The Schopenhauer Cure (44 page)

really caught up in the discussion." He turned to Pam. "Maybe that was threatening to you; maybe you didn't want to lose your

influence over Tony."

"Thanks, Stuart, mighty enlightening," shot back Pam.

"Your point is that to compete with this zombie I have to fuck all the guys in the group! That's your view of women's abilities?"

"
That's
going to encourage feedback," said Gill, "and that zombie crack is out of line. I prefer Philip's even-mindedness over hysterical name-calling any day! Pam, you are one angry lady. Can you be anything else but mad?"

"Those are strong feelings, Gill. What's happening?" asked

Julius.

"I think I see a lot of my wife in this new angry Pam, and

I'm determined not to let any vicious stuff pass--from either of them."

Then Gill added, "And there's something else. I think I'm

miffed at continuing to be so invisible to Pam." He turned to her.

"I'm being personal and upfront with you; I've let you know what I'm feeling about you, I tell you how I see you as the chief justice, but nothing registers--I still don't matter. You only got eyes for Philip...and Tony. And I think I'm giving you important stuff--

and here's another piece: I think I know why your John bailed

out:
it wasn't because he was a coward; it was because of your rage.
"

Pam, lost in thought, remained silent.

"There are lots of powerful feelings coming out. Let's keep

looking at them and try to understand them. Ideas?" asked Julius.

"I admire Pam's honesty today," said Bonnie, "and I can

understand how raw she feels. I also appreciate Gill taking her on.

That's an amazing change for you, Gill, and I applaud it, but

sometimes I wish you'd let Philip defend himself. I don't

understand why he doesn't." She turned to Philip. "Why don't

you?"

Philip shook his head and remained silent.

"If he won't speak, I'll answer for him," said Pam. "He's

following instructions from Arthur Schopenhauer." She took a note from her purse, scanned it, and read:

*
Speak without emotion.

*
Don't be spontaneous.

*
Remain independent of others.

*
Think of yourself as living in a town in which you have the only watch that keeps time--it will serve you well.

*
To disregard is to win regard.

Philip nodded appreciatively and replied, "I approve

of your reading material. Sounds like pretty good advice to

me."

"What's going on?" asked Stuart.

"Doing a little browsing in Schopenhauer," said

Pam, holding up her notes.

After a silence, Rebecca broke the impasse. "Tony,

where are you? What's going on with you?"

"Hard for me to talk today," said Tony, shaking his

head. "I feel tied up, like I'm frozen solid."

To everyone's surprise, Philip responded, "I think I

understand your bind, Tony. It's like Julius said, you're

caught between two conflicting requirements: you're

expected to work in the group by freely expressing

yourself, and at the same time you're trying to honor your

allegiance to Pam."

"Yep, I see that," Tony replied, "but seeing is not

enough, doesn't free me up. But still, thanks. And here's

one back to you. What you just said a minute ago--you

know, supporting Julius's point--well, that's a first for

you--I mean not challenging him--a big change, man."

"Understanding, you say, is not enough. What else is

needed?" Philip asked.

Tony shook his head. "This ain't easy today."

"I think I know what would help," said Julius,

turning toward Tony. "You and Pam are avoiding one

another, not expressing your feelings. Maybe you're saving

it to talk about later. I know it's awkward, but can you

make a start on doing it here? Perhaps try talking to each

other, not to us."

Tony took a deep breath and turned to Pam. "I don't

feel good about this, feel off balance. I'm pissed at the way

all this played out. I can't get my mind around why not a

phone call to me first, to talk it over, get me on board for

today?"

"Sorry. But we both knew this had to come out

sometime. We talked about that."

"That's it? That's all you got to say? And what about

tonight? Are we still on?"

"It would be too awkward to see you. The rules here

are to talk about all relationships, and I want to honor my

contract with the group. I can't go on with this; maybe after

the group ends--"

"You have a most convenient and flexible

relationship to contracts," interrupted Philip, showing

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
wh

o

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

I thank you."

Philip bowed his head slightly.

Julius continued, "This agitation you describe sounds

important. Should we explore it? There are only five

meetings left; I urge you to take advantage of this group

while there's still time."

Though Philip silently shook his head as if to

indicate that exploration was not yet possible for him, he

was not destined to stay silent permanently. In the

following meetings Philip was inexorably drawn in.

Pam opened the next meeting by pertly addressing Gill:

"Apology time! I've been thinking about you and think I