Primary Experience
Primary experience is not conscious. What we feel as conscious experience is already interpreted, phrased properly, and set in such a way as to allow concious decision. That which is irrelevent to conscious decision will be withheld from it; for this body intercepts far too much information, knowledge, and experience to overwhelm a simple, linear consciousness.
The “memory” of the person is the part of him that experiences the immediate existences of the sensual and social world, as well as the inner physiology and moodscape, and relates these objects of experiences against needs, and there let’s the needs interpret them. As memory structures into a regular function, with a “mythic” set of types for life, these experiences become streamlined. There are three types of primary experience:
the memory, with a feeling of the priorness and embeddedness in a timeline of events
of fantasy, as structured expression of needs into experiencable shapes, with a feeling of a degree of plausability to the fantasy. The initial fantasy may feel interesting, but utterly implausable, and only when a great deal of work, both consciously and underconsciously, has rehaped the fantasy, does it become a plausible plan.
the sensual world, and all its movements and simulants, with a sense of its externality.
The feeling of priorness, externality, and possibility is not the only differentiation of these experiences. Though they are all narratives, and as all of man’s primary experiences are narratives and stories, they have a different feel to them, a different degree of sharpness and texture, so that a memory is almost never mistaken for a living reality.
A child alone consciously feels direct experience. Note how the frustrated toddler howls and screams with tears down his face. We shrug and say that’s what kids do. But would lead you as an adult to howl and scream and cry? How frustrated would you have to be? So also is the child that way. And in fact, so are you, in all your frustrations, only those primary experiences occur below the threshold of the conscious mind, and you do not feel the experience until the asumptions have intellectualed the feelings so that most of their emotional charge is converted into symbolic desires which require little notice at all, merely slavish following of habits.
A child is rarely embarressed to have a fit in public, or even to walk to streets naked, and this is the primary beauty of the child which the protector against incest, the snake, warned the children against, and said to them: build clothes from yourself and hide your naked beauty, lest some jealous God strike you.
The ME is mediated, and this suits us adults wonderfully, for we do not have the conscious energy and power to feel everything that’s going on in there. The problem with adults is how they mediate emotions too strong to bear. The original sin of all sinners is to cut off a primary experience, so that we have no conscious experience of it at all, and to put in place of it a socially acceptable, parentally recommended, or otherwise conterfied direct experience. The sinful lie is not to conform to society, but to pretent do ourselves that we are acting upon primary experience, that we have experienced love of these things, these gods, these laws, these morals, not that we obey them or acknoweldge them for convenience, but that we in fact love them to the pit of our soul. This is hypocrisy sure, but it is merely the effect of the greatest sham against soceity that persists to this day: the tyranny by guilt of normalcy.
We will always distrust, dispise, and ridicule “normal” “well-adjusted” “decent” “salt-of-the-earth” folk who by their ocean of poison moral superiority, lord it over every true human being in existence.
The innermost is pure love, and also, a love that suffers. This was when Narcissism and Care were one, without the subsequent complications. For all adults, the deeper you go, the closer you get to the pure love of her soul, and in the deepest of our experience, every human being is the lover. Eros was the first God, and before him alone was creative chaos, the Needs.
We can love only concrete beauty. We can study only abstract truth. There is no truth to beauty as there is no beauty to truth. We mix the two and confound them, but only metaphorically, and ought not confuse ourselves as to what is really happening. Love is enjoyment, pure pleasure, turned habit and system; power is greatness, pure divinity, a mind free to enact. Both feel great, and both make life the joyful thing life is, but they are different, and mingled only by degrees.
To sense within another her primary experience, and show it to her, is, perhaps, to violate her. Or, perhaps, to educate her of her greatest beauty and power. Such tricky matters.
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Perfection Is Easy
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