the rift between the me and non-me. How is this done? Is the constant recurrence of a bad feeling generating a sense of contempt in the real me? The first time I see something bad I feel shocked but if the experience recurs often enough, the shock turns to apathy and acceptance. I become immune to the association. The real me has this defensive reserve guard, else it would exist in a state of perpetual anxiety and could not function. That still does not explain why the non-me perpetually subverts the overall will of the organism. It is better for the organism to be able to shut out bad feelings.
Maybe it is not a special non-me that exists here but simply a memory system that functions in a mechanical fashion. The memory brings forth data in a robotic fashion according to set rules. These rules relate to time and order but also to magnitude. A memory is not set down as a picture as on a screen. It is much more. The memory remembers not only form and colour of the exterior, but also the form and colour of the interior. It is this internal impact that lends importance to a memory. Associated with the external event there is the entire reaction of the nervous system of the body including conscious and unconscious reactions. A seemingly trivial external event can have profound internal impact and remain long in the memory. The memory's value system will ensure that the event is kept to the fore in the conscious mind. If the event is undesirable it is not that the memory is being defiant in making me relive it. It is just the way the memory is designed to behave. It must keep stressful memories to the fore until the organism has resolved the situation and dealt with the issue. It is a matter of survival.
If I saw a lion and was petrified with a nauseating fear, it makes sense that that fear be kept uppermost in my memory for a long time. The reason for the lion's appearance may exist for a long time and he is likely to reappear. Having the constant memory of the fear makes me constantly alert - it is a survival mechanism. The memory stays in direct proportion to the impact of the original experience and will fade eventually if a lion fails to reappear and the danger is therefore adjudged to have receded.
So I am not able to fight my non-me which insists on me reliving the events of the afternoon. The fact that I had an active choice in avoiding the events makes the memory all the more important for the non-me self. That choice is still there and I can make the same mistake again. The non-me is making sure that this does not recur. The non-me is really on my side and not tormenting me with repetitious replays of an ugly experience. This thought comforted me somewhat and my mind began to relax a little. The thoughts were still there but now that I knew why they were plaguing me, it made them endurable. I was able to tease them out and understand how I had gotten into the mess.
The allure of the sexual was always such a strong force in my life. It is written in an indelible code on my brain. The genes driving it are very strong. In a way it is the most important thing in life but we don't recognise it as such. The old clich? about the male thinking of sex every ten seconds is not far off the mark. He can't be blamed for this as he is a hard-wired sex machine. All civilisations and societies recognise this drive and try to control it through social structures, religion and law. Once again there is an asymmetric imbalance in the way men and women view sex. If women had the same drive as men total chaos would ensue and the traditional constraints would be unworkable. The respective drives are complementary and work in the broad domain for each other. The actual desire for sex is perhaps equal for both sexes but the psychological background required for each is different. The male can accept any psychological background for sex. He is quite happy to have sex with prostitutes where the psychological contract is very shabby and demeaning. Female use of prostitutes is a rarity suggesting that they have higher values when it comes to psychological contracts. It is this that makes the differing responses complementary and self fulfilling. If the female wants a good psychological contract then the male must tune in to that requirement. This mediation is what pulls the male back from being an animal in following his sexual desires.
This afternoon the psychological contract was not there on either side. For me, I was acting like the unfettered male presented with a weak contract requirement. Molly, in her almost insane behaviour, was not presenting the normal psychological contract. What happened was therefore demeaning to both of us but more so for me. Had she been a prostitute I don't think I would have had any remorse. I could hand across the money as contracted and walk away. But there was no money to hand across here. I had been presented with free sex and had lapped it up thinking there were no strings attached. But there are always strings attached. With Maria, this was not an issue, because our psychological contract was good. I did not want to run away after sex with Maria. I would willingly have let her stay with me, developed our relationship. She had not demanded this because for her the timing was not right but the fact that she could was part of our psychological contract.
I should feel sorry for Molly. She is obviously unwell in her mind. Her behaviour is not of her own doing. The loneliness of the island and the narrow-mindedness of the locals may have been too much for her more urbane make-up. She may have been trapped here and the despair had unhinged her. I was surmising, trying to develop positive thoughts about her. If I can feel more positive about her then the whole business might not have that nauseating feel to it.
It is the lack of control of the situation that is most distressing. If you get into a ring to fight a madman it is different to fighting a trained boxer. The madman is as likely to bite your ear as use his fists. There are no rules and when there are no rules you cannot foresee the dangers. You are exposed to all eventualities. You become fretful and anxious.
My anxiety had risen again. My memory was throwing up the images again. I tried slow breathing as a way to control my feelings but to no avail. My mind was alert. My eyes and ears were alert. I was in a complete state of alertness. I felt my heart beating louder in my chest. I checked my pulse and was satisfied that it was normal. I've got to sleep. Try to sleep - I cajoled my mind - try to sleep.
Waking up after a dreamless night is like opening the window on a new world. The baggage of the old is left behind and the view is refreshing. The sleep had cleansed my angst from its crisis level. The clear light of the dawn over the sea, as I unzipped the flap, was revitalising and filled me with courage. I felt emotionally stronger and the memory of the previous afternoon had already taken on a more manageable demeanour. I stretched upright, standing on the cliff face and let the early light flow over my face. The world was not as unfriendly after all. It was beautiful, full and alive. I wanted to shout in determined defiance. Chance events were not going to defeat me. I was made of sterner stuff than that. A crazy woman was not going to be my undoing. I would deal with what came my way from a position of personal strength. If she knows I am strong she will back off. At least that was my new hope. The first doubt of day had set in. My memory began to flood my mind with her taunting words. I fought them and tried to cast them from me but to no avail.
I need to do something physical. The sheer physical effort will rid me of the returning negativity. I ran down from the cliff as fast as my legs could carry me. The concentration to keep my balance and the strain on my lungs and muscles swamped my mind. I had to keep running. I passed the old ruin and I felt an emptiness in my stomach. Fear is like a hunger. It is an emptiness that resides somewhere within you. You cannot avoid it. The running had to cease. I had reached my physical limit. I bent over panting on the roadway. I sat on a wall and put my hands over my head in despair. This see-saw emotion was draining. One moment false elation, then real despair. I had to do something. I had to confront my demons.
I knew I couldn't undo the past. The past is gone forever. This crazy notion of a continuous spacetime with both space and time symmetric is all rubbish. If it were true, there would be a way to undo yesterday but I am certain that in my real world there is no such spacetime travel. All spacetime travel is in the future direction. It has to be, because all that really exists is the present. The future
has not yet come to pass. The future will be the present. All that remains of the events of yesterday are the memories of two people and perhaps some imprints on the soil of an old floor. Then a horror struck me. There could be another remains of much greater significance! Molly was still young enough to conceive! I shivered at this new and even more frightening complication. The past carries life into the future. There was now a third potential player in this morbid tragedy.
I shivered at the thought of bringing a child into the world in such circumstances. What a poor hand the child will have been dealt - a crazy mother and an unstable parentage. Perhaps the poor child will have received the crazy genes of its mother and will not be of sound mind. What unhappiness will be visited on the luckless child, none of it, his own making. Sins of the father, bad karma.
I prayed that there was no conception. Again the sense of despair returned. I hated the lack of control the situation posed before me. I could handle direct issues no matter how bad but this quandary was completely beyond my influence now. The die