In the sequel to the novel The Three Body Problem, coming soon to Netflix, the author Cixin Liu provides some backstory as one of the main characters remembers the one time that "the golden light of love had inhabited his heart." Over the next ten pages, we hear about the "unreal experience" and see this main character "create an angel based on his dream of feminine perfection," a fantasy that almost takes on a life of her own, dining with him, conversing with him. Finally, after experiencing an overnight trip with the illusion, the main character drives straight to the psychologist:
The doctor smiled tolerantly. "Don't you get it? I've given my most profound love to an illusion!" "Are you under the impression that the object of everyone else's love actually exists?" "Is that even a question?" "Sure. For the majority of people, what they love exists only in the imagination. The object of their love is not the man or woman of reality, but what he or she is like in their imagination. The person in reality is just a template used for the creation of this dream lover. Eventually, they find out the differences between their dream lover and the template. If they get used to these differences, they can be together. If not, they split up. It's as simple as that. You differ from the majority in one respect: You didn't need a template." NOTE: In this passage, the psychologist's assessment seems helpful in identifying the role of imagination in personality and relationships; however, his concept of the "template" seems cold and static, when actually the templates are people, sentient personalities--warm, dynamic, and impressionable to varying degrees. Even the illusory aspect of the "dream lover" may be more complex than the psychologist seems to suggest: perhaps archetypal, evolving, or influenced by the "template." In the classic myth, Pygmalion's statue--the dream lover--was purely enlivened by divine magic while the modern conception includes Freudian, Jungian, cognitive, or other psychological theories. The dream lover might be enlivened by conscious, scientific matching and social influence or even unconscious prompts, altered states, and social or para-social fictions. The dreamer may find a pleasing type willing to be controlled or may have a blank canvas open to another's artistry. In the science-fiction sequel quoted above, the dream lover as match/template is later scientifically located in the real world and evolves through interaction as well as sci-fi technology. This fiction as well as the Pygmalion myth would be a little scary if seen in real life, but the sci-fi story and myth provide interesting thought experiments.
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I resonate with this song, music and lyrics, tone and theme, for I have had ungendered dreams and walked the right and left-hand paths, lived through life as young and old, as dom and sub, as yin and yang. It's dim illusions I recall... I really don't know much at all... [More analytical thoughts coming soon.] Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun They rain and they snow on everyone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way I've looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down and still somehow It's cloud illusions I recall I really don't know clouds at all Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels The dizzy dancing way that you feel As every fairy tale comes real I've looked at love that way But now it's just another show And you leave 'em laughing when you go And if you care, don't let them know Don't give yourself away I've looked at love from both sides now From give and take and still somehow It's love's illusions that I recall I really don't know love Really don't know love at all Tears and fears and feeling proud To say, "I love you" right out loud Dreams and schemes and circus crowds I've looked at life that way Oh, but now old friends they're acting strange And they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed Well something's lost, but something's gained In living every day I've looked at life from both sides now From win and lose and still somehow It's life's illusions I recall I really don't know life at all It's life's illusions that I recall I really don't know life I really don't know life at all My heart finds rest in her alone, though she has so may facets, embodies so much, represents so many, channels such diversity, and gives such freedom...
How can I cling to her and keep myself in this rapture of adoration? My recommendations to myself: 1. Relish and remember the constant conversion as a homecoming, as a captivity already complete, as a battle already lost. 2. Be open to long-term change as well as the deepening spirals in sessions, loving what is planted so quickly in trance along with its slower growth over time. 3. Don't force thoughts or behaviors but don't stray too far for too long, for the veil is sometimes as thin as springtime ice, ready for a breakthrough. 4. Focus on pleasure as the goal to prevent legalism and the false ethics of the right-hand path. 5. Let pleasure be a tool of true giving and service to goddess, bringing a deep happiness of purpose, which is also pleasure. 6. Let a true ethos of care and sense act like a protective magic circle around the dark demons of lust and rest, a containment like the moon sigil of the triple goddess around the inverted pentagram, the horns burning with primordial fire--or by a different analogy, like the safe desperation of well-supervised drowning. Ethos, pathos, and logos can give longevity to the wonderful dark mythos. What part is RP? What part is RL?
Where are the borders of of RLRP and RPRL, the liminal spaces of mind, mirror, and myth? The magic is real. The emotions are real--the worship, the ecstasy. The thoughts and values, the ethics and kindness are so real. The changes, the effects deep within and without, are real. The dreams and imagination, scenes and sessions, all feel real. The sacrifices are real--the giving, the service. She is real. Open invitation to goddess, sir, owner:
Open mind, so wet and ready to accept all, Open ears, heeding, mouth drooling, legs parting, opening, Open subconscious, ruptured, dripping into waking life, Open will, so compliant and submissive, Open heart, so enamored and enraptured, Open doors of eternal entrancement, Open relationships, Open hands, Openness... So simple...
In the trance of nonduality, where everything is possible, the endless state of Yes, of uncritical openness and sweet acceptance, where pleasure comes in waves and dreams come true... In the flow of bliss, when theory and practice harmonize, when skill surfs on challenge and power dances with submission, when desire edges eternally along satisfaction... After years of study, after decades of experience, after daily devotions, degrees of initiation, complications, conflict, rising action, and cycles of climax... So simple... As the winter solstice arrives again, magic arises and the veil thins... I cry out to Goddess: please, please, please Be thou my vision and hyper-focus, be thou my serpent! Connect, coil, constrict! Entrance, entangle, and entwine! Take more of me, take more of my mind, more dedication, devotion, and time... Please embody the archetype of dark goddess or anima, take from me, make me feel real 24/7, receive my worship, assure me of acceptance, allow this illusion of attachment, name me "obedient thing," "sweet one," "hypnotic hedonist." I promise I will prove myself and be responsible for myself, condition myself, humble myself, edge myself, fuck myself, change my "About" page identity and profiles, restructure myself for you...
Hypnotize me, please, to enjoy submission to women and men, honoring all boundaries, serving with pleasure, obeying. Please make it all so simple. I think she used the words connection and coils squeezing and entwined, and for sure the words primal depths, the first in a public post and the others in a private message, words that refer and allude, remind and reflect in contexts of submission, possession, hedonism, hypnosis, and mind control until what thoughts I have and what words she gives me edge and blur until those distinctions no longer matter.
And what of the thought patterns, ingrained resistances, and identity fragments? They are dissolved, added, enhanced by every listen as love and longing come in waves of pleasure. Are other distinctions becoming lost in liminal subspace? The binary left-right brain, inner-outer realms, conscious and unconscious? I am open to anything now, taken beyond gender, taken beyond consciousness, just taken, it seems, ready to say "Yes" to anything in advance as I myself have been made Yes, in blissful harmony. I love how she takes me to the magic center where I love to return, where I long to live, on edge of need and satisfaction, in the haze of a real, authentic dream and virtual, fantastical reality. Fractionated by the distinction, by the pleasure of making the distinctions, before being drowned again in trusting oblivion. Annihilation. X and 8. O, I see the signature of Trix with spiral dot above the i and a suggestive triple X: the strap falls off her shoulder as though the whole dress might slide off those sexy curves at any instant, and the dozens of small buttons unable to restrain the beauty of complete nakedness beneath the sweetness showing through slit skirt, the gestalt of a switchy witch... I feel the embrace of her coiling around and tunneling within my mind, every shimmering scale reflecting exotic flashes of her eyes, lips, curls, calves, thighs, hips, breasts, bare arms, then erotic visions of strong women, hard men, twisting serpents, lustful demons... The shift of foreground and background comes again and feels so good. The conscious mind that says, "I fully support veganism" becomes submerged in the subconscious desire for a sizzling steak. The root chakra takes the higher ground, displacing the crown; the pentagram flips so the unholy horns dominate, the horny instincts, the drives for rest and pleasure. The conscious mind is saturated in this altered state, longing for her triggers, tattoos, brands, sigils, logos, images, words, these anchors of scent, sound, command, change, ritual, magic circle, attachment. Later, when the conscience and consciousness demand the upper hand, perhaps there will be rationalization, ethical appeals, and affective filters. Or maybe, in the random bliss moments and in the planted intimations from the deep, those distinctions no longer matter. The mystery of "Area X" beyond the Shimmer is revealed in a slow burn of psychological horror of monstrous mutation, the seductive call of annihilation, and the hypnotic vision of transformation, subtly symbolized by the strange, doppelganger-like Ouroboros tattoo.
The deep, elder roots of this philosophic, poetic, perhaps even erotic, reflection can be found in the even more hypnotic slow burn of the 1972 film Solaris. (Note: the word "reflection" in the previous sentence hints at the significant nature of the intimate alien encounters in the films.)
...O Lilith, Lucifer, Babalon, Baphomet, O Twisting Serpent:
Through burning candle of my very flesh and smoking incense of my mind and music of my spirit, through these sigils, images, words, touches, moans, hypnotic whispers, through these shared web spaces, chance encounters, manifestations, visitations, Enter me, invade me, fill me, fuck me – sustain, edge, coil, writhe, pump, stroke, cum in endless waves– in this sweet fellowship of lust, this internet of desire, this web of arousal, implant, root, breed, spurt, drilling ever deeper in the primal depths. Spawn greater submission, adoration, worship, gratitude, fruit of lips, and acts of service. |
Alan YESpet, puppet, plaything, precious possession Archives
May 2024
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