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Celibacy was an idea I had toyed with on and off for years, thanks
(?) especially to the writer Carlos Castaneda whose books had
provided a map for my life since that first encounter in the Beirut
bookstore in 1973. If what Carlos wrote was true, and the debate
stormed for years, everything I had learned and thought about
"reality" was irrelevant. I took him at his word and
he stated for all of us millions of his readers over and over
that the books were truthful accounting of actual events. Either
he was a genius liar or sincere and I chose to believe he was
sincere. I adjusted every aspect of my life accordingly. No one
will ever come close to understanding me without reading those
books, it's that simple. Celibacy was the shortest most direct
route to saving energy and without energy none of the things Carlos
experienced would be experienced. Legions were hooked.
So Roger had heard all about Carlos from me for years, but never
opened a book. As far as he was concerned it was all "crazy".
Had it been only him I might have minded, but my family thought
it was pretty crazy too. I admitted it sounded crazy, but I believed
it could be true. Anyway, Denise and I had kept in contact and
were still enjoying each other more than 10 years later. She was
working on Sardinia and wanted me to visit. The timing was right,
and although I had reservations about being older and all, I decided
to go. The month there was even better than our times together
before. So many friends, so much good food and party times, the
incredibly beautiful sea and the "beautiful people"
in this ultra-posh resort were way beyond what I expected. We'd
party until dawn, sleep late, laze on the beach, totally decadent
and fun. But sex wasn't much part of any of it. It wasn't because
of celibacy either. Italian society is very closed and there is
still a stigma attached to being perceived as gay. So it's a complicated
game of pretend and fake and it turns me off completely. So in
spite of a guy dancing up next to you all night and his eyes furtively
glancing your way there's never an open invitation to hook up.
As a tourist you are an unknown and too much social position is
at risk. Denise coached me for this game, so I was as aloof as
they were and we had great fun times but no sex. For a vacation
month it was ok, but I shudder at the thought of living in that
repression. The lower classes are a lot more direct, but this
upper class crowd was really fucked up when it came to enjoying
the simple pleasures of easy, open sex. That's why they go wild
when the travel to the states. They feel free at last.
So where were we
well, I'll skip over explaining how it
was that after eight years together Roger and I moved from being
lovers to being friends. My one morning announcing my intention
to try celibacy for some months might have had something to do
with it. We kept living together and enjoying each other's company.
In the fall I flew out to visit my cousin in San Francisco, something
she had asked me to do for years. I had avoided going, and part
of the reason was I didn't want to get too intimate with her was
because I had never told her I was gay. It was known in my immediate
family of course, but it stopped there. But I decided I would
go and let the chips fall where they may.
Not long after I got back from California Roger 's natural urges
resulted in him being happier elsewhere, leaving me on a solitary
path again.. I had some money but not a lot, enough. The important
thing I had, and what Castaneda exalted, was freedom. Plus I had
a free airline ticket anywhere I wanted to go as a result of having
volunteered to be bumped 24 hours on the flight to Italy. I mentally
checked off a lot of places and came up with Hawaii. I'd never
been and thought why not now.
As I like to do, I went so as to be there on my birthday. If
I needed an antidote to my celibacy experiment the gay beach at
Waikiki provided it. Here I was prepared to accept aging gracefully
when a steady stream of young cute guys keeps coming my way. It
was fantastic. They'd invite me home, or we'd find private places
along the beach or play in cars. It was like a fantasy come true.
Even one day I'm taking the bus to a museum of something and realize
I'm being followed by a high school kid. I stop to talk and he
says he really likes my legs. Can you believe it? And it wasn't
the first time somebody said it either, for some it's the shape
but for this kid it was the hair. He was smooth as silk and followed
me home and got past security at the YMCA where I was staying
J Hawaii as I experienced it was about the best vacation I'd ever
had. It was difficult to come to terms with this, considering
all the traveling and all the other situations, but it was. I
decided for sure that if I'm ever homeless that's where I'm heading.
The bums in the park had it better than bums anywhere, singing,
playing cards, free public showers, coconuts, perfect weather,
no flies. Yep. It's Hawaii for me. My month's stay was just about
up and I pick up a local paper and there's the ad: Carlos Castaneda
Seminar. I was so excited I was shaking. Seriously. For years
I'd wondered if I might ever find him or know for sure, and here
it's fallen into my lap. Carlos talked magic and if this wasn't
proof positive what more could I hope for. It was on Maui in 4
days time. I called the airline, yes I could change my departure
and I called Maui. The seminar was full, but on hearing my story
they said I could attend. I could not believe my luck. It seemed
fated to be. Of all the gin joints in the world world and all
that. I was filled with joyfull anticipation and figured it was
too late to worry about all the energy so joyfully recently wasted.
After all the talk about Mexican deserts and simple clean living,
it was surprizing to find the seminar held in the ballroom of
the Maui Ritz Carlton. But Carlos' group apologized saying they'd
never been anywhere as extravagant either, so it was cool. Now
it's not just me sitting alone with a book in my hand, the auditorium
is filled with a smart crowd. There's new age music and mood lighting
to enhance our experience. The three "witches" (and
I hate to call them that because of all the connotations with
the word, but it's the word they used) lectured over the weekend.
The stories ran the dramatic gamut from sidesplitting hilarity
to tear jerking pathos. If ever I thought anyone was sincere,
it was these three women. Now for a funny story.
The audience is seated waiting for the first glimpse of the group
and in comes about 25 people filling up the first two rows of
reserved seats. We all are mentally taking notes of these "in
crowd" types, wondering if maybe Castaneda himself is disguised
among them. The women are severe and solemn, the men even more
so. This is serioius. I'm about 4 rows back and occasionally am
taken in by their sweeping glances of the room. The first to lecture
is Florinda, an author in her own right (Shabono, a book about
her experiences with the Yanomami indians in remote amazon , and
The Wtiches' Dream, a book about her experiences with a curandera
in Venezuela. Her lecture is mostly about how all of us, especially
the women, are socialized into being idiots. During the break
I'm in a small group talking with her in the hall. I make little
funny comments that amuse her and I notice one of the women from
the front row of seats keeps staring at me hard. Florinda winks
at her and turns to leave, and then this women takes me by the
arm and says did I have time to talk. Holy shit, I've been discovered!!!
I knew I was perfect material for this stuff and now they have
looked into me and have seen it too. Now what the fuck do I do.
I grasp at staying cool and say of course, my time is hers. She
ushers me out of the hotel and to the parking lot and says maybe
we could talk more comfortably in her car. No sooner do I get
in but I loose it completely, turning into a blubbering idiot.
I'm confessing my attachment to home and mother, I'm crying about
how I would give anything to be with them, but just at the moment
..,
and then going on about does it matter if I'm gay. It was quite
a little show. She's quiet a little while giving me time to regain
a semblance of control. Then she says this: "why does this
always happen to me."
See, the thing was was that she was just a journalist invited
along to write a magazine article. Beyond that she found me attractive
and wasn't it strange that the last four men she had intended
to date were also gay. I still have to laugh everytime I think
about it. See, not only was I flattering myself to think how special
I was Castaneda-wise, I was even thinking lady you're too old
for me!! I am hopeless, absolutely hopeless. I like to think I
don't have ego problems, but at moments like these there's no
denying I do. We went on to become good friends, sort of. Let's
just say I liked her well enough not to sue for the money I ended
up loaning her that never got repaid. An egomaniac on one hand
and a real sucker (in every sense of the word) on the other. But
I harbored doubts. Those Castaneda people were clever enough to
invent a cover story of being just a jornalist in order to help
me save face while rejecting me as "unsuitable".
The seminar set me on fire. We learned magical passes: movements
to keep our energy at optimum levels, open us to magic, and my
personal favorite motivator- keep us young. All we had to do was
exeute them everyday which I did for the next 6 years. Ok, I missed
a few days, that's probably why I've kept aging. But I'm still
expecting the magic any moment, and to tell you the truth it comes
often enough to not dissappoint me for my efforts. In addition
to the magical movements we were all supposed to stop having sex
too. Murmurs from the crowd.
Then I went to a seminar in Mexico City and felt close to Carlos'
story as I walked the same sidewalks and visited the same museums.
Even there a woman invited me home with her to Guernavaca - that
resort town outside of Mexico City with the cool air, flowers
everywhere and high society. She too knew I was gay from our first
shared coffee. I thought it might be the beginning of another
Denise type friendship or could it be she was part of the Castaneda
group giving me another test? When you're dealing in sorcery and
magic, anything is possible. We visited the Aztec pyramids and
did the passes in a well equipped gym on her family's estate.
Then I went to a seminar at Omega Institute outside of New York
City. There I had my first lucid dream and heard that gays were
perfectly acceptable on every ground. One of the "chacmools"
(Toltec nomenclature for guardian) said Carlos said this: Gays
are just as good as everyone else, just a little more stupid -
they're given this great gift of seeing through their socialization
and what do they want? To get married. I had to sort of agree
with him on that one.
Carlos never showed at any of these things, just as we expected.
The next one I went to was a three-week intensive in Los Angeles.
I was standing outside arguing about changing from plan A to Plan
B, trying to save a little money, when the girl said but you'll
only get to see half as much of Carlos. Is HE gonna be here! I
exclaimed. She said he was inside talking already while I was
arguing. Leave it to me. I resigned for both plan A and B in a
reckless rush and flew inside.
You could not imagine the wit, the charm, the charisma, the "magic",
of Carlos Castaneda. We were all blown away. We hung on his every
word and I realized just how serious about it many were. I was
my usual Thomas-the-Doubter, and kept a certain reserve. But everyone
seemed totally engrossed. Carlos asked us to pay attention to
the moment, take no notes, certainly cameras weren't allowed,
but at late night gatherings a certain "in crowd" put
together notes which were verbatim. Either they had photgraphic
memories or were using hidden technology, but I was amazed at
their audacity. I got friendly with "The Blue Scout",
supposedly Carlos' daughter after he rescued her from the inorganic
beings, (I know it sounds crazy, bear with me) and so once again
felt like this was a group I'd be perfect in. My "competition"
for one of the in spots criticized me for wearing shorts a little
too short and even said wearing my baseball cap during the magical
passes was "disrespectful of the Spirit". One of the
chacmools, on hearing that, told me not to worry, my cap was fine.
Testing my intending powers, I kept one thought during that seminar;
it was "if he touches anyone, let it be me". Now Carlos
had entertained for three weeks and never bored once, but he kept
his distance, touching no one. On the last day he's talking about
left and right side energy and asks for a volunteer. Hundreds
of hands go up and who does he point to? I leap on stage, and
he asks me to lay down and raise one leg. Suddenly thinking indeed,
maybe my shorts were a little too short and my balls would show,
I layed down and raised one leg. He said he was going to try to
move it and I was supposed to keep it from moving, which I did.
Carlos was rather small, and remember, I have great legs. Then
he asked me to stand and made a strike toward me in the air, not
touching me. Then he asked me to lay back down and resist his
push again. This time he moved my leg as if I had no muscles in
it at all. I got up perplexed and then spontaneously layed back
down, daring him to try it again. It amused him and everyone.
I was sure I could keep my leg in place but watched it yield effortlessly
to his touch. Had it been anyone else up there I would have figured
it rigged. But it was my leg and I was lost for explanation. Later
people asked me about it. They were as skeptical of me now as
I already was of everyone else in the group. Carlos said we didn't
need the group or him or anybody, just do the practice. So I took
him at his word and left California feeling self-sufficient for
all tasks ahead.
The seminars continued, I had friends that spent more than twenty
thousand dollars attending them. I had spent all I could spend
and then some. I had the tapes and the books, time would tell.
Everyso often I'd call to hear the latest gossip, some were making
gains, some weren't. We were encouraged to not pay attention to
anyone else, just do what we had to do, and mostly that's how
I did it.
Now jump ahead 6 years. This spring on the internet there's been
an expose of Carlos and his group that has left many a jaw dropped.
If he was a genius, he was a genius at lying. It was all made
up, a story concocted of bits from here from there and everywhere,
but it never happened. It's not actually that black and white
though. Those books drove a lot of us forward, unfortunately they
drove a lot of people into drugs and ignoring families and loved
ones and becoming the antithesis of what they were intending.
Carlos borrowed, copied, plagiarized, invented it all and went
to his death declaring it was all true. It was actually his decline
and death from liver cancer that opened the closed can of worms.
He had everyone thinking he could "burn from within"
and leave this world in full conciousness and that is what the
"hardcore" group were counting on- going with him into
infinity. It seems celibacy was something Carlos preached, but
not something he did. He was screwing with women who volunteered
- to have their enerygy bars fixed. So my involvement with Carlos
has taken a lot of rethinking, but really it's impossible to separate
the good from the bad, the magic from the ordinary. I wasn't as
close to the fire as were some of my friends who got burned real
bad. But Casteneda certainly helped me out and in spite of everything
I feel gratitude to the little man/big liar. I recommend his books
to anyone, but maybe they were just meant for me.
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