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Secret intimacyThe Brazil forest-hut experience of God? All is well and all shall be wellMatt’s eyes?The unfathomable emptiness of eternity The Post Office incident?Man’s inhumanity to manSailing on the Klaraborg?Light, Motion.... BeautyMachu Picchu?Haunting mystery.Your mother’s music?Divine LoveAdderley Street 1976?Lord have MercyAnd so it went, the eliciting of the innermost patterning of her life. He delved into recesses of meaning making we extrude from experience and from whence our deepest sources of passion for life, call us, drive us, destroy us.Tea before we go on? J asked, then explained: The next bit is a systematic and tedious comparative rating of your experiences against your subjective valuations of them. This shows the undifferentiated similarities of significance. After tea J showed her what he wanted and then gave it to her for home work. Let me have the data when you are finished and I’ll let you know when I’m ready for us to continue. It all sounded rather mysterious.The data was crunched by a mathematical program and the computer printouts fed back what seemed like a mind-mirror, a gestalt of her world view and its patterns. One of the managers in BMR later called it Analysis by computer! By which he meant Psychoanalysis. It was that and more, said Mary. Not that it gave any answers but that it was a tool to probe deeper.Working together with J on the data made apparent the polarities with which she habitually dichotomised life into networks of similarity and ever more fine distinctions of difference through which she construed the world. Glimmerings of awareness grew of the subjective predetermining symbolic mind-set. As J gathered her to an ever finer one-pointed awareness, the deepest layers of psychic split emerged until finally the ghost of the ‘self’ that she had run from all her life caught up with her and J said: “ Who? makes the rules.” At this her mind went into a dizzy spin and in terror she backed off. J tried again. “Who makes the rules?” She baulked and he could get no further. An impasse.“Let’s leave it at that for now”, he said.She fled from his office in confusion and at a pitch of intensity that she had never before experienced. “Who makes the rules?” That night she could not sleep for asking of the question: “Who am I?” “Who makes the rules?” She peered at the computer printouts endlessly as if they might yield some secret answer. Day and night, back and forth, back and forth I haggled. Every breath breathed the question. For two days I lived this frenzy of concentration in the question, when suddenly it was as if a curtain parted and I knew.... ...........beyond a shadow of a doubt I knew ....... soft as butterfly sneezes, as sudden as mid-summer night breezes, I knew. I had found myself. And it was why I was here. God smiled, the dust in the sun-lit air smiled, Life undulated, rising and falling, rising and falling, quickening to cosmic orgasm as I sat in utter stillness. Wave upon wave of bliss moved every particle of life and somehow J and I were moving to this same rhythm.I am floating in a clear sky suspended under a vaguely human cloud like a man, which weighs lightly on my pubis. It is dreamy, erotic.