Celibacy was an idea I had toyed with

Celibacy was an idea I had toyed with on and off for years, thanks (?) especially to the writer Carlos Castaneda whose books had provided a map for my life since that first encounter in the Beirut bookstore in 1973. If what Carlos wrote was true, and the debate stormed for years, everything I had learned and thought about "reality" was irrelevant. I took him at his word and he stated for all of us millions of his readers over and over that the books were truthful accounting of actual events. Either he was a genius liar or sincere and I chose to believe he was sincere. I adjusted every aspect of my life accordingly. No one will ever come close to understanding me without reading those books, it's that simple. Celibacy was the shortest most direct route to saving energy and without energy none of the things Carlos experienced would be experienced. Legions were hooked.

So Roger had heard all about Carlos from me for years, but never opened a book. As far as he was concerned it was all "crazy". Had it been only him I might have minded, but my family thought it was pretty crazy too. I admitted it sounded crazy, but I believed it could be true. Anyway, Denise and I had kept in contact and were still enjoying each other more than 10 years later. She was working on Sardinia and wanted me to visit. The timing was right, and although I had reservations about being older and all, I decided to go. The month there was even better than our times together before. So many friends, so much good food and party times, the incredibly beautiful sea and the "beautiful people" in this ultra-posh resort were way beyond what I expected. We'd party until dawn, sleep late, laze on the beach, totally decadent and fun. But sex wasn't much part of any of it. It wasn't because of celibacy either. Italian society is very closed and there is still a stigma attached to being perceived as gay. So it's a complicated game of pretend and fake and it turns me off completely. So in spite of a guy dancing up next to you all night and his eyes furtively glancing your way there's never an open invitation to hook up. As a tourist you are an unknown and too much social position is at risk. Denise coached me for this game, so I was as aloof as they were and we had great fun times but no sex. For a vacation month it was ok, but I shudder at the thought of living in that repression. The lower classes are a lot more direct, but this upper class crowd was really fucked up when it came to enjoying the simple pleasures of easy, open sex. That's why they go wild when the travel to the states. They feel free at last.

So where were we… well, I'll skip over explaining how it was that after eight years together Roger and I moved from being lovers to being friends. My one morning announcing my intention to try celibacy for some months might have had something to do with it. We kept living together and enjoying each other's company. In the fall I flew out to visit my cousin in San Francisco, something she had asked me to do for years. I had avoided going, and part of the reason was I didn't want to get too intimate with her was because I had never told her I was gay. It was known in my immediate family of course, but it stopped there. But I decided I would go and let the chips fall where they may.

Not long after I got back from California Roger 's natural urges resulted in him being happier elsewhere, leaving me on a solitary path again.. I had some money but not a lot, enough. The important thing I had, and what Castaneda exalted, was freedom. Plus I had a free airline ticket anywhere I wanted to go as a result of having volunteered to be bumped 24 hours on the flight to Italy. I mentally checked off a lot of places and came up with Hawaii. I'd never been and thought why not now.

As I like to do, I went so as to be there on my birthday. If I needed an antidote to my celibacy experiment the gay beach at Waikiki provided it. Here I was prepared to accept aging gracefully when a steady stream of young cute guys keeps coming my way. It was fantastic. They'd invite me home, or we'd find private places along the beach or play in cars. It was like a fantasy come true. Even one day I'm taking the bus to a museum of something and realize I'm being followed by a high school kid. I stop to talk and he says he really likes my legs. Can you believe it? And it wasn't the first time somebody said it either, for some it's the shape but for this kid it was the hair. He was smooth as silk and followed me home and got past security at the YMCA where I was staying J Hawaii as I experienced it was about the best vacation I'd ever had. It was difficult to come to terms with this, considering all the traveling and all the other situations, but it was. I decided for sure that if I'm ever homeless that's where I'm heading. The bums in the park had it better than bums anywhere, singing, playing cards, free public showers, coconuts, perfect weather, no flies. Yep. It's Hawaii for me. My month's stay was just about up and I pick up a local paper and there's the ad: Carlos Castaneda Seminar. I was so excited I was shaking. Seriously. For years I'd wondered if I might ever find him or know for sure, and here it's fallen into my lap. Carlos talked magic and if this wasn't proof positive what more could I hope for. It was on Maui in 4 days time. I called the airline, yes I could change my departure and I called Maui. The seminar was full, but on hearing my story they said I could attend. I could not believe my luck. It seemed fated to be. Of all the gin joints in the world world and all that. I was filled with joyfull anticipation and figured it was too late to worry about all the energy so joyfully recently wasted.

After all the talk about Mexican deserts and simple clean living, it was surprizing to find the seminar held in the ballroom of the Maui Ritz Carlton. But Carlos' group apologized saying they'd never been anywhere as extravagant either, so it was cool. Now it's not just me sitting alone with a book in my hand, the auditorium is filled with a smart crowd. There's new age music and mood lighting to enhance our experience. The three "witches" (and I hate to call them that because of all the connotations with the word, but it's the word they used) lectured over the weekend. The stories ran the dramatic gamut from sidesplitting hilarity to tear jerking pathos. If ever I thought anyone was sincere, it was these three women. Now for a funny story.

The audience is seated waiting for the first glimpse of the group and in comes about 25 people filling up the first two rows of reserved seats. We all are mentally taking notes of these "in crowd" types, wondering if maybe Castaneda himself is disguised among them. The women are severe and solemn, the men even more so. This is serioius. I'm about 4 rows back and occasionally am taken in by their sweeping glances of the room. The first to lecture is Florinda, an author in her own right (Shabono, a book about her experiences with the Yanomami indians in remote amazon , and The Wtiches' Dream, a book about her experiences with a curandera in Venezuela. Her lecture is mostly about how all of us, especially the women, are socialized into being idiots. During the break I'm in a small group talking with her in the hall. I make little funny comments that amuse her and I notice one of the women from the front row of seats keeps staring at me hard. Florinda winks at her and turns to leave, and then this women takes me by the arm and says did I have time to talk. Holy shit, I've been discovered!!! I knew I was perfect material for this stuff and now they have looked into me and have seen it too. Now what the fuck do I do. I grasp at staying cool and say of course, my time is hers. She ushers me out of the hotel and to the parking lot and says maybe we could talk more comfortably in her car. No sooner do I get in but I loose it completely, turning into a blubbering idiot. I'm confessing my attachment to home and mother, I'm crying about how I would give anything to be with them, but just at the moment….., and then going on about does it matter if I'm gay. It was quite a little show. She's quiet a little while giving me time to regain a semblance of control. Then she says this: "why does this always happen to me."
See, the thing was was that she was just a journalist invited along to write a magazine article. Beyond that she found me attractive and wasn't it strange that the last four men she had intended to date were also gay. I still have to laugh everytime I think about it. See, not only was I flattering myself to think how special I was Castaneda-wise, I was even thinking lady you're too old for me!! I am hopeless, absolutely hopeless. I like to think I don't have ego problems, but at moments like these there's no denying I do. We went on to become good friends, sort of. Let's just say I liked her well enough not to sue for the money I ended up loaning her that never got repaid. An egomaniac on one hand and a real sucker (in every sense of the word) on the other. But I harbored doubts. Those Castaneda people were clever enough to invent a cover story of being just a jornalist in order to help me save face while rejecting me as "unsuitable".

The seminar set me on fire. We learned magical passes: movements to keep our energy at optimum levels, open us to magic, and my personal favorite motivator- keep us young. All we had to do was exeute them everyday which I did for the next 6 years. Ok, I missed a few days, that's probably why I've kept aging. But I'm still expecting the magic any moment, and to tell you the truth it comes often enough to not dissappoint me for my efforts. In addition to the magical movements we were all supposed to stop having sex too. Murmurs from the crowd.

Then I went to a seminar in Mexico City and felt close to Carlos' story as I walked the same sidewalks and visited the same museums. Even there a woman invited me home with her to Guernavaca - that resort town outside of Mexico City with the cool air, flowers everywhere and high society. She too knew I was gay from our first shared coffee. I thought it might be the beginning of another Denise type friendship or could it be she was part of the Castaneda group giving me another test? When you're dealing in sorcery and magic, anything is possible. We visited the Aztec pyramids and did the passes in a well equipped gym on her family's estate.

Then I went to a seminar at Omega Institute outside of New York City. There I had my first lucid dream and heard that gays were perfectly acceptable on every ground. One of the "chacmools" (Toltec nomenclature for guardian) said Carlos said this: Gays are just as good as everyone else, just a little more stupid - they're given this great gift of seeing through their socialization and what do they want? To get married. I had to sort of agree with him on that one.

Carlos never showed at any of these things, just as we expected. The next one I went to was a three-week intensive in Los Angeles. I was standing outside arguing about changing from plan A to Plan B, trying to save a little money, when the girl said but you'll only get to see half as much of Carlos. Is HE gonna be here! I exclaimed. She said he was inside talking already while I was arguing. Leave it to me. I resigned for both plan A and B in a reckless rush and flew inside.

You could not imagine the wit, the charm, the charisma, the "magic", of Carlos Castaneda. We were all blown away. We hung on his every word and I realized just how serious about it many were. I was my usual Thomas-the-Doubter, and kept a certain reserve. But everyone seemed totally engrossed. Carlos asked us to pay attention to the moment, take no notes, certainly cameras weren't allowed, but at late night gatherings a certain "in crowd" put together notes which were verbatim. Either they had photgraphic memories or were using hidden technology, but I was amazed at their audacity. I got friendly with "The Blue Scout", supposedly Carlos' daughter after he rescued her from the inorganic beings, (I know it sounds crazy, bear with me) and so once again felt like this was a group I'd be perfect in. My "competition" for one of the in spots criticized me for wearing shorts a little too short and even said wearing my baseball cap during the magical passes was "disrespectful of the Spirit". One of the chacmools, on hearing that, told me not to worry, my cap was fine. Testing my intending powers, I kept one thought during that seminar; it was "if he touches anyone, let it be me". Now Carlos had entertained for three weeks and never bored once, but he kept his distance, touching no one. On the last day he's talking about left and right side energy and asks for a volunteer. Hundreds of hands go up and who does he point to? I leap on stage, and he asks me to lay down and raise one leg. Suddenly thinking indeed, maybe my shorts were a little too short and my balls would show, I layed down and raised one leg. He said he was going to try to move it and I was supposed to keep it from moving, which I did. Carlos was rather small, and remember, I have great legs. Then he asked me to stand and made a strike toward me in the air, not touching me. Then he asked me to lay back down and resist his push again. This time he moved my leg as if I had no muscles in it at all. I got up perplexed and then spontaneously layed back down, daring him to try it again. It amused him and everyone. I was sure I could keep my leg in place but watched it yield effortlessly to his touch. Had it been anyone else up there I would have figured it rigged. But it was my leg and I was lost for explanation. Later people asked me about it. They were as skeptical of me now as I already was of everyone else in the group. Carlos said we didn't need the group or him or anybody, just do the practice. So I took him at his word and left California feeling self-sufficient for all tasks ahead.

The seminars continued, I had friends that spent more than twenty thousand dollars attending them. I had spent all I could spend and then some. I had the tapes and the books, time would tell. Everyso often I'd call to hear the latest gossip, some were making gains, some weren't. We were encouraged to not pay attention to anyone else, just do what we had to do, and mostly that's how I did it.

Now jump ahead 6 years. This spring on the internet there's been an expose of Carlos and his group that has left many a jaw dropped. If he was a genius, he was a genius at lying. It was all made up, a story concocted of bits from here from there and everywhere, but it never happened. It's not actually that black and white though. Those books drove a lot of us forward, unfortunately they drove a lot of people into drugs and ignoring families and loved ones and becoming the antithesis of what they were intending. Carlos borrowed, copied, plagiarized, invented it all and went to his death declaring it was all true. It was actually his decline and death from liver cancer that opened the closed can of worms. He had everyone thinking he could "burn from within" and leave this world in full conciousness and that is what the "hardcore" group were counting on- going with him into infinity. It seems celibacy was something Carlos preached, but not something he did. He was screwing with women who volunteered - to have their enerygy bars fixed. So my involvement with Carlos has taken a lot of rethinking, but really it's impossible to separate the good from the bad, the magic from the ordinary. I wasn't as close to the fire as were some of my friends who got burned real bad. But Casteneda certainly helped me out and in spite of everything I feel gratitude to the little man/big liar. I recommend his books to anyone, but maybe they were just meant for me.