Over the past month one theme has been playing in my mind. It comes from a conversation I had with a coworker about the beauty of a young man who worked in our group. I was attempting to explain how, despite his physical attractiveness I had no desire to lay with him sexually. I think my idea went something like this;
Of course I find [him] beautiful. He’s gorgeous but I have no desire to possess him or even touch him. It’s like a flower you come across. The flower is beautiful but do you pick it? Its beauty will eventually fade and die once it’s been wrestled from the dirt and soiled by your hands. I feel that way about people. If I touch them, I alter their environment in a way that could be potentially destructive . It’s far better for me to observe their beauty than to try to take actions because of it.
As much as I am a Dionysian woman I am also a bit Epicurean in my outlook. Pleasure should be prolonged as long as possible. With age I’ve found that I obtain more pleasure from the lack of “having” than I ever do from actually obtaining my desires. A beautiful man is still beautiful if every day I see the sun rise on his beauty and have no reason to think otherwise. But what if we quarrel? What if he turns out to be of poor character? Well then the beauty is diminished. In my desire to possess, to hold against my flesh, I’ve destroyed the aesthetic.
“But human beings aren’t perfect.” You’ll say and you’re right. But how often do we say this to ourselves not as a reminder of why we should accept others as they are but more as a reminder of what happens when we decide possession is the natural course for desire; whether sexually or aesthetically? The assumption is that this attitude derives from expecting perfection, but I feel this attitude comes from my inner realization that my very real imperfections are quite capable of deteriorating the delicate masterpiece someone else has become.
This is a far cry from many feelings I have had in the past where I wanted to reach out and touch, grab, and hold with hand, tongue, and teeth. It’s almost ascetic in its implications, but maybe that is where I am headed right now. Especially as Lucifer and Dionysos both switch gears with regard to what is expected of me and where I am supposed to be headed. If anything this moment seems completely counter-intuitive to everything I ever thought these beings would be but maybe that’s the point after all. They, nor anything else, is MINE to possess or “know”. All of that is an illusion, an attempt at wrestling control in the face of the weakness of the eye and human soul.
The only thing I can possess is my knowledge of self, my own destiny, thoughts, words, deeds, and truths.