structure and serenity was unraveling—his mental
discipline, his cosmic perspective. Struggling for
equanimity, he instructed himself: Don`t struggle, don`t
resist, clear your mind; do nothing but watch the passing
show of your thoughts. Just let thoughts drift into
consciousness and then drift away.
Things drifted in all right, but there was no drifting
out. Instead, images unpacked their bags, hung up their
clothes, and set up housekeeping in his mind. Pam`s face
drifted into view. He focused on her image, which, to his
astonishment, transformed itself by shedding years: her
features grew younger, and soon the Pam he had known so
many years ago stood before him. How strange it was to
descry the young in the old. He usually imagined the
opposite trajectory—seeing the future in the present, the
skull underlying the unblemished skin of youth.
How radiant her face! And such astonishing clarity!
Of all the hordes, the hundreds, of women whose bodies he
had entered and whose faces had long faded, melding into
one archetypal visage, how was it possible that Pam`s face
persisted in such remarkable detail?
Then, to his amazement, sharper memory snippets of
the young Pam slipped into view: her beauty, her giddy
excitement as he tied her wrists with his belt, her cascade of
orgasms. His own sexual excitement remained as a vague
body memory—a wordless, heaving sensation of pelvic
thrusting and exultation. He remembered, too, lingering in
her arms for much too long. It was for that precise reason
he had regarded her as dangerous and had resolved on the
spot not to see her again. She represented a threat to his
freedom. The quarry he sought was quick sexual release—
that was his license to blessed peace and solitude. He never
wanted carnality. He wanted freedom; he wanted to escape
from the bondage of desire in order to enter, however
briefly, the true philosophers` will–free clearing. Only after
sexual release could he think elevated thoughts and join his
friends—the great thinkers whose books were personal
letters to him.
More fantasies came; his passion enveloped him and,
with a great whoosh, sucked him from the philosophers`
distant observing grandstand. He craved; he desired; he
wanted. And more than anything, he wanted to hold Pam`s
face in his hands. Tight orderly connections between
thoughts loosened. He imagined a sea lion surrounded by a
harem of cows, then a yelping mongrel flinging himself
again and again against a steel link fence separating him
from a bitch in heat. He felt himself a brutish, club–wielding caveman, grunting, warning off competitors. He
wanted to possess her, lick her, smell her. He thought of
Tony`s muscular forearms, of Popeye gulping his spinach
and chucking the empty can behind him. He saw Tony
mounting her—her legs splayed, her arms encircling him.
That pussy should be his, his alone. She had no right to
defile it by offering it to Tony. Everything she did with
Tony sullied his memory of her, impoverished his
experience. He felt sick to his stomach. He was a biped.
Philip turned and walked along the marina, then
through Chrissy Field to the bay and along the edge of the
Pacific, where the calm surf and the timeless aroma of
ocean salt soothed him. He shivered and buttoned his
jacket. In the fading light of day, the cold Pacific wind
streamed through the Golden Gate and rushed by him, just
as the hours of his life would forever rush past without
warmth or pleasure. The wind presaged the frost of endless
days to come, arctic days of rising in the morning with no
hope of home, love, touch, joy. His mansion of pure
thought was unheated. How strange that he had never
before noticed. He continued walking but with the
glimmering knowledge that his house, his whole life, had
been built on foundations flimsy and false.
38
_________________________
We should
treat with
indulgence
every
human
folly,
failing,
and vice,
bearing in
mind that
what we
have
before us
are simply
our own
failings,
follies,
and vices.
_________________________
In the following meeting Philip shared neither his
frightening experiences nor his reasons for abruptly leaving
the previous meeting. Though he now participated more
actively in the group discussions, he always did so at his
own choosing and the members had learned that energy
invested in prying Philip open was energy wasted. Hence
they shifted their attention to Julius and inquired whether
he felt usurped by Philip`s ending the meeting last week.
«Bittersweet,” he replied. «The bitter part is being
replaced. Losing my influence and my role is symbolic of
all impending endings and renunciations. I had a bad night
after the last meeting. Everything feels bad at 3A.M. I had a
rush of sorrow at all the endings ahead of me: the ending of
the group, of my therapy with all my other patients, the
ending of my last good year. So, that`s the bitter. The sweet
is my pride in you guys. And that includes you, Philip.
Pride in your growing independence. Therapists are like
parents. A good parent enables a child to gain enough
autonomy to leave home and function as an adult; in the
same way a good therapist`s aim is to enable patients to
leave therapy.»
«Lest there be a misunderstanding, I want to clarify
the record,” Philip proclaimed. «It was not my intention to
usurp you last week. My actions were entirely self–protective: I felt inexpressibly agitated by the discussion. I
forced myself to remain till the end of the meeting, and
then I had to leave.»
«I understand that, Philip, but my preoccupation with
endings is so strong now that I may see portents of endings
and replacement in benign situations. I`m also aware that,
tucked into your disclaimer, is some caring for me. For that
I thank you.»
Philip bowed his head slightly.
Julius continued, «This agitation you describe sounds
important. Should we explore it? There are only five
meetings left; I urge you to take advantage of this group
while there`s still time.»
Though Philip silently shook his head as if to
indicate that exploration was not yet possible for him, he
was not destined to stay silent permanently. In the
following meetings Philip was inexorably drawn in.
Pam opened the next meeting by pertly addressing Gilclass="underline"
«Apology time! I`ve been thinking about you and think I
owe you one...no, Iknow I owe you one.»
«Say more.» Gill was alert and curious.
«A few months ago I blasted you for never being
present, for being so absent and impersonal that I could not
bear to listen to you. Remember? That was pretty harsh
stuff—”
«Harsh, yes,” interrupted Gill, «but necessary. It was
good medicine. It got me started on my path—do you
realize I haven`t had a drink since that day?»
«Thanks, butthat`s not what I`m apologizing for—
it`s what`s happened since. Youhave changed: you`ve
beenpresent; you`ve been more upfront and more straight
with me than anyone else here, and yet I`ve just been too
self–absorbed to acknowledge you. For that I`m sorry.»
Gill accepted the apology. «And what about the
feedback I`ve given you? Was any of it helpful?»
«Well, your termchief justice shook me up for days.
It hit home; it made me think. But the thing that sticks most
in my mind was when you said John refused to leave his