uncharacteristic signs of agitation. «You honor them when
it suits you. When I discuss honoring my past social
contract with you, you revile me. Yet you break the rules of
the group, you play secret games, you use Tony
capriciously.»
«Who are you to speak of contracts?» Pam shot back
loudly. «What about the contract between teacher and
student?»
Philip looked at his watch, stood up, and announced,
«Six o`clock. I have fulfilled my time obligations.» He left
the room muttering, «Enough wallowing in muck today.»
It was the first time anyone other than Julius had
ever ended a meeting.
37
_________________________
Everyone who is in
love will
experience
an
extraordin
ary
disillusio
nment
after the
pleasure
is finally
attained;
and he
will be
astonished
that what
was
desired
with such
longing
achieves
nothing
more than
what every
other
sexual
satisfacti
on
achieves,
so that he
does not
see
himself
very much
benefited
by it.
_________________________
Leaving the group room did not clear the muck from
Philip`s mind. He walked down Fillmore Street assailed by
anxiety. What had happened to his arsenal of self–soothing
techniques? Everything that had for so long provided him
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