beautifully, as I want - need -- her to. During this time, I'm urged to kiss her, to make a physical touch; but I'm unsure of myself, of her possible rejection. It's been over twenty years since I've felt such delicate sensibilities.
We're still talking, winding down, getting ready to part. Am I going to do it?...Am about to, but she makes a parting response that stops me.
This is not the time, if ever there will be. ...Then a few more words, and she makes that "certain" response, gesture, that ineffably invites me to her. We look at each other in the unmistakable love gaze; and I reach over and kiss her softly on the lips; then gently cup her one cheek as I kiss the other. She responds givingly.
This kiss, both on her lips and cheek,was a kiss of beauty , with passion subdued. And now I know that our life together will be one of beauty, grace, tenderness: as misty falling rain, with the sun about to break through the clouds in golden beams.
She is my soulmate. I know it; and so does she.
She says to me: "I want us to grow old together, Joseph. ...In whatever direction our relationship goes, we must keep the transcendent part of it always."
I respond: "This may sound strange, even ridiculous, but this morning it flashed through my mind that somehow I'm going to be able to get to the soul, the being, of me in such a way that others will be able to get to it too; and not just rarely."
Her response: "I know we can."
I think she is to be the inspiration of my further human and transcendent development.
O, her being enhances my own!
Sept. 8
It's raining today, much out of season for Los Angeles. She loves the rain. I call her,after much hesitation as to whether I should so soon after seeing her. She answers with such a gorgeous, lilting hello that I suffuse in delight. I tell her I had to call her about the rain, and how it seemed like an omen for us. I'm not sure she understood my meaning. But then, I hardly did myself.
Sept. 9!
We confessed our love for each other this evening on the telephone! "I love you, Joseph," she wafts through to me in beauteous intonation. And, with the ease of a bird in flight, I respond in the same way. We then go on to talk in words of love. She says to me all the things about us that I want -- crave -- to hear.
She said of herself, and the same applies to me, that our confession of love for each other leaves her in a peaceful -- though with a measure of excitability state of mind. Nothing blind about what is happening to us: a calm fulfillment.
"I want to hold you," she spoke softly. ..."I want to sleep with you," she delicately intoned. "Yes," I responded, wanting the same.
She tells me that she had never had a more beautiful experience than my kiss yesterday. "And I love your name, and I love your eyes, and I love your lips, and I love your legs -- a few of the endearments I expressed to her.
We simply poured out ourselves to each other this evening without reservation --: our love, our desire, our need, of each other. How saving to be so unreserved. This unreservedness must be the earmark of our life together.
I have my woman -- and what a woman!
I can't believe it! I am loved! I love! The only woman for me loves me!
Oh, she is so right for me
Nothing will be the same for me again, for us again. It is so right between us that I'm reeling with felicity.
She is me through and through.
I will grow much as a person because of her. I know it.
No pretenses, no pettiness, no possession of each other.
We will give ourselves to each other first, and in so doing, will give ourselves to mankind.
What we have is an organic marriage of souls -- where the quick of us beats. She is my soul-wife.
I can hardly believe it, I gasp at the thought, that I'm going to hold a woman -- my woman -- in my arms again, after all these many years.
I love her mind, her body, her spirit, her whole being; I love her grace, and I love the gross about her -- all her contrasts...and they are myriad. What striking eyes! They flash her soul through them.
By freeing ourselves from the old psychology in us, we will pave the way to the freeing of others. Together we will break through the wormwood of human relations, and arrive at a truer, fresher, brighter perspective that is long overdue. On to the new man and woman!
Is this real? My own woman? -- Yes!...and more real than anything or anyone before.
Am I relieved that we "declared ourselves" tonight. I don't know how much longer I could have gone on in the suspense of "Does she love or does she not?" I was prepared to wait it out, though. But all is right now, and we can have the patience for our love to evolve in its proper channels, because, as she said, "We now know."
No games, no games -- none of the male-female games between us. We fervently agreed.
Oh, am I going to delight, to thrill, in getting to really know her: her shifting moods, her changing expressions, her intricate thoughts, her varying feelings, sentiments, urges, drives, fears, passions.
She loves me! She loves me! I can do anything now.
She has herself a good catch in me, I think; and what a catch I have in her! How fortunate I am!
Ah, Sharon, you are my woman, and nothing more need be said. Amen.
Sept.10 ! [3:30 a.m.]
I can't get to sleep; but who cares. She will carry me through the coming day. And what a day it promises to be!
O, my darling woman, I love you so much!
I want my ego to dissolve into her being. With that, the full force of my humanity will come through.
I almost feel like crying, I'm so happy. I've been on the verge of doing so a number of times tonight.
I am so joyed to give myself to her; so full, that she has me. And this is not my ego speaking, but my whole being.
My first verses to her:
I love you deep my precious heart,
You've felled me with your loving dart;
And what you mean to me is this:
Your womanness is my earthly bliss.
I've never written a truer poem, nor a more lovely one on the theme of love for a woman. It is perfect in form and expression, and took me no more than five minutes to write. Only love could have inspired me to write so freely.
[8:45 a.m.]
Fell asleep about 4 a.m., and woke up about 4:40 a.m., and have been up since. A misty, overcast day - our kind of day. How appropriate for our first time together as lovers.
I'm somewhat churned up inside for her. I'm not sure if it's because I can hardly wait to be with her tonight -- which can't be denied; or because of the momentousness of what is happening to me, of what is about to catapult me into another dimension of reality. I choose to think of it as both. My feelings are mixed between fear and awe.
Our love, I know, is going to be two-fold: erotic and transcendent; and it is the transcendent element that will preserve and expand the erotic element in us.
2nd poem to her:
There is a wild will about you, my sweet,
That I love as I do your compassionate breast;
This wild in you I am challenged to meet,
While your compassion keeps me at your behest.
I want, need, to experience the totality of her being!
She loves me! What meaning! What completeness!
I am to be with her tonight -- all night! No need to go into the ecstatics of that anticipation.
Sept.11
We slept together last night, but did not consummate our love sexually. We loved:kissed, caressed, fondled, but no penetration. It has to be resolved with the others before we can begin our life.
Sept.12
Now that everything has been revealed and partially settled, both on her side and on mine - not without climactic emotional havoc, I'll tell you -- we have consummated our love tonight. Now our love epic begins.
I feel myself a moving ocean of force and effect.
She poeticizes my whole being.
She is so intense, so real, so complete a woman...so mine!
Oh, am I going to thrill at coming to know you in your myriad ways and byways, my woman of the ages!
Her body, my body, is now our body.
O, my heart! My woman,
I throb with blood and rapture for you;
O, my soul! My woman,
I fuse with you in eternal flame.
I kiss and soothe and caress every curve, fold, and part of her adorable body. What a trackless wonder! What an inexhaustible array of sweet sensations! Her love's body is infinity incarnate.
She: We are making this (the intensity and profundity of our love) happen; not anything outside of us; no God, no Jesus.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you! She bursts out at me.
Am quivering in anticipation of seeing her.
I've never felt so free, so uninhibited, with a woman, or anyone -- even with myself, it seems -- as I feel with her.
I sigh in sheer delight that we love each other. Tears are almost to my eyes.
One day the world will read these love effusions -- and those to come -- and marvel that a man and a woman loved each other so deeply, so intensely, so fully; and will aspire to such a love; and that will be part of our contribution. Our love is the world's love.
This is going to be the love of the century -- or at least the recorded love of the century.
We look closely, adoringly, at each other; and for the first time I see that she looks like me! : her visage, the shape of her face.
There is no lust -- sex-lust -- whatsoever in our lovemaking. There is animal in it, but the animal humanized with graceful, undulating movements.
I enter her...slowly, gently, unexcitedly, without thrust; and I bathe in her female folds. Calm, soothing, easy. No grunting, no sweating,no urgency for ejaculation, for that excruciating pleasure-release. I become soft in her, and we stop movement, and look lovingly into each other's eyes. This is not the ultimate act for us. Everything we do, for, each other is ultimate: my kissing her eyelids, the nape of her neck, the underside of her arm, her wrist, her fingers, her fingernails...every gesture is an act of love.
Her skin is as silk, satiny.
I would die for her.
Loving her body is an inter-flow of passion and beauty, is the body and mind's spiritual experience -- the earth's image of Love's eternal meaning and bliss.
She: I want to share music with you. I want to share everything with you.
It's all right to be wrong with her. I doesn't matter. No ego stances, no prerogatives, between us.
No perfume, no make-up, on her; no seductions, no allurements - just the natural; and how sweet and arousing is her natural to me!
Our love is not exclusive to ourselves; it must go out to others, especially to those closest to us.
Our love is not romantic alone, is not sexual alone, is not erotic alone, is not transcendent alone; it is all these, which makes it humanly transcendent.
She has given me another dimension of life, a fullness of understanding, that no words of knowledge could ever give. Out the window with all the books, all the words; Love -- with a capital "L" -- gives it all.
Sept.13-15
My golden princess, feel not the least fear
That ever I should be far and you near;
My self you have to the quick of your soul,
Our life together is my wondrous goal.
She excites me to no end.
The truth between us, no matter how painful, no matter how hard.
Humor and wit are shot through our togetherness, as it must always be.
She to me: "What a man!"
I to her: "And what a woman!"
Our love has no past. I wouldn't care if she had murdered someone. We
start from the beginning of us.
We wrap our legs around each other in every way, and cling for dear love.
Yes, we are in love; but "in" love in the sense that we are in the center, in the flow, of that mighty, all-encompassing force.
I to her: "You are mine -- you are ours."
To me (as I am worshipping her body with kisses): "I love to be loved this way."
Sex -- or the male-female elements of our nature -- is the physical manifestation of the love force. [My thought as an ideal] : One day we are to get to that source as we sit naked to each other, crosslegged, hand in hand, in deep concentration of each other; and as the concentration intensifies, our hands tighten until we dissolve out of our bodies into the soul-being of each other. And love is where this fusion is.
The female in her, the feminine in her, the womanly in her, the girl in her, all add up to the whole being of her: her soul:
She puts my finger in her mouth and I explore its moist interior, as her tongue wraps itself about my finger. Her mouth and my finger transform into the male and female sex organs.
She nestles her head in my lap, and sighs: "My daddy." And I say "Yes,and your child, and your lover, and your friend." She smilingly nods in assent.
She is my woman -- and that is all that needs be said about my fulfillment as a man.
I to her: "Why did you want that we sleep together our first time together?"
She to me: Because I wanted to experience you totally.
We are both a force of one, of a four-fold energy: I in her = 2 forces; she in me = 2 more forces.
We have the purity of love, and the beat of it.
O! her living eyes! The glow, the flow, the soul, of Love beams from them.
Not only do I tenderly kiss the nape of her neck, the crook of her arm, the billow of her abdomen, the..., but I sink, melt, into them with a sighing groan of total surrender to the kiss, to the flesh of her, to the living being of her. Words are vacuous to convey the full sensation, the full meaning, of the experience.
She: I'll die if I ever lose you, I have never said that to anyone, I've thought it; but I've always known that I would survive somehow if I lost what I love. I can't say that of you.
She to me: You make me love my body.
I to her: You have added another dimension of life to me.
We have such a mutual understanding that it is not my sexual prowess or performance that defines me as a man, but that there are much more essential factors to the meaning of manhood -- moral integrity and honor, for one; force of character, for another; unswerving purpose, for still another.
She fits to me so perfectly in all facets -- the intellectual, the transcendent, the moral, the aesthetic, the sensual, the humorous, the practical, the ideal. She is cultured, she is not cultured - and that underscored "not" says it all.
I just thought of having a child with her, and heaved, wrapping my arms around my torso in awe of such a miracle.
To her (as I kiss her shoulder): I feel like sinking into your whole being; I really do.
You quicken my breath.
I'm waiting to experience her next emotion.
I'm always concerned for her comfort -- not because she is my woman, but because she is my love.
Christ: "Be you perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect." And I add to this eternal truth: "Yes, do be perfect: love another human being truly, fully."
What we are to do together is to spiritualize the sexual act -- to make it truly a love act.
With my finger in her fount, I feel this inner push for my whole body and being to be absorbed in it -- to become it.
She is sensitivity embodied.
I glory over her womanhood! I gasp at her soulhood!
Her words: "I adore you" echo and waft through my being.
In caressing her body with my lips and hands, I want to be as delicate as a feather; and yet I will grip her in a fierce love bite -- just enough that she feels the slight pain, much as a loving dog holds back the pain of its play bite.
I stand before her naked as a man, and I rise and fall on that. All my intellectual accomplishments, personable qualities, creative force and abilities, are nothing in comparison.
A note to me from her:
Beloved,I want you to know: I love you, I care about you, I want you, I need you, I cherish you. I am vulnerable to you -- raw. You have the power to hurt me; I trust you with that power. I surrender 99% of my consciousness. I support you in all.
Love is the truth -- no corner of falsehood escapes it's glaring eye.
She writes to me: Thank you for loving me more than I love myself. Your understanding, support, and adoration give me the strength to weather the unpleasant parts of my life.
I am your knight at night between the sheets.
Sharon -- flesh of my flesh, spirit of my spirit.
She to me: " It feels good to be with you. It feels so wholesome."
A note to me:
My Love,
At this moment all I want is to see you again and hold you in my arms. You move me forward, freeing me from guilt and anxiety. This morning I'm a sparrow enjoying freedom with the sun and trees as my companions.
She "Thoughts": When I grow up I want to be a Joseph. You are my playmate. Your trustworthiness makes me feel safe and allows the child in me to express its playfulness.
She: Everything else seems so insignificant when I'm with you...I hope it always stays that way.
I: That's our quest.
...
NOTE: The following samples of our book are talks -- or more precisely, explorations -- that were recorded "on the spot," so to speak. In transcribing the tapes to paper, some of what we spoke were not clear on the tape, and so were lost. Ellipsis indicate this loss. What, however, was transcribed is exactly what we spoke without adding literary refinements or precise expression -- except for some word changes or additions placed in brackets where clarity is necessary.
What we -- my wife, especially -- have to say is so important and urgent, and in some cases, groundbreaking, that we don't have to apologize for speaking so gropingly -- as we all normally do when speaking extemporaneously.
November 5th
Joseph: (humorously)You love having a lot of sex with me, huh?
Sharon: Yes, I love having a lot of sex with you. I love being intimate. It's the intimacy of it. That is what it is: that closeness that I feel emotionally and mentally that only sex seems to be able to really get across.
Joseph: In its fullness.
Sharon: Yes, in its completeness, that makes it complete. I was thinking, you can be intellectually close, emotionally close, but you need words to express those. It seems when we're having intercourse, there's this bond that words would be insufficient, words would be weak; there's this cementing, that closeness; I hunger for, that I revel in it. That's why I need to have a lot of sex with you. Sex itself is really not what's important.
J: It's not the sex first and foremost.
S: Right. It's this feeling, this closeness.
J: The only way you can get to it is to be sexually aroused. Very deep. I understand it.
S: That's why we always need to make time for sex, and to have time for sex, because it's more important to us than sex itself; at least for me. I need that bonding; and, of course, maybe as time goes on, and the more secure I am with you; maybe I wouldn't need it as much. But I love it; and it's wonderful and beautiful and good for me, and good for you.
J: I know myself when I want to kiss you all over, it is that getting so intimate, so close to you, and the more intimate I get with you physically, the closer it seems I get to you feelingly and spiritually; but it's hard to decipher that when the sex feeling is on that's the predominant thing but it's not really and I started off straight with you wanting to caress hold you and not worrying about all the ejaculations and erections and so forth and it's still there.... You were saying about my climaxing?
S: Wanting to take the birth control pill. It's more than just wanting you to climax in me; that's not even logical. That doesn't even have to do with reason; it's not just a matter of: well , this is what I want , because this is nice or something like that. It has to do with some kind of deep-seated psychological ancestral need within me; and I can feel it clearly when we're making love and you're ready to climax; and when you pull out , it's as if I'm being torn; and it's not a physical kind of tearing. I don't know what it is, really; but it's like a completion of a life cycle, of: I want to have this man's child, and the tearing away from me -- it feels somewhat damaged; it's sort of like pretending each time: this time I'm going to become pregnant with the man's child, this man that I love. Something like that .
J: Even though with the birth control pill it wouldn't be.
S: Right. But that would satisfy the woman-man -children-propagation; life goes on
J: Erotic, all erotic.
S: Yes. but today the feeling was so tearing that it made me cry ;and I don't think that's good for me. I mean, I could go on; I can just change my attitude; but I'd rather not.
J: It's just a matter of attitude
S: It's much deeper than that. In fact, it has to do with the message.
J: Why do you call it a message?
S: Because it gives me a message, an ancestral message that I am to go with this man wherever he wants to go even if it means tearing up my own roots. ...That's what it means to me. It's a very tribal kind of thing; very native. It Makes me think about my dog. I had a dog, and we never had her fixed and we never let her have intercourse and every once in a while this poor dog would go through this whole thing of false pregnancy. She needed to be pregnant; she needed to fulfill that maternal need and she would go through this whole thing. She'd even swell physically and she'd stop her period; and she'd make her little butt close. It was just so pathetic because there was nothing happening; not on the physical level, anyhow. But her whole being needed this, and it was being thwarted.
The pill probably is dangerous to a certain degree. The rationalization would be everything's dangerous; everything has a price. There are other methods. I can't see myself putting on diaphragms before we make love; that kind of thing. It's not spontaneous enough for my particular nature. I'm willing to take a small risk. If I thought it were a big risk, I wouldn't do it; but I don't believe it's a big risk right now. I think that it would be safe for at least a year; and my hopes would be that by then there would be a better method. They are working on one right now in which you'd have a shot once every three months- it's supposed to be very safe, very effective. I have a low impulse control. There's a tendency in me to be impulsive. You have a high impulse control which means you can control yourself before jumping into something. I'm not so good at that. I read somewhere that women with low impulse control should be taking the pill ,because at the climactic moment nothing else matters; and that's the way I am; like when we made love today I didn't want to let you go. I was willing to take the risk. It didn't matter at that moment. But I am afraid this is going to become a problem. I don't want it to; and I don't know what to do about it because I don't want to displease you because you're right [about withdrawing].
...
November 6th
J: You feel so relaxed with me you can be mine.
S: Right. I can be your little girl, I can be your teenager,I can be your whore, I can be your adult ,I can be your mother. I can be it all for you.
J: You're that free?
S: You made me that free.
J: That animal thrusting: it transforms you, it frees you, from inhibitions; and you become this thrusting animal , but with a consciousness of all that's going on. The pleasure, the closeness, the gripping, the whole idea of trying to get into you as far as possible, and to mate, to propagate our species. This is a male and female, woman and man, going at it. (laughter) ...I still don't think I've captured what it really is.
S: (humorously) We'll have to practice it more...to get the right words.
J: Something is there a transformation that's quite delicious.
...
November 8th
J: Today I was thinking being with Tom I'm sure he sensed something in the air between us that was separating us the tension that we weren't really relaxed and happy I remember one time he hadn't seen us for a couple of weeks and one other time I wouldn't even let him near the house because the argument I grabbed him outside and took him to a restaurant before he could come in
S: And then last week you had him at the other house
J: Right and I thought "Boy, I'm sure he feels that we're gradually slipping apart."
S: I don't give a damn what he thinks. Anyway, it's good for him to see that no matter how much you love someone it is so difficult it's a myth to think that everything is fine between us, and that love makes everything fine and good and so on. It is so difficult to get two human beings together and on the same track and moving in the same direction. In fact, I think it's almost a miracle when it happens; there are so many things in the way; so many. It takes so much work. And I think it's fine for him to see us with our problems; but yet we're together and that's the key ...That's the way we interact. You can see that there's love ,there's strife; but there is love and we're trying to overcome the strife; and it's not right or fair for anyone to think that it goes smoothly just because people love one another; because it doesn't. ... It's so unfair to the other people too. It's like you're treating them like idiots; you're not giving them the credit for any kind of understanding or knowledge of life It's like: "We're going to pretend, because this idiot can't understand anything else. In fact, I have a cousin who was the happiest man I ever knew. Married, and she was the happiest woman. Perfect couple. Everybody loved them. they've been married for years - thirteen years. I went up there one Christmas, and I had a wonderful time. I thought "Oh God, the happiest couple in the world!" Well, they were separated a month later. They divorced and actually married other people. So, they're putting on all this for the relatives, and so on; and I did feel hurt; I did feel insulted, because I cared about them; I loved them, and not because they were a happy couple; I mean, as individuals. And it lowered them in my eyes to think they didn't think enough of me or any of the other people there to be what they were.
...
Later
S: You know what's really beautiful about the kind of lovemaking we just experienced is that it can only be you and me; only with you and you with me could we be that free. It's beautiful to know that it's sacred. I have never been like that with anyone and I know you haven't either; so that it's like two virgins and that's what I think makes it so excellent
J: And sacred, as you said.
S: Because it can only be us.
J: Or people like us who love as fully as deeply. you mention how sacred it is to be so completely animal free that we engross ourselves in the animal aromas and everything about us, all the orifices that we just love of each other. There's a sacredness to it; an inverse type of sacredness to what the word "sacredness" is usually meant to be; and that's why when I say that it would be a desecration to love anyone after you -- to be with anyone else if you were to die or I were to die for us to love so fully so uninhibitedly so primevally with someone else; it would be a desecration to have this with anyone else I really feel that..
...
November?
S: As we get close to orgasm I begin to feel things happening internally and each time I get a feeling that I couldn't identify an image I wasn't sure what it was but now it seems very familiar so maybe I was knowing it but now it's to my conscious.
J: You can articulate it
S: Right I can articulate it now but the image is rain; and right at the moment I feel that I am rain; and then right from there usually I go right into the speed of light experience. As a child I use to go out and sit in the rain with an umbrella or something or on the porch I use to pray because there was some connection with the rain and God for me I use to feel god as a little girl in the rain.
..
November 13th
[After another of her eternal orgasms she says:]
S: That the experience of miracle and I realize that it has nothing to do with life; and that's why it's so miraculous because everything we do in life no matter how fun or how blissful or fulfilling you feel the gravity of life there's never any let up of it; you're always aware you're in that body. But this is [different]; you're not in that body you're no longer tied to life.
J: Even though your body is twitching.
S: You don't even know what the body is doing. The body and the soul are separate in those moments. In the beginning, I feel my body moving; and then I don't know what's going on. I'm gone; it's fantastic, beautiful miraculous, experience. You know what's really ironic?: it just doesn't fit in with life at all. It just seems so strange to be here now and think "Why even have something like that?" It doesn't fit here at all. It's like graph going up and down life experiences; and here's this one that goes way off. It just has nothing to do with life. Strange. Wonderful.
J: I wanted to say that when I orgasmened you, that I just love the way you moved and held me... it showed such unity of our two-into-oneness. Your body just nestled into mine, just slithered into mine.
S: When I'm feeling that love for you it always bewilders me that I'm even capable of hurting you and I do hurt you -- the things I say or do; because the feeling that we have at that moment, this moment; that's the true feeling; that's how I really feel about you: pure love; all that is good. And I don't understand why I hurt you.
J: Your body expresses it. I guess that's when the day-to-day egos, or ourselves, get in the way of what we truly feel.
S: And life getting in the way; because at the moment there's nothing else; there's just you and me and our love.
J: That's what holds us together amidst all the conflicts of life and ourselves.
S: Because we know that that's the truth. And we don't hurt each other very much. But the little hurts; I don't even want to do those; I want the time to come when those don't even happen -- the little irritations; not even those. They don't belong in this love. They're not true, because they have to do with frustrations or fatigue or pain that have nothing to do with you.
...
A continuation of the earlier talk of the orgasm.
J: You said there's something very interesting that...
S: When become more and more aroused,and closer and closer to the orgasm, my mouth becomes terribly dry inside; so dry, that I almost choke on the dryness and it makes me think that there must be some chemical change going on in the body for that to happen. And the only other time that I've experienced that is the few times in my life that I've been terrorized by certain experiences; my mouth had gone that dry in a matter of seconds.
J: It's like almost when that happens you go into a state of trauma where you release your self-consciousness. You're going into a state where you lose all sense of the agonizing pain that would happen. Maybe it's related to animals. We see the lion attacking the deer; but it's known that they get into this state that they don't feel anything; they're in an ultra state of consciousness; the terror shifts them into another state of consciousness: a blank consciousness of just physical movement and escape so there isn't that agony that we seem to think they're in; that what they say, the scientists. But it's related I think; to the similar symptom of going into a different state of consciousness beyond the self-consciousness which happens to you. It's like the similarities well the excitement that you feel when getting a new car and the excitement you feel being with the one you love for the first time. It's the same basic physiology going on except one is more intensified and more complex than the others. the same symptoms are going on: the agitation; similar symptoms, only varied intensity and complexity which makes your experience from a physiological point of view, and therefore, from a scientific point of view, valid. From that point of view, something radical is happening here. Scientist might say "Let's not put it into a mystic experience." Or maybe it is a mystic experience; but whatever it is, it is different than self-consciousness call it what you will.
S: A person I know suffered from manic depression and when this person would go into the manic phase which is an elation phase of bliss and hyperactivity the mouth would become very dry during the whole manic phase so dry that it would crack and bleed as time would go on and during this time. Some articles came out in Newsweek and Time Magazines about manic depression, because lithium had just come out, which was not the cure but the stabilizer; and they said that for sure when a person goes through the manic phase a chemical change takes place and they can tell in the saliva. And they do brain scans; and the chemical are rearranged differently in the brain than when the person was in the depressive or the normal state; so that these chemical changes taken place do alter the consciousness in the brain chemicals which effect the salvitory system. What I'm trying to say is the manic phase is a different state of consciousness.
J: You said an elation. Is it like a madness?
S: As it goes on it gets more out of control. The first half let's say is really a very positive kind of thing: highly creative, strong, confident; all the plus things. Many famous people suffered from manic depression their greatest achievements were during the manic phase.
...
J: I think in discussing this mystic orgasm ...a sense of the universal, of everything, purity, and so forth; if it were available to everybody simply by manipulate or caress the clitoris in a certain way, or by injecting something chemically to make that chemical change, what would be the value of it? It would just be another high a super- high. If that's all it is, [of what spiritual value is it?]. Somehow, we have to relate it to something for it to have meaning. I think it would have to be related to something more universal, something beyond, as you've said, this life.
S: I don't see how anyone could experience this, and not know that it is God; that it isn't just another high. It's death; it's death to life while in life.
J: It does tell of another consciousness. If that's the case, then, to me, the value of it would be that if one could take that "Experience," quote unquote with a capital 'E', it's that experience that could go into the transforming of the psychology of human nature and that would validate the whole push towards "higher consciousness," "advanced consciousness" or whatever it is in relation to the new man. It can be done. I never did think I could do it, or that anybody could transform his psychology by his own humanity alone. It does have to have a definitely strong sense of a super consciousness that is somewhat determinant of everything.
S: There's a feeling that takes place, that I talked about, before hurling through time and space accelerated, that makes me know that there's distance involved; it's not like outside the wall. It's not nearby it's very dark. It's like a deep dark perfect river. It's like water. It fascinates me. Miracle.
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November 17th
J: When I'm in you I control you as does the male the female
S: And I love it. You're the power that has kidnapped me from the English ship you can do anything you want to me and I'm your slave and your prisoner
J: Hold you down ram against you
S: I resist; but it's to no avail anything you tell me to do I will do.
J: But let me try this [male dominance over the female] other than the bed, then, there you have a different story -- nothing but resistance with a little giving in.
S: You wouldn't want it any other way. That's what the beauty of our relationship: we melt right into the roles at the right moment.
December 3
J: This morning we're in bed and she's reading transcending I'm lying next to her I have her fingers in my mouth and I'm kissing them adoring them and caressing them sucking them and I'm feeling such waves of delight and love just loving her fingers.
S: How come I invite you to be a little bit rough with me in our lovemaking. I kind of enjoy you being a little bit rough, forceful. Is it because I'm a female? Is that the female coming out of me.
J: That's what I was just talking about:about control -- the male over the female.
S: That's okay?
J: Yes it is the female being dominated by the male I think that's the primitive years and you need that. I think also that when the male comes out of me like that strong, and it holds and spreads your genitals and your behind and grips you and grunts at you, you know that this is the male animal at you; and that's the male animal that will protect you, that will defend you; that's where it comes out. If I were passive: just easy-going, a beautiful soul only; you probably couldn't bear. It's like that limp handshake; you know you don't have much strength there. But when I'm able to I give way to the grunt; then you know that this is the male animal that will protect your territory that will be your mate. It comes out most forcefully there; because other than that, it's just the intellect and my character -- which are fine and my ego my ego is the masculinity that comes out that why a woman would say I love his pride and the intellect of course kind of takes the place of the physical attractiveness of the physical control that the animal has over the female and the character of course is the human the man we're two miracles to each other for each other. That's where I belong inside you it's not sex it is being inside you. It takes up strength to love to surrender to it to transcend your self-concern for the other who needs it so badly that's where the strength is not in resisting that's the easy way out the masculine way out this is psychology we're use to that it takes up strength to have faith in love to the point that you know we won't be taken advantage of to overcome all those fears of becoming a slave or puppet to the other to forgo all that and surrender yourself to the force of love
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December ?
J: After another of her spiritual orgasms she says to me:
S: Experiencing the bliss consciousness for me is the experience of my life nothing could come even close to it. I use to think that feeling like that feeling at one with nature that people have every once in a while: the ocean the sunset. I use to think there could be nothing more beautiful than that feeling and that is a similar out-of-body experience as I said before. Words are cheap when comes to trying to describe this transcendent bliss consciousness experience; and what I realize is. that it could only happen with you because for me it's a testimony of our love our trust our respect what we are to one another and I'm sure that's why I never did experience it with anyone else because of the sacredness for me it would have to be experienced with someone like you
J: Your whole body goes through contortions as you've talked about and you look like you're possessed somebody might think you're possessed by the devil and it would take someone as it turns out it's me that could look at you and not be frightened this is a woman this is a creature completely out of control. It's awesome to see; to know what's happening, what's going beyond your body. You don't see yourself you don't see anything, do you? You asked earlier "Where is this? In the mind?" and I said "No it's in every hair" --to quote Jesus: count all the hairs on your head; however it goes. But, you get right to the meaning of your being, of being itself somehow. I mean it's there; it exists. It's some kind of structured order. it's almost as though this [infinite vastness that you experience] is what that you [essentially] are, what I am, what everyone is and what everything is...I can't capture it now, but what I thought in a flash is that somehow
