Copyright © 2006 by William Mistele. All rights reserve

Transcripts from the live show:

TALK SHOW RADIO

(Note: Topics include poetry about the softness of a woman’s skin, the magic of undines and the magnetic fluid, on and on without end)

[Week One]

You Are Live and On the Air

Hello out there. This is live talk show radio coming to you from the Magic University. Tonight we are going to do a special conference call with the first three people who call in. Our topic is the feeling of a woman’s skin when you are cuddling her. In your answer, complete the following sentence: “A woman’s skin is as soft as ….”

Well, whatever you think a woman’s skin is as soft as ….we all want to know. This is your chance to be on our show. And don’t think we are being frivolous or shallow. A woman’s skin is one of the keys that unlocks the Feminine Mysteries.

Hello. Go ahead. You are on the air.

Hi. My name is Tavitma. I am a Hopi Indian from Second Mesa.

Don’t tell me. Hotevilla?

No, New Oraibi. A woman’s skin is as soft as the fur of a rabbit or a kitten.

Thank you. We have another caller. Go ahead.

I am May Ling from Shanghai. A woman’s skin is as soft as a woman wrapped in silk who has just stepped out of the shower.

Good, good. Keep it coming. We have another caller on the air.

Hello. My name is Martin and I am from a little village in the Black Forest region, Deutschland. A woman’s skin is as soft as moonlight falling into a still mountain pool; it is as soft as the thin spray of a wave on your cheek; as soft as

May Ling: (interrupting): as soft as the wind flowing through a tree without disturbing the leaves.

Tavitma: As soft as a tear that slips down your cheek, crossing your mouth with the taste of salt, and dropping from your chin to find rest on your breasts.

May Ling: As soft as a cat’s paw touching the surface of a lake without leaving a ripple or a trace.

Martin: As soft as the laugh of a man adrift on a sea of timelessness who is rescued at last.

May Ling: As soft as the breath of a baby …actually a baby’s butt.

Martin: As soft and as real as the pulsing heartbeat you feel beneath your fingertips on her breasts.

May Ling: As soft as the sigh in the voice of one who finally surrenders herself in love.

Tavitma: As soft as a dream that carries you away and returns you safe and rested to the light of day.

What is this? Someone is banging on the window from the street. OK. OK. Hang on. I will let you in.

(taking a seat next to a microphone across from the talk show host)

What is your name and where are you from?

Pablo: My name is Pablo and I am from Isla Negra off the coast of Chile. And I want to thank you for this chance to speak for otherwise I am afraid no one would ever hear my voice again.

A woman’s skin is as soft and as warm as the embers of memory as they fade only to find a flame remains rekindling them again in a new beginning.

(another loud banging on the window)

What? Someone else wants in? Gees. OK. OK. Come on in and take a seat next to Pablo. What is your name?

Dylan: My name is Dylan and I am from the United Kingdom. A woman’s skin is as soft as the taste of snow on your face as it glides on twilight’s wind ferrying over frosted white fields and snow glazed meadows so deep asleep all memories are erased or forgotten.

(loud banging on the window)

Is there no end to this? What do these people think this is, the Field of Dreams? OK. OK. Come on in. Turn that wastebasket upside down and sit on it next Dylan. What is your name?

Theodore: My name is Theodore and I am from Saginaw in Michigan and I want you to know it has been a long journey getting here.

A woman’s skin is as soft as the light of dawn finding its way between the leaves of trees slipping down, down into the shadows, lifting them up in its hands now a cup, turning them into pure light.

Wait. Wait. Let me try it again. My voice has been out of shape. A woman’s skin is as soft as fingertips tracing the curve of her hips and there you find a dream you had let escape, that flew away to be free, but now it returns charmed by her beauty.

Pablo: I think what Theodore is trying to say is that a woman’s skin is as soft as the tip of a tongue, of its touch upon her skin circling her navel and dipping within now becoming a key to unlock the mystery of a human heart that has learned to be free.

Dylan: A woman’s skin is as soft as sheaves of wheat as the wind breaks in waves of golden light while the five senses drown in the sound of the words, “I love you.”

I think you “walk ins” are probably a little cold from your journeys. How about my guests on the conference call? Anything else?

Martin: If I may misquote another—“To touch a woman’s skin is to be freed of all sin. To taste it is to fly with divine wings. When its light fills you eyes, you see sights hidden from the wise. And if it ever should anoint you, its cool, soothing tenderness flowing through you, then all that you have ever lost is again found and impossible hopes and dreams will soon come around.”

OK. OK. That is very nice Martin but we are straying a little from the topic. Come on, folks. Put your mind into the experience of your hands on a woman’s body, sense the caress and touch of her skin with your fingers and palm. Focus, focus, focus. And let’s keep it short, concise, and to the point. This is all about perception.

Tavitma: What about you? You haven’t contributed anything.

OK. Let me give it a try—a woman’s skin is as soft as a song that sinks into your heart with notes that steal pleasure from every nerve fiber in your body.

(loud banging on the window) (more loud banging on the window)

What is this? The Dead Poet’s Society? OK. OK. Come on in. (Theodore gets up and lets the woman take his seat.)

Who are you?

Sappho: My name is Sappho and I am from the island of Lesbos. I am here because I heard from my grave words spoken of “golden light” and to this I wish to add my own insight.

And so ….what do you want to say?

Sappho: A woman’s skin is as soft as ….

(her voice suddenly rapturous speaks most melodious)

“A thief in golden sandals, Dawn fell on me, taking me in the way I always wanted; awakening, sweat bedews me like a shower, tingles all my flesh with subtle fire.”

Dylan: (moaning, breathless, and then glancing from Sappho to Pablo) “Sexy, isn’t she?” “Eat your heart out boys,” interjects Theodore.

(loud banging on the window—its Yeats, T.S. Elliot, and Robert Bly. Bly has his nose pressed against the glass and there are tears in his eyes but now the glass fogs up from the frost in his breath.)

Thoedore: (to the three poets outside) Get lost! We aren’t going to let you in and that’s final!

(the three poets walk off into the dark, snowy night dejected)

Pablo: (to Sappho) More, more.

Sappho: (gazing into Pablo’s eyes with a dark stare in which light begins to shine. And then she leans in close to him and whispers into his ear.)

“What did she say?” asks Dylan.

“Yeah, we all want to know,” insists Theodore.

Pablo: (a thoughtful look on his face, a frown, and then a laugh) She said to me,

“I want to feel your will inside me. I want your desire to arouse me. I want to burn with your yearning until nothing is left except the scent of your love carried by the wings of my heart.”

Dylan: (turning to Theodore) Well, Theodore, we will give you one last chance to redeem yourself.

Pablo: Yeah, yeah. (to Theodore) A poet without a rhyme in his head might as well be dead.

Theodore: (to Sappho) Your hips and thighs’ circling, molded as a sea of sand dunes sculptured by the wind, an intimate caress my palm will never find flowing upon your skin.

Sappho: (to Theodore) Your touch shakes me as you pierce me deep within, my nerves scream like rivers running from the tallest mountains now evaporating and lost amid the desert’s red dunes.

Dylan: (to Sappho) There is a candle, a wick naked and exposed. It burns furiously inhaling the air, exhaling flames of desire, melting darkness submits to worship upon this altar of your body, your hips a wine I shall never find. Though I am master of my craft, this flame is red, this flame is white and its burns with a delight I shall never taste again.

Sappho: (to Dylan with her eyes closed, her chin slightly raised, her body actually quivering): Taste me! I am the rain falling upon trees, leaves slipping through mountain meadows, ravines to fall into streams suddenly throbbing for release; saturated, overflowing with burning need hurling through my body a flashflood I explode over falls; pools deep and serene can not contain me; your body an electrical storm within my dreams lights this darkness where I wander, my hunger now whirls and turns, the touch of your lips devours me.

OK. OK. I know, I know, you are nothing but dead poets and you don’t seem to have ever heard of the word “plagiarism.” But this is all in good fun. And, to be honest, it is good to see you all again.

(A voice from no where speaks in the room)

Steve: Hello? Hello? Can you hear me now?

Who the fuck are you?

Steve: Oh, good. My name is Steve Palmer not to be confused with Arnold Palmer or Steve Ballmer. I am a total nerd, a computer geek, and as a CEO I am on the list of the top fifty most rich in this country.

How did you get in here? And where are you?

Steve: I am also a hacker and there are few on earth who are my match. Even the Magic University has no defense against me. I am inside your wireless system and am using your computer speakers.

So what do you want? A private session with Sappho?

No, nothing like that. I want the expertise of the group you have gathered together. I think they might be able to help me because I am at my last tether.

Just spell it out. Keep it simple and for goodness sake, stop trying to rhyme.

I was cuddling a woman exactly as you said at the beginning of your radio call in. And I now have this pain in my chest region and it simply won’t go away even with pain killers. And, trust me on this, poetry and cute metaphoric descriptions are worthless when it comes to the relief I am seeking.

So you are saying a woman’s skin is so soft it causes you pain? Is this your contribution?

(a door opens in the back of the broadcasting room and in steps a man very dark and gloomy.)

Who the hell are you? Another computer geek who wants to bear all?

Cerebrum of Dr. Eugene Gendlin (abbreviated: CDEG) No. I am the cerebrum of Dr. Eugene Gendlin projected as a holographic psychic entity.

Well, that is a new one on me. Does Dr. Gendlin know you are here?

CDEG: No. I operate both inside and outside of his consciousness but I am sure he would not object to my being here.

And what do you want CDEG?

CDEG: Well, obviously I am here to facilitate our geek’s, I mean Steve’s blocked energy.

Why do you think you can help?

CDEG: You are carrying on dialogues, right?

Yes. We are having conversations.

CDEG: Well, in Plato’s Dialogues, the body was opposed to the mind thus giving rise to the disasters of Western philosophy and theology. But I shall now demonstrate beyond all doubt that the body and mind are of one design and can not be separated when it comes to matters of the heart.

Interesting. Proceed.

CDEG: (to Steve) Now Steve. Describe as best you can the actual sensations of pain in your body. Be specific. I want a visual, graphic, and kinesthetic output.

Steve: OK. After cuddling her, about a day later, I felt this pain that won’t go away. It’s about three eights of an inch beneath the surface of my skin and it extends from my belly to just below my chin. It is like one layer of flesh has been pulled to a small extent away from another. It is more than discomfort. It is like my body no longer fits together.

CDEG: Very good Steve. You’re doing well with your description. Now focus on the actual physical sensations again. Stay with this for a moment. Now compare what you are feeling now with the words you just described to me.

Steve: Yeah, I can go back and forth between the description and the sensations and I can’t make it more accurate than that. But it is still there in full force. Please make the pain go away!

CDEG: OK. Ask yourself this question and then stop all thought and let your body give you an answer. Listen in stillness for the reply from within. The question is this: What is underneath and behind this pain? What is its opposite?

Steve: OK. I am focusing now, asking, and listening.

(silence for thirty seconds)

Steve: What appears in my body is the sensation of the woman as she cuddles me. It is her absence that is causing the pain. (pleading) I felt so much more alive being with her. So what is my problem? Am I experiencing a withdrawal symptom?

CDEG: You are doing very well. This shows excellent progress. Remain calm. Focusing often passes through several transitions. Now ask yourself again while maintaining this sensation of her body pressed against yours—What is underneath or behind this?

Steve: (another thirty seconds) Wow. There is this very intense energy now in my body accompanied by visual representation.

CDEG: That’s OK. Take your time. Describe both the visual configuration and the energy sensation.

Steve: It is like I am inside of or have become an alchemical mandala: here are the sun and the moon, the stars above, the earth below, all images of nature around me arrayed. The mandala is of substance like platinum and the designs are drawn with ink made from various metals—silver, gold, iron, tin, lead, copper, brass, quicksilver, and charcoal.

When I say the energy is intense it is like something penetrating every cell in my body down to molecular and atomic levels.

CDEG: Can you be more specific about this intensity?

Steve: The intensity is a feeling of each part dissolving and then fusing again in a process that strives for perfection, if you will, it is after total and absolute rejuvenation. The pain is gone but I am not sure if this is any improvement—this intensity is also very uncomfortable.

CDEG: You are doing just fine, Steve. Just a little bit more and it should release. We just need to go slightly beyond focusing and psychology.

Where we are now, to use magic terminology, is that you are too electrical—there is too much masculinity. You have to bring the woman into this process.

So recall again the two of you cuddling. Now imagine you are making love with her but you have to actually connect to her psychically. You see, if the two of you had sex the tension would be gone but the resolution would only be temporary. You are after something more permanent and soulful, more internal that is perhaps a deeper connection than even sex.

Steve: OK. She and I are making love. I can feel her right here with me. I can feel her respond.

CDEG: Go ahead: ask what is underneath and behind this?

Steve: OK. Got it! Is it this obvious? It is two bodies acting as one, ten senses instead of five, two separate minds now synchronized. And I see what you mean about the magnetic fluid—this ….how did you guys put it—it anoints you, its cool, soothing tenderness flowing through you—the feminine magnetic surrounds and contains the electric masculine.

CDEG: Good. Now Steve, the words “cool” and “soothing” refer to actual sensations but the word “tenderness” is more abstract. Get inside that word for me, would you?

Steve: Yeah. (focusing) I got it. Her feminine essence, her magnetic fluid is now inside my brain cooling it down. It is relaxing so I can let go and flow ….What is happening? Where am I? Our two brains’ neurological activity is now joined. It is no longer that alchemical mandala—it is the actual universe around me and within me.

CDEG: Well done. Now you know how to deal with the pain of separation and also attain an inner union that transcends even space and time.

(“Bullshit” screams a man with astonishing command who bursts though the door in the back.)

I have got to lock those doors before our next show. You know, you look a lot like Robert McKee. But you are not, are you?

Dr. Profundus: (speaking slowly with the undertones of a lion snarling) I am Dr. Profundus and I am witness to group psychosis, well actually, I would have to call it telepathic contamination. Dr. Eugene Gendlin knows virtually nothing about alchemy or the electric and magnetic fluids. And Steve, a complete geek and nerd, is far to out of touch with his body to engage in this kind of focusing.

Your point?

Dr. Profundus: My point is that all of your brains are interconnected on a telepathic level in a way that invalidates your conclusions. There is no such internal alchemy, spiritual unity, or soul to soul communication. This whole radio program is a sham and a fabrication. I should know. It is I who contributed to brain research in the last century. Why parts of the brain are named after me!

But what you have described demonstrates that the process is valid. For a soul to soul and psychic union with another are precisely a telepathic connection. It is not contamination.

This is what we do here at the Magic University. We bring things to completion; we resolve conflicts; we attain equilibrium. And as in alchemy—we find and reunite what has been lost.

A sexual union with another in its highest aspect requires an inner union with oneself—opposites join, external, internal—each process contributes to the other, amplifying and enriching until human becomes divine.

Dr. Profundus: Well, I never.

Security! (two security guards enter) Take him and drop him off in the halls of Princeton, Harvard, or Stanford where his haunting can better inspire students of a more materialistic bent.

(the two guards escort a befuddled professor toward the door he came in but suddenly Dr. Profundus shakes off their grip on his arms, turns and speaks).

Dr. Profundus: Wait! Wait! I have something further to debate. I myself was an alchemist in a former incarnation—yes, the memory is coming back to me now--because back then anyone with imagination was acquainted with alchemical lore.

The yin ching, the feminine magnetic fluid that Steve has managed to steal from his consort and tuck away in his brain is bound to deteriorate. It is inherently unstable and not at all the equivalent of the Red Lion or the true internal elixir—the quintessence of nature perfected.

Mumble, mumble, toil and trouble. What you are saying is junk unless you are willing to back it up with a lab experiment.

Dr. Profundus: I am. I am. You remember Socrates? He was an idiot and a fool. “Know yourself!” Bullshit. For Socrates, nature had no part to play in illuminating the human heart. You can not know yourself without understanding the way you are a part of nature. In this regard, Socrates was a skeptic. But we need not be as blind as he.

Call one of your undines and let her facilitate someone. Use Theodore, since he is an absolute jerk when it comes to affairs of the heart. If it can work for Theodore, it can work for anyone.

I am sure with an undine as our guide the magnetic fluid from us can not hide. In this way, nature itself through the voice of a mermaid shall guide us all on the path to perfection. But to insure that the process is free of contamination by her overpowering aura, keep her at a distance. Use only her voice and not her presence. Call her to appear in your magic mirror.

Very well. (concentrating for a moment and, in a shining light cool and refreshing to the eyes, an undine appears in the magic mirror)

Undine: What a sight! A room full of such passion and delight! Poets who ferment metaphors until the taste intoxicates the senses!

Undine: Now then. Theodore, you lived for decades without a woman. Your soul is like a forest still caught in winter, where snow still camps in the center.

Undine: (to Theodore) Drink in this wine with your ears.

(singing)

Peace like a river

Peace like the sea of stars on fire

Peace like a heart that loves forever

Peace like a harp

Whose strings sing

Of our deepest dreams and longings.

Now listen carefully and follow my lead.

You are on a beach. The crescent moon is in the sky. The tides once high are now withdrawing following the setting moon. And as the tide is pulled away toward the opposite side of the world, let yourself go. You too are pulled toward your opposite flowing in harmony with nature like a wind driven wave, like water sinking down with the undertow into a dark place where the sun is unable to go.

Just let go. There is nothing to know. Only a feeling to follow.

Now flow with me down a river that runs free. The trees on the side pass you by but you take no note. You just let go and float.

Spread your arms and fingers out to your sides. Breathe deep. Exhale. Feel your toes.

Now travel with me far out to sea. The water is calm, mirror like, and still but warm. The air is cold. A mist rises upon the water, stirring, like curtains, like the Northern Lights reflected in the form of moisture, dancing, wild, playful, free, to mingle and merge and now to rise in the air into the sky without thought or design.

You follow with your mind tasting this liquid dewy trail, ascending the moisture gathers together as clouds in the air.

Your body is now the cloud riding upon the wind, circling within itself, shape shifting, shape changing without end free to dream any dream.

And now you travel to an island whose cliffs are thousands of feet high, your cloud rises toward their height, caressing them, penetrating the trees with your sweet songs and melodies.

Their leaves catch your drops and you are now rain falling down and fog lifting up, moist, wet, tears of joy, tears of pain, they are the same in these cool luminous heights.

You find your way among the cliffs that give birth to streams. You become the water surging and flowing, into these pools, into these falls, you hear the sounds, the water splashing down, the bubbles beneath the surface moving around.

Here in this first pool you take your rest. Your time has been well spent for you are at last content. You feel pure, clear, as open and receptive as anything that is truly feminine. The liquid water shining here is a love that unites the earth and the sky.

But contentment does not imply inaction. You flow on daring to discover the path of life unfolding.

Around, over, and beneath rocks, seeping beneath the sand, you travel on. Winding, serpentine, slow and then fast, deep and shallow, wide and narrow, it makes no difference—you are the feminine essence free to assume any identity without attachment holding you back.

Streams gather together, you become a river. Strong, passionate, feel that power driving you on.

Until you meet the sea, a place of limitless dreams where like one falling asleep or another one waking to a new beginning, you travel on.

And here you become the sea stretching out your limbs from the shores of one continent to another.

The waves, the tides and currents, the icy pole, the depths—this is who you are.

And here take again your rest. For a while. The stars above sing to you for you are their lover. And the sun and moon rise for you—for you are their sister.

And again on and on forever, the mist rises from the surface, moisture ascending into the sky, the entire circle of ocean, moisture, cloud, wind, rain, stream, falls, river, traveling to the sea, within this circle you have learned to be free of form identification, you are water and its feminine mystery.

This watery magnetism now follow through your body ascending into your brain and circling again through every cell in your body. Feel this magnetism as a universal principle that reflects and captures in its heart the light of the universe and renews all things, as dawn is to night so this flow of love within you grants new life.

Thank you all for giving me a time and place where my voice can be heard and my words spoken aloud outside the boundaries of the realm where I reign.

Well, Theodore How was that for you?

Dylan: Was it as good as sex?

Theodore (ignoring Dylan): I only wish that when I was alive such beauty might have been my guide. I feel this magnetism flow through my spine and heart and lungs and kidneys and it sits on my tongue, it is in eyes, my breath. I feel the undine’s magic. And with it now I know I shall sleep and find a greater rest.

Well, Dr. Profundus. I see you have made a contribution at last to our conversation.

Dr. Profundus (waxing poetic): The softness of a woman’s skin is like a love that flows without end, through all of nature it rides, and the universe and galaxies are within its currents and tides.

Undine: Oh, one last thing before I go.

Yes.

Undine: Pick up the phone. You’re listeners will want to hear the next caller’s story. He is an old friend of yours.

Thank you. (the undine vanishes though a shiny, luminous blue green light remains in the Magic Mirror).

(picking up the phone)

Hello. You are live and on the air. To whom am I speaking?

Allan: This is Bhakti Vajra.

I don’t believe I know anyone of that name. Where are you from?

Alan: Grosse Pointe in Michigan.

Alan? Is that you Alan?

Alan: It’s me.

I read in the newspaper how you were awarded a metal in Viet Nam for single handedly charging the enemy. And then you disappeared into the Orient. There is a rumor floating around that you became a Zen priest. Is that right?

Alan: Actually after the war I had a shrimp boat that went bust. Then I ended up in the Philippines where I met a Viet Nam Zen Master. He initiated me into his lineage.

No foolin. Hey, weren’t you planning to become an Eastern Orthodox priest back in High School?

Alan: I got distracted when I was drafted.

Do you have something you want to add to tonight’s program?

Alan: Well, I will tell you. I am cuddling a woman right this moment and I thought I would share with you my experiences with the magnetic fluid you magicians seem to be obsessed with.

Sounds great but don’t you Zen types take a vow of celibacy? I think I had better ask so the listeners can get that out of the way up front.

Alan: It is a fact I have been celibate for sixteen years but my vow does not preclude me from cuddling a woman.

(with doubt in his voice)

I believe I understand. Your contribution then?

Alan: Well, first off I just want to say that there is so much going on in the touch of her skin pressed against me that my mind can barely begin to describe it. We are “spooning,” her back to my front and just her butt against my hips—its like that movie about John Malchovitch—you know the one where there is a tunnel that leads into his mind?

Well, the touch of her hips pressed against me, it is like there is a tunnel that leads directly into the Bank of England where they keep the gold. Not that I am interested in gold. I am not. But it feels like the wealth is beyond compare. Everything I could ever want is hidden here and available to me whenever I wish. And that is just her hips.

The way she responds to my touch—anywhere I place my hand. It is like a subliminal vibration, a subconscious interaction, a sensual dance in which she follows my lead but amplifies the sensation through her reaction.

So the cuddling is working out for you even though there is no movement toward sex?

Let me be specific. The feminine essence Dr. Profundus objected to in Dr. Gendlin’s focusing with Steve—well my brain is saturated with the woman’s feminine beauty—the magnetic fluid is cool, soothing, gentle, rhythmic, receptive, yielding, and above all else—it is healing—it enfolds my entire body with tender affection and serene satisfaction.

So you say that your brain is full of her feminine essence and that even more it changes the way you experience your body? You think it will stay or drain away in an hour or a day?

Well, that is the very question I am now asking myself.

And what is your answer?

I think there might be a way to find it again. I mean, I tried to follow the undine’s meditation but that was too general. This particular female energy in my brain has its own watery imagery—it is like having my body, except for my head, immersed in a small pool in a stream flowing through a forest valley. The bubby water flows all over me and all my cares are gone. There is no thinking going on.

Actually, the only feeling of my body is the splashing laughter of the water which has taken possession of me. So my brain quite naturally can only register neurological activity that is in harmony with the yielding receptive receiving and sweet taste of water.

(there is a cry—cackling, cawing sound)

What’s that noise Alan in the background?

Oh, we are on a beach, you know, California, and there are about a thousand gulls flying overhead.

You know Alan, this doesn’t sound like your every day kind of cuddling that goes on between a man and a woman. What am I missing here?

Right, right. I was gong to ask you about that. I think this woman is a “changeling”—as a new born, it is my suspicion that the mermaids stole the human child and replaced her with an undine as an infant in human form. So she possesses the body of a woman as she grew up, but her souls retains the vibration and sensitivity of the element of water to which she is forever joined from the very depths of her soul.

I have heard of changelings, but never of an undine-human trade. This kind of exchange is something altogether different from what our folk tales have prepared us for. Have you any idea why this might have occurred?

Well, it could be that the boundaries separating our different realms and evolutions are dissolving. Perhaps now the human race is ready to embrace such fable like beauty that the sea contains. Within nature are beings with intelligence who want to play a part in human history just as you magicians must in your training enter their realms to master their mystery and magic.

Alan, that is a very generous way of putting it. You know you always were lucky with women. I couldn’t help but being jealous of you back in high school. So it doesn’t surprise me you’ve found such a treasure. So what first tipped you off that she was an undine?

It was her hands. When I first touched them I said to my self, “This is not a human being.”

So what were her hands like?

It was like holding a woman’s hands when her hands have been in cold water for a half hour.

How interesting. So tell me, what is it like being loved by an undine? I mean I always wondered about that. Can you share with me a little of your first hand experience?

She doesn’t seem to understand human society. She doesn’t understand the rules we live by. Personal boundaries—she always gets confused by that. And she is sometimes afraid when she does not need to be but she still shines like a comet.

Yeah, but I am asking how she has changed you. I would assume she is very magnetic, kind of like a woman whose blood stream is pure estrogen.

Let me put it this way: when she holds me in her heart the way lovers do—it is not just cool energy in my brain throwing me into a state of total relaxation. There is a constellation of feelings like floating free in an indigo sea of weightless water with waves of blue green undulating in and around me.

I can feel precisely the feeling of a seed the instant it penetrates a woman’s ovum and equally when the fertilized egg begins dividing—in DNA, the wings of the winds, tongues of fire, and the diamond light of Dawn all ignite within one song.

There is being nourished in a womb, suspended, sheltered, and protected. There is the satiating taste of a woman’s breasts as an infant; there is the beauty of a universe of wonder and love around me arrayed as I come of age. There is that look in the eyes of a woman who would die for me because she loves me more than life. There is the feeling of rapture in knowing that over the course of my life I have fulfilled my greatest quest which her inspiration granted me in a vision.

There is the feeling of when I die—as I pass over—that her love is my guide to the other side. That our love for each other was exactly what a guardian angel would have wished to have accomplished through us. It is a love that has no end, that discovers and rediscovers itself in new ways again and again.

All of these things, from seed to perfected dream with all the transitions thrown in and healed and reaching completion—this is what it is like to be loved by an undine.

I guess that is a whole lot more than feminine energy filling up a man’s brain with relaxing endorphins as you said. I imagine if we could join part of the heart of the Dalai Lama with Christ’s we would have the kind if love you seem be holding this moment in your arms—a revelation of love and compassion with the beauty of nature entwined. It is a kind of divine chemistry in a union that is heart to heart. As they say: nature, human, and divine all around us lie if we can just find the key to unlock the mystery.

Dylan: Ask him again about sex.

Sappho: Yes, how can anyone taste the kind of union and inner connection he is describing without the sweat, heat, and tension that, in reaching a height like a wave, finally breaks in release?

Alan, they want to know more about sex. Are you going to have sex at some point with this woman or not? I know you used that word celibacy but reality is sometimes known for its spontaneity. The question is, Would you if you could?

Alan: OK. Here is the deal. I am finding that in each moment right now I feel like I just had sex with her in the previous moment—my body feels that satisfied. I feel that I just took her, ravished her, possessed her, had her in every way I could possible want her or imagine—but without any hint or trace of the actual craving or control that initiates foreplay.

You understand? There is no aggression or need for possession. This magnetic, feminine, skin to skin embrace is utterly satisfying to the point of being ecstatic—the sex between us is something that takes place inside of us and it doesn’t seem to have an end in sight. This is my report and I will testify to this under oath in court.

Listen Alan, we are going to be following your relationship with great interest. Hope to hear from you soon.