Here’s a slightly immoral morality tale, which appears in simplified form in my book Sage of Synchronicity. In that book I edited out some of the more spicy parts of the story, just in case the book got banned in Iran or somewhere like that. However, after a year or so of deep reflection, I have decided to reveal it in its full glory here. Any resemblance to people living or deceased is purely coincidental. Unfortunately the part about me is true. The story covers a time in my late twenties when I was enrolled as a postgraduate student at the University of Newcastle, Australia.
This stint in Newcastle was a more positive one for me. I also started having some fun. I played rugby for the university club, went out to dinners, even to dance clubs. In many ways I miss those days in Newcastle, when I waited for the wisdom of Spirit to manifest through visions and songs, worked sporadically as a relief teacher, and absent-mindedly planned for the future. I was twenty-nine years old single, free, and very much a New Age space cadet.
My best friend at this time was Gary, another PhD candidate who lived on campus at the university. Gary was ecstatically single. Unlike me, Gary had little self-doubt and was a womaniser of notorious and uncompromising skill. We regularly went to clubs and discos. Gary needed a side-kick to kick-start his act (it’s harder to meet women when you are alone, as Gary often pointed out). He was very intelligent, funny, and spiritual in his own way. A typical night out would see Gary and I hit the dance floor. I would dance head down with typical shyness, while Gary would jiggle around smiling and having a good time, flirting with every girl within eye shot. As often as not Gary got the girl. I never did.
The truth is that the prospect of shacking up with a strange woman terrified me, and even when some came close, I would push them away. Not so for Gary.
From my work as a relief teacher, I earned just enough money to live week to week, but I had no specific career ambitions. I retained my deep passion for the spiritual realms. It was just that I was just becoming a little more worldly.
One week I got some song guidance which picked up my hopes regarding women. I woke one night hearing She’s an Easy Lover. I went back to sleep. Then Wild Thing by the Trogs kept coming through.
The next night this repeated. Was I was being told something? Was I about to get lucky? Miracles had been known to happen.
That Saturday Gary rang me up and suggested we head out on the town to one of his favorite discos. Considering the guidance I just been given I was bemused. I couldn’t wait to latch on to some “wild thing” at the bar. This would be good. This would have to be good in order for me to get anywhere with a woman.
As Gary and I entered the club, the doorman thumped a stamp on our wrists. I looked down at mine under the glittering lights. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There were two words bright in fluorescent ink: “Wild Thing.”
Even so it was a typical night: Gary cavorting with a bevy of beauties (and some not so beauteous), and me studying my shoelaces.
Then about midnight I looked across the smoky floor and thought I saw a girl waving to me. What was I to do? Put my nose to the floor and twiddle my big toe? No. I figured Spirit was egging me on. Here was my chance, but it was up to me to take it.
I stumbled onto the dance floor towards the girl, with size twelve shoes moving incoherently to the techno beat. I shuffled beside the girl, who was dancing with her friend. I felt like an idiot, and was even more perturbed when the girl took more interest in her female friend than me. If she was interested in me, she was sure playing hard to get!
I kind of danced around. Then suddenly someone grabbed my hand from behind.
“Will you dance with me?” I turned to see a youngish girl smiling at me as she danced.
“Sure, why not,” I said.
As it turned out she was certainly a wild thing.
It might be asked what is the point of Spirit guiding a person towards such an encounter? For me it served the evolution of my spirit. Perhaps the kindest way of describing my emotional development with women at the time would be “developmentally delayed”. Putting aside PC, the old fashioned term ‘retarded’ would probably be more correct. I was utterly hopeless. My childhood scars had left a veritable canyon of trauma in my psyche. The result was that I would have made Mr. Bean look socially well adjusted. That little encounter got me a little wild, shook me up a bit. And boy, did I need shaking up!
I had a lot further to go on my spiritual journey that I realized at that time. Just as well. Spirit only ever gives us the knowledge that we can handle. If I had known what lay ahead I probably would have quit. Instead I was The Fool, stepping naively towards the future, and experimenting with integrated intelligence as a creative process in my life journey.