SPECIAL EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION DISCRIMINATIVE INTELLIGENCE AND THE SEVEN STAGES OF LIFE "The liability in the second stage of life is attachment to independent or unreal emotional states, based in an experientia state of undifferentiated unity with the etheric, pranic, or material energy dimension of the world. It is the tendency toward an emotional expansion without a stable physical base and without a clear and fully responsible consciousness. It is the tendency toward subconscious or dreamlike states of awareness." The Way of Translation of Man into God - CHAPTER 7: The Enlightenment of the Whole Body SECOND STAGE As the child approaches the seventh year, from perhaps five' to seven years of age his emotional and also his concrete linguistic or mental development is beginning to become a little more sophisticated. Emotional responsibility is thus clearly required. He must begin to live in relational terms and to learn how to deal with the real existence of other beings, human beings especially.1 1. Da Free John, The Eating Gorilla Comes In Peace (Middletown, Calif.: The Dawn Horse Press, 1979), p. 265. Both contributions in this section focus on the cultural limitations placed on emotional development in human society. Master Da's short essay "The Spirit and the Flesh" draws attention to the way human society tends to undermine "free emotion," the natural, innate Happiness of feeling sensitive and responsive to the Life-Current, by suppressing the original creative emotional responses of the individual. This is a theme presented in full force by Jules Henry in his provocative book Culture Against Man: There is an unwritten taboo against human freedom which can be fulfilled only in the realization of truly spiritual values. Is it not curious that, in order to be able to live together, human beings should want to deny their very humanity? Our social ideal is not the free person, who is attuned to the Life Current, but the productive; and functional individual whose efficiency and productivity are purchased at the price of his Happiness. Conventional culture, to paraphrase Master Da, is the training in un-Happiness. He makes the point that the cultural suppression of the Life Current is, first and foremost, at the level of sexuality. Most cultural taboos are operative here and, certainly in our postmodern society, this is also the area of the greatest conflict and suffering. In the second contribution, George P. Elliott distinguishes between culture, which has grown naturally out of the fertile soil of tradition, and "pseudoculture," - which is rooted in ideology and technology and which Shabd Spanglier, recalling the degenerate' days of the Roman empire, would call "civilization." George P. Elliott rightly exposes and condemns the inane reductionism of what he styles "pseudoculture,"'and its recoil from reality, love, and true intimacy in favor of a confused hedonism which substitutes orgasm for ecstasy. However, he does not go far enough in his critique, for his "pseudoculture," which he proposes is a result of technology, as contrasted with culture, which he proposes is a product of tradition, is merely the extreme manifestation of tendencies which are inherent in human culture, wherever, whenever, and however it arises. Here, the Adept's seventh stage point of view is more radical and all-encompassing. Conventional culture is the very mechanism of human bondage. It lacks the wisdom to entice men to cultivate emotional maturity. For this maturity to be genuine, it must entail the realization of man's full spiritual potential Thus, a new and truly spiritual culture must come into being that serves every aspect of human life and potential throughout all seven stages of life. THE SPIRIT & THE FLESH by Master Free John Since ancient times, the politics of state and conventional society have been at work (via all kinds of cultural, social, and political means) to control the life impulse in human beings. The purpose in all of this is to maintain and guarantee the social order and the process whereby the human race reproduces or continues itself in time and space. Therefore, through various social controls on the life-impulses of every individual, every individual is systematically devoted to collective social or at least socially acceptable means and ends. The primary method of this social control over individual life is the control, confinement, and even suppression of emotional and sexual energies. Although this program tends to guarantee a certain social result that must be regarded to be in some sense right and necessary, the means must be understood to be, in general, a suppression of our natively free Spiritual status and creativity. It forces us into the cultural domain of the "flesh" (or mortal seeking) rather than even bodily freedom in the Spirit of Divine Happiness. The social suppression of free emotion (or Life-feeling) and sex (or Life-impulse) in childhood becomes chronic stress, or an unconsciously superimposed self-suppression of the life-impulse, in adulthood. The combination of external or social suppression and learned personal or even organic self-suppression of the life-impulse divorces us from direct participation in the Substance, Condition, and Identity of Life Itself. In general, it is the motive of mankind to serve itself as a collective species that divorces every individual from the Realization of the Truth of existence. Chronic and even unconscious suppression of the life-impulse (or the Life-Current in the functional nervous system or total body-mind) is chronically felt as a knot or contraction at the solar plexus. Other physical symptoms and ills develop from this basic functional contraction of the vital center of the bodily being. Likewise, a fundamental emotional depression becomes chronic, as well as a tendency to emotional instability (in the form of chronic emotional reactivity, such as fear, sorrow, or anger). And the mind likewise develops on the same basis, constantly conceiving problems and solutions, wandering in perpetual thought-forms of no positive significance. The complex result of all of this is that the average "normal, cane, and productive" members of society are also plagued by chronic un-Happiness and all of the limitations of un-Enlightenment. The common individual is able to function more or less productively in his or her social context of duties and work, but he or she is otherwise always struggling with a profound need for release and, ultimately, Happiness. Therefore, human beings are individually always struggling with physical disabilities, emotional negativity, mental distraction, and obsessive or inharmonious desires for sexual and other forms of functional release. This is the basis for the common exploitation of degenerative orgasm, alcohol, drugs, killed food and self-toxifying food habits, violence, exoteric religious consolation, conventional mystical or psychic inversion, worldly or merely materialistic knowledge and power, and all the other commonly ritualized social and personal pursuits of distraction. All in all, humanity is devoted to the life of seeking for Happiness while dominated by chronic emotional depression and general psycho-physical contraction. This pattern of learned un-Happiness and the search for Happiness via the possibilities of psycho-physical release (either via outer,directed or inner-directed means) must be considered, understood, and transcended in a totally different kind of life-practice. Only when the body-mind is thus restored to equanimity in the Life-Current (or the Spiritual Divine) can truly free human and Spiritual Happiness be Realized. Therefore, consider this Teaching Argument and understand the mechanism of un-Happiness and all seeking. Awaken to the Living God and be free of the conventional bondage to the "flesh." The "flesh" is not sex, or the body, or even life in this world. It is all that is contrary to or unconscious of the Spirit of Life or Happiness. Awaken and be located whole bodily in the Happiness of the Spiritual Divine. Be free of your Life-negative, body-negative, sex-negative, and emotionally and mentally negative bondage to the conventional purposes of sorry mankind. Be free of your obsessions, your self-destructive addictions, your illusions, and your neuroses. Be Happy in the Radiant Current of Divine Being. If you are not thus Happy, you are not sane. And if the world is not Happy, it must Awaken to a new form of culture. Therefore, renounce the traditional culture of bondage. Cultivate Happiness. Be Free, Alive, and Creative in God, Truth, and Reality. Reprinted from The Bodily Location of Happiness, by Da Free John (Clearlake, Calif.: The Dawn Horse Press, 1982), pp. 166-8. THE ENEMIES OF INTIMACY by George P. Allot George P. Elliott taught English and creative writing at Syracuse University in New York. This article was written as a lecture, and was edited for publication after the author's death. Reprinted from Harper's, July 1980, with permission from Georges Brochardt, Inc. Copyright ® 1980 by Georges Brochardt, Inc. What Is Lost to Pseudoculture Culture Culture has its built-in enemies - envy, venality, hatred of difference, stupidity, bigotry, negligence. But these and other attitudes like them are such familiar old enemies, their ways so well known, that they are easy to spot and it is pretty clear what can and cannot be done about them. Culture has another enemy, however, which did net exist to any alarming degree before this century and yet is here to stay. Its ways are so imperfectly understood that many people either do not see it as a threat or else underestimate it. This enemy, which I call pseudoculture, seems to me no less dangerous than the others. My purpose here is to speculate on it and on the desolation it is capable of spreading. The root of the word culture means "to till," that of the word create, "to grow." Genuine culture, high or low, is connected with, comes out of, and reaches into our deepest nature. Pseudoculture, however, is a consciously manufactured construct that does not grow but is calculated together; it is a product of ideology and technology, not of custom and tradition; it so resembles the real thing. that one can easily pay no attention to how or whether it is connected with our deepest nature. In 1953, when media was still the plural of medium and television was so new that no adults had grown up with it, I visited a young air force couple who were putting in a miserable year in the Cotswold Hills in England. They disliked just about everything British, and the homesick young wife, pregnant for the first time and idle, was sentenced to watch the telly for hours every day. Among her many complaints against the BBC was its lack of advertising. At the time, I found her rancor against the British for depriving her of her TV commercials little more than funny, a matter of taste. But I never forgot that reaction of hers, and over the years it ceased to be amusing. It took on a serious character, it became mysterious to me. That she preferred (and still prefers) advertising to art, and television to play, has come to seem less and less important; instead, I keep wondering what goes on in one for whom such substitutions have been made. What happens to the self when pseudoculture substitutes for genuine culture? Attending to the Sublime In order to imagine reality, we must dream our own dreams. Among other things, pseudoculture interferes with our dreaming and thereby pollutes our imagining, especially our imagining of reality. A way to clarify what I mean by pseudoculture is to take a look at surrealism, at what it originally aimed to do and what has become of it. According to the surrealists, Freud taught us to use dreams to discover what the unconscious contains, which is far more real than what the conscious, rational mind apprehends. Art must destroy the stale rigidities of rationalism and do for mankind at large what dreams do for the dreamer. Dreamlike art will create a new reality superior to other realities. (Pluralizing reality-realities instead of ways of apprehending reality-is characteristic of the surrealists.) This new reality should not just be a matter of art but can and should be part of our social, as well as of our inner, lives. The surrealist movement did not claim to invent dreamlike art in painting or in poetry; what it did lay claim to was an assortment of techniques by which to achieve dreamlike effects. One of these techniques was automatic writing-after Freud's method of free association. Perhaps the most important of the techniques is juxtaposition, as explained in Andre Breton's first Manifesto of Surrealism (1924): The image is a pure creation of the mind. It cannot be born from a comparison but from a juxtaposition of the two more or less distant, realities. The more the relationship between the two juxtaposed realities is distant and true, the stronger the image will be-the greater its emotional power and poetic reality. In addition to automatic writing and juxtaposition, there are rhetorical techniques: Lewis Carroll's scattering reasonable-seeming nonwords into strict verse forms and simple sentences, John Ashbery's causing elegantly constructed sentences to fade into and out of nonsense, leaving an exquisite fragrance of despair behind. And there is a whole bagful of visual, typographical, mechanical high jink - sprinting the same word all over a page or alternating lines in italics with lines in boldface-that seemed a lot more energetic fifty years ago than they do now, after having been repeated thousands of times. Fundamentally, the strategy called surreal, whether in the verbal or the visual arts, combines lucidity and illogic in such ways as to conjure forth some of what psychoanalysis says is in the unconscious. In the hands of authentic, risk-taking artists able to look into themselves, surrealism has produced some considerable works of art. Outside the realm of genuine art, its overwhelming effect has been not to create a superior reality, as Breton and his fellow ideologues intended, not to enlarge and enrich, but to stultify; what it produces is never a tale to add to the great store of tales, and seldom a true playing with an old tale, such as Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast, but usually a Walt Disney prettification, neither out far nor in deep, a Bambi. That young air force wife, I conjecture, wanted her TV commercials not just because they were spry and fun, insulating her from the terrors and lusts they teased up in her, but also because watching television, commercials and all, for a sizable portion of her waking life accomplished for her something like the radical intention of surrealism, which aimed, according to Breton, to do no less than revolutionize human existence by altering the relation between dream and reality. In her, this relation had been altered. I conjecture that the main cause of the stultifying effect of surrealism in the great world has been motion pictures. Whatever it is that high art does, the cinema can do. But it also does a surreal thing no other art can do a hundredth as well, and its offspring television does this even better: it makes dream-substitutes. I mean literal dreams, not figurative ones like the "American dream" or Martin Luther King's "I have a dream." How extensively a movie or TV show can substitute for a dream is a matter of unprovable hypothesis-more in some people than in others, of course, and never more than half, since a dreamer makes up his own dreams. But sometimes, especially in TV addicts, this substitution can be substantial. Consider: the viewer is physically passive, may be as inert as a sleeper; the images can be hallucinatory in their vividness, and their sequence need have little or nothing to do with rational consciousness; they can evoke, and can be calculated to evoke, strong emotions that do not follow from anything the viewer decided or did and that do not immediately cause him to choose or do anything. The crucial question is: How are these images connected with reality? I argue that movies and TV shows, while having the power, need not and usually do not come from or reach into reality in any way that matters. Most of the time they use methods taken from dreaming and art-methods honed by the surrealists-not for the purpose of revealing a truth in disguise or of creating something beautiful or of playing or of doing most of the other things dreams and art do; they do it, if not immediately then finally, for the purpose of selling something: sometimes a product, sometimes an idea, always themselves. We need dreams in order to keep in touch with ourselves. One who is chronically exposed to pseudodreams, voluntarily or not, is likely to lose touch with his deep self; his imagination does not shape and unify but squanders in the shallows and swamps of daydreaming, becomes pastime fantasy; his connections with reality become confused in many ways. One of these ways is his muddling propaganda and truth, that error without which the people cannot be deformed into the masses. Another is his blurring his own memories. To remember fully is to imagine, and to daydream is to remember in a fog. Foggy memories, foggy self. Pseudoculture, however, means far more than pseudosurrealism or pseudo art. It also means ideas and attitudes that, when put into practice, interfere with people's ways of being together. In this broader sense, pseudoculture's ideology produces such notions as that masculine aggressiveness is pathological in nature and up to no good-whence it follows that aggression is something to be cured, not put to use; to be outlawed, not civilized; only to be feared, not marveled at as well. One consequence of this attitude in America, where it prevails to some degree, -is an ineptitude at magnificence; we have made discouragingly few monuments of magnificence, and most of us, even the rich, have only the foggiest understanding of what magnificence is. Pseudoculture is great at defoliation: it defoliates evil till all that is visible of it is bad guys; success till all that is left of it is a pile of money; communication till it is a colorless, odorless exchange of information; injustice till it is that big stump, inequality; guilt till it is guilt feelings. But to illustrate my larger point, I am going to consider somewhat more amply one of pseudoculture's variations on love-gourmet sex. In order to achieve literal sublimation, not the figurative kind for which Freud expropriated the word, mystics recommend that the pleasures of the senses be refused, especially sexual pleasures-not repressed in Freud's sense of the word, but deliberately suppressed, protecting the self from them so it will be free to attend to the sublime. Most people, however, as all religious systems acknowledge, are not capable of doing that; indeed, the Enlightenment holds that the contemplatives did not do it either but just thought they did; for example, V. S. Naipaul applies to Gandhi's successor, Jawaharlal Nehru, the phrase "the stupor of meditation." Puritans of every religion, aiming to get at everybody, teach that nearly all pleasure, and especially sexual pleasure, is sinful. As the Calvinist of the joke puts it, "We may not be able to keep our people from sinning, but we sure can keep them from enjoying it." But both mysticism and puritanism have lost authority among us; believing, as we by and large do, that psychology knows, and religion does not know, what reality is, we relegate mysticism, or at least we try to relegate it, to history, India, and abnormal psychology; and puritanism, having fallen into disrepute, has gone underground, though what it is doing down there I am not sure, nor how violently it will break out again, nor when. Pseudoculture teaches us not to sacrifice any sexual pleasure in the name of some higher good, since presumably there is none; not homosexuality or sadomasochism is the perversion, but chastity. Now, to say pleasure is and should be one of the true sexual goods is not the same thing as saying it is the supreme sexual good; to say that sacrificing sexual pleasure to a perhaps illusory religious belief is perverse is not the same thing as saying that every sacrifice of sexual pleasure is perverse. The subtitle to Alex Comfort's Joy of Sex should have been "The Gourmet Guide to Sexual Pleasure" instead of "to Making Love," for, to the contemporary hedonist, the greatest threat comes not from puritanism or the ideal of chastity but from love. Love is still respectable, and it has strong advocates who hold that sexual pleasure, a splendid good in itself, serves the higher good of helping to connect two selves profoundly; that is, pleasure helps to make love and keep love made. Furthermore, they hold that fidelity, too, helps to keep love made. Now, fidelity is a dangerous principle to a hedonist, for it entails sacrifice, giving up all those other partners for just this one. When pleasure is the highest good of sex, it doesn't much matter which body or how many you get it with so long as you get it; besides, variety is a source of pleasure in itself, and also reduces the hazard of loving some one person long or deeply. In an age of the Pleasure Ethic, pornography, that depersonalizer, is a functional art, teaching by example how to keep from making love by divorcing sex from the self; hence the popularity of pornography has increased, not diminished, as the prohibitions against it have been removed. To hedonism, faithful sexual love is an abomination because it not only can, and sometimes does, take you higher than pleasure ever can, thereby making pleasure a lesser thing, but also can, and probably sometimes will, take you down into the horrors as pleasure never does. So can love of your child do such things to you; hence hedonism's enthusiasm for abortion-if you have to give up something, let it be an embryo, not your due allotment of orgasms. Love pulls us into reality, and reality is what pseudoculture likes least, what it is contrived to protect us from, but the trouble with reality is that it is always there, and every once in a while it may compel us to recognize that what we have been telling ourselves is not what is. When those who have lost faith in the exalted begin to suspect that things are not as they seem, they always assume that things must be worse than they seem, not better. Those who consider ecstasy a euphemism for orgasm, who think feeling guilty about it can atone for an injury done; whose dreams lie to them, learn to suspect that almost nothing is what it seems, not even such portions of reality as they are unavoidably confronted with from time to time. I love you even though-or is it because?you blame me for not loving you enough. I will try to love you more. But is it really love? Is it really you I love? The rock on which the sense of reality stands is' one's own emotions. Those who are unsure of what they feel, of how their feelings are connected with reality, are full of suspiciousness, are given to fantasies of conspiracy and persecution, are prey to delusions, to disorders of self-assertion. The madness that best characterizes our time is paranoia, or, in dilution, paranoid tendencies. An example is the enormous overvaluation of a novel like Thomas Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow, which does not realistically portray complex characters who, among their other qualities, take a paranoid view of the world, nor does it sanely portray a mad world in the manner of great satire, nor does it, as Beckett does, perform astonishing arabesques in the narrow strand between lush paranoia and nothingness. Instead, it projects paranoia-sometimes with enormous subtlety and force, paranoia being the madness by which the intellect can be most fully engaged and pressed into service. Malice flourishes in the dark of ignorance. Unsure of my own self, I am even less sure of your selves. You are my mirrors. The malice I cast at you I see as coming at me. You are guilty of my blame. VIOLATIONS OF THE SELF Intrinsic to pseudoculture, as I see it, is violation of the sense of intimacy-that outreaching in mutuality which, when it is not sentimentalized or perverted, informs the deepening consciousness. Absolute violation of intimacy is an aspect of totalitarianism. What better way to undermine the individual, purposive self than to render intimacy impossible (as in a concentration camp), to make it an object of suspicion and hostility, as everywhere in a totalitarian state, to limit its choices with mass activities of all sorts, to put a taboo on privacy? But this kind of assault is beyond what I mean by pseudoculture. I am interested in our homegrown, less directly obliterative varieties, the first of which, public intimacy, should be a satiric oxymoron but is instead bitterly literal. Familiar examples of public intimacy, of making public what ought to be kept private, are gossip columns, pornography, true-confession magazines. The camera also has made possible violations of the self that were not, could not have been, imagined before. The camera intrudes on ordinary people without their consent: the newspaper shot of the mother at the moment she learns her child has been killed. It encourages people who want celebrity-that is, many people-to do and say on camera what is normally done and said in private, what should be done and said in public only by actors. Finally, the camera, along with the microphone, can become the object of gestures that should be offered in private only to another human being. There seems no end to the ways in which intimacy is violated, the sense of intimacy mangled. There is the how-to handbook of sexual intimacy; the medical technician's instant intimacy with a patient's name; the mass acceptance of voyeurism; intimacy as therapy; intimacy with Jesus, as though because he is a lamb he is not also a tiger. The kind I am most concerned about, however, I call mirror intimacy. Pseudoculture has been preaching mirror intimacy for years and shows no sign of letting up. It is everywhere about us. Two examples. In the June, 1979, issue of Good Housekeeping there appeared a page of typographically free verse entitled "My Ideal Man," by Dinah Shore.1 The verse opens: "My ideal man is many men." I assume she means, literally, that if you keep looking at the same man for long, the self of his otherness is likely to show, and the more you see of his self, the harder it is to use him as a mirror; and, metaphorically, that if you conceive of a man as having many facets, each facet is usable as a mirror. What Dinah Shore does not want, at least does not say she wants, is one integrated man, the kind you see whenever you look at him, from whatever angle, no matter what else you were looking for. She goes on: "We will share." What "we" will share she leaves unspecified, but why is clear-so "he will care so much that/For once I can tell him what is in my soul. Nowhere does she say she will love her ideal man or that he will love her.."He will know/My day begins and ends with him,/And that the way I treat my friends, my helpers, my dog,/My work, my play depends on how/l feel he feels about me on that day." Not "how I feel about him" but "how I feel he feels about me." Fortunately for Dinah, there are many men not all of them in show business-who want from their women what she wants from her man. What do mirrors do in bed with one another? A new slick magazine called Self is devoted to instructing young women on how to be good to themselves; a recent issue gives this quintessential advice: "Make love unto others as you would have them make love unto you." Remember reactionary old Freud's "Anatomy is destiny"? Nous avons change tout cela. 1. "My Ideal Man," by Dinah Shore, copyright © 1973 by Dinah Shore, reprinted by special permission of the author.   MORE IS LESS Pseudoculture regularly appropriates the goods of high culture and misuses them. Two I especially notice being violated for their depth of intimacy are realistic fiction and psychoanalysis, both of which assume the supreme value of the mature individual, the self-knowing person. Often in life, civilized people of sufficient intelligence and sensibility, as well as leisure, cultivate the art of intimacy; when both the author and the characters of a story are of this disposition, the resulting fiction can be of a refinement as profound and exact as it is possible for. the mind to imagine-Lady Murasaki's Tale of Genii, Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, Henry James's great fictions. To observe the limits such novelists respect, transgressions they do not make, mysteries of otherness they will not intrude on, is to understand right intimacy itself. For example, they do not share another's sensory experience except as he can talk about it; they leave unnamed some of the story's most important motives and meanings; they take the reader up to the moment of a great choosing and then away from it; they do not tie down, stultify, cramp with causation the conscience itself; they leave their characters alone to choose in that darkness where the great moral choices are made. What of its great popularity, high fiction has taught many readers a taste for intimacy. So why not tinker with the rules a little here, a little therebe unmistakably clear about what is right and what is wrong, for example, search every wound, make every decision a visible process, get in bed with lovers, such like? That way, intimacy will be available to the masses. Of course it won't be the same any longer. Worse, they'll get into the way of thinking that intimacy is easy and no more than their due-in life as in novels. As for psychoanalysis: what Aquinas was to scholasticism in the thirteenth century, Freud is to psychology in the twentieth. Like scholasticism then, psychology permeates both what we apprehend of reality and also, to some degree, reality itself; what you do to a convicted criminal, for instance, has a great deal to do with why you think he committed the crime, and that in turn frequently has more to do with what your philosophy tells you is there than with what really is there: if he's possessed, beat the devil out of him; if he did it of his own free will, punish him; if he's a danger to society, warehouse him; but if, as liberal psychology teaches, he is mentally ill, heal him-which mostly means keep him drugged. Psychoanalysis is an instrument which subtle people use in order to think superbly about inmost matters, which the crude use to know many things that cannot be known, and which everybody can use to move in on everybody else. Freud has told us about our secret selves so much we had not known before, or had only half known, and he speaks with, and has been invested with, such authority that many think that what he says is there is what is there-all that is there. Worse, because Freud's writings have made secrets public, and because his therapeutic method involves a partial but extreme intimacy in which the patient may say anything without restriction-any indecency, any accusation, any blasphemy, irrelevancy, craziness, betrayal of confidence-and because this method works in treating certain otherwise intractable disorders, psychoanalysis has contributed to the blurring of the sense of intimacy, the sense of what nudity is appropriate there but not here, then but not now, with you alone and with no one else. Freud himself did not blur such distinctions. He knew how to make public a secret without betraying a confidence: he would tell it as a pseudonymous case history. Revering high civilization as he did-and being, as he was, fully aware of the many forces, some of them in himself, that want to bring it down, wreck it, smear it, strip it-he always dressed properly. You can be intimate with only a few friends, only with the few who know how to accept the privacies you offer them and how to offer you privacies in such a way that you can accept them; and not even to these few friends, not even to one, do you tell everything. To tell many all is not being intimate, it is rubbing; in this as in much of civilized life, the more the less. Those without intimacy have their identities assigned to them-by biology, by the state, finally by pseudoculture.   SUGGESTED READINGS RELATED TO THE SECOND STAGE OF LIFE Bowlby, John. Attachment and Loss. Attachment, vol. 1; Separation (Anxiety and Anger), Vol. 2; Loss (Sadness and Depression), Vol. 3. New York: Basic Books, 1969, 1973, 1980. Meek, George W., ed. Healers and the Healing Process. Wheaton, Ill.: The Theosophical Publishing House, 1977. Nygren, Anders. Agape and Eros. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1953. Bullough, Vern L. Sexual Variance in Society and History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976. Rosen, Raymond and Rosen, Linda Reich. Human Sexuality. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1981. Clynes, Manfred. Sentics: The Touch of the Emotions. New York: Doubleday, 1978. Tennov, Dorothy. Love and Limerence: The Experience of Being in Love. New York: Stein and Day, 1980. Douglas, Nik and Slinger, Penny. Sexual Secrets: The Alchemy of Ecstasy. New York: Destiny Books, 1979. Watts, Alan W. Nature, Man, and Woman. New York: Random House, 1970. The Seven Stages of Eternal Life - Laughing Man Magazine Table of Contents

MENU | Home | Intro | Beezone Articles | Adi Da Articles | Tradition Articles | All Articles | email

"The perfect among the sages is identical with Me. There is absolutely no difference between us"
Tripura Rahasya, Chap XX, 128-133