The Me There Is to Know

The two sides of myself
are split along the lines
of my parentage.

On my mother's side,

from an early age I was exposed to esoteric literature, having access to the greatest minds of eastern and western thought and all manner of metaphysical training.  My hours were filled with readings from astrology, numerology, Fate Magazine, handwriting analysis, the Rosicrucians, UFO speculations, and every tradition of spiritual endeavor and insightfulness, down the Akashic texts and letters to the Builders of the Adytum. I had read almost every available text on Edgar Cayce, telepathy, and interpersonal communication by my early teens, and the collected works of Freud and Jung, including the case studies of Freud, by my late teens.  By the time I was 21, I had integrated the world religions, and in my thirties was sent back to review Christianity and find its link to Buddhism, a notation found in my forward to the book, ONE by Michael Williams.  Along the way, I discovered Hesse and Nietzsche, and then finally met the challenge of integrating western and eastern thought, culminating in my creating a mythology of the mind, based on expanded language iconology and the reading of everyday communication use as a projection of self-consciousness, and thus a system of staying sub-consciously aware of our own trajectory, a poetic notion that predates prose, pre-verbal thinking as rationalizations used to illustrate our emotional identities. The psychopathology of this led to my discovering my own sapiosexuality, an outgrowth of dealing with my other half.

On my father's side,

I was introduced early on to the idea that life was an exercise in being sexually aware of one's environment.  I was first offered adult sex by my grandfather, who asked me if I would like a girl who at 19 was 13 years my senior; she was attractive and outwardly inviting, but I could tell by her smell and the dilation of her pupils that copulating with a six year old might be a very uneasy experience.  I was hyper aware of this same reaction as through the years my father also traipsed me from one bar to another, and asked me over and over if this or that female would be to my liking.  At twelve, I found myself with a young woman in a red bikini sitting in my lap and she was to be my date for the evening; I declined for the 100th time since her smell and every sign of intimate behavior about her was telling me that she was ashamed and feeling awkward.  I had long since learned that permission was the key to my knowing that the timing would be right, and to this day if any signal at all discloses uneasiness, I become a counselor of emotional abuse, dis-ease, and self-consciousness.  This has become so much the case that my work has become a pathway of relationships that turn into clients, as I call them.  Eventually, intimacy leads to caretaking since my empathy for my partners becomes so overwhelming that instead of relating sexually, I become a person vowed not to be someone in the lineage of their abuses and abandonments.  I am capable of loving many people, and so as a poly-omni-sapiosexual, I relate to the wounded and secret side of others, and it is often smell and contextual clues that lead me like a mentalist directly to their most forbidden sides, and there the care begins.

So, my two sides integrated

have driven me to seek out and befriend all manner of human beings.  My most likely compatriots are other sapiosexuals, since we see who we are so readily.  Being in love with your own kind in this case is a mutually loving and respectful place, but there is the insecurity of non-exclusivity. I do not distinguish between the genders in their emotional make up.  I don't distinguish among women because of their shape or form, but rather because of their smell. All women are attractive, some smell more open and emotionally attuned.  Words are, to me, the most accurate way to measure the smell a person at a distance will have.  I have a matrix of use in my head that is not unlike what a mechanic would use to diagnose problems with a car.  I see or hear the words and the brand of self-consciousness denotes the most probable smell.  By smell, I mean to say that a woman's biochemistry, to me, has an interactivity with her environment through which she relates her own self-image.  Some outwardly attractive women have odors, actual odors of hormones, that are extremely difficult to abide.  I have mainly stopped looking at people and operate by language and smell entirely.  The outward appearance is way too deceptive if you let it be.

To me, then, the most telling thing about another person is his or her facility with language.  It is the greatest predictor of smell, and smell is the acid test for everything about others for me.  My ability to smell is so refined in this area that I have lost the ability to smell most normal things.  I operate at the pheromonic level.  While others are maneuvering to get a girl into bed to have sex with her, I will engage her in a conversation and have ravished and made love to her the entire evening right in front of everyone, and she will know it.  Writing with someone is a union to me that is sexual and intimate, but more than that, it is a bonding experience that allows me to know branches of a person's own experiential base, a fracking of the ground of their identity, and so a deep structurally fulfilling relationship using mere words.  I have explained this in the forums where I proposed that merely interacting using language was in fact a sexual union for those who view erotica as expressive of their own personalities and sexuality, plain and simple.

Concepts like vanilla or BDSM or male or female are not discreet terms to me but rather concepts along a continuum. I see us all being interrelated on many levels, and only seemingly diametrically opposed on principle, due to our limited experiences and understanding.  If we were to overlay our sense of things, we would all see ourselves as a singularity of consciousness, and that our sum total experience is in fact a point of identity, where we are inductively coming to know who we are, and that our collective understanding adds to our collective survival.  For me, a bloodhound on the trail of that understanding, I am a glass bead gamer who is on the lookout for others of my ilk and who is on the journey of enjoying the integrating of both my sides, a philosophic introspective intimate who is most likely to stand next to you, inhale your space, and ask you a few questions about life and the pursuit of being ourselves. All manner of clothing covers nothing, and the thought that it does is more a point of denial and naiveté.

runningturtle87