Considering the previous subjective material gives these acknowledgements more than the usual function. My personal involvement in the work, - the close association of it with my personal life - gives them an autobiographical aspect. The nature and purposes of the work make it useful to develop, rather than minimize, this aspect by evaluating some of the more important forces - primarily love - that have shaped my life and my thinking.
I have already made the most important acknowledgement in my essay, "Rationale". But now, since the nature of the work is rebellious, I find myself in an awkward position. It seems that any person, institution, or experience I cite, acknowledge, or try to thank, I blame in proportion to the praise I try to extend. Although I recognize this "double meaning", this peculiar relationship that I must praise and blame simultaneously, I also recognize that the statement is not true completely. A little thought will show that the meaning attached depends upon whether the rebellion is considered good or bad, justified or not. It is therefore fitting that they follow the essays, for now my position should be clear, and they can be accepted with the sincerety which is intended.
Another thing which poses some necessity for comment, is the basic nature of the work. Because it is so basic, everyone, every institution, every experience of my life could be cited as having had some effect. This eliminates the possibility of acknowledging all contributions. I shall therefore limit myself to those having the greatest, and most direct effects: - to those influential in helping me attain a realization of myself, and my position in the world around me.
First, I thank my parents for teaching me to make my own decisions, allowing me to do so, and by guiding me in making the right choices. I would like to clarify the reference to guidance. The choice of the word was careful. They did not impose their will upon me, but made the wrong choices more difficult, but not impossible, to make by virtue of "discussing" the consequences of the actions I chose. Certainly, they imposed consequences, but they did so discretely; - in proportion to their evaluation of the available choices with regard to right and wrong, rather than personal whims. The consequences they imposed were less serious than the natural consequences of the wrong choices. The distinction is subtle, but tremendously important. At times there was some confusion, but that was the exception - not the rule.
Secondly, I would like to thank at least one of my teachers, one for whom I shall always have a special regard. Brother Eugene, during my high school days at St. Augustine's, left me more than just fond memories, or the imprints of his heavy hands. He postulated that he was not interested so much in teaching us geometry as he was in teaching us the art of thinking. I thank him, not for my thought content, but for a realization that thinking is one of the most important facets of a full life.
Although he impressed me with the importance of thinking, - as opposed to the mere acceptance of thoughts or knowledge, - I had not yet thought seriously, nor any serious thoughts. My further development was accomplished through two persons and my love for them.
The first, Edith, made me stop and think seriously. It was then that I realized - I had feelings . . . I had emotions. I could not live like a machine. I was not a Mr. Complete Control. I could not understand the world by "thinking" alone. It had no meaning, - not as I then understood it. I could not ignore the world, nor could I ignore myself or my emotions. I could not live like an animal. There was something more than animal appetites, as my contemporaries would have me believe. There was something human about feelings and emotions. Girls were not just things to be hated and used. I began to realize that emotions are another most important facet of a full life. I began to think seriously about love, rather than sex.
It was through Gay, to whom this book is dedicated, that I learned the meaning of a full life . . . a blend of intellect and emotion; that the two are necessary to any human experience; and that their blend reaches its peak in the most human of all experiences - love. I began to have serious thoughts and to think seriously.
I had obtained a glimpse of the meaning of life - love, but not an understanding of the true nature of love, - as I now have, an understanding of love as:
. . . A perfection of self through a perfection of the union and balance of intellect and emotion
. . . that this perfection develops through an association with another person
. . . that this association demands a further association with the Personification of Perfection, - the Perfect Person, - God - . . . lest the love be perverted . . . and regress to lust . . . or the pride of self-love.
. . . that it is possible to truly love a person because the person is created to His Image and Likeness
. . . that it is possible to love "things" because they are the expressions of a person . . . the self . . . someone else . . . but ultimately God
. . . that it is possible for us to love because we are creations in the Image and Likeness of Love - God
. . . that love is always associated with a person
. . . that if one refuses to recognize and love any person, the love is directed ultimately to the self (rather than to God) in an attempt to usurp the position of God in some way . . . The Almighty Dollar . . . a pagan god? . . . or a means of becoming a god by virtue of the power, homage, etc. that it promises?
But this is just a glimpse of understanding which, for me, was not easy to come by. Nor do I think it will be for you. My understanding required several years of serious thinking and soul searching, developing as it did from the simple knowledge that I loved . . . and somehow this was more important than life . . . as I then understood it.
I loved. I was elated, bewildered, excited . . . . . . .I could not express myself, - not with the force, nor the urgency with which I was struck. But I had to do something , or bust. I took a second full time job in addition to the college classes I was attending. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was.
Everything went wrong, or so it seemed. I didn't know how, nor why. Did I goof? Everything should have worked out fine, but didn't. I must have goofed. Yet I could not see how I could have. I tried to do everything right, and for the most part, did. I did most things well. I had everything figured. Everything except one. What I wanted to do, what I was trying to do, what I could have done, did not depend on me alone . . . nor has this changed.
I was being crushed. I had to fight back. I had to fight. It didn't matter what I fought, as long as I had something to do. I buried myself in work, and other activities, maintaining a 7 day week on an average 2-4 hours sleep per night - managing on sheer nerve, - the only way it's possible.
I did nice work, I had to. It was the quality and the quantity of my work that got me over the hurdles of personality conflicts with my superiors, - a continual and seemingly unavoidable occurence . . . our purposes were at odds . . . I was not working just to earn money.
During the three years of engagement I came to realize that I had picked about the best adversary possible to fight - myself. If I continued I could only hope to destroy myself. What a pleasant thought! Why climb out of a rut when there's nothing topside?
I remember in a moment of idiocy praying, - to God . . . Who I denied - to save me from myself, . . . and the idiotic world - by allowing me to go insane . . . to save me by destroying me. I recognized the idiocy. That's what was alarming. It's not as irrational as it seems. I chose - I preferred - the condition of insanity to the acceptance of anything that destroyed the love I had experienced, had known, had felt, - and still did. I preferred the apparent separation from reality - even from my own integrity - to the less apparent but more drastic separation from the one reality - I loved. I could have gone either way. I wanted to become oblivious even of myself.
Essentially, a prayer of dispair is an indication of a losing - or a lost - battle. But I knew that I loved . . . I could deny everything else . . . I could not stop loving . . . I would have to - to become insane . . . I loved too much to quit.
I had and maintained an hallucination.
I hear a voice . . . my intellect says 'past' . . . my emotions say 'now' . . . the voice obliterates time . . . . . 'I love you' . . . I want to cry like a baby, laugh like a madman, yell like a conqueror . . . remain silent, motionless . . . suspended . . . for an eternity . . . a moment . . . the voice is gone . . . and there is nothing . . . another eternity . . . another moment . . . the same moment . . . I am alone . . . alone . . . alone with nothing . . . nothing that separates me from everything . . . a nothingness that reduces everything to itself . . . a nothingness that is outside of everything . . . and somehow I, love, and nothing share the same moment, the same eternity, the same nature.
This could sustain me. This and my ability - through a phenomenally deep sleep - to pass myself into oblivion - oblivious even of myself - could separate me from the silly world - could allow me to play the silly game of life with the hope that some day I could really live, - someday I could express my love, - someday I could share my love.
My frustrated love for Gay was not the only driving force during this period.
I loved people. I loved them, not collectively, but individually. It was the individualistic nature of people that made them lovable. I couldn't stand the "average man". Didn't man create the "average" "man",- the "normal man" - to assist a limited intellect, - to give man an index to help him understand his position, - not to give man his goal, but only to help him achieve it? Man's goal is health, which implies perfection. Health is the standard, or the "norm", to which man must strive. The "normal man" - the "average man" - being only indices to evaluate how far man had gone towards achieving this goal, - an index of the status quo of man's development. Yet even I had gotten myself involved in the rat-race to keep up with the Jones' - in the downward struggle for mediocrity.
I loved medicine. My chosen idealistic expression of my love for people depended upon the the decision of some board of admissions of some medical school. I came to realize that the criteria of such decisions were far from ideal; - far from being suitable for the promotion of humanitarian medical practice; - far from what I could strive to establish for myself; - far from what I could accept for myself. I hadn't yet applied for admission, but I could only expect rejections. My background didn't conform to the statistically established standards. But I could not yield my position. For I reasoned: Around the statistical averages, or the percentages of anything associated with humans - i.e., therapy - is an individualistic being with individualistic problems requiring individualistic treatment and consideration that can only be obtained through individualistic thinking. Playing percentages is a valid and important process of judging or choosing. But a human being is worth more than can be given by percentages alone, which don't adequately take into account his individualistic nature.
I reasoned. A doctor cannot cure a patient. The patient cures himself. Nature cures itself. The doctor, being a part of nature, could help cure diseases only by remaining consistent with human nature which he and his patient share. He had to be a man, - a human being - before he could be a doctor.
I loved the pursuit of knowledge. My education was not only a means to an end, but an end in itself. In my education I found perversions of truth and distortions of reality in a systematized system of training that could produce only encyclopoedias or dilemas - if it was as effective as it is thought to be. That some good has come from this system is due to its failure to be as effective as its theory indicates it should be. The success of education is due to the very thing it refuses to recognize, to understand, to utilize, to develop - human nature - a nature that must manifest itself despite the conditions that seem to try to stifle it.
I struggled for an education. Learning should have been fun, a pleasure, an exhilarating experience. But it was a struggle with a system in which questions were raised without any demand or search for answers . . . a system in which a person is trained to accept and process thoughts without thinking, and to reject any thoughts that did not fit the system. Not only was the formation of thoughts neglected, but when this strange phenomena ocurred it had to be crushed. It didn't fit the system. How can individualistic thoughts fit a system? Individualistic thoughts and systems could only be tolerated in a system based on the individuality of individuals . . . which the educational system is not. I could not reject my individuality. I tried. I wanted to be accepted by others as well as myself. But I could be only if I rejected or surrendered my individuality, in essence, - myself.
I tried to express my love for people and knowledge through the medical profession. I tried to express humanitarian ideals while employed at several hospitals - in laboratory work associated directly and indirectly with patient services. From my position I found that it was extremely difficult to make the patient's well-being the primary objective in a profession that had become a business - a competitive, big business at that - with the patient being merely something to be charged, worked on, transferred, autopsied, or sent home. Maybe I'm over critical. I found not maliciousness but a lack of the application of commopn sense that was worse in its effects than sadism.
Administrative problems had become more important and time consuming than patients' problems . . . Financial problems and professional prestige more important than basic problems, or the simple realization that some things had to be done irrespective of such problems . . . Specialization had made the parts more important than the whole . . . I met many, many medical men, but few doctors . . . many, many men concerned with diseases but few concerned with the patient as well . . . many, many men writing research papers, but few doing anything other than collecting and using data on the basis of theory and principles they questioned themselves but did not bother to study in the light of the discrepancies they noted. And no wonder. The medical schools were aimed at and producing reasonable facsimiles of "Merck Index" - the colledges - of encyclopoedias. I.B.M. machines could handle administrative problems, evaluations of averages, percentages, comparisons, etc. Machines could be developed and used with greater efficiency. Automatic processes could replace a high percentage of hospital staffs.
People - operating on the level of simple machines! No wonder automation is a dirty word.
I loved and respected System. I respected people who could work systematically. Yet I had to fight both systems and people constantly. For: Systems, I.B.M. machines, automatic processes could be - had to be - changed . . . and people generally refused to change them. I tried to find better, more efficient, easier ways to do things, and usually did. I cut red-tape whenever I could. Everyone wants to, or say they do, but the individual who tries is a "trouble-maker", a non-conformist, an idealist, a fool, an egotist, etc. He is tolerated reluctantly at best, and that only when emergency situations are involved, or nothing can be done quickly enough to stop him. But wasn't the most important criteria for a system its ability to change, - to cope with change, - to handle individual problems? Wasn't that a part of the greatness and meaning of democracy? Wasn't the basis of democracy individual freedom?
Automation should replace people where it can - so that people can operate on a human level rather than as machines. People could then change the systems and machines to make them more amenable to the solution of individualistic problems of individuals. But I was only one individual whose ideas of better systems could also be changed - had to be changed. I was one systematic thinker fighting the systematic thinking of the "averages", the "norms", the standards that were outdated and refused to progress, refused to change. It was "easier" to make the individual amenable to the systems. The converse process could not be tolerated. I was useless.
Certainly I loved myself as well. In fact, all of my loves can be considered to be egotistical with more validity than I would like to accept . . . all except my love for Gay which transcended the Ego. The Ego, as strong as it was, could not "bail me out" when the chips were down. It was the Ego that cried out in despair when it was losing the battle . . . and it was with the inability or refusal to surrender my love for Gay that it fought . . . and lost.
No, my frustrated love for Gay was not the only driving force during this period. But my love for her was by the peculiar nature of a love specialized towards a single object - especially a person - the representation of everything good - of everything else loved; the convergence and culmination of all thoughts and emotions; the expression of an individual whereby he can give of himself and his individuality without losing either, and therefore could give himself completely; and lastly, the battleground of the fight of an individual to be accepted and loved for what he is (a human being), what he can do (God's Will), or what he can be (a saint).
The parenthetical ideals seem absurd when compared to the reality . . . a creature more animal than human, who could do, and preferred, the devil's will, while still wanting and proudly expecting paradise because "he's a good natured slob and deserves the best" . . . a boy who wants to be treated like a man and to be mothered . . . a man willing to take up any challenge, any responsibility - the bigger the better - but, more often than not, unable or unwilling to cope with the trivial responsibilities of daily living . . . a man wanting to make money, to obtain the things money could buy - maids, chauffeurs, Cadillacs, a house big enough to play hide and seek with his wife - but, still human enough to be able to settle for a dream of paradise, - or a tropical isle - an occasional home-made apple pie, and a brood of kids . . . a limited, weak, confused, simple, distorted, childish creature - a somewhat poor excuse for a human being - but capable of great things . . . and the greatest of all . . . to love.
The parenthetical ideals - as far removed from reality as they might be - are always associated with every act, every expression of love . . . and if they are not - there is no love . . . but only its perversion.
To love is human . . . to love is to try to be human . . . to love is to try to perfect the frailties of human nature . . . to love is the height of human nature . . . and through Love, Paradise becomes a reality. True love is always directed towards a person . . . towards the perfection of that person . . . towards the perfection of self . . . toward the Personification of Perfection - God . . . toward the Personification of Love - God. The primary goal of true love is to give of oneself to satisfy the will of the person loved . . . only persons have the ability to will . . . only the recognition of God and His Will can solve the paradoxes of love . . . and to love forces the recognition of God - or a substitute - at least on the most primitive level of recognizing something greater than the self.
I know this because I love; I learned by loving; I understood only after I was backed against a wall; I began to understand only when I realized I could reject everything but my love for Gay. I had in effect accepted Gay as being above myself; I had replaced God with Gay, or my love for her; I had chosen her rather than God - Who I denied; Who I refused to recognize and accept for allowing all of my loves to be frustrated; Who even denied me the one thing, the one person, I wanted and needed more than anything else . . . and that without any determinable reason.
My Ego had lost a battle, but did not stop fighting. Rather it tried to transfer or project itself to the winning side. Pride and the devil are no easy adversaries. I had denied God rather than myself to maintain my love. It was Gay that saved me - who protected me - who gave meaning to my life - who gave me life. Death was better than life without her. It was she I worshiped, I idolized, I adored. Gay and God had assumed an identity in my mind and heart . . . Reason not withstanding. But the Ego, Pride, and the Devil had lost the most important battle if not the war. I had retained my integrity. I had to maintain my love. Reason could, and did, make sense of it. As I realized that God and Gay were not identical - not equal - that she was not greater than I . . . that she and I were equals - I knew that I must make myself better, more like God, so that I could be worthy of her. I could not tear her down . . . I could see in her the Image and Likeness of the Creator. I could not separate her from God . . . God Himself would not separate her from Him . . . only she could make such a separation . . . and this was true not only of Gay, but of all people.
My intellect reasoned, my emotions fought . . . but my reason now respected my passions that had forced the recognition that the first principle of reason was love or insanity. All losses became gains. All the parts - the ego, reason, the passions - lost their individual battles for their "place in the sun" - to gain their True meaning, their real freedom . . . their integration.
Armed with the meaning of love - of true love - the perversions are easy to understand, easier to recognize, easier still to differentiate the true from the perverse. In all the perversions of love the primary goal is to satisfy the Ego's will . . . rather than the will of the person loved - the attempt is made to to love the self - through another - to the exclusion of every thing else except as they function to satisfy the self-love. The person loved is the self; the primary goal is self gratification.
Self-love, self-gratification, the satisfaction of the ego's will is also a part of true love, but only a part. Indeed it is an important part. Love for another is proportionate to the love of self. It is a very important part - but still - only a part.
The dual objective of satisfying both the will of the ego and the will of the person loved is almost always present. The relationship between them can be understood by considering a "mutual will" - Love - some other entity above both wills. Full resolution and meaning can only be obtained by considering the Will of God to be that mutual "meeting ground" - or even "battle groung". I am not interested at the moment in an intellectual discussion of the nature of Love, - but rather in differentiating between true and perverted love.
The difference between them is whether the accent is on giving or receiving. Although the struggle for primacy is not easy to resolve - i.e., love vs lust -, the recognition of which is primary is rather apparent. Sexual experience outside of marriage - indeed, birth control within marriage - certainly point to the primacy of self-gratification.
But that's hard to swallow. I know. I was weened on the "fundamental principles and facts of life" - on the "fact" that Sex is the primary and most important driving force in man, not to mention that it is also the most potent. To dismiss the primacy and potency of the passions of sex by pointing out that a hungry man seeks food before women is rather unconvincing.
My thoughts have turned to a girl - a very beautiful girl . . . the very thought of whom disturbs me even now. It was not necessary for her to do anything to arrouse my emotions - she knew it . . . but took a particular pleasure in teasing me. I got some thoughts. As the hour grew late, and even the more rugged individuals - the nature lovers - left the beach, we found ourselves alone together - not quite by accident - in a rather romantic setting and mood. We had engaged ourselves freely in taking liberties for which we had no liscence . . . I'm sure we both had the ame thing in mind . . . we were kissing and caressing - mauling might be a more appropriate term - allowing ourselves to be carried away by our passions. A name came to my lips - but remained unspoken . . . it was not hers. No one could have been more surprised than I. My passions became more acute, but I could no longer direct them to her. Everything lost its meaning. I wonder what went through her mind when I got up so abruptly and walked away without saying a word. Oh, why couldn't her name have been the same so that I could have deceived myself!
No one could any longer convince me that sex was THE motivating force of man - rather - it is LOVE. For some, the love of sex - of self-gratification - is confused with the love for a person to justify - or even to enlist the necessary aide - to satisfy their love for themselves in gratifying their passions. The only importance of sex to man - in terms of his psychology - is in relation to what he loves.
Certainly this incident can be interpreted differently. The ones attempting to defend the "fact" that sex is most important are the ones that should be most interesting - involving as they must, repressed feelings, the introduction of the taboos of society, religion, etc. and involving as they may several "double reverses". There is no one who would like to accept such an interpretation more than I, nor anyone who has sought so many, - even now as I force myself to re-live, to re-experience these moments.
I can feel my very blood coursing through my veins - not quietly like a stream, but turbulently like it was running the rapids . . . converging and developing into an almost over-whelming feeling that does not receive justice by being compared to a tidal wave - bottled up and seeking an outlet. I love. But my loved one is not with me. Everything loses its meaning. Nothing has meaning. A sad smile crosses my face . . . a calm . . . a feeling of hopelessness . . . a gnawing feeling of loneliness . . . the calm is broken . . . an urge to action . . . a lack of direction . . . a feeling of resignation . . .
No, the interpretation I have given is not the only one that can be given - not the only one that can be accepted. It is the only one I could give, the only one I can accept, the only one that's True.
I shudder to think of what would have happened to me, had I not known Gay . . . for without her, I would not have had the courage to face the problems of my life, - which my ego, not she, created - nor the drive or necessity to solve them. I not only dedicate this work to her, but also write for her and with her help . . . recognizing my debt to God and thanking Him for her.
Now I know where I stand. I don't particularly like it. I loved and lost. By losing I gained an understanding of that which I cannot enjoy. I would have preferred enjoying that which I didn't understand especially since neither the understanding nor the happiness of love is ever complete. The possibility exists - remote though it may seem - that I can gain more of both. I remain disturbed. I cannot be passive.
I had to stop fighting myself. I did, somewhat reluctantly. I had to re-direct, to channel, all the forces - the love, frustration, ambition, etc.- to a more useful, a more rewarding fight. I have. Now, at least, I have a chance to win, - a chance to accomplish something other than my own destruction, - maybe even a chance to help others.
The indication to write and some encouragement to try, came from two sources. The first was my friend Hank who tried many times to convince me that I could write, and should try my hand at it. "Write", he said to my annoyance, "write anything, but write." The second, peculiarly enough, was a picture entitled "Some Came Running". It had a special meaning for me. I found it easy to associate myself with the main character, a writer. I really don't know whether the effect of this picture was due to the writing, the directing, or the character portrayal, or merely to my own projection and interpretation.
Last, but not least, I thank you for having enough interest in me - and your fellow man - to fight your way through this subjective material . . . and for at least giving me a chance. I realize that I'm not easy to get along with under these circumstances. I would explain this partially on my crude writing ability, partially on your fighting me since my adversary here is your erroneous ideas. The question whether you will join me, or fight me, is yours and you probably have it answered. If you wish to fight me, you will find the remaining work a little more difficult to refute. Joining me will not be easy. I know. I seek Truth - and finding Truth sometimes hurts . . . like cutting new teeth to take a deeper bite into the mysteries of life.
I know because I live; I love; I feel; I think. I don't know whether you will accept that this is the only way it's possible. You may deny anything and everything . . . as I have tried. You may be able to accept what I will not.
You can deny God's Existence, but you cannot deny "nothingness" - which is an essential quality of a spiritual being. You cannot escape the "Nothingness" which has a Functional Existence - at least the function of being your Refuge. You can deny Gay's existence, but you cannot deny that I love her. Have you questioned her existence? I have. I'm sure she's not a figment of my imagination. Are you?
Yes, you can deny anything and everything, you cannot deny that you love - if only yourself . . . even if you pushed yourself to insanity. You would prove that you loved, but alas, refused to recognize what it was that you loved, or refused to accept it.
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